Candid!

Another Fresh Start!

2012-01-04T01:22:00.000-06:00

At the helm of a new year, there are many ways people perceive the season. There are many that begin celebrations of hope, of something better, shinier, in essence more to their liking. There are some that get busy trying to catch up with time running away and threatening never to come back. There are others that dwell in divinity and thank The One above for all that the year past had brought their way.

The city in general gets lit up reflecting the brightened spirits of it's people. There is music of cheer ringing, a sway in the air that promises an easier, fun yet brighter future.There are smiles all around. It's the Holidays!

The ticking of the clock, the arrival of the new year, that moment- no matter how many times lived, is a moment that has the ability to always be special. It lets one rewind the events of the past year in quick successive flashes, relive moments that evoked the person inside , bring one face to face with all those instances of smiles, of tears, of pride, of guilt, of good decisions and consequences of bad.

Everybody has a unique way of breathing in that moment. Most hug and express a need to share the thrill of hope while some others wait for their turn to do the same.Some hold on tight to that one special soul that enriches theirs, sharing a smile of contentment; of dreams galore.Some get busy with opening a bottle of champagne,cutting a cake,cheering and clapping.Some just sit back and enter their own world of retrospection, resolution and hope. While some others much like me, run their eyes around the room, observing people and their unique way of acknowledging the moment.

No matter how many new years have come and gone, I've always had the same reaction. A moment of silence, a private moment, a need to be with my inner self, asking it to stay calm, that things will be all right, there is more to learn, more strength to show- a minute of reassurance that the end of this year will still find me smiling, just as I am right now.

Mornings at an airport

2011-12-28T20:33:00.000-06:00

The first time I ever took a flight, I was a child and remember it as a rather painful experience. My ears hurt to indescribable measure. I had vowed to myself that no matter how much travelling I had to do, it would never be through air.

Life as they say always challenges you when you say 'never'. So, all my life, I was always put in circumstances, where, the only way to get to a place was by air! Through the many flights I have taken to many destinations, I have noticed that I love the dawn and early mornings at an airport. I love the chill in the air, the Sun rising like a shy bride, playing the dance of shadows with everything else on earth. In the foreground are a string of planes, silently affirming their existence and watching the multifarious people that frequent it's office.

The smell of warm coffee, the sound of slurps with a look of deep satisfaction as the caffeine hits the system against the warmth of the sun penetrating through the huge panes that let you see nature unfold another magical day of your life is a moment of it's own- surreal in it's own unique way.

Each time, I sit silently,music in my ears and let my eyes wander.People some awakening from their slumber;others walking helter skelter trying to find their way through a maze that airports can sometimes be; kids -some fresh after a little rest, running around while others nag their parents to get some breakfast that usually involves chocolate! ; a group of players representing a nation for an international sport, wearing uniform sweat pants, escorted by authorities, taking purposeful strides with pride; sisters from a south east Asian country carrying similar bags and wearing the same hair style, giggling as they walk arm in arm; random conversations that make strangers turn into acquaintances, an announcement follows and the same acquaintances revert to being strangers again.

People of various nationalities, wearing different sometimes even strange attires, speaking an entire assortment of languages, from different facets of life, generations apart, all under one roof with the same intention- of being somewhere!

Only if people lived with the same dynamics as I see them most early mornings at an airport - this world would be a better place.

Joe

2011-12-24T02:19:00.001-06:00

My entire life I have always been dependent on others for transportation. Be it my parents, the Government of the country I resided in ,the auto and taxi drivers, friends that were kind, or my brother who I summoned every time I got stuck, lost or felt lazy- it's always been anyone but me at the steering wheel.

Most of my mornings to work, involve me always racing against time, time always of course winning over me. Some of those mornings, I end up taking a cab so as to not let the day bear consequence to my tardiness. Some cabbies are extremely cordial and respectful, while others could care less. I had one cabbie once tell me that all he aims to do all day long is to bring a smile to his passenger's day. That definitely brought a smile to mine.

One such cabbie I got along very well with. I could trust him and I'm not sure what made me believe that. It's as if he had a special heart. Over time, as we talked and shared not so personal observations, there was an untold bond, one that made him look out for me. The day I got back from my vacation, he said 'welcome home' and it just made me smirk.I wondered as to how much effort it would take certain people of this country to undo the damage that some other's had inflicted on my notion of home. He recognized the pain and reiterated, that this IS now home to me, no matter what the past had unfolded.

He was a person I would call on a random note and he would show up to pick me up from anywhere in the city within a span of 20 mins. It was a feat I never understood how he managed. I would give him the fair fare and he would always return the smallest currency in the bundle I handed. I would refuse with an exasperated look and he would say ' i don't need it'. I have seen so much of the city just through his rides back home. He would take me through different parts of the city and being a Chicagoan, would give me the history of different places and folklore that went with it. I enjoyed my rides no matter how tired I was, as long as it was Joe who was driving me home.

On Christmas week, as I summoned for his services again, he as usual showed up in 20 mins. I hurried up to finish my errands and settled in the back seat. Joe, as he always did, took a minute to turn back, get a good look at me, let me catch my breath and ask me a 'how are you?'- one that he wanted a real answer to. It always brought a smile to my tired eyes. He then announced that he was not taking a fare from me that day. I as usual jumped and would not hear of an unnecessary favour. He then announced that it was his Christmas gift for me. He did not have a family,would not have a Christmas dinner, would be in fact working through that weekend. He did not have anybody to share it with and for him sharing Christmas was about giving.

As I snuggled under my covers that night and thought about the events of the day, I realised that it had been a really long time since I was truly surprised(pleasantly of course!). Not the kind of surprise that you feel when unexpectedly a friend shows up with a birthday cake on the strike of midnight on your special day. Yes, it's a surprise, one that you hadn't expected, but it's not that kind of surprise, the kind you had not imagined in a hundred years.

Joe has a special heart, the kind that knows how to bring warmth into hearts that he cares about, the kind that could give despite meagre means. I might always be dependent when it comes to transportation. I might move counties, cities, countries..for that matter may be even planets..but to find another Joe in the midst of plunging selflessness and love for another would be an arduous task.

To Joe - May your goodness be reflected in myriad ways eternally.

Bring 'home' back...

2011-12-21T14:21:00.000-06:00

This is another of those moments in time, when I wish time would stop and let me soak in the colours on my palatte.

A vacation in two long years. All I wanted to do was go home, be at home and feel home. It's funny how all through childhood, all you want to do is get out of home to be on your own and all through adulthood, all you try to do is come back home.

As a gawky teenager,I remember the excitement of stepping out of the house on my own, to experience the world by myself. The freedom to make turns, stop and soak, run through the crossings, cycle faster than the car standing next to me. A rush, a hurry , to quench the thirst of knowing everything this world had to offer. A zest to rush into the next moment.

And here I am, a decade later, wishing time would stop this moment. There is the same sense of freedom, of doing everything I want to, of going places, learning new things and a desire to have more time in the day to do a lot more. Somehow the stop in time gives me a feel of being able to appreciate the existing moment a little longer and the ability to squeeze in a few more things. There go by certain times when there is a feel to do nothing but sit back and watch the sun travel from one window pane to the other pondering about all it's shining light on.

Back home was like being back home. Hot coffee, morning newspaper, the smell of burnt dried leaves in the distance mixed with the scent of damp earth of the neighbour's front yard, the sound of vessels clinking lightly in mom's kitchen, a light hum of a chant by grandma, her silhouette against the rising sun, the milkman hurriedly dropping the packets of milk, a dew drop sliding delicately along the edge of the leaf, a shy bud still deciding on whether to bloom or not, a withered flower wondering if it's fall to the earth would be gentle or not. The teapot on the table, mom with the Geeta, dad and me sharing the morning newspaper, a discussion over current affairs of the world that drifts to each other's current affairs and the day's plan. This has been home from the time I've known home.

I missed it. For the few years I've been out, mornings have been about rushing to go places, anxiety over finishing the day's task, so something may be achieved with in a stipulated time. It's about grabbing a cup of coffee, a measly loaf of bread, toasted hours ago, cold and rigid. It's about being able to catch the bus on time, so I don't have to walk that extra distance. In short it was about ending the day and getting back into bed.

I had forgotten to recognise the start of a new day, the hope that comes with sun rise, the opportunity and time to do more, to achieve more, to live more, the need to plan the day and enjoy it's different hours and moods. I had forgotten about looking forward to a day.

Being home reminded me of the essence of waking up every morning, with a desire to breathe in fully and feel the cool air set the rhythm of the heart, for the day.

To my 'Twin'!

2011-09-10T06:22:00.000-05:00

Summers as a child was always fun. Most summers, I would have grandparents over and discover a world where little lessons of life were learnt with loads of fun. I've realized how educational my summers were only as an adult. As a child,they were pure fun and I loved them!

Every once in a while, when Mom decided to pause her life for a bit and actually take a breather and enjoy it, we would go to this Aunt, who to me is like a second mother. Aunt is Mom's twin. They are identical in many ways such as the warmth in the way they hold me; and different in many ways - Aunt pampers me till I feel spoilt and Mom doesn't! Those vacations I always looked forward to for obvious pampering and more so to fight with my cousin brother who during the early years was just my favourite Aunt's son who got more attention out of my Mom. Until, one fine day, things turned around when Mom explained the magic of relations and what a brother actually means. Being a lone child, my knowledge of relations were limited to Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa and friends.We chided and started referring to ourselves as each other's twin as our b'days were just three weeks apart.

From that day forward, this brother has been a brother, friend, comrade in battles of life, confidante, advisor ,critic - talk about multi tasking! Years have gone by, we went through childhood, awkward teenage, ambitious youth, responsible professional lives and are looking at mature adulthood. We have grown in our own ways, have faced our own and each other's trials and tribulations, formed individual opinions, battled situations in different ways, loved, lost, failed, succeeded, hurt, healed - all of it- let's just say - We've lived!

We always knew the goings-on in each other's lives and as more colours were added on to the canvas, the colour of our bonding got layered. Words became few and far, but the thoughts were constant. I missed my brother. I missed being able to open my heart and pour out, missed listening to his ideas and learning how he was growing, take a few lessons from his courage and strength. I missed the meaningless laughter, the confessions, the all night banter - I missed the fun and most of all - I missed 'Us'.

Recently, on a regular day to work, as I nonchalantly sat in the train watching the city pass by me, a vivid picture formed in front of my eyes. It was a picture of a very sick and dying twelve year old me, lying on a hospital bed. Aunt and Mom on the sofa near by, tired yet praying and hoping , eyes that had dried up and eventually closed to ease the burning sensation. What struck me in that picture, was the little pair of hands that held onto my arm, the hair of the head that lay tired by my face, lightly touching my cheeks.

As I have replayed that whole episode of my life time and again, I've felt the pain of my parents as they watched their daughter slowly being taken away from them, felt the pain of my Aunt as she helplessly watched me suffer and more so felt every ounce of pain Mom felt and at a greater degree, of my Uncle who ran helter-skelter trying to ease out practical obstacles and doing the best to make sure no stone was unturned. But, I never once spared a thought to the one to whom that little pair of hands belonged. It never occurred that he was all of twelve too and yet he sat there all night by my side, holding onto me, silently praying and praying really hard, hoping that the other side of the night would bring me back to the world.

That day on the train, it was as if a spotlight shone brightly on those pair of hands. Yes, I missed my brother, I missed the times we shared and the fun we had. I realised that words and the expression of thoughts and emotions had run so dry, I was slowly believing I was losing my brother and that belief hurt greatly. But, how can you really lose someone unless you let go of them? And how could I let go of those pair of hands that held on to me tightly when I needed them to, the most ? How can I disregard the silent yet constant support as I fought my biggest battle of life ? I also realised that, it's how he does it. That's his style. Silent yet constant support, a cheer here, a cheer there but never losing faith in my ability to fight my own battles, get through whatever life throws at me. And if I ever wake up and look beside me, I will always find him holding onto me.

To my 'Twin' - a silent prayer, loads of love and a I'm-here-for-you!

Lucky escape?

2011-07-30T23:52:00.000-05:00

Often times in life, one comes across moments when emotions or a certain state of mind can not be defined or for that matter even felt in entirety due to the sheer confusion of wanting and trying to understand what is being felt.

During most of the not-so-good phases of life, I would find myself taking long walks when I would feel the wind on my skin, watch the world go by and enjoy seeing a city fall asleep. My usual destinations despite mindless walking always seemed to be some sort of water body. It could be bank of a river, an ocean, a lake or simply a fountain midst a park. This certain fountain I usually go to, has little kids dancing in all excitement under the water. I love watching their little antics as they play. Their innocence and sheer joy of being in that moment touches me deeply. The world, the good, the bad..all is forgotten. The only thing that remains is the spirit of enjoying that very moment with no hurry to live the next.

As I once walked back home from one such walk, music in my ears, people passing by with a purposeful walk, shops closing, restaurants giving subtle hints to their customers of their closing times, lights in the city diminishing- signalling the end of the day, I found myself carelessly crossing roads. One such moment, I saw the traffic signal turn green, a bright light shone in my eyes, silence all around, feet felt light as if I was flying in the air and watching the frenzy of people and cars below me in silent mode. It took me a long time to realize what was going on. I had stopped enough cars and was hearing a lot of honks before I realized what I had just done. I was still on my two feet, looking into the eyes of the driver through the windshield, in front of whose car I had decided to lose my head. I apologized profusely and stepped back, heard a volley of abuses and decided my next course of action. As I walked the rest of the way home, I tried to recollect what exactly went through my head at that moment. The only answer that came up was "I don't know".

I don't know what went through my head.I don't know what it was that I felt. I don't even know if I felt any thing at all, even if it was fear. I don't know. It was the first time I had come so close to an accidental suicide.

In that instant, my standing on two feet and walking the rest of the way back home din't seem like a huge blessing. But, now that I ponder what if things had turned the other way, I wish I could count my blessings without having to learn of it in such drastic ways.

Made in India

2011-03-20T12:36:00.000-05:00

I have been an 'NRI' for a total of 10 years approximately. That phase of life has seen me reside in a couple of countries and visit a lot more. But no matter where my feet have touched the earth, I have always found myself to be truly 'made in India'- the kind of creation that eats, sleeps and breathes Bollywood and brings life to a complete stand still when India plays a cricket match.

My first knowledge of the game was as a four year old, when one Sunday morning, I was being dressed and fussed over,while Mom was neatly packing a picnic lunch and told me "today Daddy has a match and we are going to watch him". She finally gave up fussing over me and started getting dressed, while I scurried over to find Dad. He was in an all-white outfit with a white hat that I had seen many times on T.V., on those afternoons, when Dad would be glued to the television and I would fall asleep in 5 minutes, giving up on comprehending what was so interesting in watching those men in white, with that sleepy voice guy talking constantly.

The infusion of cricket into my veins is attributable to events that occur at home when India plays a match, no matter how trivial the tournament is. Days when India was playing a match were no less than a day of festivities. We would know the exact dates way before the tournament or series started. It would be marked on the calender. Most important matches were always on a Sunday, so all my homework would be done by Saturday night, the menu for breakfast and lunch on Sunday would be decided and whatever preparations needed to be made, would have been done. Sunday morning, Dad would get up early, water the garden, read his morning newspaper, take his shower and settle in his spot on the sofa with a whole lot of reading material spread around him. Mom would wake up, enjoy her tea, take her shower and get to the kitchen to start the whole breakfast routine. She would then come in and suggest a brunch, so she could enjoy watching the match as well. Puri and aloo tomato or Masala dosa would usually be the choice. The TV would be turned on much before the match was to start. Dad would listen to the weather commentary,the condition of the pitch,the grass on the outfield, the discussion of the team, the strengths and weaknesses of each player on both sides, all of it. I would come sleepy eyed and land on the sofa next to Dad, get one of Mom's high pitched instructions to drink my milk, ignore it, until the point when instruction would be followed by a long speech that entailed how I would have to keep getting up during the match to drink milk or eat breakfast and all that. Once the the coin was flipped for the toss, everything stopped at home. Mom made sure, all her chores were done, everyone was fed with standing instructions that no one was to disturb her. She would then sit with an embroidery she was working on, with her eyes glued to the television.

Our matches are always nail biting, cause we never like to win comfortably. We are a generous and humble nation even when we play. We love to give others a chance, make them feel worthy. We are known to bring the best out of our opponents while we touch new lows. But, every now and then, we do fight with every ounce of blood we have in us and surprise ourselves. In the process , we create records and instill fear in other teams for being unpredictable and thus strong. Although at times,I wonder why we never predictably win or for that matter ever win with ease, I think I enjoy the tension. Apart from unifying a culturally diverse India across all generations, it brings out a very passionate side of my Mom.

Now, Mom has never played any sport in her life except for may be hopscotch when she was little. Athleticism and her are miles apart, but when it comes to cricket, she even brings Dad's passion to shame. Her undying love for the team (every member, but a little more fondness for Dada and Sachin) and indefatigable optimism even in the bright lights of defeat are incomparable. Her assessments of why Sachin got out right after his century or why Agarkar's fast bowling is not effective can involve any reason in the world. It could vary from lack of stamina due to over exposure in the game to how Indian food is predominantly vegetarian and therefore does not help players build their stamina, that players should be given a lot of milk and eggs, to possibility of betting, to bad luck, to God taking some momentary rest and not watching over Team India...anything but the fact that Sachin was careless with his shot or that the opponent batsmen had figured a way around Agarkar's fast bowling and he needs to bring variations into his technique.

The best comes when it is one of those nail biting finishes where the match might go in favor of any team. Dad, gives up, blames the bowlers' inability, batsmens' carelessness and the lack of commitment as a team. He starts his post mortem analysis on why we lost even before we actually lose. Mom on the other hand jolts up, sits straight, puts down her embroidery, all eyes on the screen, mumbles silent prayers as the bowler does his run up, depending on whether India is batting or bowling and whether it is a weak batsman or a bowler who has had a bad day today, the prayers carry a different request of means to the same end "let us win!". If it's one of those days when team India has decided to disappoint it's fans, Mom would still defend them and say how once in a while, every great team is allowed to lose. Dad would then mutter how we have had a string of losses in the season, to which Mom would come up with one of those maternal instinct things that says 'you are always harsh on the team'.

Staying independently now and watching the matches alone is not so much fun. As much as it is about the nail biting finish, the twist and turns of the game, it is also about all the excitement that mounts up to d-day, the masala dosa, the sight of Dad looking fresh, with all his reading material around, mom- glasses on her nose, embroidery in hand, constant commentary, prayers and oozing optimism even when India needs 27 runs to win off 1 ball.

It's not just the game, it's something else- indescribable. A sense of bonding that the game brings amongst it's watchers, the passion it evokes, the child in each one of us it brings out into the open, it's ability to bring people out of their barriers- the way it gets my 'cool,'quiet' Dad to voice his frustration and my Mom to swap between being a child, hoping fearlessly for the hopeless; and playing mom to 11 players she has never met in her life before!

Raising the middle finger.

2011-03-06T10:54:00.003-06:00

I have always thought that the meaning of raising the middle finger has had it's own growth around the same era as mine. I remember as a little girl being completely ignorant to the existence of such a gesture. It was not a sight to be seen anywhere around me, not because I was a little girl and did not really hang out with crowds that are more likely to be using it, but it was just not used with such great frequency as today. As I grew and moved to a different country, the verbal usage of the gesture visited my ears more often. I remember being a social misfit as a teenager in that school, hence I've heard the word among the 'cooler' crowd and always wondered what it was supposed to convey. It was sometimes used instead of "Oh my God!"; sometimes as "no way!"; most times in anger, disgust or frustration or as an insult; sometimes in appreciation of something exotic and mind blowing; I never understood it. I knew only one thing,that if I ever dared to use any alphabetical combination that ever came close to 'that word', I would not see the end of that day or the beginning of another one...ever!

Over time, I realized that the word has just carved a niche of it's own, a very big one, among my generation and if I do not want to be a misfit, I need to learn to recognize the context in which it is used and hence get the meaning it is supposed to convey. I also knew, that my generation had not yet come to the point of cultural deterioration where you were a misfit if you did not use the word. You can always show the same emotions of elation, surprise, ecstasy, mind blown over, anger,disgust, frustration, appreciation and insult, if you really have to hurl one, that is, with a different set of alphabetical combination. You could choose not to use the word and not be looked down upon. So, I chose to be a contemporary of my generation by understanding the various usages of the word and ensured a guaranteed long life by not using it myself.

This arrangement worked very well for the longest time I could remember, until one day, I on a random note, as an expression of disgust used 'the word'. I had suddenly crossed that line. Suddenly my arrangement went awry somewhere. I was not supposed to have incorporated the word into my vocabulary, but here I was! I had to come up with some new arrangement. I had one of two choices- unlearn what I just learnt or come up with a new way of ensuring my long life. So, I sat and planned of a new way of ensuring my long life. The idea was simple, pull up a collapsible wall through which the word cannot permeate in the presence of a certain crowd that considers it taboo and might cause bodily harm that will result in a very painful end to my existence. That was it. It was as simple as that. So, from that point on, I had mastered the art of pulling up my wall at life threatening places and collapsing it at not-so-life threatening places.

That arrangement worked very well too, until, one rainy day, I accidentally slammed the iron frame of my window onto my right middle finger. A fat, blue, pulsating, excruciatingly painful finger with the nail threatening to fall off in whole, leaving behind a naked nail bed resulted. That has consistently held onto it's position as being among the top three most physically painful numbing incidents, I've ever had in my life. I remember tears not rolling down coz I was confused as to what to feel- Should I feel the pain or Should I repent for having been so careless or Should I be larger than human by putting up a brave face, as I was now no more a child or Should I pity myself at having been hurt while I was only trying to do good for every one around me by closing that darned window and not getting them wet. I remember telling myself to just keep it simple and acknowledge the pain, which resulted then in a continuous stream of tears that lasted a minute. With a lot of doctors in the family, care was never the problem. Ice and painkillers took care of it. The turning point was when a simple suggestion was given to increase the weight of comfort in the balance of comfort and discomfort I was feeling. " Keep the finger raised!"

I looked around at all the elders at home whose center of attention I had become. I raised my entire arm along with the raised finger as suggested- the logic being the blood flow would reduce taking away the pulsations. It was a very good suggestion and I did feel a lot less pain. For the first few hours I sat there in that position, with a smile inside my head. My thoughts drifted to how life can be funny at the most painful times. I tried to think if there ever was a time when I had imagined that I would be asked to raise the middle finger by the people I had classified as the life threatening crowd. A smile broke onto my face. It came as a surprise to mom. She had all along felt a sense of pride in the way I had handled myself through out the episode and especially now, that I was smiling in the face of it all. She asked me why- and I told her why.

I saw pride take a step back, behind the curtain of her eyes and anger take a step forward and show itself out. I said the word in my mind and wondered about my after life. Then I magically saw anger step behind the curtains and a smile appear. She looked at me and chuckled like a child who had just done something she was told not to do and realized how much fun it had been! I chuckled with her. Mom had done what she was best at. She had easily slipped in and out of the roles she has always played to me all her life- one of a mother, teaching right from wrong and one of a friend- the best there can be.

This once, she had somehow found her way into the not-so-life threatening crowd. From then on, she has been the only entity that has had a free passage between the life threatening and not-so life threatening crowd and has always found more comfort among the former.

It was also the only time, raising the middle finger was found to be the right thing to do at home.

Imagine if..!

2011-02-27T22:05:00.001-06:00

After 10 years of mastering the art of being a student, I was finally going to play the role of a responsible professional. This change brought along with it a move. New York to Chicago. New York had nurtured me into an individual filled with strength, confidence, character, maturity and yet let me keep the child within alive. It was Chicago that was to test the quality of the individual that New York had produced.

The first step in a move is to find a roof over your head. Internet being the best self help available, I looked up the various sites for suggestions on a good roof . I realized quickly that there were many facets to that- a good roof over a good spacious room, a kitchen that was if not anything else, minimally furnished, an in built A/C/ heater ( Chicago being famous for it's winters);if multistory- an elevator in the building; a laundromat preferably within the building, if not, nearby; good security; decent neighborhood; a supermarket or grocery shop within walking distance; close by to the train station that had the trains I needed to get to work running through it and off course the afford ability! When I finally found the one that seemed to have it all and be at a reasonable distance from my work place, it was still the picture on the internet I was seeing, sitting by the window in my NY apartment that I had to vacate in a month's time. So, Chicago-NY one day round trip was searched, a decent deal found and ticket booked. Picked up a bag with some extra clothes and essentials (just in case), some instant edibles, an umbrella, travel documents and papers I might need, if I decide to rent the place I was going to check out.

I took the early morning flight and landed safely into a bright morning in Chicago. I figured out the directions I needed to get to&fro between the place and airport, the latest I could leave from the place to still fly back in time and the route to &fro my workplace and the apartment.

As I reached the place and checked in at the rental office, the receptionist asked me coldly to come back in an hour for my 'tour'. I looked at my watch and refuted that I had an appointment and I was on time. She checked back at her monitor, gave me an exasperated look and said "your appointment is for 11am, it is 10 am now". I looked back at my watch and it read 11am. It then struck me that I had just entered into a different time zone. Living all my life in countries whose length and breadth were in one time zone, that adjustment of thought takes a while.I decided to utilize the time and check out the neighborhood. Not taking a chance by walking too far and getting lost, I looked around, but could register nothing. I just marveled at the buildings around me, not one of them looked similar and they all had stunning architecture.The other thought was that the streets were empty at 10 am on a weekday, which in NY is peak hour and for a city with Chicago's reputation should also be peak hour. But, the streets here did not have the rush hour that I have experienced before. It gave me 2 ideas- one that the city was not as vibrant as NY ( of course no city could be!) second- the neighborhood is not in a busy downtown area, which questions it's safety late evenings, the most likely time of my return from work.

I finally got back to the building, took my tour, liked what I saw, consulted with a trusted friend and ended up confused. Took a minute, rationalized my thought, randomly asked how safe it was at 9pm, got a satisfied answer, trusted the answer coz it was coming from another woman, put in a demand to move in at a certain date and no later and signed the necessary papers. I took a chance by not checking out any of the other buildings nearby and signing into the first one I set foot in. But, life is about taking calculated chances and facing the consequence of it all.

I did complete everything on my agenda that day and still had sometime to spare. After signing the papers, took my trip to the office and decided the travel was as feasible as feasible can get!Considering the options I had, I preferred to hang out at my center point and soak in the surroundings instead of getting to the airport and breathing artificial air. Soon, it was getting dark and cloudy and I decided that it must be closer to evening and my time to head back to the airport. As I made a turn to get to the train station that would take me to the airport, a gust of wind held me stationary. No matter how much force I moved with, I did not move an inch. Before I could realize, I was drenched wet- the same way as seen in most bollywood movies, you have the shower turned on at the director's signal and there is instant heavy downpour. With all my might, I ran as quickly as I could to the nearest building and stood against the glass watching anything that was not rooted to the ground flying and wet.The little trees that if, were to be compared to a stage of human growth, would best suit teenage, were bent in half and yet did not snap. It was as if they had taken yoga lessons.

As, I stood, engrossed in thought and wondering how to get to the airport, a stranger standing next to me, chatted me up. He made light conversation on the unpredictable weather, the apartment complex I was planning to stay in, what the best part of the neighborhood is, Chicago as a city etc. In fact,I gathered a lot of information, something only an insider of the city can tell you.He then asked me where I was headed to and offered to drop me. I hesitated and declined the offer. He was a stranger after all! I decided to wait for the storm to end, the skies to finish their outburst and then head home. He left with a 'bye' and a 'good luck' while I continued staring at the outside. A half hour later, a red 2 seater Lexus car pulls up in front of the building, the driver honks until I turn recognizing him to be the same stranger. He waves out for me to come out and offers to drop me. I looked around nervous, picked up my bag, said a silent prayer and ran into the car. He smiled, asked me not to worry and said he would get me to the airport in time. I looked at my phone, sent a text to my friend upraising her of my situation and instantly heard her frantic voice instructing me to note down the licence plate number, take a picture of the guy through my phone and send it back to her, in case I went missing.

All through the drive, I sat still, with every sense of mine at the height of awareness. He was still chatting up and all I could hear was my heart thumping loudly. My hands were on the call button of my phone with 911 pre-dialled. After an hour of wondering how my parents would react when they were told I had gone missing or worse, who would actually be able to contact them as I don't remember giving my friend their contact information, realizing that she could obtain that from the college records, I reached the airport.My worst fears had not come true. I was safe and sound. As the thumping of my heart came down to normal little beats, another bye and good luck and off he drove. I checked myself in and while I waited to board, tried to soak in, the events of the past 2 hours. Do I feel relieved that I was safe despite the risk I took, calm my nerves that were overworked or just marvel at the timing of the bad weather, my good luck with safety and my first ever ride in a 2 seater Lexus?! What an unbelievable day this had turned out to be. Adventure at it's best!!

We boarded, announcements made, seat belt fastened- nothing moved. There was a further announcement explaining air traffic situation and that we were waiting in line to take off. As we taxied towards the run way, I could see more flights in close vicinity which gave me the idea that the line was a long one. After 4 hours of taxiing and 25 flights taking off before us, we braced ourselves to head home. Suddenly the skies lit up- incessant lightening and thunder, but no rain. The pilots waited for clearance and there was silence. My instincts told me that we probably will taxi back to the gate and deplane. That tonight, O'Hare would just have to be home.My instincts are never wrong about anything happening against my wishes!

So, night at O'Hare it was. I spent those 6 hours crouched and folded in the most painfully awkward position possible, between 2 chairs, jacket to cover me, dozing on and off. Woke up early morning, stood in line in front of the airline counter,coffee in hand and fought for a seat in the first flight out to NY. Considering that most of my life, my Mom would wonder,what she could intravenously inject into me, so I would not run away from a situation that demanded me to fight for my right- I did a great job, pushing, nagging and arguing till I found myself sandwiched between two obese men in the last row of the flight, right next to the washroom!

As, I drove from La Guardia back home and saw the sky line of NY, I realized that I had lived a day of adventure- the kind you conjure up in one of those weird conversations one has with friends, lazily sipping on tea, under a plastic table with an umbrella for shade, taking a break between two classes, starting with the words - "Imagine if.."

Where does the day off go?

2011-02-27T19:08:00.004-06:00

It hasn't been very long since I turned into a working professional.The one seen every morning on the streets, wearing mostly attires consisting of something in black, a potable coffee mug in hand, white Apple ear phones on the sides,with the face suggesting that whatever they are listening to is unimportant, briskly walking as if the entire system of the world is running smooth coz of him/her, an air of responsibility and a vain attempt at hiding their frustration of getting to work every morning. There was a time when I believed that my student days would never be over and the professional world will never have me as I would die getting chiseled and refined to become that diamond that all the schools I attended were trying to make of me. But here I am!

A five day-a-week job, with most days that end with my blood pressure raised and heart banging against my chest cavity is what I signed up for. I belong to one of the most feared profession, one that people associate with pain and would rather avoid having to ever come in need of! That makes me sound like I belong to the mafia, but Dentist is all I am!

Most of my working days, I eat,sleep and breathe my office space,In fact, I dream of my office as well for the few hours that I do get to be home! So, days off are a welcome respite. My 5 days are spread out as 2 days, a holiday and then 3 days. When I do get a few minutes in between patients at work, I always have a task to add to my to-do list. This list then goes up on my bed side or my refrigerator and remain there for the longest time as a constant reminder of my excellent quality of procrastination. Each week my lists either get longer or more in number, but not one task on any of them every gets canceled out! SO, what then do I do on my days off, that keeps me so busy that my world does not move.

I did some self-observation and realized , I have a pattern. As my 'weekend'(s) comes up, the night before, a movie happens, then sleep late happens, then get up late happens which results in half my holiday being spent on a beach cafe with Ranbir Kapoor or more recently Ranveer Singh! When reality does strike and the eyes open to the sight of a clear sky with commercial flights flying like little darts, getting to the vertical stance from the incredibly relaxing horizontal stance is a task. A cup of coffee, served hot, bedside, would be perfect, but one of the disadvantages of flying out of home nest is not having this wish fulfilled. It's the time of the day when Mom is missed the most! Then comes catching up with the happenings of the world through my 14" laptop monitor that invariably leads to me 'googling' for lateral knowledge on everything that caught my interest on the news- US and Indian version! This on a Sunday is usually followed by a limitless phone call to Mom and on a weekday by my stomach speaking it's hunger language till the constant nagging can not be ignored.In either case, it's time to fix lunch. I decide that the one day I get to eat lunch at home, it cannot be yesterday's left over. SO, the whole cooking drama ensues. I further decide that while at it, might as well make dinner. Now, for those born with great culinary skills, you cannot imagine the effort that goes into people with less than ordinary culinary skills to make a decent meal! Over the course of years, I have come to a point where I can make good tasty dishes, as long as I don't tell you what I had planned to make in the first place! Once that is done, the kitchen is in a mess. One of Mom's million lectures automatically starts playing in my head, the one she has made me listen to since the age of 6, the contents of which summarize to how unladylike it is to leave behind a dirty kitchen. Hence the head and hands without much of my involvement turn into dishwasher, scrubber and vacuum cleaner.With so much multi-tasking, tiredness sets in and I decide that since it is a day off, a day of rest, rest is what I shall get. So, I get back to the beach cafe with Ranveer Singh.

The next thing I know, I wake up to darkness. The digital clock blinks a 6.30pm and I realize I have 4 hours before I absolutely have to hit my beach cafe, so I can wake up on time the next morning and avoid an Olympic level sprint to the train station. A shower is what i decide to get to freshen myself up so I can actually get some of the tasks to disappear on the list. As I sit and stare at the list and try to figure out which one to go for, I realize that every one of them has a preparatory task, which takes away the momentary will of doing the actual task. As, I invest my energy into talking to myself and finding a diplomatic solution between both parties of my mind, the phone buzzes, a friend I haven't spoken to in a long time, so off course I get engrossed in the happening of her world and give her a sneak peek into mine. The familiar language and tone of the stomach keeps increasing in the background noise,until I have to abruptly end my conversation. Dinner is heated and the stomach smiles. The smile, as if to taunt every other cell in my body, reminds all of them how I've used and abused them the whole week and they all collectively protest, threatening to go on strike if I do not heed to their request. That takes me instantly back to my beach cafe!

So, you see, my day off goes on its day off thanks to my sheer laziness disguised as being tired, my procrastination disguised in multiple inexcusable excuses and my disgusting inability to prioritize tasks!

In the hope that change might walk in on my day off and kick my butt, I shall get cozy under my comforter and head back to the beach cafe!

A Decade

2011-02-23T13:52:00.003-06:00

It's been a decade. A decade of changing from a girl to a woman, a student to a professional, dependent to independent - simply put - of growing up,of lessons learnt, of struggle to make something of me, of successes, of failures, of special moments, of inspiration, desperation, of creating, destroying, of smiles and laughter, of tears and frustration ....a decade of living life to it's fullest!

It started as a young teenager who walked into a world riddled with mystery, armed with innocence. It was her biggest weapon, as it brought freshness and innovation to solving the puzzles that unfolded. Everyday was a surprise. Everyday revealed a new corner with new characters, new emotions, new struggle that required new skills or constant improvisation of existing ones. Each of those days was about surviving,until one day, it dawned that in the midst of this struggle, this transformation, a new person was emerging - one that suddenly had different ideas of LIFE.

I realised soon, that it was a journey I had to take by myself. The falls were mine but so was the progress I made, so were the miracles I unraveled. It was my journey, I was in the driver's seat. This little piece of information did not dawn in my head until very recently. I was chained in my own handcuffs. It was as if I drove but the navigation was someone else's. So, it felt as if the destination was someone else's too. But, milestone after milestone, I recognized that the destination is the same. The motivation to reach the destination is also the same.

There have been so many special moments, so many special achievements. Not many of these fall into the usual category that encompass a summary of who you are and what you made of yourself. In fact most of these are personal accomplishments, of surprising myself, surpassing my own expectations, of being better than who I envisaged myself to be.Where I stand today in the road map of life is a very good place to be. When I think about it, it just makes me feel lucky. Although there have been a million times, when I would have gladly traded lives with a stranger that had a happy glint in his eyes, today, I wouldn't trade for anything.

My life isn't perfect at all and to think that at some point it might be, is foolishness. But in this imperfection, lies the very essence of life- the feeling of being alive. The hope for a dream to come true, a dream that arises from sheer greed of wanting more of those flashes of life, when the world comes to a stand still and all you hear is your heart beat, all you feel is the wind against your face,your mind ceases to think and lets life rush into your blood. It is that flash of life that fuels you through the dark times.The times when you have let yourself down, when you have whipped yourself the hardest.

I have shut doors on the face of opportunity.I have chosen to be blind to inspiration when it came unsought. I have lost important people who until the point of loss, I did not recognize, brought pragmatism to my sojourn. I have refused to accept change when change was the only course of rescue. I have made poor choices. But in the end, despite the bitterness, LIFE, still seems sweet. Pain has that quality about it- it opens your eyes to the comfort of not feeling pain and the sheer joy of feeling positive.

The decade that went by, opportunities that went by, people that went by, places that went by, moments that went by- thank you! Because of your brief presence, there are more colors on my canvas.

To the coming decade, coming opportunities, coming inspiration, coming moments- may I recognize you in time and make the most of you!

Here is to more colors on my canvas!

To Life...

2010-09-22T22:35:00.003-05:00

Some dreams are simple every day wishes and yet so rare. A desire to breathe cool, fresh air, sit under bright blue skies, soak in the warmth of the sun, gentle breeze blowing, a display of nature at it's best, blending into subtleties of human existence, eyes closed, mind at rest. A sense of calm, peace, of a spotless mind that can absorb the surroundings and appreciate every element of it. A simple wish of feeling light enough to float in air.

This wish of mine was fulfilled by accomplishment. An achievement of making something out of myself. Of coloring my canvas with my favorite scheme of colors and loving the image that the random splashes and strokes finally created. A feeling of content. This feeling opened up the pair of invisible eyes that nest within the mind. The pair that truly lets you unfold life in it's vigor and savor it. Content came to me with accomplishment. But, the enigma of content is such, that for each one, it accompanies a different element.

It's funny how infinitesimal changes in the story of your life determine your ability to fulfill your own wishes and empower you to breathe life into your very own dreams.

New York

2010-06-04T07:31:00.006-05:00

New York. A city of dreams. Dreams that come alive, that flourish. Never had I come to imagine my life being entwined with the life of this city. Three years. Smiles galore, showers of joy, moments of peace, success, satisfaction- color scheme of life- happy.

Hot espresso on a cold morning,walking on the streets like there is no tomorrow, sun shining bright, chilly winds making it difficult to keep the head up. Streets filled with people in shades of black, grey or the like. Enter into a frenzy of people callously falling into two groups, one that get off the subway and one that get on. Not one of them looking up at another, each one running, finding their way through the crowd. For 3 years I fell into either of these groups. And then a month ago, realization dawned. The city where I learnt to live life, had let me progress so much that it was time to move and leave it behind. I progressed into a third group. The group where man took time off a hectic day to marvel at an integral part of life. I believe my experience of college life would not be what it has been if not for this city.

The streets explored, small shops with exquisite pieces adorning the parapets,the tall buildings some relics of a culturally rich past and some signs of a chic present, numerous parks- small and big, bang in the middle of a busy business area, the many restaurants with the entire world's cuisines, the aristocratic professionals, the punk with piercings all over, the fashion conscious 'brands-only' woman walking past another that has all the colors of a rainbow on her, a young mother pulling away her curious son to avoid a homeless guy at the entrance to a subway, a tired tax payer walking out of a bar after dousing his weariness at the end a hectic day, while a 20 something couple walk in to celebrate a special day - New York. A city where two extremes of a spectrum exist in comfort, equality and freedom. A city I fell in love with.

When life brought me here the first time, it was a cloudy,wet,cold evening. The bus from Boston brought me from the north end of the city and all I saw were brick red buildings, walls tainted with signatures of people who got to seemingly unreachable portions of it, blaring sound of heavy traffic, bright lights, unconcerned people, huge buildings and public spaces, "May I help you?" counter with curt officials. I was scared. The place felt unwelcoming and therefore depressing. Life hadn't been the best for the past few months and nothing seemed to go right. I wasn't prepared for the winter and hence could not lift my head up in the wind or think straight. All I felt was cold.

It took an interview, a fight to get back what I deserved and a month of mere survival to realize this city is what you make of it. You can love it or hate it, but you cannot ignore it.

After three years of figuring out the way to live and make the most of this place, praying half the time that I achieve my goal, so life gets simpler and I can move on, here I am, wanting to share more of my life with this city. I've lived every minute here. Fast paced, stressed,timeless, selfish, immense competition for survival, yet accepting of new people, freedom of thought,expression,action; culturally vibrant, lively, fun and serene. A city of sky scrappers, constant traffic, lights, frequent blaring sirens of ambulances and police cars, loud music, sleepless, yet, at 2am when you sit by the East Hudson, watching a full moon on a clear night....New York radiates it's innocence. Of being a place that wants to exude peace and provide an opportunity for a better tomorrow.

New York.. you will always have a special place in my heart. Wishing you a future that keeps your innocence safe and your spirit untainted and a secret desire to have our paths cross again!

If only...

2009-07-24T20:44:00.004-05:00

He sat by her side, not sparing a word. She had left him alone despite promises galore. In silence, he walked away, not a glance in her direction as he let her be from that day on. Tears welled up, but he threatened them against flowing down. He knew he had to get away, just didn't know where to go. He made a call and geared up his bike. He always knew his destination, this time he just let his bike decide.

There was his friend, one that has always been by his side. He stopped right in front of her and let the tears roll. The evening was spent in silence, just letting emotions flow out. With days that went by, he spent his every free moment with her. He needed the distraction, coz life and an empty head reminded him of his pain. It reminded him of unfulfilled promises and shattered dreams of a life that could be. He would talk to her, tell her all about the dreams, the person he shared a very recent part of his life, moments between them and somehow it never hurt to talk about it to her. It in fact had a calming effect. Soon, they would meet, but the talks were no more about shattered dreams and what could be, they were about things happening around them, of incidents and random talk. He liked her company. He liked the comfort and ease she would put him in. Life didn't seem all that bad while he was with her.

With time the openness and comfort improved. The broken promises and all the pain with it were forgotten. He was ready to move on. She was a miracle worker. He had never imagined that life could get rosy again. But she had worked her magic yet again and like each time, she had wielded her magic wand and wiped away the pain. He knew he needed her for life and he offered her his love. She accepted. She knew not when, how or why her fondness for him had grown. But does love ever need a reason? She knew he made her happy. She looked forward to the part of the day that she spent with him. She just felt lucky that he reciprocated the same.

Life went on. Days were now more about the other than just themselves. It mattered to know if the other was happy. It mattered to make the other's day a little easier if not more beautiful. There was happiness all around.

On one another evening, over a cup of tea, they sat just talking, like they always did. He very animatedly described his opinion on a recent happening and told her of a similar incident in the past. As he addressed her as part of his conversation, he took a name. She had heard the name a million times through out the time she knew him. But the name wasn't hers. She let it slide by and did not appraise him of his doing. After a few hours, it happened again. She kept quiet again. It bothered her. She just didn't know if she was overtly reacting to some genuine mistake or was it genuine to react coz this meant more than just a mistake. A few months later, it happened again. She knew there was more to it than just being a mistake each time. But, it happened rarely and on a very random note. His every action told her he cared for her immensely.Was she right in letting it bother her?

Was it just out of habit, of being in a relationship that had lasted a while, that he called out with a name that wasn't hers? or was there a recent event, may be a recent conversation with someone form the past or a conversation with her? Had she ever really had a place of her own in him or was it just a mere filling of a void that was left inside of him? Did he in the years that she was with him, for one day seen her for who she was and not for who she was filling in for?
For replacing or filling in she would never be able to do. She knew that she would never be loved the way he had once upon a time and she was ok with it. She had enough confidence in herself to evoke enough love and care over a period of time, as much as she deserved.

Was it fair to continue being seen as someone she was not? She loved him and cared for him immensely. He had seen broken promises before, should she be cruel and make him go through another episode of broken promises?

He sat beside her, in silence as she told him of other dreams she had..ones that did not have a place for him. He knew it was coming. He knew it had something to do with the times his tongue had slipped and she had said nothing. He now thought of how he should have explained it to her then and apologized. How he had thought of doing so, but just couldn't come up with a credible excuse. That it was a mere confusion of mind and sheer habit and meant nothing more to him. That she was all that mattered.It was because she was in his life that he had had the courage to move on. But, he hadn't told her and it was too late now. A decision was made and one that she was convinced was right. He knew she deserved more. He loved her and that is all the more why he should let her go. He held her hand, wished her the best in life, sunk her face in his memory and walked away.

She sat there alone watching him walk away. Could he not now have accepted it as a mistake and told her that she meant his life to him? May be, he did not coz after all, she did not really have her unique place in him. She probably merely filled the void and numbed the pain. She after all was not strong enough to help him move on.

A Perfect Morning!

2009-04-25T07:18:00.003-05:00

Overlooking the tall buildings and the span of an entire city out of my window, the morning sun finally seen after months of cloudy,wet,cold winter mornings, new born leaves just sprouting on little branches that were lifeless just yesterday, the sky looking calm like it was at peace after a long time, a warm cup of coffee in hand, Pt. Shiv kumar Sharma's santoor playing in the back ground.... a perfect morning!

I've had many such perfect mornings and somehow all of them remind me of these mornings that came by at home. Lazy Sunday, wake up late, mom and dad on the porch outside, tea pot and the whole set laid out on the little round table in front, dad with the newspaper sprawled in front of his face, mom sipping slowly on a boiling hot cup of tea..quiet..just enjoying the fact that such a morning exists. Little drops of rain resting on the leaves, the earth with the typical fragrance of rain, the sun shy behind the clouds, yet radiant. An 8 yr old me...eyes half open, squinting to avoid the sudden brightness of the morning, sleepily walking, rubbing my eyes, oblivious to every thing around except the final destination of my mother's lap. Cradled in her arms, oblivious to demands of brushing my teeth and freshening up, drink milk and all other sundry, just feeling her heart beat against my cheek, smell the rain filled air, an obscure yellow orange ball ..an image of the sun with my eyes closed... it's heat soothing... in the background Pt Shiv kumar Sharma's santoor floating in the air from a cassette that has lived life for a while now.

Through all the perfect mornings that came my way, I realise that the 8yr old in me never grew up. She still rubs her eyes, walks sleepily oblivious to everythign around in search of the final destination of her mother's lap.

Moment

2009-04-11T09:01:00.006-05:00

There were times as a 6 year old, I thought my world ended at whether I could swing higher each time without my heart racing as fast as it did. It was about whether this evening would be about playing hide and seek, run and catch or just a day at the swings and all the other bars that I loved hanging from and practice my budding gymnast skills.

Then I grew..taller for sure..mental development still under question! Life at 12 stopped at whether the teacher would be impressed with my homework, if my uniform was looking smart on me, if my friends thought I was cool to hang out with..and somehow the answer to that question didn't matter as much. There was a level of confidence that I would still have someone to go cycling with or play badminton with!

Come 17, life revolved around getting a good score at the boards, cracking the numerous entrance exams, getting into some fancy college and being the success story everybody around expected of me. Conversations with friends were always about what strategic step they had taken to live their success story..what career to choose, which tuitions to join, what exams to give. When the success story did happen and it was time to rejoice..we were all strewn apart. Life beckoned.

Then came College! We were adults now. Just that the elders at home didn't think so. There was a power struggle at all times. It made sense to decide little things about my life coz, I was grown up and yet there was always this lurking fear if the decisions made would be approved of or not. Somehow there still was always this necessity to ask before acting on the decision..be it small or big. Life now revolved around looking good, darting looks at the opposite sex, enjoying hostel life and all the freedom it threw at us..chuckling and gossiping with late night coffees as the rain poured down on the roofs, fluttering pages of the thick anatomy text book with a definite confidence in flunking the exam the next day, the little cups of tea between classes, the canteen-owner-claimed fried rice, zooming on the roads with a brash arrogance of playing the lead role in the film about one's own life! Life was lived by the day. Every moment gave a thrill.

Then came post graduation. Things got a little more serious. Life was about career and direction. The friends that had coffee and tea were carving their own niche. Jobs, wedding, further studies..the care free days were gone..buried in sand. Invitations in dozens came my way..."It would be a pleasure to have your gracious presence at my wedding with ...." Friends I had fun with were now playing more responsible roles. My life had taken it's own route. Further studies took me away from all these moments. Not one invitation I could honour, coz life happened.

New friends came along. Old friends not forgotten. New lives intertwined. I wondered if I would ever be part of any of my friends' biggest moments..be it graduation, wedding, first b'day of their little ones..just any occasion that means a lot to them.

And a day arrives, 11pm in the night, in the middle of a b'day celebration of a close friend, there comes a call. The other end says.." 4 pm tomorrow..I am getting married." " I have a mandatory class...you can't get married." " But..I am. I would love for you to be there with me. Please make it" A moment's thought. " Gimme the address. I'll be there" Address given. Mandatory class forgotten. It took me the entire night to digest the information. An excitement at finally being a part of his big day. Sheer happiness that he had found his. An inexplicable feeling that I can only describe as a happy state! The next morning went in a frenzy as I attended to the daily routine called life. Come noon, all excited about getting dressed in ethnic attire, caught the train and landed at the court room. There he was. There she was. Looking gorgeous and beaming at each other and everyone around. Hugs exchanged, unspoken words somehow spoken. The group of friends that made it to the moment and it's celebrations along with the couple could no more wait to have it all happen. And finally it did. Papers were signed..witnesses, bride, groom and the mayor. A piece of paper was handed over to them with the words " by law, you are now husband and wife". They were made to stand, hold each other's hands, look into each other's eyes and take the vows of marriage..of being there for each other until death did them apart. As I handled the video camera, trying to capture every moment until posterity, I noticed a gleam in my friend's eye, as the face smiles away. Focus on the others around them and every body's eye had the same gleam. After a while I realized I no more knew what I was recording through the blur of my own eyes. Swallowing the big knot in the throat and flapping the eyelids to push back tears, I rushed to congratulate the couple.

There I was staring at my friend on his big day, floating in happiness realizing that even if life beckons, it's up to us sometimes to grab these moments and cherish them. It felt special to be part of his cherished moment and nothing else in the world could make me feel that way! I also realized, that a lot of the moments I have collected over years have always been with someone or the other...friends...and my life is the way it is coz of these very friends.

Getting it just right!

2008-10-26T19:27:00.002-05:00

If you are a sloppy cook like me, you would probably relate to this post a little more on a personal level. By sloppy, I do not mean the messy kitchen you leave behind, I mean the I-will-be-there-but-just-not-yet stage your dish ends up in!

There are many ways in which my food doesn't exactly end up tasting as good as it should...or at least smells! Gran ma would say, make sure the onions are fried till they turn golden brown. I will get them to turn golden and impatiently put the next seasoning in, and then wonder why my food doesn't taste like gran ma's! You see, the magic taste was in the onion turning that slight tinge of brown! Problem no.1- diagnosed as impatience!

Then there are times when I carefully note down every step in a certain recipe, including cut bell peppers lengthwise or cut them into square pieces. Recipes collected from known and experienced sources like gran ma and unknown, inexperienced sources like acquaintances in a party! I do exactly what I write down, to the punctuation mark..and yet it turns out either a disaster or a shade brighter than a disaster! When I discussed this with mom..she said, cooking is not in getting things perfectly, sometimes it is the imperfection that gives that extra tease to the palate! problem no.2-diagnosed as perfectionist! But..the last time I din't turn the onion to golden brown,it was imperfection. But that din't amuse my taste buds at all!

I always seem to add less of the seasoning than too much. So, now no one who eats my dish can figure what I had tried to make....n that includes me. Considering my extraordinary culinary skills, there aren't many who venture trying out anything I dish out!

But then..there come some days when you do everything just the way you are used to doing...sloppily, and the dish comes out as perfect as you had imagined. That one day...actually..the only one day was today for me! Tried making one of my favourite dishes with mom telling me the stepwise recipe a hundred times over phone and me having it written from the scriptures of cooking..my gran ma! Have attempted this particular project umpteen number of times before, but have never until today got it right! When, I finally garnished it and it looked, felt and tasted exactly like what I am used to seeing,feeling and eating it as, there is just nothing that can express my ecstasy! It was purely exhilarating. I mailed mom.(she would freak out if I had called her this excited in the middle of her night). I told my friends of my great achievement, which they very casually let go.You see they are not as sloppy.

You know it's the sloppiness that actually lets you feel this extreme pride and joy of that achievement! If you are the kinds that gets just about every dish perfect, i know you feel the pride too, but you wouldn't understand the extent of thrill that comes with getting it just right!

Powerless

2008-10-05T13:02:00.004-05:00

I am one of those type of gals who has everything any other gal would die to have and yet feel powerless. I cannot reveal everything i have, coz in simple terms they call it boasting and if you understand complexities more than I do, you'll probably understand teh phrase 'blowing your own trumpet'. But, why do I feel powerless?

1. Every time in school, teacher asked us to write an essay on my favorite festival, the gal who read hers out just before I did, wrote and read out so beautifully, that the whole class and my teacher would still be drowning in her voice while I finished reading mine. N thus, noone heard.So, whether it was good or bad, it was not registered.

2. Maths is not every gal's forte and neither is it mine. The gals that could juggle with numbers better than Ronaldo can juggle with the soccer ball were more popular.

3. The day I wore that pink frilly dress most boys claim to despise but secretly like to see gals in, another gal would wear pink frilly dress with pink ribbons and lace lined socks.

Basically, there was someone always better than me. Now you'll tell me, why do you look at who is better than whom and who is not? Every individual has his own niche or creates one. Now tell me..do you remember that gal with the skirt that was just above her knee and sat right at her tiny waist, wore a crisp shirt, rose her creamy hand in air every time the chemistry prof asked to solve an equation, smartly walked up to the black board, elegantly picked up a chalk and wrote with the most beautiful handwriting you have ever seen the entire equation completely balanced? You do? Great..your memory is something I tell you! But that was not me. I was that healthy gal sitting next to her,engrossed inside the notebook trying to solve the equation before I confidently can raise my hand and write it on the blackboard. Now do you remember me? NO!!!!! But I thought your memory was good!

Now...if you are that tall,dark, handsome, broad shouldered,chiseled mandible guy every gal in the entire school drooled on, I am appalled that you don't remember me. But can't expect much from you, you were dumb to begin with. Now you'll ask me if I remember that tiny scrawny fellow that shared the desk with you and for the most part was engrossed in his notebook as much as i was and my answer would be yes..i do. Today he is in that MNC drawing a handsome salary and we still keep in touch.
I know, I was in a better position than the gal who was baffled just looking at the equation. At least I knew how to attempt it, so what if i was not quick enough.

My late granpa always told my mom that not all fingers on your hand are of the same size, but not one of them can undermine the importance of the other. And mom passed this saying on to me. But Granpa also said, always compare yourself with the person better than you. He said that so mom could better herself. But granpa.... that comparison thing makes me feel like a hapless baby turtle held by it's shell, frantically flapping it's paddles in air trying to move ahead.

How and Why?

2008-10-04T18:50:00.003-05:00

It's amazing how everything you do everyday in life grabs your attention and excites you only when you are preparing for this life and death deciding exam.. I know most people after having lived 50 years of post exam phase think there is no exam that can be life defining and death defying. But, with all due respect, right now my entire universe depends on that exam I have on Monday morning. Forget the cliche of "i don't know why exams exist?" and all that. I just want to ask myself a few questions....

How come you find every single atom of dust on yourself when you take a bath the day before your exam and hence spend an extra half an hour, despite knowing that time is a crucial commodity?
How come that speck of dust escapes your vision other days?

How come Mamta Banerjee's strike in Singur strikes so much interest in you on the Saturday when bleeding disorders is going to be on the exam on Monday and the answer to those questions will not involve any of the blood, shed from beating up the security guard of the nano factory?

How come some of the most interesting blogs pop up on a blog hopping spree just before the exam?

Why do you get sudden hunger pangs that involve a certain craving for paani puris, aloo tikki and the likes....basically stuff that was available with mom around and right now only in your dreams?

Why does the dusk and the view of the financial district with the fading sun fancy your interest and lure your thoughts in the direction of the special someone you had, have or are waiting for? He is not going to help you answer any questions on chest pains and failing hearts. Oh..yes..that topic is also on the exam for monday....CVS..(student term)

How come you suddenly remember the entire list of songs,that you wanted to download onto your i-pod in the order that you wrote them on the back of that grocery bill that you accidentally threw into the dustbin...all before the exam?

Why does the irritation of sitting in a moderately messy room annoy the wits out of you and you set upon mission wipe-out-every square mm and do a neater job than your immune system does trying to wipe out the virus you caught, coz you did not listen to mom and went out in the cold without a sweater?

And when you know, that all your achieving by writing this post is losing another few precious minutes..the minutes that would writhe you with pain when a question from that one slide you could not read, just as you were entering the hall ,coz the proctor snatched away your ppt appears and decides whether you pass or fail .....why are you still at it?

So..lesson learnt...action planned..execution still under contemplation..but soon to be implemented.

relation...with an expiry date!

2008-08-01T19:22:00.003-05:00

When two hearts connect as much as the minds do, the magic of it all is indescribable. And when the snap happens, the pain and the sunken feeling is...... indescribable!

They hit it off together, the moment they were introduced at a friend's birthday bash. She smiled with a silent "i thought so too" to everything her new friend said. Somehow it seemed like one of them was a mouth piece for the other. They met often after that and grew to be fast friends. They had as much fun as two gals would have when they identify with each other. Every outing was guaranteed fun. Every little hello would turn into a chat that would last till some part of the conversation would remind either of them that they met by chance and this chat was not planned, that the purpose was different from what was being achieved! A party plan would first start with filling each other with the day's or week's details that included things as shallow as who stood where while saying what to everything that hit the heart and din't! Yes, they were friends..they were soul mates.

Years went by, life went by...and they lived every minute to it's full. Life threw the dice in different ways and each climbed a different ladder. Yet at the end of the journey, they still found each other. Time and physical distance din't matter, till on one instance both dimensions got too big. It's surprising how we stop trusting the connection, how we doubt the thought of the very person who we claim to be a reflection, how unsure we get about the other person's perception of a certain act just coz time and distance got in the way. That is just what happened. Suddenly, there were silent thoughts on both sides that went on the lines of " do i really know her?". It's amazing how the connection and the snap occur with the same speed, same ease and without parameters. They just do.

Now an uncomfortable silence fills the space on the phone. The mind makes an effort to come up with things that can be shared with the surity that the other will perceive it in the same way as being said. Worse, the list of things would just get shorter with every call. Eventually the frequency of calls fall. Time and distance between the minds, just got bigger...enough to let the connection be a part of posterity. Each would remember the bygone days and pray the other is leading a life peacefully. And that thought was the only thing that stayed constant from the past to the present.

Life and it's ways. The friend is not lost, yet the thought of the person brings an uncomfortable feeling that relates to pain that comes with a loss. Why?

musing...

2008-04-05T11:36:00.002-05:00

Life sometimes teaches you the big lessons in a small way and the small lessons in a big way! I've always wondered how life comes up with a methodology of teaching the various lessons to it's own creation in a quest to make it perfect and balanced!

I wondered why it was so important to come close to perfection? I wondered what was the picture of perfection? I wondered why these lessons need to be learnt? I wondered if every creation really wanted to meet perfection,or was it just the libran in me. How does it matter to be balanced?

I do not know the picture of perfection,but I do know what picture of me I seek to be. I do not know how it matters to be close to perfection, but I know I will be at peace if I am that picture I seek to be.I've reached this perfection many times in life and then a sudden act snatches that peace away. Life's lessons are about reflecting on how delicate perfection is, on how minute and intricate it's boundaries are and what inside of one needs to change to make those boundaries stronger. The balance is about attaining the picture one wants to be by maintaining the lines n strokes that are part of the perfect picture and changing the ones that aren't. For refraining from doing either can destroy the image.

Perfection I thus thought was about being at peace with oneself, about being happy with who you are and reflect to the world around you.

In awe...

2008-03-18T07:43:00.002-05:00

How many times has it happened to you,that you come across glimpses of another being's personality and it stuns you? It's the experiences that shape a personality is what I've heard most times, but isn't it also what you make of the experiences that shape you? Isn't that the reason why some people grow with experience while most others either stagnate or worse, undo their growth thus far.

In the past few weeks, significant experiences have left me feeling like the lesser mortal, when I suddenly was made aware of the vast expanse of growth that my being is hungry for. I wondered what it was about the personality that got them so ahead on the face of the same earth that I share too! Age,accomplishments or much more?

Sitting in a classroom of 100 odd students, in the middle of a regular tiring day,with an exam following that lecture, isn't the setting I would expect to be jolted out of my senses! But I guess, the impact of something is maximum when you least expect it to happen. As we all sat, catching up with each other on the week that had gone by, in walked a tall,well-built man in a suit. The first thing you would notice about him is his mop of silver. As he walked around the podium trying to set up for his lecture, I caught his eye. Not thinking much, I continued to contribute to the din. After what felt like just a second later, one of our familiar professors walked up and took the liberty of introducing the man with the silver mop! He was an alumnus of the college, a pioneer in one of the subjects in dentistry(Cosmetic dentistry) that has now become the face of dentistry to the common man, currently one of the most successful practitioners in the city with high profile clients. A man whose works I have read as a student getting introduced to a new subject and as a curious learner wanting to know more. Someone I had associated a face to with the name on the cover page of the book,with not even the slightest imagination that one day I would actually see the real face to the name! The feeling of sharing the same breathing space with a legend,seeing him from a distance of 5 feet, getting an eye contact which to him would have been just another moment,but to me was a defining one, gave me a heightened feeling. It was definitely inspiring to say the least!! The simplicity with which this figure walked in,unannounced,no pompousness, no VIP treatment, just another regular guy coming to teach a classroom half of which is filled with students who were living a parallel life mentally while physically being here, was what touched me the most. That act to me defined his growth as an individual.

...left me wondering, if there ever would be a student who would be as awed, by my existence...
..left me also wondering if I would ever utilise the opportunities I get, to grow so much as an individual..

The extra day!!

2008-02-29T10:53:00.002-06:00

The first leap year ever since I started my blog..n I just had to make an entry! This may be an amalgam of utterly incoherent set of sentences..but then..as I said..it was all about making an entry on this day!!

I love the idea of getting an extra day to live! We all say, life is so short and there is so much to see. So. I plan to make the most of this extra day! But what all can I do today? How many things can I actually give the extra special touch to? If it was up to me, ti would be to everything I routinely do n a lot more!

Sometimes I wonder, why I get so excited about little things like this? The other day, as I watched the sunset over the skyline from my window, I wondered if there were any two sunsets I had seen that were the same! That means the sunset my eyes are soaking in right now,will never happen again! So,isn't this one-time wonder special? To think that in my lifetime again, this signature of the sun to signal the end of another tiring yet beautiful day,will never be seen again, just made me hold on to that moment a little longer.

With all due respect to every relation I am in, the beauty of staying with myself,having those moments of solitude,to appreciate every little thing around me,may be the buildings around or just the little rose that is probably breathing it's last today in that small vase, the dying flame of the candle with it's unique existence adding to the beauty of the ambience, inspite of the magnificent radiance of the morning sun, is something that is absolutely invaluable to me! The freedom to stop a moment before flying through the door in a hurry to get to work on time, to just check how the little snowflake trickled down my window pane, is amazing! Most people find it crazy. I have a heard a lot of people tell me that I should be more practical and realistic and less of the romantic! But everybody lives life. Everybody wakes up in the morning, gets about doing the daily chores,gets to work,comes back from work,,watch TV, have a dinner,hang out with friends,watch a movie and crash into bed again. Yes,these things have their own joy associated. But, Have you ever wondered, what the flower that just bloomed outside looks like when it shies away from the early morning sun? What an aeroplane traversing the vastness of the sky looks like at the touch of dawn? The feel of watching the building in front of you, that you have seen every day,every moment that you have been home, reveal itself as the late night mist clears away? or may be, the antics of the little boy living downstairs,as he has an encounter with the first snow of the year?

Yes,these are little things..magical in themselves.They replenish the vigour in me,fill me with a sense of being alive and soaking in life! I love being a romantic. After all, what matters is the eagerness to live each day to it's fullest.Who cares what sets that eagerness?

So, here is that extra day and I am all set to soak it in!

What now?

2008-02-23T22:12:00.003-06:00

They met at a mutual friend's annual party. She spotted him first. He was dancing and she noticed him coz she hadn't seen a man look majestic as he danced! Through the party her eyes kept drifiting in his direction...not that she wanted to catch more glimpses of him! She retired that night with the content of having had an enjoyable evening. After all, these parties were about "meeting new and interesting people" as they say!

As with other parties, present took over past....reality took over fresh memories. The struggle and routine of life kept her busy and as with many other interesting people she had met, this one was forgotten too!

She was workign for a well-established firm as human resource officer. Recruitment was something she had to deal with everyday. Thus, meeting new people, tactfully letting them reveal their dreams and ambitions and assessing whether their relationship with the firm would be mutually beneficial was her forte. After all, we all do this assessment of eachother in any relation we make in this world. Whether we go ahead inspite of the confliciting dreams or part ways inspite of having the same goal is a different deal all together!

As she made her preparations to go through another session of appraisal, she was called for by her head.They had found her some help and wanted her to familiarise the office and work ethics to the fresh member in the work force. As she was introduced to him, a sudden wave of familiarity hit her, but she just couldn't place him. She categorised it as one of those 'deja-vu' incidents and let it pass.

Over the next few days she found him adept and amicable, two minimum qualities that one needs a co-worker to have for peaceful co-existence. Their equation was strictly professional. Neither had made an attempt to get friendly beyond what was minimum necessary. But there was an enigmatic angle to that equation..something that seemed to fit the description of admiration,respect or mebbe venture into the realm of attraction. It was ambigious...neither of them could describe it but both if asked would definitely not deny it's existence.

She was an introvert. Though she was a very affable person and a great conversationalist, there was just so much you could make her reveal. Some people would unanimously rate her the winner of a talkathon while others would swear by her patience at being a listener.She was outspoken enough to get what she wanted. This quality of hers along with the bit of being a conversationalist would throw people off the idea of her being an introvert. But can't this combination exist? Aren't there people who can talk the world to another person but be reticent when it comes to laying their heart bare,no matter how close the listener may be?

The affable side of her once broke the ice or rather crossed the line that the enigmatic angle of their equation had drawn. He perceived it as making the first 'move'. She realised that perception and made a mental note at being more careful about maintaining the line. Did she truly want to cross that line? Did she really want to add another definite angle to the existing equation? Something din't let her answer those questions with credible positivity.

She traced her steps very carefully the next few days. His actions were met with luke warm enthusiasm. He found it difficult to pierce through her defence,there was something about her that was very gaurded. Her careful tread was now perceived by him as arrogance. After all she had made the first 'move'. He decided to step back too. She was not the end of the world!

It was the start of another year. The past year seemed to go by in a jify and the present year seemed to come by in a jiffy! As she waded into the sea of people enjoying the celeberations, she critiqued the decor and ambience of the venue, the fashion sense of people her eyes fell on, the couples that floated around and various such observations. As her eyes went scanning the room, they fell on a pair of broad shoulders that floated on the dance floor with exemplary ease. there was somethign very familiar about that majestic look. As the shoulders turned to reveal the face, a flash from a distant past seemed to culminate with her recent past and the present.

Yes,it was him..the majestic dancer who also is her colleague. What now?

Valentine's day!

2008-02-16T21:55:00.002-06:00

Valentine's day....a day that celeberates the thumping hearts, the language of the eyes, the unspoken words, the talking silence....a day when most people make an effort and take some time out to let some of the most important people know, what and how much they mean to them.
While most of the world is divided among two groups...one that believes in celeberating this day and the other that doesn't, I guess I belong to a completely different group. To me, this day is about celeberating myself! Coz..when you love someone ( be it mom,dad,friend or a lover) you somehow unwittingly give a part of yourself to them to keep for life and that part of you now belongs to them. So, when I acknowledge their importance in my life, I am acknowledging the fact that I belong to them. From experience I can say..that the feeling of belonging to someone is beautiful, one that puts in a lot of responsibility but one that gives you a purpose and celeberates your existence.

So, when do I celeberate the others' being? Every other day...coz every other day,everything I do depends on the amount and quality of ripples my action will create in their lives. Everything I do is thoughtfully considered,planned,replayed a thousand times, before it is actually carried out to weigh the consequences. So, don't I ever do anything on an impulse? I do..infact most often...and those impulsive acts are ones that come with instant gratification,sometimes positive and many a times negative. But these acts are all the small ones, ones that are inconsequential in the larger frame, ones that bring the thrill in living, the feeling of adventure... n irrespective of the consequence are very enjoyable.

So, yes..to me Valentine's Day is important, it's a day when I pamper myself by telling the people I love that it feels invigorating to belong to them!

Standing

2007-10-28T20:35:00.000-05:00

What he feared the most had happened. Life had intervened and he had to take a step back. They had been together for 4 years now,4 years worth of time with friendship worth a lifetime. Cupid never struck them. Their friendship was simple. It was ideal...no expectations what so ever,both ready to only give and keep giving.

As he looked at her for the last time that day, he saw a face that held itself strong,minimal expressions, a pair of eyes that had lost it's glitter and was probably the only tell tale sign of despair. She was smiling as she heard him say goodbye. He never understood why.

It's been 20 years to that incident.They have both travelled down the roads of life oblivious to each other. As he seats himself and waits for the flight to take off, his mind envisions that young,strong face....a face that while smiling, cried in agony with no tears shed. He wondered how much must have changed in that face...if at all it had changed.He relived moments they had spent together...randomly.With each episode,he writhed in pain of not letting her be part of the journey he had taken hence. There was nothing he could do,she had asked for it. She was moving on with life and could not take him along.It was time to part she had told him. But do friends part by merely an end to communication, an ignorance of geographic location, a lapse of time and all the events it brought along? Doesn't friendship live on with a silent prayer for each other, a moment of thought in all those special moments, in the feeling of missing that person in the most beautiful times of life? Aren't friends soul mates?

A complete stop to communication and a request to step out and never make an effort to return had chained him from sending the prayers across in words..said or written, of acknowledging the influence of her existence and the effect of it. It took him an effort to hold back the happiness, the pain, the purity of a simple thought going across to her. But he did it, coz he respected her wishes. Was this friendship?

He wondered if he would ever see her again. And if he did....what would he do? Would he go up to her,talk to her? What would he say? Where would he start from? It wasn't the first time that these questions had plagued him. They were there from the time he had said goodbye.
Just as they plagued him one more time, He saw her. He knew it the moment he set his eyes on her. She was just the same inspite of evidence of all the years that had gone by. He just sat still,soaking into her face.It had been a while since he had seen the glitter in her eyes.It was there right now...the shimmer of eyes that have been soaked in happiness. It filled him with a serene feeling...a feeling of content knowing that she was fine and just as happy as he had wanted her to be. Could he break the rule for a minute and exchange a few words with her or should he honour her words and fall silent? He decided to do the latter.
After all she must have had a reason to do what she did,so what if he doesn't know anything about it. He had learnt to trust her decisions blindly, unquestioned....for friendship was all about trust.

pondering...

2007-08-23T10:35:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I have played with words and relied on them to reveal the feel of every experience I have had. Life kept running and left me tryign to catch up with it's pace. Most times, I was successful..but everytime I failed, it just pushed me to try harder.

This country has taught me a lot in a matter of a very short time. It has taught me, that life doesn't stop at any point. When things don't happen the way you expect them to, you try to make them happen...not now, not then..but definitely sometime. An experience of living life in your own terms, the freedom of decision, the entireity of harvesting on the perks of a right one and the responsibility of bearing the consequence of the wrong one. The sheer independent effort at trying to solve the small puzzles of life that have a bigger impact in this materialistic world.

Yes,I have been a pampered soul..pampered with the love of parents and friends, pampered with comfort and security, shielded from the effects of the dark side of the world, a protective veil that let me see and learn from,but not face painful experiences. The pampering was not indulgent, so it let me make my own opinion on experiences, let me believe in the lessons I had learnt the way I did. And they all came in handy when I fiinally flew out of the comfort zone to find my own niche.

What the experience of being on the roads on my own revealed, was the power of healing, that was deep in me..so deep that I was unaware of it's existence. A strength that I seem to so often call upon to propel me forward, towards a goal I seem so passionate to reach..a goal that was unidimensional a little while ago, but is now multidimensional with obscure edges.

All this for a dream I dream and so want to see it come alive!

:-)

2007-06-15T20:34:00.000-05:00

Sitting on the window sill of a high rise building....good music.....a view of the city on the banks of the Hudson....a mix of nature,it's mysteries slowly revealing....and the sophisticated signs of human inhabitation.....friends over...dinner cooking.....movie on....chatter all over....eve of an exam....i am blogging!!

A weekend in New York!!

In-flight entertainment!

2007-06-02T22:21:00.000-05:00

A travel for over 30 hrs is what gets me across half the world,inclusive of transit hours. Such long hours of travel are effective practical classes in psychology. Most people carry their CD player, portable DVD player, playstation,laptop with movie downloaded in it...and for the poorer souls..the inflight entertainment is the best option. But my concern is something totally different.

I think for a comfortable flight, one needs to have good co-passengers. When you don't..it is entertainment in itself! These are some of my experiences!

Children when seated behind you, find kicking and boxing the seat in front the best form of play ever. When seated ahead of you, they just find anything you see, read, touch, do,eat or drink interesting and if at all you don't do anything, they find you amusing. So you will have them constantly staring at you and their eyeballs moving in the direction of any slight movement you make. Babies are my all time favourite in the list of "not preferable co-passengers". Apart from the baby crying and messing around, crawling all over the place, frequent changes, constant attention and entertainment seeking traits, what irritates me the most is when the mother requests you to give up ur seat and shift elsewhere so she can lay the baby to sleep, also the baby-sitting moments while the mother takes the unavoidable breaks in between!

The other kind are the ones that sleep through the entire flight. The moment the flight takes off and is at a reasonable height, our guy reclines his seat so much that he is on your lap. Well, you will have to spare your lap for him or recline your seat to maintain a decent distance, which eventually leaves you with a back ache. Everytime you want to get up and use the restroom or just want to walk around and stretch, you either have to be a gymnast or a circus pro.....hop....jump..stretch...and ya..mumble,rant,swear..n all that! Oh..and forget it when food is served, your tray table is forgotten!

The other is the reader. One such person in front,behind or on either side of you..you can forget about sleeping. The reading light will eternally be on and somehow directed right onto your eyes! Also the frequent bell to summon the steward or stewardess for coffee,water, juice and sometimes drinks. If you choose a seat at the aisle, your ease to move around is at the cost of being hit a million times by the steward(ess), the food trolley that bangs right into your shoulder,elbow or knee, the scores of passengers frequenting the restroom or just walking around to stretch their limbs.

Next is the body type, age and sex! An extremely healthy person could be of quite a concern as I would give up half my seat to adjust to the lack of such 'health'. A tall person would also be of concern coz he would shift and readjust himself , in what seems like every 10 mins, disturbing the few winks one sometimes is lucky to catch. A young 20 something gal is also of concern as she finds a friend in me and talks through the entire length of the flight which could be anything from 3 hrs to 14 hrs.I generally end up with a headache after that, not only by the constant conversation but by just rotating my head in her direction for that length of time. A young 20 something guy is of equal concern...primarily coz I'm not too comfortable with unfamiliar males, secondarily coz there always will be this uneasiness when you need to use the restrooms! An elderly (male or female doesn't matter) might also be of concern as they frequently need to keep walking to keep their circulation going and also the frequent visit to the restroom,which generally is most urgent when you are in teh deepest of your slumber!

So, who is an ideal co-passenger? Hmmm... I do not have an answer to that..but you could avoid the problem by travelling with someone you know!! You can't help what you get ahead or behind you, but you can certainly be releived on some front!!

2007-05-31T01:42:00.000-05:00

Life always springs surprises onto us. When it is in our favour , we say we have been rewarded for our efforts, when it is not in our favour, most often we blame it on destiny,in a pusuit to run away from the truth of lack of effort. But, I do realise that there is just so much one can do. You can dream.You can live a mule's life trying to breathe life into it. And the dream remains a dream...the one you place in a glass box, to wake up every morning and have a look. The dream always exists. The experience of the effort to bring it alive will also exist, but it is a dead dream. And there is just so much you can do about it.

When you dream, it is just your dream. But when you share it with people your own, it belongs to the soul of each one of them. They live through your efforts with you and somewhere down the line your dream becomes their's. Your disappointment becomes their's. They feel your pain twice as much as you do. In the process, you end up consoling them and prioritise alleviating their sorrow before yours.But what differentiates you from them is that you still pursue ....analyse your efforts, replan the entire ordeal, rejuvnate yourself and make a renewed effort at reviving the lifeless dream. They give up and wonder why you are still at it.

I am still at it, coz I dream. My dream this time is a new one...a dream to fulfill my dream!

gibberish....

2007-03-03T16:14:00.000-06:00

Hmmmm..it has been a while since I've played with words..n today after a long time I just feel like it..so here I am. I don't have anything particular in mind..but I just feel like blabbering!!

The past month was a roller coaster ride of my emotions. I was having the time of my life trying to face my first ever "winter " in it's nastiest form! Thinking about it..I have never actually seen winter.....never ever had my face blown with a a series of cold blast..leaving a feeling of my face being flattened n making it a hideous task to move even a fiber of muscle to bring out an expression! Never had to fight the wind, to stand still n not fly away! Never had my feet so numb and yet have it ache n instill in me that there is no pain worse than the pain of having your feet numb! But not even that could stop me from doing the usual sight-seeing! The super me..under five layers of clothing and an outerwear...a cap..gloves...a wollen scarf...and a hot mug of coffee that took less than one second to get freezer cold....walking up n down the roads laden with snow...n some more falling......the Empire State building had to be seen! What was even better was that it left me with a feeling of euphoria!

I also had a great time visiting two of my old n close friends. Spending time with one of them showed me how much more I needed to grow to behave responsibily and that after a while my life begins to revolve around a lot of other lives. I realised that there comes a phase where you are expected to see beyond yourself and that I am not yet there!
The other friend though reinstilled the charm n fun in being a kid eternally..of living life through the child in you, so you can marvel at little things and enjoy life to the hilt. A carefree time wher all that is important is your own happiness. To feel both in a matter of a fortnight..was a roller coaster ride!

Then there was this serious side to the month where I had to hold my calm n composure, put my grey cells to work and come up with the some impressive answers to floor a panel completely. During this period was also a time when my grey cells multitasked at thinking of sensible things n nonsensical things simultaneously!

It was a crucial month and now that it is over and ended well...I can say that it was worthwhile. But had it ended otherwise..this combination of words or any other for that matter wouldn't have been here!

If the above made no sense to you..it is not your fault at all!

this side...n that

2007-01-16T20:52:00.000-06:00

They were mere flowers.. a beautifully arranged bouquet that had been gifted to an incredibly beautiful young gal. They had arrived that morning, fresh with little droplets of water daintily seated on the delicate petals. A tag hung by it's side..."something beautiful for someone beautiful!"

She had been in the kitchen gobbling her breakfast and packing lunch, when the doorbell rang. She wasn't expecting the flowers, nevertheless she was elated to get them! They had had a fight last evening and hadn't seperated in what one would call amicable terms. The flowers this morning, seemed to lighten the whole ordeal of who was to say 'sorry' first. Obviously these flowers said it all!

She was running late for office like she does most mornings and the arrival of these flowers added another 5 mins of delay. She hadn't realised how long she had stood smiling, staring and caressing the petals while she wondered about how many different ways of making up for a fight, he comes up with and remembering all those sweet nothings that he had whispered into her ears.....just how much this person meant to her. She wanted to call him up this very moment and tell him how much she loved him. Just as she picked up her phone, the siren rang...she had been way too late for work. Even Ranjani must have walked into office after dropping off the kids at school. Forgetting all about the phone and him, she grabbed her purse and flew out of the door. The call could wait..Mr.Bhatia and his watch wouldn't!

It was lunch time before she knew it. It had beena particularly busy day and Mr. Bhatia was having one of his infamous mood swings. She din't have a minute to steal a call to him. But all she could think of was how she was going to ask him home for dinner tonite and what a delicious meal she would cook him.
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He had just shifted in to the apartment. It wasn't the most comfortable place, but was comfortable enough for a young ,single guy, here to stay for a 6 month period. He was looking forward to working in the project, earning a good recommendation from his boss so he could submit the same for a promotion that was long overdue.

After the initial settling in and getting used to the commute from office to home, he had ventured out to find the closest grocery. ......She stood there reading out her grocery list nonchalantly, while the little boy at the store ran helter skelter to fetch them. She was gorgeous. That was all he could think as he stared at her blatantly. Before he figured out how he could approach her and start a conversation, she disappeared.....as far as he was concerned into thin air!! For days after that, his eyes would search for that one face that could quench the thirst of his sight. But she had literally disappeared.

............until one fine day, as he stood by his window with a cup of coffee in hand, he saw that familiar face drifting across the windows of the apartment in front of his. Over the next few days, he knew her routine on a weekday and weekend just as well as she knew it! The best time of his day was mornings....when he watched her fly out of the front door with a thousand things in her hand and a few more clenched tight between her teeth. She never looked more adorable.

He wanted to confront her. But he din't want their first meeting to be another of those "Hi..I am new here and stay right across. I was wondering if you could help me find...." blah blah blah. It had to be special, coz she was special. After contemplating the whole day, he came up with an idea. It was novel and touching. Afterall girls loved flowers!!

He stopped by a florist shop he passed by everyday on his way back from office and ordered a few lilies....pure white....he loved white flowers and was sure she would too. She was so delicate, just like them. He kept thinking of a message to tag along with the flowers and had come up with "something beautiful for someone beautiful". He was confident that she had an idea of his existence and wanted to make a direct approach. The flowers would be delivered next morning and he would plead guilty in the evening. It was perfect.

He woke up that morning, all excited to see her reaction when the flowers arrived. He din't want to miss a single moment of it. He stood by the window, observing the look of surprise, a moment of pondering and breaking into a smile as she caressed each flower.....and then the moment he had waited for......she came upto the window,looked straight in his direction, let a sigh and smiled coyly. He smiled right back...wide..ear to ear. He had never been happier than that. But, how did she know it was him? Had the delivery boy spilled the beans? There was no way she could have known.....unless.....she was secretly watching. But why would she do that? May be she admires him too! WOW!!!

That evening, he picked up a box of chocolates. He knew she would love them. He came back home and freshend up. He wanted it to be the best evening he or she had ever had. As he got dressed, he kept looking out into her apartment to see what she was doing. He saw her bustling about, probably cooking something special, cleaning up the house and decorating with......what looked like candles. He couldn't beleive his luck!

Just as he was about to leave he gave one last look at her window. She was clinging to the door and smiling flirtatiously.It appeared like she was talking to somebody at the door. A guy entered and she melted in his arms, wrapping him in hers. What was going on? Wasn't he supposed to be that guy eventually? .....but she had smiled at him this morning. She had acknowledged his gesture. Then what was this?

Dreams shattered, he slumped against the window. He had always been warned about women. They were unpedictable and changed without a moment's notice. This was just another of those instances. She was also one of those gals who had accepted gifts from him and then thrown him aside like he was dirt. He din't want to see her ever again......never.
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She was standing in the elevator, on her way to work, recollecting last evening which was everything she had dreamt of. Flowers, food, candles and the man she loved...what more does a woman want! They had finished a laid back romantic dinner and snuggled together to watch a movie. Time just flew and before they knew it, it was time for him to get back. It was one of her best evenings. She had wished it was never over. The only thing that intrigued her was everytime she mentioned the flowers he kept asking what flowers she was talking about! May be he was pulling a fast one on her...or may be just teasing her...or may be..he din't actually send one..but how is that possible..who else would send her flowers and why?

Her thoughts were disturbed by the bell that rings evrytime the elevator stops at a floor. The guy who moved in recently into the apartment across her, got in. He was a plain-looking guy, but dressed well always. She liked observing his tie-shirt collection whenver she came across him. He was pretty friendly, decent and not flirtatious (like the others in the building), the reason she liked him. She had never spoken to him but they always smiled at each other.

As she smiled at him today, he made a stern face and looked away. She had no idea why. She couldn't recollect anything unpleasnt that had happened between them. May be it is just a bad day for him or he may not be in the best of moods.
She could care less...she had had an enormously enchanting evening and nothing or nobody could ruin the thoughts of those moments for her.

..renewed determination

2007-01-06T18:35:00.000-06:00

2007....a score and a few more years on earth...n still going!! Each year starts with a dream n the whole year after that goes in putting the efforts to bring that dream to life. Most of the years I have lived my dream and been very proud to do so.

My dream this time is a bigger one and my efforts seem to be just half of what is required. This year my dream is to double up and add that zing to my efforts....that extra something that makes the difference between a success and a failure.

I am not giving up yet. I still have a lot in me to give to this world. I realise I need a little discipline and direction to my efforts and I intend to do just that.

2007 shall see me lay my foundation to the dream.

Should I or should I not?

2006-12-28T13:44:00.000-06:00

Life is about change. But I sometimes wonder what drives us within to will the change? There are so many things different about each person, so how does one decide what part of them needs to change ? How do you know that a certain change will definitely do you good? How do you decide the line upto which you can allow yourself to change?

They say an answer to these questions is a test to your integrity as an individual. Sometimes it is about being socially acceptable, sometimes about making things more feasible, sometimes just being adventurous, sometimes trying to make a prettier picture of your individuality, sometimes it is about standing out. Do we change for any other reason? And how far can you or must you go to achieve the purpose of your change?

I agree that life is monotonous when there is no change. The entire mystery of life revolves around the timing, content and effect of a change. But just how far is one ready to go to add that zing to life?

First...

2006-12-04T02:19:00.000-06:00

There were many firsts between us.
The first acknowledgemnet of each other's existence.
The first time we had a coffee, sharing parts of our lives, as friends.
The first walk, the first phone call, the first time we lingered longer at the bus stop, the first night long chat we had...
The first time the air between us got heavy and we sensed the change in the perspective of our relationship.
The first dinner we had celeberating our commitment to each other.
The first recognition of our inability to live without each other.
The first kiss.
The first fight we had.
The first time we dressed as the bride and groom.
The first meal I cooked.
The first weekend we enjoyed,wrapped in each other's arms, staring at the window, rain drops hitting hard.
The first party we had.
Our first child and all her firsts..
The first time we stood as proud parents, watching her hands loosen from our grasp and clasp tightly the hands of the young man she had found herself.
The first time we glanced into the eyes of our grandchild.

There are countless such firsts...each one equally significant as the ones mentioned. Each one associated with an emotion....joy, despair, restlessness, excitement, anxiety and some inexplicable.

This was the first milestone that left me emotionless....numb.

This was the first time, I couldn't hear him breathe.

in the realm of words..

2006-11-25T00:04:00.000-06:00

A sentence ran across, in front of her. She had read it a hundred times before. But everytime she looked away from it, shehad longed to read it again. They soothed her, gave her courage, a reason to her existence, an excuse to keep her heart beating. . . That sentence summed up her life.

They were just words....put carefully in order....but... meant so much more than just what they conveyed. She could weave her entire future, with just the thread of those words. They calmed her when she was restless. She looked at them, as she relived the little moments that they had spent. Those mere words, were her lifeline.

Yet, today, as she reads the sentence teary eyed, they are just a string of words, that probably don't even make a meaningful sentence. It once reflected promise, now it just reflects a shattered future. Looking at it, used to fill her with courage once, today, it breaks her more n more.

She had never known that the meaning of a sentence can change with subtle bends in the journey of life. She learnt it the hard way.

No, he did not give her up. She gave him up. Rather, she gave in to a certain 'me' in place of a certain 'us'. She hadn't flinched even the slightest while making the replacement, for she had died within, much before doing so.

She had once upon a time, gifted him a string of words, thoughtfuly arranged, conveying a meaning that carried more weight than the words themselves .....
.......and in reply he had gifted her this sentence ... a sentence that had only two words on it.... " Me too."

Over a cup of tea....

2006-11-15T11:20:00.000-06:00

Sitting by his own office and gaping at the window, working up startegies to get past the latest business problem at hand, he probably was the most content man around. He was rich...monitarily, educationally and morally. He had the world at his feet.

It was 10.30 am and it was time for tea. It was his office and tea was served to him at his desk. There was a small tea stall next to the office and a small boy working there as a cleaner would bring it up to his desk. Everyday the boy would knock on the door, carry the hot cup filled to the brim, gingerly, trying his best not to spill and carefully place it on the table. He would then walk away without so much as lift his head. This was routine. Being a busy man, he could hardly bother about a 9 year old cleaner!

Today, something changed. The boy came as always and placed the cup and started to walk away. But he recieved a 'thank you', said matter of factly, in a tone that comes when said without deliberate intent and as a habit. The boy swirled, his eyes lit up and a smile appeared across his face. Turning away from the window, surprised at the sudden movement in the lateral vision, he looked at the little boy and reciprocated the smile.

This was the beginning of a series of smile exchanges which over a period of time led to small talks. Through these talks, he learnt that the boy's parents stayed in the village at the outskirts , that his father is a farmer, he being the eldest of four children works by day adding to the family's income and goes to school by night, that he wants to become a big, rich man when he grows up. The small talks stirred a spirit of charity and he would give petty amounts as 'tip' to the little boy.

The boy looked forward to these one-minute-word-exchanges and would run to the front of the tea stall evey morning and evening to see his new friend arrive and leave office. He once got lucky and actually got a ride in the car. His friend had told him that to be a big rich man, he has to study very hard and be sincere in whatever he chooses to do. And he was determined to do just that!

One fine day, as the boy smilingly placed the cup of tea, he told his friend that his father had asked him to return to the village and help out in the fields, as he could no more afford to keep the boy in the city. His night school would stop, but he would try to find one, close to his village. He still wants to be a big ,rich man. Sadenned by the news, he told the boy, that he was also leaving the city as he was opening a new branch of the office in another place and would have to be there for the next whole year. He then wrote his number on a piece of paper and asked the boy to call him in a month's time and he would arrange for his schooling at his own cost. That was last in the series of one-minute-word-exchanges.

He left the city and his new office was established, but that one phone call he was waiting for never came.

Today as he sits by the window of his new office, the office attendent brings the usual cup of tea. But his tea has stopped tasting ever since that 9 yr old cleaner of the neighbouring tea stall left the city, coz that tea was accompanied by smiles, innocence and dreams....

bestest mommy...

2006-11-11T12:24:00.000-06:00

One of the many things that intrigues me about God's creation, is the creation of a mother! What is it that He adds in her being that makes her omnipresent and omnipotent with respect to her offspring? As a daughter, I may never understand, but only wonder!!

It was one of those cold winter mornings, when I felt as grey as the sky was.(Sometimes, it is the weather that determines your mood...the environmental effect!!) It was a regular day when nobody cares what you are feeling, you just need to go about doing your job. There was a feeling of restlessness, despair, an unreasonable worry and it bothered me every minute. I took a deep breath and thought about the status of all perspectives of my life and realised that all was well. There was not one facet that seemed to be weathering the rains, but I still couldn't reason out the worry! When such a thing happens, I usually classify it as ' feeling homesick' ! Well, having come to the conclusion, I decided to call home once I get liberated from the more practical things in life!

Just as that thought occured, my phone rang...it was Ma...! She said she was missing me and wanted to hear my voice. And I was searching for anything that looked like a string jutting out of my body and running into oblivion....the only reasonable way..she could have read my thoughts!! Well..as obvious..I am still looking for that string!!

All mothers have this string and as many strings as the number of children. But I always wondered if this string ran both ways... There are so many instances of a child being able to hear the mother's thought. How come I have never been able to do that? or is it that I did hear and react but never realised my action!

Human beings are selfish....and if there is one facet of human that is selfless...it is definitely a mother!! and like everyone says...my mommy is the best!!

retrospection...or..... introspection?

2006-10-17T01:38:00.000-05:00

It feels like an era has gone by. An era I had enjoyed living in. A chance to revisit the time, was something I was looking forward to, something that brought a smile across my face.
Today as my visit ends, there is a feeling of peace, satisfaction, happiness and fulfillment. There is fear and sadness of having to let go of the era and live only with it's memories. Memories...some good, some bad, some happy, some sad, some of places, some of people, some of mere objects, some of incidents and some of thoughts!

At the start of my visit, I expected it to be one to refresh images and take back smiles of people I love. It was about giving back smiles, happiness and memories to them. It was a trip looking forward to meeting a new friend and establishing a new thread of belonging. But as unexpected as life can sometimes be, I lost...lost a whole box of memories and more. With mixed feelings, I look back at my visit, as I got myself something new but in the process lost something old..

As I left the location of the era and flew higher into the skies of the future, I felt a certain strength and confidence to pass through any dark cloud that comes by me, with conviction.

I lived a dream. I was blessed to be able to do so. As I fly into the future, I want people associated with me to know, how much, they have contributed to make me the person I am.

Tears flow out, in celeberation of refreshed memories and in pain of having to convert a living moment into a memory.

I lived my dream...and the dream came to an end....

complete...

2006-09-13T21:47:00.000-05:00

Standing by the window, staring at the vastness of the sky, I felt a hand touch me. As I turned back, I saw a pair of eyes that instilled faith in me. A smile that drove away the wrinkles on my forehead. It was these things about him that ensured me.... he was mine. Ever since, the path of our lives have crossed, I have always felt complete.

I found him on the beach, 2 years back. He was wading into deeper waters and was too small to fight the waves. I was taking a leisurely stroll along the waters. He was alone. Nobody seemed to be having an eye on a boy as young as him. He barely looked like 6yr old. As I wondered what a child like him was doing in such deep waters and how could the parents be so careless, his bobbing head suddenly disappeared. Racing against the waves, I frantically searched for that tiny form of life. By the time I reached him, his head bobbed up again. Smiling, he said, he knew how to swim.

I found him every single evening after that day. First a few smiles, then a little ruffling of hair, then an enthusiastic wave from far off and then to waiting for each other to turn up, we had become friends...fast friends. I bought him something small everyday, may be a choclate or an ice gola. He never questioned me when I din't buy him anything.

He came alone everyday. Intrigued by the observation, I asked him the big 'why'.
" I stay in that house there. That aunty lets us go to play every evening, but she doesn't take us out. So, I jumped the gate to see what it is like outside." "Who stays with you at home?" I asked. "Oh! there a lot of friends and aunty." As I looked in the direction of his house, I could read just one word 'orphanage'. The whole world seemed to spin. The sound of the waves seemed to get louder. How could He do this to a child as adorable as this 6 yr old?

I had called him 'kiddo' from the very start and was surprised that I had never bothered to ask him his name.

"Kiddo! would you like to stay with me?"
" you mean..in your house?"
"yes!"
"forever?"
"forever."

I named kiddo, Aryan. He became my son officially this day, 2 years back. He is in class III, in the school nearby. We are celeberating his b'day today. Mom n Dad were upset that I had taken such a huge step without consulting them.... after all there was a society to answer to. A single mom was still not a very comfortable situation. It took them time to come to terms with their daughter's bold step. But they are here too.

I have given Aryan a family. But what Aryan has given me is inexplicable.

This is purely a work of imagination. So please don't ask me, if I actually have an Aryan!

Bird's view..

2006-09-06T23:41:00.000-05:00

It is a pleasant afternoon. The sun is right overhead and shining bright and hard. But there are clouds to cover up, making the weather much more bearable. My search for some form of food in the morning was of no avail. Not a single fish jumped out of the water, not a single rat was slow for me to land my claws on it, not a snake, not a chick, not even worms... It was another of my sloppy days, when I reach the wrong place at the wrong time..or rather don't reach the right place at the right time. My mom always said there would be such days,only she din't tell me they would be so often!

My stomach is growling. I don't even remember the last meal I had. I have to find something to eat. There is no point perching up on such a high branch and wondering what to do. Just flying and hoping against hope, that my luck shines like the sun this afternoon, will be the best thing to do.

Ahh...this earth looks so beautiful from up here. It's a pity that those men down can't have a bird's view........ except when they fly in those bird-like machines that cuts birds as big as me into pieces. Well, even if they had wings of their own, they would have to be long ones to balance their bodies in air. Also, with such a size, and so many of them, the sky would not be enough to fly in!

Oh..there is my prey! After all the wait, I, finally, am going to have a delicious meal. Yummy little snake. Haven't had one for a while now. I knew my luck would shine today..nice n bright!! Ok..little one...here I come!!

I love tearing down the sky in speed, to catch my prey. When I waqs small and mom took me on training, she always told me that it was this part of catching the prey that determined whether I would be succesful or not. She always told me to tear down, fast enough to surprise the prey but not so fast as to catch the attention of the prey. I love doing this....to feel the breeze blowing across me as I fly down!

Oops!! What is this? It looks like a stone. Oh! these young ones of these men..... keep pelting stones at me. One day, I will have to pick one of them....just to teach them a lesson. Actually, I wonder what they would taste like! Well, I shall wonder later, let me avoid the stone. Uggghhhhhh....I am going to miss my little snake!

Hey, it hit me. And no, it isn't a stone. It doesn't look like one. And stones don't make me bleed so much. What is this? And what is that man holding in his claws? I remember seeing a similar one when mom swiveled down, the last day I ever saw her. Is it the same thing that hit mom?
Why am I falling? I can't flap anymore. My left wing hurts and I am bleeding. May be I should perch on one of these branches and take some rest. Where is the nearest branch? I can't see one. I can't see the man either. What is happening? The sun is appearing too bright. Where did the clouds go?

THUD!! I've hit something hard. Now my right wing and my whole body hurts. What is this squeezing my body so hard? Get off me! Leave me..I am in pain. Why isn't someone listening to me? Oh..it is a man's claw. It is coming towards me. What does it want from me? Why is the man looking at me? Mom said men hit birds. She din'yt say, they eat birds. R they going to eat me? Ahhh...I am feeling tired. I want to sleep. Mom, where are you? I am hungry and tired. I need some rest.

Mom...mom...mom...mom.....mooooommm.....mooooomm...mooom...mom.....

Hum Tum?

2006-08-31T10:48:00.000-05:00

It was after college hours, sitting lazily on the benches in the canteen with a bunch of friends, over a cup of coffee and some savories. He was a friend's friend and she was just introduced to him.She had had a bad day. There was constant chatter n laughter in the air, but she was oblivious to it. Suddenly he pushed a piece of paper towards her. It was an artist's version of a withered leaf in the form of a lady. She was surprised and looked up at him. He signed under his work and smiled.

A few days later, the group was planning on going to a nearby waterfall and a farm house owned by one of them. He was the only 'indirect' friend invited. During the trip, he found all sorts of excuses to come and talk to her and she was trying hard to be polite. By the end of the day the battle was won by perseverance. He finally got a five minute one-to-one conversation with her. Well, it wasn't much of a conversation... for most of the time they sat quietly next to each other...until she asked him when his next exams were!

She was seeing him everyday after that, she din't realize until it was almost a week. Someday he would come down coz he needed the mutual friend's bike, the next day, he would come to pick his friend up, the third he would come as a he was passing by the college, another day, there was some function in the college… so on n so forth. She was slowly getting familiar with him and he noticed that she was less guarded after each of their meeting. By the end of 2 weeks of numerous ‘by chance’ meetings, he finally mustered up the guts to ask for her number. Phone number was always a delicate issue, but this time she gave it without thinking twice.

That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between him n her. She hardly had time to do anything other than her course work, but whenever he called up and asked to meet, she would make the time for it. For him, she came before everything else. They spoke for hours. They sat next to each other...quiet...staring into the open, but felt refreshed at the end of it. She could bare her heart in front of him without the fear of being judged and her support was all he needed to realize his interests and accomplish them. He listened to her girlie talks and gossip and she checked out gals for him! They were friends…the best there could be.

Everyone was doubtful of the true intention of their relationship. They questioned him. They questioned her. His friends constantly teased him. Her friends teased her. But they were all ignored.

Years passed by. The bond had grown stronger.

He was her backbone and thought she was the same to him. But, with time, she had become his every breath. She was now the center of his being. He wanted a sort of permanency in the relationship. The friendship was permanent she said.

He smiled, looked at her for a long time, trying to sink her face into the depth of his memory…. and walked away…..

That was the last she saw or heard of him.

handicapped

2006-08-28T12:13:00.000-05:00

There is a music competition on television that I watch very often. I love the songs, the competitors, the host, the judges and the atmosphere created by the program. The recent series was on children.In the episode I am talking about, these kids had to sing their parents' favourite song. A small trivia on the parent-child bondage, then a clipping of the child and his/her parents, the parent says the choice of song, the child is questioned on what he/she dreams of giving his/her parents and the song begins.

Every time a new contestant came up, the ambience was getting more n more emotional. Parents wet eyes gleaming in the light, host teary, judges in tears, contestants, somehow holding the lump in the throat yet singing very much in tune and of course..your's truly with a whole box of tissues...streaming with tears!

Each child's dream was about buying a car, a house, of winning the national award for singing, of doing playback singing and getting rich, etc. One of the contestants, the most loved one and more on the mature side of his age, was blind. He sang like a canary and somehow, no matter what he sang, there was an extraordinary soul added to the song. It touched you, beckoned you to understand the lyrics and appreciate it, conveyed the meaning of the song in each word and in it's entirety. Even if you have seen the picturisation of the song, he could take you to a different world with your own imagination. His voice came from his heart and touched yours straight. This isn't out of a soft corner for he being blind, that I felt all this. But as they say, when God takes something from you, He gives you more in some other way. And God gifted this child with a powerful soul.

His dream for his parents was what touched me. He had two of them. One was to drive a car with his parents as his passengers from home to a restaurant where he would have dinner with them with his first earning and the other was to earn enough to be able to take his mother to all the seven wonders of the world.

Everybody on the sets was stunned by the simplicity of his dreams yet seemingly difficult. It made most of them realise what resources they have and how they are wasting it.With tears rolling down and blurred vision, I stared at this 11 year old boy,dressed in funky clothes provided by the sponsor, jet black eyes rolled up looking directly into the lights of the studio and not flinching, head postioned as if to look up, straining his ears to catch any sound at all. He patiently waited, rolling his eyes all over as if pleading for someone to see for him and tell him what is going on, until his patience ran out. He finally, addressed the host and asked what was happening. The host gave him a hug and said everyone was waiting for him to sing. And with a "oh"..there came another marvellous rendition.

Who ever said these human beings were handicapped? It is we, the so-called normal ones who are handicapped....coz we don't appreciate the simple gifts of life or derive happiness out of things that appear routine for us......until it is taken away from us one day!

luck shining...

2006-08-23T12:01:00.000-05:00

The travel from college to home was an hour and a half long involving two bus terminals.
Everyday this travel brought in a new experience. Everyday I met a new daughter, a new mother, a new sister, a new daughter-in-law , a new mother-in-law,a new friend. For the whole hour, I would share, directly or indirectly ( read overhearing) their emotions on one or more events of their lives. I witnessed friends preparing for exams, daughter taking her mother shopping, the mutual cursing club of the mother n daughter in law,a marriage proposal being accepted n rejected.. just plain interactions..etc.

During one such travel, as I stood comfortably and wore my ear phones listening to the radio,a group of air force cadets got in. Why do I say airforce..well, their headquarters was en route.The HQ stop always had my head turning and eyes wandering. I would know even in sleep when the bus zeroed in to that stop!I always had a fascination for these cadets, not army, not navy..purely the air force!! Please don't ask a why!!

Well..it was their day out and they were just getting back after all the fun. Inspite of the radio, I could hear them. From their conversation, it appeared as though they were late or had taken time beyond their norms.As the journey progressed, the conversations got shorter and were quieter. One of them was standing right behind me.He was tall, seemed well built and goodlooking. Not that I had turned around and checked him out, but got an obscure glimpse of him from the corner of my eye.

After a while, I heard " what are you observing ma'm?". It got me thinking on how could there be a lady amongst them, when all I saw entering were guys. I waited patiently to hear the "ma'm" answer, so I could try and locate her position. Instead the question was repeated and this time with an additional " I know you can hear me, inspite of the ear phones". My heart skipped a beat! Was he talking to ME? yeeeeaaahhh!! I was thrilled. Blood rushed to my cheeks and I turned around startled. He was charming just as I thought. He had that factor that could send a girl dizzy with his thoughts for the next four days. A factor I can't describe or name, but I am sure all girls are aware of.

Hoping against hope that my hair was just right, my face not too oily or sweaty and I was not looking as tired as I was feeling, I managed a feeble smile. He smiled back flirtatiously." nothing much... just people and their reactions". " What do you get out of observing them?" " Well..just speculate on what their thoughts are and be a part of this very moment of their life!". By now, he was peering into my eyes and I wasn't very comfortable with that, though was elated! " what do you do?" " I am doing my dentistry"" how about you?" " I fly planes........................" I frankly din't hear a word he said. I kept staring at him and noticed that his eyes were constantly into mine all the while. Confidence oozed out of him. His mouth crinkled into another of those flirtatious half smiles " You haven't registered a single word I said! I am sure!" I blinkedand steered my eyes away. My heart was now pounding. I swallowed helplessly.Oops!! How did he know that? He wasn't supposed to make out!! I cursed myself for losing my senses and control.

" well..my stop is here. It was nice talking to you. You have a beautiful pair of eyes. Hope to get another chance to look into them!" Another killing smile and off the bus he was. Our eyes locked one last time as the bus moved. He waved and I smiled back.

Well, the next half hour of the journey whizzed by. I was not in this world. Nothing around me seemed to catch my attention.I was mesmerised by the recent events and was thanking God profusely for making my day. My face seemed to have a permanat smile stuck to it.It must have been that one rupee coin I gave the beggar or may be that biscuit I fed the dog with, that I was rewarded for.

I got down at my stop and walked towards home with a spring in my step.After a long, tiring day..what a refreshing encounter it was! Did I say I was tired? May be I was..who remembers!All I remember is that face, those eyes and those parting words. That was one day I remember having slept peacefully.

Another of those ' why 's..

2006-08-17T18:08:00.000-05:00

"What do I wear today?" sing song tune of my roommate uttered every morning for the past 5 years we stayed together!She then would just grab the dirtiest and most wrinkled pair of jeans lying around, randomly pick out a top out of her closet,run the 'darn comb' (as she called it) along her hair,stand in front of the mirror for the next fifteen minutes and see herself in all angles and out she goes! And here I am busy for the past one hour, fresh after a bath,picking out a comfortable crisp shirt, a crisp pair of jeans, hair neatly in place, looking at the mirror and wondering what else to do to make the pathetic sight in front of me more presentable! After pondering on the possible methods and finally deciding on one, I realise I am running out of time and chuck the idea.

As we walk to college together, a few friends join us and there comes the first comment " hey Priya, you are looking so pretty this morning!!"Then they look at me and give me a smile which reads a "Hi"! They don't even lie to me or say something similar to just make me feel better! I look at my roomie,scan her from top to bottom and decide that she actually is looking pretty!

They say hardwork is a sure way of success. Whaaaaaaatttt? The person who said this definitely din't think of the above situation! Yes, I know..it is the inner beauty that matters at the end of the day. But it is the obvious beauty that attracts someone to actually assess the inner beauty!
So there...

Why are some people made such that anything they wear looks good on them and then why are there the other kind of people who no matter what they do, end up looking ordinary!! And if this dividion has been made, then why am I part of the latter kind?

...beyond time and words

2006-08-15T00:36:00.000-05:00

Very apprehensive I entered into his present. I din’t know what to expect. I din’t know what he expects from me. Yet here was a knot that tied our lives together. With my hands in his, as I looked at his face, there were hopes of a future that was lively, colorful, peaceful. It was a new beginning for both of us. As he looked back at me I felt waves of similar thoughts touch me. His eyes filled me with a feel of acceptance. There was a readiness to share himself with me. I wasn’t sure, if I was ready. I guess it would take me time. But the warmth in his eyes was very reassuring. MY life had now begun.

I never had imagined that things done in routine would ever amuse me. But surprisingly they did. I found myself standing still and smiling while I watched him button up his shirt or sip his coffee while struggling to reach the sports page of the newspaper. What was so amusing…I still don’t know! Watching his eyes follow me as I went about doing my household chores, his shifting his place while reading the newspaper, so he is always around me, a comment on the happenings of the world thrown in the air, inviting me to share my opinion, all just to start a conversation…showed me what he felt for me. When he stopped following me, I would look back with my eyes searching for him and he knew I felt the same.

Life went on. We had children. His business underwent ups and downs. We shifted houses and places. We saw our son almost dying in front of us and heaved a sigh of relief as he recovered. We have celebrated festivals, seen big buildings come up and spoil the serenity of our house, seen prime ministers and presidents come and go. Still, every morning I watch myself smile as I see him buttoning up his shirt or sip his coffee while struggling to reach the sports page of the newspaper.

Today, as I go for a walk in the park with him, I feel his pace slowing. His walks are getting shorter each day. His breathing is strenuous, but his grasp over my hand is as tight as always. The brightness in his eyes as he sets them on me is still the same. He still shifts his place to be constantly around me, still throws a comment in the air to start a conversation. Yes. MY life has been lively, colorful and peaceful as I hoped it would be. I have shared my soul with him. I have been part of his soul.

As our days come to an end, I hope to die with my hand still in his grasp.

.......My granma’s reply to me, when I expressed my fears on getting married to someone I don't know at all!!

7 pm phone call...

2006-08-08T21:19:00.000-05:00

It's 7.00 pm. The phone rings. My mother calls out for me saying my friend A has called up. I hold the reciever for 20 seconds against my ear, put it on hold, fetch my timetable book, read out the next day's schedule and keep the phone down.

This run of events like today,occurred yesterday, last week,last month, last year n the year before that too. It began occuring from 1990 and continued till 1996. A was my classmate,neighbour and ahhh.. best friend. Before the 7 pm phone call, we were in the sandpit playing ice pice (I Spy),catch n co n stuff of the kind. A wrote the timetable along with me when 'teacher' dictated it. But the 7 pm phone would still come. A lost the paper..every year.

The turn of events that stopped this was when I had to leave town and change my school. A was no more my classmate, no more my neighbour...... still my friend but not in touch. I missed the 7 pm calls.

Then fate had more in store for me. I returned back to my old school. A was again my classmate n my friend(not my nieghbour though!). But the 7 pm phone calls din't come. A now had learnt to keep the timetable sheet carefully.

One evening, we finally spoke about the contorversial 7pm phone call.

A : My mom said I used to call you up everyday for the time table. Did I?
Me: yes!
A: I don't remember doing any such thing!
Me : * smile*

Alas.. I miss the 7 pm phone call...

Lost traditions..

2006-08-04T18:56:00.000-05:00

Mom is bengalee and Dad is telugu-kannadiga. So, I get to celeberate a lot of festivals and some festivals twice!!

As a child I remember the hustle and bustle that would start two-three days before 'the puja'.... the shopping for fruits and sweets and flowers, taking out the silver vessels from the safe and washing them, the careful cleaning of the sanctum sanctorum of the diety, every nook n corner of the house being swept of dirt, the crefully prepared sweets and other delicacies.The morning of the Puja, everybody is woken up early and made to have a bath( despise early morning bath!!), wear fresh new clothes ( my favourite part!) and then as a kid I was allowed to do anything that 1. would not get me or my clothes dirty 2. would not hamper the arrangements made.

I always waited for the chanting and sanskrit slokaas, the elaborate procedure of the Puja to finish, so I could just get back to playing, after of course the 'prasaddam'. Not being a food fad much, I disliked the forceful eating of the numerous delicacies made. ( I could eat one or two..but not all) I loved the evenings when all the ladies in the 'pattu' saris would come home and I was made to wear a sari too and serve them. I would end up serving just one lady and either the sari would fall off or I would trip over it!!

It's been ages since I have been to such a Puja, smelt the burning oil and incense, worn those traditional clothes, walked on the wet front porch, the mango leaves brushing past my head, heard my granma humming while making the arrangements, felt the excitement in the air, seen the beauty of the idols, tasted the sweets dipped in home made ghee.

Yes, I miss the festival food. I miss the chants and slokaas. I miss the early morning hustle and bustle and yes the early morning refreshing bath! I miss the look of my home all dressed up. I miss the tradition.

Life suddenly seems to be confined to a whole lot of smart tactics to get somewhere....acts that slowly are leaving me hollow!

....ahh!

2006-08-01T21:46:00.000-05:00

Sometimes as I look out of the window, I see myself walking by....smiling and radiant. There is a fullness in me, an all encompassing happiness, a certain peace and feeling of fulfillment. Then I lose myself.
What remains is me.... a restless,dissatisfied mind and an empty heart.
'I am happy'... I say to myself. But my eyes betray my words. What is gnawing at me? What is it that I am looking for? I have everything in life that people pray for...yet there is something missing. Looking for that missing piece in the puzzle of life is the goal of life they say. But can someone tell me what does that missing piece look like?

People say I love drowning in the negatives of life. I say, I voice only the negatives of life. It helps thinking loud and clears my thoughts. This is just one of those phases and a voicing of that phase!!

'kewl'

2006-07-30T22:52:00.000-05:00

I was out with a "friend" whom I had never met until a week back! We were out one fine sunday morning with no plan on mind. As we drove about and finally landed at a coffee place, we got into a 'tell-me-about-u' chat. Not knowing anything apart from his name and that he was an alumnus of my school, there was a lot to know.

As we got into the 'know-me' session, we were judging each other. I was assessing if his principles and philosophies of life are the same as mine, ( If they are, it essentially means that they are right!!) and he was checking out if I was 'kewl' (cool)!! (I found that out by asking him.) That aroused a thought. Who defines what is 'cool'? What is 'cool'? Things that are'cool' to me may not be so for someone else. In that case, is it that I am 'uncool' or is he?

Ultimately, we just let the judgement be and realised that we were actually comfortable in each other's company, so we should just go ahead and have some fun! And that was what we did. I thought that was 'kewl'!

Mel...

2006-07-27T13:46:00.000-05:00

Mel as I call her, was my desk partner in school. I was new to the school and she had been recently shifted to this section. We were thus both new to the class. She had a few good friends in the class,but they already had partners. So it was evident that she had to take the only place empty, which was, beside me.

The period (as we referred to lecture hours then) began as soon as she settled herself into the desk which definitely was small for her. So we just exchanged smiles. Throughout the period, she kept turning back to appraise her good friend on why the change, how it happened and what each official in the process told her..the usual lengthy girlie description of anything small that happens!! Finally it was break time, she smiled and said " I am going to the canteen. Would you like to join?" and I politely declined. (There were too many boys there and I was scared!!) When she came back, she asked me the ususal set of questions that gave an identity to kids in school....parents' occupation,where I stay and which bus do I come by,who in that bus does she know?

For the next two years we were partners and had become friends..good friends.

Then she broke a news that changed the course of our friendship. She had recently shifted to the same campus as mine. Now, every evening was spent with Mel. I hooked her onto sports, we would play badminton in the local club,something she never dreamed she would get herself to do. We would take long walks in the dry, hot desert weather even in the peak of summer!A lot of heart to heart talks, exchange of positive energy and all those inspirational things between friends happened seated on the floor of the front steps of my place under the moon and stars, until either of our mom's high pitched call was heard!!Weekends were spent at each other's place.. studies,fun and all. Between us, I was the moral police and she was the adventurous teenager. For every small thing I was her biggest advisor.

Years have passed by.... we were seperated and reunited.... thanks to "further studies"! She has matured with time and so have I.

Today as we meet,....it is the two school friends who share their secrets and two adults who do the friend, philosopher, guide act.

This post is to celeberate you Mel!

Popsy-pops!!

2006-07-27T02:27:00.000-05:00

The phone rings. I pick up and say " No.Yes.yes.No." The questions asked "have you had your breakfast?" "Are you doing your course work?" " Do you plan to have your breakfast in a while?" "have you had your bath yet?" the person on the other siode of the line..my dad!! expression on my face..bored!! I have had this conversation with my dad every time he calls up, ever since I left home to become independent!!

Staying away from him I realised that behind these fixed questions was a heart that missed the child in me and behind those bored monosyllable answers was a daughter who missed her dad. I missed him. Missed all the times I slept off on the couch and he would gently place my head back on a pillow,the smile and a pat that I always got when I lost a badminton match at the local club, the drives he would take me out for when he wanted me to open up with my bottled feelings, the long quiet walks, the philosophical chats, the laughter watching the Tom& Jerry show together, the hiking and adventures we took together, the times we pulled mom's leg and stole a smile from each other, the times I argued with mom and he would just wink at me while verbally supporting her..unforgettable and exquisetly warm memories.

As I am getting older and realise that my days at home are numbered, I can't help but think how much this man means to me. His constant concern,thoughtfulness, warmth, unconditioned love, pride in me and the feeling of peace wrapped in his arms...are some of the few things I will miss.

We are not very vocal when it comes to exchanging these emotions. But I know, he knows and he knows that I know!!

Refreshing old times!

2006-07-24T04:06:00.000-05:00

The last thing I ever thought was getting close to my schoolmates. Surprised? well,that's how my school was. Schooldays forced a divide between the two genders due to the system of the institution I studied in. It was sinful to look,talk or even walk the corridor of the boys and vice versa. Who exactly determined these rules is not known, just that nobody seemed to defy them.

Years have passed by now. I made a lot of boys my friends on the way,some of them very close. Yet, something about school friends intrigues me. Something about them, inspite of the lack of familiarity, doesn't give me a feeling of strangeness. There is a trust that seems to come easily and naturally.

I met up with one such friend yesterday. We clicked from the time we set eyes on each other. It din't take a minute for both of us to have excited animated discussions, catching up with each other's life,pulling each other's leg, relating to the ups and downs of life, just feeling comfortable in each other's company. This is not restricted to just this friend of mine..but all my schoolmates. A certain warmth and comfort is exuded between us.

In a new place, these friendships have made me feel at home. I guess , there is magic in the friendship!

My ' white' world...

2006-07-14T23:18:00.000-05:00

I can never stay still,even in silence. I dance....dance to the sound of silence,the rythm of my heart beat,the rythm of the clock ticking, the rythm of that music that constantly runs at the back of one's head,unconsiously. No..you can't see my hands in the air or my body swaying. But I dance.

Once on a rainy day,standing by the window,watching the leaves dance as the droplets fall on them,the blades of grass swaying vigorously and the branches of trees swinging wildly, I descended on my dance floor. An instrumental piece played on the santoor,running inthe background, dressed in white against a backdop of white... I began my creation.

Working with simple flow movements of my hands, I began depicting the 'moments' of water....

A drop growing into a trickle,flowing into a healthy stream,collecting more volume,flowing more forcefully...... now a river..slashing against rocks,forming waterfalls,flowing rapidly to join the calmness of the sea.

I saw a pattern of life that converges into the concept of these moments.

The drop- genesis of life,Birth ;
Trickle-childhood ;
stream- the brink of youth ;
river- adulthood brimming with zeal and energy, moving steadily ahead to conquer the world ;
calmness of the sea - The peace of mind at the later stage of the life cycle that comes with an understanding of the magnanimity of life and it's various colours.

I dance. No, you can't see my dance floor. You can't hear my music. You can't see my movements. But I dance.

wise words!!

2006-07-13T14:28:00.000-05:00

A poster put up in a coffee shop that read:

'The difference between a failure and a success is someone who does a thing NEARLY right and a someone who does it EXACTLY right'

..loved it..thought would share it..

I've lost it... completely!!

2006-07-01T10:59:00.000-05:00

I am just days away from travelling to a whole new place, a place people dream of going once in their lifetime (most people I know, do). And I am nervous as hell!! Not because of the elation I might feel setting my eyes on the country or travelling to the place..(wish it was that way!!) but, coz I am going there to give the biggest exam of my career so far.The stakes are high , the chances pretty grim and the preparation waaaaayyy below satisfaction!

What a way to visit a new place.. that too on a tourist visa! I really don't know what I am touring, but I do know, at the end of this trip I would be getting out of a roller coaster ride!! Call it paradox of life!!

If that's how I am positioned.. then what am I doing here typing away to glory!! That's a question I asked myself a little while ago and my conscience beckons me to get back to books, so off I go!

Did anyone mention "Have a nice trip!!" ????

clueless!

2006-06-25T10:36:00.000-05:00

Well, I have been preparing for an examination for about 2 years now (from the day of deciding to take it up till date)! I am supposed to know all the rules and all the loopholes to get through this harrowing process (read applying, required documents,procuring the papers,and the details of the exam itself..a multiple choice type). But guess what..I actually don't!! I am just 2 weeks away from the d-day and I have no clue of what is going on!!

There is a syllabus.There are boundaries of how much I am supposed to know. But as I got started working on the subjects,I realised that the borders are undermined. So there is more depth than it appears from the top! That leaves me clueless on how much I know or how much I don't!

There are many skills other than just knowing the subject that should help in the exam, like the analytical power and the eternally helpful, power of elimination! But solving more n more questions got me at my wit's end to eliminate and the analytical power, I cannot always trust. The choices are just too close!! So, I'm back to square one....clueless!

The other preparation involved,less stressed on, but equally important, is the physical preparation and setting the frame of mind for long hours involved in the examination! My God on earth (mother) takes care of that, feeding me with sumptous food,so I am never at a derth of energy to 'think' (duh!) and those eats that 'enhance' memory and intelligence and what not. The result of this is that everytime she fills me, I end up snoring for the next 2 hours... studies, exams and all tricks neatly forgotten!! The moment I wake up, a glass with the most obnoxious drink and an equally scary colour is brought in front of me...one of the 'enhancing drinks'. I look at it with a question mark...will it help/won't it help... I am clueless!

The examination center is another important factor. An acquainted place is obviously easier to deal with. My center is not only in a new place but incidently on the other side of the globe. I have visited the place once or twice in my geography class though! So, examination center...clueless!

Then there are people who whenever I pick up the phone ask me "so, how is it goin'?"

Excuse me...if you know exactly what's going on.. I think you'll already know the answer to that one! But the very fact that you are asking means you don't!

Well..welcome to the gang...I don't know either!!

mess!!

2006-06-23T10:05:00.000-05:00

If you are an atheist, don't read this!

This is a story of a little boy who was sitting on the floor resting his head on his mother's lap. Everytime he looked up at her, he saw, threads in all colours going in all possible directions, crisscrossing and overlapping, creating a big mess.

He could no more watch the threads running in such asymmetric fashion and finally asked his mother, why she was so painstakingly working to only create a mess? She smiled at him and said "Son, you are looking at this embroidery from the wrong side." She turned the frame and showed him the beautiful bouquet of flowers she was embroidering.

When you feel messed up in life and don't seem to have anymore patience, just hang in there.... He is creating a beautiful picture of your life!

Inhospitable!

2006-06-22T11:50:00.001-05:00

This is an article by Shobha DE that I came across. For all those medica students and wannabe doctors..is this what we wanted when we joined?

"Almost everybody I know has a horror of hospitals. The worst thing you can do to an elderly person is to say, "Sorry, no more home care... you'll have to be moved to a hospital." The sound of that dreaded word (hospital), is enough to freeze the staunchest heart. It's a universal phobia, and yet, in India it see-ms more exaggerated. Senior citizens would rather spend their last few days at home than have their relatives book them into an impersonal hospital, even one in which their chances of survival are far higher. Why are Indians so hospital-phobic? The reason is as much cultural/emotional as practical/rational. Basically, hospital care in India is regarded with suspicion, even hostility. Though our physicians and surgeons are amongst the best in the world, virtually everything else is suspect. Doctors may do their job with honesty and integrity. But what about the others? The problem starts with money. A friend underwent such a traumatic experience recently, he's still fuming. A relative who'd suffered cardiac arrest over a weekend was refused admission in the hospital closest to his home. Reason: he couldn't produce Rs 50,000 in cash, on the spot. Hospital authorities left him gasping on a chair, while desperate relatives beseeched them to accept a cheque.

Their pleas that cash would be produced the minute banks opened on Monday, went unheeded. The patient would've died, had my friend not offered help (read: cash ) at that late hour.... Since the good Samaritan is essentially a New Yorker, he mentioned how such an inhuman approach during an emergency would never take place in America. Most hospitals in India adopt the opposite approach. They project such a ruthless attitude, one dares not fall ill. Countless parallel rackets flourish under the noses of doctors. Patients are not just short-changed but frequently cheated. Sub-standard and expensive medicines are demanded at all hours. From a strip of 10 or 20, only four or five capsules are actually administered. What happens to the rest? They are promptly pinched by ward boys/nurses and sold outside. Nearly every medical facility that ought to be included in the astronomical rates, comes at an extra. And even to avail of those on offer, one has to provide chai-pani paisa to lowly staff. It appears as if these semi-literate fellows are the ones who actually run the hospital, such is their clout. The gate keepers behave like bouncers at night-clubs, using their discretion to "allow" visitors after visiting hours.

Everything comes at a price, including getting the dearly departed to leave the premises with dignity. Procedural forms and bill settlements can take hours, while mourners are roughly herded out to make room for the next patient/victim. Over-worked surgeons behave like bar-girls with metered taxis waiting to take them to the next customer. Negligence suits? Forget it. Who has the patience or money to battle it out for 30 years? Ah, tipping! You tip when you check in. You tip, while there. And you tip again, when you leave — dead or alive. It's an intrinsic part of our hafta culture. Why should hospitals function any differently? If you know someone, who knows someone, chances are someone will look in your direction. If not, leave it to God. Healthcare is going to be India's next big story. We're talking about health tourism, too. This is an area of tremendous growth, provided we get our fundas right. It's not enough to have well-qualified doctors, or competent nurses. What we need is an altered mindset. A more humane approach to the management of sickness and disease. Till then, we shall have to put up or shut up. It's that or chanting Ram naam satya hai, before time. "

Lifeless?

2006-06-22T06:35:00.000-05:00

Recently my father decided to sell our car and buy a more sophisticted and sleeker version of the automobile. After weeks of looking at 'profiles' of various cars from various companies, the family finally decided on one called the Azeera (A Hyundai car,common in the middle eastern countries) . I termed it the upper middle-class' Mercedes. We were all excited about our latest and so far the most extarvagant buy.

We were to exchange our old Camry for the Azeera. The date for the exchange was set. Like little kids waiting for their new toy to come, Dad, Mom and me, hardly slept the previous night.
The salesman came and delivered the new car on the doorstep, beautifully wrapped in red ribbon. She was gorgeous. He then asked us for the old car keys. Dad handed them over and the Camry was slowly driven out of our lives. As it went past the last visible bend of road, my eyes were filled. The Camry had driven me to all my exams, all my parties, all my movies. I had discovered the city sitting in it's lap and now she no more would be ours.

With the lump in my throat, I confessed to my parents, that last night I had hugged the Camry and lay in it's lap for sometime. I had muttered a silent Thank you and bid a personal goodbye. Both Dad and Mom, then sheepishly confessed that they had done the same.

Months later, we parked our 'Merc' at a new shopping complex that had opened up. As I approached the entrance, my eyes fell on a silver Camry parked. It looked like my car. To take closer look, I walked towards it. It was all painted new and registration plate wasn't the same. There was no way to say it was mine. As I shrugged and was about to leave, suddenly I felt a tug. Looking back, I found my shirt entwined around the radio reciever antenna. Smiling I released myself and ran to mom n dad and said " OUR car...our camry!"

Are non living things really not living?

Faith

2006-06-21T05:46:00.000-05:00

We all search for a hero in our lives. As prejudiced as man sometimes is, it is often among the highly successful (I understand that is a relative term) people, or, to be clearer, the more public persona that we hunt our hero!

Let me tell you the story of a girl I know. She was the eldest of 5 children and lived with her parents who were daily wage workers in the smallest village I have ever seen in South India.
Her father was an alchoholic and drank away all that he earned in that day. Her mother having to fend for her children alone, sent away little Naima to a rich landlord's house as a house worker. Naima was all of 8years. In that house she not only learnt her work but also the basic activities of life and her employers were kind enough to make her literate. Staying away from her mother's house, Naima learnt from childhood how to look after herself and not let emotions take over her life. During her years there, she lost her father. For any daughter that is a painful loss ,no matter how the father is.

For the next 10 years, she toiled in the feilds and worked at home, to help her mother who was now getting old. She was eventually, single handedly raising her siblings. Time came for the prince charming to come Naima's way and sweep her away to a better place. She was married to the most good looking boy she had set her eyes on and was instantly in love! Two days after marriage, work resumed. The poor never seem to have the luxury of a holiday! This time she was working in the fields with her husband.That night her husband din't return and eventually turned up at 2 am...... drunk! Naima knew instantly she had fallen into a darker pit!

Clock ticks and Naima moved on. She grew deaf to all the shouting and insensitive to all the physical assault.She had 2 children , a son and a daughter. Her world was bliss when she lay her eyes on her kids but knew that she would have to toil all over again to create bliss for her kids. So, back she was,doubling up,handling two jobs at a time and looking after the house.

Her kids grew,the daughter was a nurse and son had become an electrician.Naima was getting old but din't stop working. It was time to get her children married. She made the right matches and the children moved to a better world. With time and progress, the children went abroad for work.Naima now retired, lives in that small village with her husband, who for her was dead the first night he came drunk.

Today, Naima is exhausted with all that life has put her through. She has never taken a whole breath and felt the cool air fill fer lungs, never felt the warm sun rays caress her skin, inspite of working all her life in the fields.But everyday she wakes up, she does the Namaz five times and thanks God for all that He has blessed her with.

Ladies and gentlemen...my hero..Naima!

who are we fooling?

2006-06-19T23:32:00.000-05:00

While scanning the newspaper yesterday,I came across this article on Kofi Annan being honoured in Copenhagen. In the dinner he said " war on terrorism is undermining the civil rights and ruining the very essence of law." ..."it is giving a victory to the terror organisations that they cannot win on their own."

Sometimes I wonder, what exactly are these organisations fighting for? To me, it seems like their way of feeling the euphoria of having power in their hands, a feeling of being omnipotent. For, if they were fighting for a real concern, they would do so in a manner that would cause least suffering to their own people ,yet make the point to the world. Over all these years of terror, have they really achieved something? They have just added on to the number of orphans, amputees, childless parents, refugees, lawlessness, unemployment, poverty..the list can go on.

Combating such a force and such principle by it's own method is just going to cause more chaos and this time, widespread. It is like throwing stones in slush,the more you throw, the dirtier you get. Yes, remaining silent audience to their deeds is not the solution, but I am sure there are more peaceful methods of uprooting them.

If a child brings worms into the house, you don't try to kill the worms in the house and in the process bring the roof down, you reprimand the child,punish him and order him to refrain from doing so. Similarly, you cannot set out to kill every member of millions of such organisation, you need to cut of the nutrient supply. The nutrition comes from a complex network among which there may be organisations from upfront countries. When such secrets come out, the concerned organisatons must be taken to task and not hidden under the carpet.

Being honest to ourselves and honest to others is the only resolve to the issue.

millions are not enough...

2006-06-19T01:57:00.000-05:00

Having finished my graduation recently and being jobless coz I was not qualified enough to work anywhere else other than apna India, I was forced into doing this 'observation' in a local hospital.

This is what I observed!!

The boss and all the staff in the department I joined are locals, except for one Indian who is in a pretty senior post. There are about 10 interns. These are fresh grauduates just like me, here for practical experience. There is no dental college in the entire country but surprisingly every primary health center in the remotest of the locations has a dentist. How? Well, students train themselves abroad in countries like UAE, Syria, UK, Ireland,Spain and India. They return with the degree to do a one year compulsory internship in the main dental hospital of the country. They are then posted to the various primary health centers. The system functions very well, coz, inspite of training all over the globe, the internship appraises them of the principles and practices followed in their country and streamlines the quality of treatment. The dental health and treatment options get standardised and unified through out the length and breadth of the country.

After working a little while here, these dentists go to the UK for further training and come back as specialists to work in their own country. It is part of the deal by the government. They pay totally for your education and you in turn work for your country. Nobody cribs coz the pay scale is very high.

Infrastructure is excellent and high quality materials flow like river no matter how costly they are. Sometimes, I feel like picking up even the wasted materials and shipping them back.Each day's waste I collect would suffice the treatment of atleast 10 poor people back home. To tell you some more..every patient that walks in to the government hospital here gets state of the art clinics with quality treatment using some of the world's best and widely used materials...all for free!! No minimal amount even for opening up a hospital file!!

This amount of standardisation of dental health, dental health workers (dentists and adjunct dental health workers),infrastructure and patient acceptance through out my country will take more than just money to establish.It needs foresight, planning, dedication, commitment and sincerity from a whole network of people that ranges from the level of the government to the mason who puts each brick in place to build the wall of the clinic.
Something that will take a whole generation and more to come into being.

Murdered!!

2006-06-17T23:22:00.000-05:00

I am a product of the recent trend of nuclear families and the single child phenomenon. As a child I once asked my mother if I would be called an orphan once both of them die.Alarmed by the thought, she put in a concept that all my cousins were my sisters n brothers and that they would care for me as much as my parents do.I have grown up with this belief and hence have loved my siblings like they were my own. Some reciprocated,a smaller number and some ignored.

There is a brother of mine, I don't know which group to put in. As single kids and having mothers who were twins, we were almost fraternal twins. We would spend all the summer holidays together, he played dolls with me and I would climb trees with him,our school achievements were always compared, a healthy competition was created and prevailed between us and we cared for eachother immensely. There were no secrets between us, as it is with someone your own.

Time passed, we were growing, from kids to teenagers and still were sharing secrets.. galfriends,mischeifs, skipping classes n going for movies n lots of those beyond-the-rules gimmicks.Stepped in together into professional college,he a future engineer and your's truly the future dentist. Our worlds were far apart yet we managed to find things in common..college life, friends, hostel nights, canteen, movies and whole lot of things. He definitely was in the smaller group of my siblings.

Out he came as an engineer and in he went into a management course. Somewhere in between the two, he met this girl. For the first time he kept this to himself. At the fag end of the management program, he decided to let me in on his little secret and arranged for a meeting of the two important women in his life. Both of us had mutually agreed to meet in the abscence of my brother and din't want him anywhere around. I was sure I would like the girl, after all my brother's choice!
We met. We talked.We left. My opinion was not totally positive. She was a nice girl but I was not sure if she would suit my brother's outlook. I was frank with him telling him exactly what I thought. He was obviously a little upset. I vowed to stand by him if he was convinced that he would be happy with this girl.

A few days later he called me and said.."It's been a long time since we have shared things. I have changed a lot over the past 2 years. SHE knows me better now and can easily manage me. I will not force you into supporting me through this. I can do this on my own. She will be a part of my life and how you come to terms with it, is upto you." From that day on, secrets remained secrets.

Don't know when and how my brother eventually jumped the fence to the larger group. Today, as I think back...I don't know which group to put him in.

He was always my 'twin' brother. Somewhere along the line, I died as his 'twin' sister.

the beginning!!

2006-06-17T00:55:00.000-05:00

Blog..blog..blog..that is all I have been hearing for a long time now..seems to be the latest and most widespread mode of expression!! But that din't inspire me enough to start blogging. As with the human mind,anything new is not easily accepted!! There are reactions to all of the stimuli. Well..my reaction was subtle..read ignore coz I was under the impression that one has to be dipped in literature n be dripping with literary skills to be able to blog...neither of which I am. So..the obvious thing to do was say 'not my cup of tea'!!

well..what finally made me get to blogging?....curiosity!! wanted to see what would happen if a not-so-skilled writer wants to try a hand at writing...so here i am!!

cheers to my new beginning!!