Piper...

The ties that bind....and gag!

2011-08-07T10:51:00.007-05:00

It is the hour of the day I most look forward to. Here I stand, behind an old, discarded building that is nearly falling apart, amidst 3 women I know just from those 5 shared minutes each day. They are strangers to me, these women. And yet I know the pattern so clearly. Four of us, each lost in our own thoughts, sharing a coveted moment of peace; a drag or two of a cigarette, undiscovered, undisturbed by the world. Four women, partners in crime, stand here amidst the debris and the muddy snow, sharing a false sense of peace, a moment of respite, without which the day snails along.

One is a middle aged woman, about 50 I`d guess, always dressed in a pair of maroon corduroys and a pink fleece jacket. I see her in the university cafeteria often, picking up after the students. The other is a woman in her 40s, dressed in a pair of janitor scrubs and a flashy rainbow colored jacket. She wears glasses too. I see her every day in the hospital corridors. The third woman is a healthcare executive, in her 30s, always formally dressed. I counted up to 13 different pairs of shoes and then lost count. And interest too.

I share a nod with them. Often times a smile. And sometimes if I`m feeling chatty enough, a four-word conversation too. But I think about them often. Who are these women? Are they like me? Who do they go back home to? What keeps them awake at night? Have they lost a dear one like I have? Do they grapple with those invisible threads of peace that come within grasp once in a while and then as quickly slither away? What makes them smile? What makes them tick?

It`s strange, how often I come across them in the corridors, in the elevator, in the cafeteria..everywhere you know, going about their daily work. And yet, there are no knowing glances that reek of familiarity. But here.. here it is different. Here, standing amidst the building remains and the slush, we are no strangers here. A momentary truth of a connection..that`s all. No knowing smiles, nor expectations that weigh down on you. No judgments passed.

Sometimes the magic goes away if you look at the pieces too closely. And perhaps, I`m better off by simply letting it go at that.

Much has changed since the last time I wrote.. Just as it should, I suppose.

A year since I started going to the U and a year left to go. Life, however, continues to drift. Not as smoothly as I would expect, but drifting along all the same. I met new people, saw new places, and learnt new things about myself. Some that I was aware of as small underlying ripples beneath the surface and some that completely took me by surprise. Like how I absolutely love doing geeky stuff! The painful awareness that this may be one of the very, very few things I might have in common with The G. That even though I might sometimes feel embarrassed by fellow ‘desis’ by the overtly flamboyant moves, I have no patience, nor any level of understanding of people who are embarrassed about being ‘Indian’.

That there was a time in my life when I craved for company..some human touch; when solitude made me uncomfortable. And the realization that those times have changed. That now I long to be alone. I long to get away from people who judge me for not being ‘normal’. I long to understand what ‘being normal’ really means.. I can go for days without talking to people; without the weight of emails that need responses and phone calls that need returns. I long to be myself and not who others think I should be. And I wonder if friendship is overrated. And why being ‘social’ is touted as a virtue. And wanting to remain a loner is value-judged..

This perhaps is not the most appropriate of posts on ‘Friendship Day’, I realize.. Just that of late I have been feeling pretty unsettled and I needed to get the thoughts out of my system. However, to the very few ‘friends’ that I have remaining, who understand my need for some breathing room, and who would be reading this post even if no one else in the world does, I’d like to add that I love you and that I would not have made it through without you. Here`s to you and here`s to our friendship..

Let there be Peace..

2010-08-13T14:13:00.005-05:00

Note: Thank you to everyone who sent in emails and comments. It means a lot to me. However, I have decided not to hold any discussions on this post. I hope you understand.

Not sure anyone visits me anymore. I haven't given anybody a reason to, I suppose. But today I feel this overwhelming urge to write only for myself. Nothing makes much sense to me anymore. Life as I know it, is so unpredictable. We are nothing but marionettes in the hands of The Almighty or Whoever is up there. May be there isn't anybody. Maybe it`s just our destiny. And that`s why all prayers go unheeded almost always.

I prayed every single day for IHM`s daughter. I don't know why, but I did. May be it was the vision of a mother sitting by a loved one near a hospital bed and praying for mercy. May be it was this vision that reminded me of my own mother and what she is going through. Whatever the reason, I prayed for her religiously, without fail. And today as I read IHM`s post, I am stunned beyond words. I sit here crying, helpless and scared - as I realize that prayers don't have the power to protect. Mine never do.

Death to me is baffling. The uncertainty of it all is scary. But what is even scarier is the absolute certainty. I still go around touching familiar photographs and memorabilia from the past, listening to familiar songs. Sometimes I fiddle around with a discarded fishing rod and sometimes with a decaying spool tape. And I smile at the memory of a 10 year old, skipping alongside her Dad on a warm summer afternoon, excited about her very first fishing trip. Have I mentioned that part of my Dad before? And I think of telling my Dad about the new pond I discovered in the woods just around our house. And the song I just picked up on the guitar. And that is when it punches me so hard in the gut that I crumble up on the floor. Unable to breathe. Unable to move in. Or move on. Yes, Death can be very baffling. One would think it is easy to think of happy memories about the person who means the most in the world and smile. But what does one really know..

Wordless Wednesday - 8

2010-07-07T09:36:00.007-05:00

People, my very first attempt at shooting fireworks! Of course, there are several faults in the pictures and it would have been better with a nice, well lit back drop. But on the whole, I have to admit I`m very proud of these pictures! Over the last few months, I have spent hours reading up about various technical details and camera accessories as well as studying the pictures taken by professionals. And the hard work paid off, I guess :):) Here`s a collage of a few from my maiden attempt! Do click on it for a better view.

"You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, the flies die from happiness and the sky explodes in fireworks. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism."
Erma Bombeck

I do! :)

Happy Independence Day, America! :)

Sinner or Sinned against???

2010-07-02T13:01:00.003-05:00

Disclaimer: Thought for the day - I am NOT a gender stereotype (read a 'regular' female!), as many 'expect' me to be! Does that make me a sinner? Or simply 'the Sinned against' (given the multitude of unfair expectations of many) ??

Pal, Swaram and UmaS (unofficially!) tagged me to do this post on 'Sins on Gender stereotypes!" started by IHM (trust her to come up with something as interesting as this!)

To list at least ten things you have ever wanted to do or done which your gender is not 'supposed' to.

I thought this was a splendid way to break the mental block I was going through in terms of writing. And so here`s my list. I know this is a long, long read and so if you want to skip ahead, just read the footnote! :)

1. I whistle tunes perfectly.

2. I own more books and music cds than clothes and shoes. In fact I hardly go shopping for clothes, jewelery, shoes, make up.

3. I dont wear make up. Never have. No lipstick. No nail paint. No mascara or what have you! Not even a lip gloss.

4. I have never owned a stiletto, nor do I wish to.

5. I tune my own guitar without a tuner (not sure if this qualifies! Somehow I thought this was a pretty cool thing to be able to do!) :):)

6. I can climb trees or pipes on a building. I once climbed three stories up a water pipe, only to have my mom frantically shout at the caretaker of the building to pull me down. He was scared to climb up in the first place! So after much cajoling, I made my way down, only to be yanked up again by my mom (this time up the staircase!).

7. I love motor bikes. The best times I`ve had are the ones on my bike, riding out into the horizon on a warm summer evening all by myself. I miss those times. I miss them desperately. And right now, I`m saving to buy a Harley.

8. I detest doing house hold chores. The G does it all! :) He actually does! :)

9. I can spend hours in front of the t.v, watching sports. I spent a major part of the year watching NBA religiously. Now it`s the FIFA of course (I still cant believe Brazil just got kicked out!) And after this, I`m waiting eagerly for the National Football League season to begin. I`m a hard core Vikings fan (more so with Brett Favre in the team now!). For the uninitiated, he`s the quarterback in the National Football League for the Minnesota Vikings.

I am also addicted to watching the news all the time!

Which explains why The G and I never fight over the tv remote :)

10. I can pitch up a tent, make a fire and sit around all night singing. There was a time when I could do all of this alone. Not anymore though.

And now for the best part :) I, hereby tag:

Newmumontheblock

Mystic Margarita

Sraboney

MRC

Chatterbox

Shilpa

Sagarika

Tara

Is there anyone who`s not been tagged yet? Please feel free to take it up! :)

Footnote:

There are several other things I have done (and still do..) which are totally 'unfeminine'. But I do not want to mention them on a public forum and scandalize unsuspecting readers (read spying relatives and 'friends'!) into a state of shock! And so here is where I stop! But even

as I write this post, I realize that I have changed. I have changed so much and I`m not even sure if all of it was for the better. Over the years, there has been a mold I was cast into. I was the son my parents never had. Independent. Opinionated. And mostly free. I biked to the neighborhood corner store to fetch eggs or bread for Mom. I took tattered shoes to the cobbler`s for repair. I wore my hair very short and played cricket with the neighborhood kids. I bullied them into submission and led them to discarded wells (to throw in buckets and see the water splash) or dilapidated, crumbly houses to search for a witch(?!!). I seriously did that! And while I was busy doing all of this, life passed me by. I went on to join a medical school and then the army. And there was no looking back. Not until I met The G. And over the years of our togetherness, he has managed to unfold that part of me I never even knew, existed! There was a time when I was content to survive (and make him too!) on subway foot-longers and maggie noodles. Now, I take pride in preparing elaborate meals for him occasionally. Last year (on our vacation to Clearwater,Florida), I booked us a 3 hour long cruise into the Atlantic, where there would be a candle light dinner for two and some dancing into the night. And I even went so far as to buy myself a beautiful black dress :) Definitely a first timer for me! :) I`ve started keeping monthly appointments at the salon to do up my hair! I religiously wear the mandatory 'sindoor, shnakha pola' a married woman is supposed to wear back in my state of West Bengal and I do it because I like doing it! I`ve even started giving up on the bigger bite or saving the last bit for The G! And even though I still detest the color pink, I still dont do household chores, I still nurture the dream of owning a Harley someday and I go by my maiden name (and forever shall); He has managed to smoothen out the rough edges and turn me into the woman I was forever destined to be.. :)

Wordless Wednesday - 7

2010-06-30T10:04:00.002-05:00

The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind.

The answer is blowing in the wind..

People, I wonder if anyone`s noticed. I havent written a single decent post in a long time. Yes, I have been caught up in the run of things, some I never thought was possible. But that has nothing to do with my silence. I sit religiously everyday with the blogger page opened. I type, read back and delete. Bear with me until I find my voice back again. Until then, I will stick to these picture posts. And I hope you will enjoy them as much as I enjoy doing them! :)

Wordless Wednesday - 6

2010-06-23T10:28:00.005-05:00

Little things. Magic things...

( My three year old nephew! A 'MUST-CLICK-FOR-ENLARGED-VIEW', THIS ONE!!)

Wordless Wednesday - 5 (Tulips at home!)

2010-06-16T10:18:00.001-05:00

From this..

To This...!!

A Journey called Life...

Those were the days, my friend..

2010-06-14T12:06:00.016-05:00

Life, they say, is a strange place. Shuffling along, alone and a little weary, I came to a crossroad and there he was, walking towards me one August afternoon. Time stood still just for a moment as I found myself hurtling down an endless tunnel. And I knew that very instant that the falling would be slow, dark and abiding.

S was our neighbor`s son, all of 22, who was visiting home for summer and who would soon be my Maths tutor. He happened when I was all of 15, had braces on my teeth and sparkling dreams in my eyes. High school board exams were around the corner and Ma decided she seriously had enough with my poor grades. Much to her relief, S`s mom came to her rescue.

"Of course he can help her," she squeaked with obvious pride, " He`s in engineering school now. What`s high school level Maths for him!" I protested animatedly just to throw Ma off track, all the while reveling in the warmth of the distant possibilities my mind had already conjured up.

Fast forward to the first lesson that was to begin in 10 minutes and I was already there in the community room of our apartment complex in eager anticipation. Wonder of wonders, so was he! For a while, not knowing what to do, I sat there absentmindedly shredding a tissue into flakes that settled on my black school bag. Soon it was time to begin. I hurriedly shoved my bag aside and tried hard to focus on the Maths textbook, all the time trying to avert my eyes as I sat across him in that room. The rest of the afternoon is a big blur. All that I remember from that afternoon is the way his lips curled at the corners as he spoke. And how startled I was at how tall he seemed from such close quarters. That, and how from certain angles and in certain lights, he resembled his crazy mother! But I brushed those thoughts aside.

" You did great!" he said finally.

I flashed him what I hoped was an alluring smile.

"I`ll see you on Tuesday. 4 o clock."

"You will?" I grunted, taken aback by my own display of immense dimwittedness..

"Hmm..well, see you around then." And he was gone. A wave of relief washed over me as I saw him quickly disappear. It was slowly getting difficult to breathe.

And so it went on. Glorious days of waiting for those Maths lessons. And two hours into them, two long hours in which I flitted from one textbook to the next, my attempts at cheery banter so edgy and stiff that at moments I felt almost foolish. There were days when we sipped on chilled cola drinks in plastic cups and let the conversation drift to topics outside our permitted domain. Graduate school life. His friends and mine. Family ties and how he was grappling with the expectations thrust upon him by demanding parents. And as we spoke, I watched his eyes glued to the skin of my hands in a long, fixed stare and I remember quickly moving my eyes to the bubbles of the drink rushing madly to the rim of the plastic cup. Oh I was in love. I was so in love! Now is the time I should speak up,I remember thinking. Instead, I found myself staring at an invisible screen separating us, the kind that glided smoothly into place whenever I approached anything intimate.

I reckoned I was going through a second childhood or maybe catching up on all the youthful rebellion in the name of love(!!) that I never had, given that mine was an all girls` school. I gave it some thought before I realized that it was true. I was showing all the classic symptoms. I put unnatural colors in my hair (much to Ma`s consternation!). I spent hours in the bathroom getting dressed! I was going out a lot in the hope of catching a much coveted glance and coming back late, reeking of forbidden desires. I had ever-growing phases in the day when I forgot that the high school board exams were near. I danced longer and wilder than anyone else in the community dinner hosted by all the residents of our apartment complex, until Ma dragged me away with firm arms and a steely look that threatened to tear me apart, while all others quickly moved aside, appalled. Yes, I was in love.

"This cant go on much longer," he said to me one day and I almost dropped the biscuit I was chewing on. I calmly dusted off the biscuit, soaked it in the tea cup and watched half of it dissolve to the bottom in lumps. I pretended this had been my plan all along and sipped the tea (which now had biscuit scum floating on the surface) with as dignified a look as I could muster. Then I coughed loudly for about 10 seconds and only then did I say, "Pardon?" He let it go and we chatted about the dinner he was attending that weekend with some old friends. I bit my lip so hard that I may have left a scar, but I did not ask for further clarification. I wanted it that way. That was where I wanted to be, pregnant with possibilities, full of hope. Nothing was defined between us. Nothing was overstated. By some tacit understanding, we were just the two of us and I felt safe that way.

Up until then, that room with its grimy blinds, worn out leather chairs and chipped off wall paint was the most perfect place to be. Every time I walked into it and shut the door behind me, I imagined that all around me the hands on the clocks stopped, the sand in hourglasses halted mid-trickle, the universe skidded to a halt - a frozen world outside and in here, the two of us. Every day I knew there was one less day of us together. Once the tests were over, there would be no reason for me to come here again. The waiting would be over. A new life awaited.

But God, I was besotted.

Even now when I get a flashback to those days, I smell the familiar smell of those blinds and the leather chairs and I`m back there, 15 again, stupid, skinny and in love. My spine springs up, I feel layers of dimpled flesh peel off my being, my cheekbones come back alive and I find myself running down the road towards him, like there is no tomorrow. But there always is. There was.

Three years back when I was visiting home, happily married to The G and the past indiscretions all forgotten, I bumped into him again. As we exchanged pleasantries and polite introductions to our better halves, I smiled to myself. He looked more and more like his mother and as I shared a knowing smile with someone who had held my heart for a while, I couldn't help sending a quiet prayer of thanks to the Heavens up above. The old times were good times, I said. But Thank You God, for now is so much better. And then I turned back and walked away.

This is my entry for this week`s Blog Adda Contest in collaboration with Pringoo.

Myself
Within you I lose myself...

Wordless Wednesday - 4

2010-06-09T06:24:00.003-05:00

Shamu, The Killer Whale performing at Sea World, San Diego!

(please click on it for a better view!)

He was Born Free..

The Good of Small things..

2010-06-04T16:36:00.009-05:00

I have always been very excited about celebrating birthdays. Mostly my own. I love feeling special. I love the fact that one day of the year is just to celebrate me, my very being :) When I was a kid, I never really had big birthday parties with a theme and a designer cake and lots of friends over. Mine were mostly simple affairs, with Mom baking a simple cake and a lavish dinner, a few balloons and the neighborhood kids and cousins. But I always attended some of my classmates` birthday parties. Most were lavish affairs that I secretly wished I could host. And it was pretty mortifying, not be invited to someone`s party, especially when your best friend was! In the later years of school, I remember 'going out' for lunch with friends. Mom would give me money to pay the check and I remember feeling so important! But nothing could quell the secret longing for a swanky birthday bash(the kind I never had!). And so over the years as I grew up, celebrating birthdays became more and more of a child-like obsession (like the 8 year old ones I once had and never grew out of!)!

This year I had the perfect birthday. I woke up to a bright morning and a flood of emails and birthday messages! From friends, from people I was not in touch with, from people I`ve never met too! I cannot explain why this was so moving, but it was! And one of the high points of the day was a surprise card by Sagarika, which completely blew my mind off (in the nicest way possible!). I couldnt imagine doing the same - making special efforts for someone I hardly know, just to make the other person`s day a little brighter. I am so touched by this gesture and very, very humbled too! It brought back several fond memories.

My best friend since school always took special care to prepare birthday cards for me. She once gifted me an assorted collection of all our favorite songs(including our all time favorite 'That`s what friends are for'! Check this out, J!), having made special efforts to look around for the songs and record them herself! I have cherished all those cards and much more over the years.

Which is what set me thinking.

I dont remember a single thing I may have gifted or done, not a single gesture that someone might have cherished over the years. But then, I think about all the times when I`ve just been around, heard someone out, cried together, whined and complained or simply laughed together. And I wonder if that is ever enough. I wonder, because sometimes it isnt with me. Sometimes I need to be pampered, made to be felt special just because. And I`m not talking of gifts that one can buy by throwing money at them. Expensive jewelery or clothes or perfumes or what have you! I`m not even talking of everyday things like waking up 10 minutes early to pack a fancy lunch for the kids (though there is something fascinating about the immense love hidden behind such diurnal monotony too). I`m simply talking of simple heartfelt gestures which show that you care and how! A thank you note. A hand-made card. Flowers. A surprise dessert date after dinner. An assorted collection of favorite songs. Surprise concert tickets. You know, little things like that, which touch a single chord and the notes resound forever..

I realize that I have truly never done anything like that for anybody! And so I step back, alarmed! Am I always taking and never giving? And more importantly, is the 'Art of Giving' something that one has to cultivate or does it come naturally to people(and sometimes not at all to others!)? Here`s the time to pause and think. Have you ever made an extra effort to show someone you care? Have you ever surprised anyone with a thoughtful gift??

And now for the cards I was talking about.

This one is by Sagarika : Album covers of The Gods(Pink Floyd!). I especially love the bday cake with my name on it!

And this one is a collection of old bday cards especially made for me! (This one`s for you, J!). Please click on the individual snippets in the collage for a better view.

Sometimes, I see magic in little things.. Do you?

Wordless Wednesday - 3

2010-06-02T09:04:00.006-05:00

Winged Wonders.. (Please click for a better view!)

Spotted: Blue Damselflies!

The persistence of Memory...(my own!)

2010-05-28T16:12:00.029-05:00

Back in the past when digital cameras were a dream, I owned a good old Kodak 500. The pictures were on negative photo films! I remember the excitement of planning out each picture carefully and the endless wait till the film was developed! I miss that part of my life sometimes.. Technology has made all of that antiquated now. And life a tad boring (if I may so add!). However, it is in this age of digital photography that I find myself fascinated by what a camera can do. It is amazing how one can transform a seemingly ordinary place or an object into something remarkable. And so I go, in search of the incredible - an alchemy of sorts - in my venture to touch the commonality of things and cast them into gold.

According to the contest rules by blogadda, I need to put up only FIVE of my best travel pictures. Since it is near impossible to pick just five, I will dedicate this post to the five places which have had the most profound impact on me. Each in its own different way. And I hope they touch a chord in you as they did in me.

Please click on the pictures for a better view.

1. Bridges of Madison County

No. This isn`t about the movie or the book. This is the story of our visit to the covered bridges of Madison County. Yes, The G and I drove down 300 miles to Des Moines and from there, to the small village of Winterset,Iowa to create what will remain one of the most special memories we`ll ever have in our togetherness.Endless rambling pastures. Slow,sensual rhythm of the wind-mills,unmindful to the passage of time. Absolutely nothing for miles except grey overcast skies, the covered bridges and the two of us.We took to the road in search of something undefined, yet so clear.We went there looking for Francesca Johnson and everything that she stood for - the lonely existence of a suburban wife; the passions that stirred in her soul briefly and with such power; the everyday struggles of love, hope and loneliness here in the middle of no-where . We ended up finding ourselves. All over again..

2. Lake Superior, Minnesota

Sometimes when I flip through old family albums, I see big sad eyes and a resistant smile of a 9 year old stare into the camera. Or clenched fists of a gawky 15 year old.Or drooping shoulders of a 20-something caught unawares. That`s who I was. And then I gingerly turn the pages of the album, the edges now yellowed over time. And I see bright, happy faces and a fiery smile lighting up the frame. No more clawing fists, bleeding lips and bruised souls. Pictures taken here in Minnesota, which I have grown to love as my new home. That is what Minnesota does to you. It makes you happy.

The G and I have a wacky ritual - one amongst many - we drive up north every Christmas in a raging snow storm to usher in a new year. There is something intriguing about the white wilderness of the great lake. It is peaceful. It is untouched. And it does not freeze. This picture was taken along one such sugar-dusted, icy shoreline and it continues to remain a personal favorite.

3. Grasmere Village, Lake District, UK

The unspoilt English countryside. Just as I had imagined it would be. The pints of cider just taste better out here and the smiles seem more genuine. The Sun more guarded. The moors greener. The air more crisp. The sheep look up startled, while the ducks mock at tourists in wooden punts.An endless patchwork of fields and rambling hills with an occasional break for a tiny little wooden fence.Rustic footpaths and wooden bridges where you look over your shoulders every now and then, expecting to see a horse-drawn buggy. And you almost do. Rose bushes creeping up on the moss-covered stony walls in unexpected warmth. And bushy hedges fiercely guarding little cottages. Farmers still building wood and stone pasture walls by hand, years of history in each perfectly placed rounded rock. Here time runs a little slow and the pace is relaxed. It felt strangely liberating. Like I was free to breathe again.

4. Poonch, J&K

Those three years I spent at Poonch, J&K, by far have had the deepest impact on my life so far. Not the Kashmir that most people know of, but life under the most primitive living conditions. Shell proofed bunkers. No running water. No electricity. Generators going off at 10 in the night. Writing letters in candle light and willing my adamant mind to play dead and fall asleep. Having to wait for hours before getting a call through to Mom Dad and barely managing to hold back tears and not choke up. Hating every moment of the dark sleepless night and yet feeling proud at having survived the day. A few lonely tears over the people I`ve lost every now and then, those who shall never return back home; and silent prayers for mercy. Locked up in my room and listening to my own voice for inspiration. Pushing my limits and knowing that I can move a step forward yet again. Looking back, those were jolly good times. Not something I`d like to repeat. But a profound experience all the same.

5. Disneyland, California

By far, the most radiant picture of the lot. The trip to Disneyland was a dream come true. Amidst all the colors and the dancing and the smiles, I felt a tear drop landing softly somewhere deep inside. We are all the same, I thought. We, who come from varied nations, across varied cultures and religions; We, who stand here in our togetherness, clapping and dancing to the same tunes and the same happy parade, we are all the same. We breathe the same air, sleep under the same sky which carries the same old moon on the same silken thread. The same things make us happy - yes, all the hundreds of us who stand here celebrating a vibrant Disney parade in unison. And yet we will go our separate ways, back to our own circumscribed spaces and hide behind phony carapaces of religion, caste, skin color or nationality. We will no longer be the same crowd that stood together to enjoy a happy parade. Ironical, isn't it? We, who are all the same but for self-created barriers, seek to destroy that which we have helped create?

Do pictures really speak a thousand words? You tell me..

Sponsors:

Wordless Wednesday postponed!Am on travel, with no Internet or laptop! Can't type in a post either!! However,I'll be back day after. So wait on..!!

2010-05-26T19:17:00.003-05:00

Wordless Wednesday - 2

2010-05-19T13:52:00.001-05:00

Of Raindrops and green whispers..

Please click on the picture for a better view.

Catharsis of Insoluble thoughts..

2010-05-18T14:26:00.021-05:00

I have a problem. I am a person who must have an opinion on everything.

That`s not the problem. The problem is that I feel the need to voice them.

There was a point in my life when I was proud of who I was. Proud of the fact that I could speak my mind loud and clear. I was honest and upright about things. Not any more. No, I havent stopped being candid. Just that I have stopped feeling proud of it.

People dont necessarily like candid people. I dont understand the dichotomy. People appreciate honest deeds but not honest words. And it leaves me confused. If I disagree with you and give you reasons for it, you dislike me. If I say the same thing under the guise of smiles and cotton fluffs and such like, I may stand a chance. Better still, if I acquiesce! People seek out audiences that reflect their own perceptions of themselves. They do not care if I actually believe in them and their ideologies. They simply want me to convince them that I do. They want complex and braided acts, all garnish and frills and words.

But I cannot give that to you, I say. I cannot be what you want me to be. I cannot live life in a reactive mode for long. Because after a while, something snaps and I find myself rebelling. A ball of fire slowly rises and bursts forth. So much so, that many who stand close, have to move aside so as not to get torn in the blast. Not worth it, I say. Definitely not worth it. And so I go about as I normally do; annoying the people who demand conformity and twisted acts in return for frivolous banter over home cooked dinner. I refuse to be 'politically correct'.

But then comes a time when I get scared.

Imagine being caged up with someone whose brains have been eaten away by disease. Imagine being unarmed, with nothing but your words and your thoughts. You scream at the creature to stop. You shout out reasons why it should not attack you. You see blazing eyes and a moving tongue that doesnt know when to stop. And you know that the thing cant see, nor hear you. It cannot be reached. Not in any way. Never through your words. And yet there it is, breathing and moving around in front of you with an agenda of its own. Now that is horror, I say. That is what scares me. That there are several such creatures hovering in and around.. And my words are not enough to make them stop.

The only conclusion I can draw therefore, is to simply keep quiet and ignore till I am harmed. To keep my words to myself. Because, for people who decided to leave their brains behind as they were growing up, my words wont make a difference anyway..

"People want nothing but mirrors around them, to reflect while they are reflecting too. Like the senseless infinity you get from two mirrors facing each other along a narrow passage. Reflection of reflections. Echo of echoes. No beginning and no end. No center and no purpose. That is what people want."

Dominique Francon

The Fountainhead

*The example quoted is from The Fountainhead too*

Wordless Wednesday - 1

2010-05-12T17:44:00.012-05:00

I confess - I didnt have the faintest clue about 'wordless Wednesday'. I thought it was something started by Swaram! But of late, I have noticed some spectacular pictures during random blog hopping and realized how beautiful a concept it is, to be able to speak to your readers through pictures. And so, without getting too 'wordy', let me begin a new trend on my blog too.

I promise that the subsequent wordless posts shall all truly be wordless! :):)

For now, allow me to explain why I have chosen these pictures to be the first ones of the series.These two pictures are actually a patchwork of a few letters that Dad had written to me, when I was away at college. Each one of his letters have been a guiding light in my life. Some are even funny (like 'dont quarrel'(!!). I cannot accommodate them all. But here`s a glimpse of a few.

It has been a little over a year since Dad went away. And even though sometimes I still hurt so bad, I have been able to look at these letters and smile. And so, here I am, sharing my most precious possessions with you. Letters from my Dad.
As I mentioned earlier, all subsequent wordless posts will be just that - wordless! :):)
*In case you cant read the hand writing, I`ll be happy to oblige*

Status Updates..

2010-04-21T21:50:00.000-05:00

The G is away and wont be back until the weekend. So I have been driving myself crazy, wondering how I will spend the nights. As sundown approaches, the fear is slowly beginning to border on paranoia. But for now I will think of happy things.There are several things on my mind, mostly unrelated and hence this is going to be a bullet post.
#1. Strange, how subservient we become to human companionship. There was a time when I would go for days without talking to anyone and never even realize. I was happy. I was content. But marriage has impaired that part of me. I thought I was looking forward to some lone time by myself but really, it feels pretty dismal. And as the sun goes down, I`m beginning to feel a little tingle in my heart. I`m making mental notes..you know..lock the back door, keep the front lights on, close the kitchen window, pull down the shades of the den, remember to take the knife to bed etc etc. Last time when The G was away, I had decided to hole up in a motel. Some found it strange..even weird. But trust me, I was comfortable. But this time we are having The G`s friends over for 3 days during the weekend and I have tons of work to do. And moreover, at some point I have to grow up. So here I am, by myself. I guess I`ll be just fine.. hmm..
#2. The D.C trip was great, the high point being a visit to the Holocaust Museum. It deserves an entire post and so I wont mention much - except that it was a very solemn, overwhelming experience. After a four-hours sojourn inside the museum, I sat there by myself at the Hall of Remembrance and heard an old woman recite the names of the victims one by one and saw the flame burning. And then I thought of all the hate and the alienation in today`s world and the gruesome aftermath of it all (be it the Middle East or Darfur or be it my own country), and I realized that nothing has changed. We have learnt nothing from History. I sat there for a moment to reflect. I said a silent prayer and called out their names, all those who disappeared and never came back. And I thought, I will still keep my faith and I will keep my flame burning. In spite of everything, Oh please let us all keep the flame burning..
#3. Spring is here, People! And it is just so beautiful! The sky is so blue. The flowers are blooming. Bright colored children flock together under the April sun and I want to sing out aloud. One look at these pictures and you`ll know why.

#4. Simon & Garfunkel have a reunion Spring tour and they`ll be here in the Twin cities on the 8th of May! The G got us tickets for the concert. It was supposed to be a birthday surprise(4rth May, if anyone wants to wish!!), but I found out somehow! :):) I`m still so, so excited about it. Imagine! I grew up listening to these guys. I share so many fond memories. And now I will be listening to them live!! :):) Not only them, Joan Baez in July and tada!!(For Sagarika especially) ROGER WATERS (The Wall Tour - and his last) on Oct27th!! Yes!! LIVE!!!!
(For the uninitiated, Roger Waters is The God I worship. Of Pink Floyd fame)
#5. Lastly, I wish to thank each one of you who sent in best wishes before the grad school interview. Looks like I made it through this time :):) I received an acceptance letter and I`ll be starting school this fall, after all :) Life suddenly seems to have taken a start!

11 April, 2010 - Remembering Dad..

2010-04-11T23:12:00.000-05:00

It`s been one whole year since I lost my Dad.
But sometimes it feels just like yesterday..
April 11th, last year at this time, I was with Dad.
I remember staring straight ahead at the cardiac monitor. Steady. Cold. Unflinching. I remember looking long and hard at Dad. And praying for the end to come..It didn't matter that I wouldn't see him anymore..death didn't scare me anymore. But the suffering did. As I watched the doctors in their last attempt at CPR, I sat tying my shoe laces, while my mother went around packing our things. There was no space for anything other than immense relief.Dad was at peace.We were finally going home.Pain didn't scare us anymore. The worst was over, I thought.
Little did I know that I would be learning about pain soon enough. That it would forever lurk in ordinary things. In the lonely moon. Or the strum of a wooden guitar. In the laugh of a two year old. Or an old, discarded record player. Little did I know that the surreality of it all would come back in waves, to haunt me forever.Destiny whiplashing again and again, until I would be on my knees and begging. While other people my age learn to live their lives and not just exist, I learn how Destiny negotiates it terms and collects its dues. And I shall never forget. The smell of Destiny. Like the distant rain on a breeze. Elusive. Slippery. A harbinger of dark clouds and thunderstorms. And then some easy rain.
Death is baffling. I roam around, touching familiar objects and photographs, listening to familiar songs and I smile.I think of picking up the phone to talk to Dad.And then I remember I cant do it anymore. And that is when it hits me. It hits me so bad, I want to crumble up and die. And then I think of Dad and all that he would want me to be. And I go about, making him proud. Like I always did.
One hot afternoon a week ago, the doorbell rang. Standing outside our home in Ranchi was a rickshaw puller with a bouquet of white flowers in his hands. As Ma stood there in perplexed silence, he extended the flowers towards her and said," I know you have a prayer service for 'Sahab'(Dad) today. I came by to pay my respects. 'Sahab' gave me dignity. Today I respect myself and the job that I do because he always respected me."
When Ma narrated this to me over the phone, suddenly it all became clear.
The presence of that one rickshaw puller who cared, is far, far more worthwhile than the coerced phone calls or plastic presence of extended family who dont.But it doesn't matter to me anymore. I no longer feel bitter or angry. I have learnt to calibrate people and level my expectations accordingly. And sometimes not at all. In other words, I have grown up. And even though I`m still grappling to come to terms, I am trying. Trust me People, I am.
- I joined a music club, because I had a compelling urge to be near people who shared the same passion, people who made beautiful music, just like Dad did.
- I started guitar lessons.
- I got a few stories published.
- I made a couple of friends(and lost a potential one too!).
- I worked hard towards joining grad school.
- I worked hard on myself. I still do.
When Dad left, I kept his wrist watch with me. Time stopped at 3:19pm that April afternoon. And I wore it on my wrist as a reminder of all that I have lost. Today as I celebrate Dad`s life and the hundreds of ways he touched mine and so many others`, I decided to wind up the watch. It will not bring back lost time, I know. But it will herald in brighter ones.

This will be my last post for a while, People. I will be flying to Washington D.C tomorrow.
Any readers from D.C? I hear this is the busiest time of the year in terms of tourists. But all that I hope to cover in two days is the Holocaust museum. I`ll be back soon. But before I leave, I want to convey my heartfelt gratitude to all you people who have been there for me during the most traumatic times of my life. You have been my most loyal supporters, my well wishers. You have been there with a warm word or a hug or a smile, just when I thought I would die. And you have helped me stand up and dance once again. Thank You People. Thank you very much..
So long! I`ll be back soon.

The thin ice..

2010-04-09T19:55:00.003-05:00

Today afternoon, like most other afternoons, I walked into the coffee shop and saw my favorite table occupied. I almost always sit here because it has room for 6 people and I like to spread out my laptop, books, cell phone, iPod, coffee mug and what have you. Today there were two girls with colored hair(purple streaks, if I may add!) and layers of make-up instead of clothes (second generation Indian American undergrads(read wannabe) -I could tell from my previous experience).
* I normally never comment on appearances, but then again, I have my moments!*
I walked up and put my back-pack on a chair."Do you mind if I sit here?" I asked. They gave me the once-over. Exchanged looks(pbly because of the sindoor-shankha-pola).One of them thus spoke, "Err.. yes we do. We have someone joining us. If you want you can sit for 5 minutes," she cooed and then both of them burst of laughing (?!!).Allison,the girl at the counter, who was privy to the whole scene, insisted on buying me coffee to make up."Its on me," she said as she went around trying to find a seat for me. No one joined the two girls. They left after a while.
I am stunned. But more than that, I am terribly, terribly angry!
What is it with the Indians born and raised in the USA?
No really, what`s with all the cockiness huh?
What about my appearance was so lousy to warrant a filthy stance like that?
I am still fuming.
You can spot them from a mile - second generation Indian Americans(henceforth referred to as SGIA for convenience!), born and raised in the USA.
You can spot them by their outrageously inappropriate clothes(given a particular situation), their reckless attitudes, their strange loud ways and their stranger accents.Gross generalizations, I know( The G has a SGIA undergrad as a student, who is exceptionally brilliant and does excellent research!).But I am feeling mad enough to make an outrageous, sweeping statement like that! What is wrong with them?
The issue here, however, is not that simple. Far from it, in fact.
Yesterday, I was talking to a friend who`s doing research on second-generation Indian American children.She says that as a group, they are typically discriminated against in schools, by their peers. They are frequently referred to as 'Coconuts'(Brown on the outside, white on the inside(?!!). We all know that children can be ruthless that way. The incidence of such alienation, it seems, is alarmingly high! So the SGIA children, born and raised here, find themselves at war. They have to walk the thin line between 'Indian traditions'(their only reference being the occasional trips back home and the wisdom imparted by rigid/insistent parents) and unforgivably savage peers. They are literally at war. With themselves! Which can sometimes manifest in bizarre ways. The inner turmoil they must feel, sometimes get directed at the wrong people at the wrong times! And so, while I have had the good fortune of meeting warm, accepting Americans, my interactions with the Indian counterparts have been grim, at best.
I cant help feeling a little sorry. And I wonder if these children ever grow up to be healthy adults. At some point in life, do they grow up to be comfortable with their own identities as well as those of others? Or is this something that one cannot generalize at all?
Last night we went out for dinner with a bunch of friends. One was an Indian family with a two-year old daughter in tow. The wife is a good friend of mine. And every time I saw her pick up the child, talk to her and answer her myriad questions, I couldn't help but smile. Her was a woman who was content to stay at home and raise her child(as opposed to working, after graduating from a top engineering school in the USA). And what`s more - she is very happy. I cannot imagine the lil one growing up into the stereotype I just mentioned above. Same for my nephew,the little devil growing up here. I cannot imagine him turning into one of the children I just described!
When I was growing up, I didn't dare be disrespectful of anyone. I still remember my mother`s steely looks literally stabbing me to the core, when I made fun of a neighbor`s son who couldn't run as fast as I did. I will never forget the lecture she gave me that day.And then I also remember all those times when I was sassy,rude,impertinent to the point of being nasty - mostly when Ma wasn't around to drive home lessons with a brick bat! And I cant help wondering.
Does the growth of a child into a wholesome adult depend solely on the kind of parenting or are there serious social/environmental influences in the development chart? And if that be so, are the children back home in India really any different?

If you should go skating
On the thin ice of modern life
Dragging behind you the silent reproach
Of a million tear stained eyes
Don't be surprised, when a crack in the ice
Appears under your feet
You slip out of your depth and out of your mind
With your fear flowing out behind you
As you claw the thin ice
- Pink Floyd

Time out of mind..

2010-04-02T18:03:00.004-05:00

Updated:
A very big 'THANK YOU' to all my blog buddies!
I couldn't have made it without all your good wishes and pep talk!
The interview went very well - no unpleasant surprises!
I think I just might make it to grad school after all!

Goodness!
My head is reeling and I`m feeling faint!
I have been studying for the past 6 hours!
And I have managed to cover pretty much everything under the sun.
(Now you know why I havent visited my favorite blogs in ages now!)
People, trust me, I have worked harder than anyone ever has for an interview.I decided that it is better to be over prepared than have surprises sprung on me(which incidentally,they probably will anyway!). But nonetheless, I think I have worked pretty hard. And in spite of this, if I screw up or don't make it for whatever %#&$&^&*^ reason, then it`s just too bad..
I will simply end up as a waitress in a coffee shop, write stories and play my guitar on rainy Saturday afternoons(which I long to do anyway).
This is the last post before the interview, which is on Monday.
I will spend this Friday evening studying. Tomorrow I will rehearse my answers in front of the mirror and then spend the evening at a salon! Sunday,I will eat out my brain and then The G`s..
And all this for a grad school admissions interview!

(If I sound neurotic, that`s because I`ve probably lost it. I mean literally!)

So wish me luck People. This means more to me than you could ever, ever imagine..

"People on the platforms, waitin' for the trains..
I can hear their hearts a-beatin', Like pendulums swinging on chains.
When you think that you've lost everything,
You find out you can always lose a little more..
I'm just goin' down the road feeling bad,
Tryin' to get to heaven before they close the door.."
-Bob Dylan

Communication breakdown..

2010-03-28T09:39:00.000-05:00

Goofy Mumma`s post 'Connected or Stressed?' set me thinking.
A few days back, someone gasped at the lengths of my emails. He said it was unnatural because he had gotten so used to brief, to-the-point messages. My emails made him uncomfortable, as did my thoughts. I couldn't get over it. It bothered me.
How can communicating be a bad thing?
In long ago lifetimes, I remember how I would run out of the girls` hostel, clutching a letter in my hand. I would drive to my favorite spot near college, a lone banyan tree on an abandoned hillock(also called LBT by AFMCites!), curl up underneath and devour the thick wad of paper full of gossip and news! Letters from home, from my sister. I would sit alone with the letter in my hand and weep some. And then I would begin to write..When Dad passed away last April, we had to go through his personal stuff. And there, wrapped up in a plastic bag, now crinkled over time, were all those letters I had written years ago, sitting alone under the tree. He had saved every single one of them.
I still have letters written by some of my closest friends in school. I love to hold them, to read them from time to time. It smells of History; my history and those who were a part of it. I saved each little note, each letter, so I could read them silently to myself on warm summer afternoons or a lonely winter day. I read the letters over and over, so as to remember those who were a part of my life once but not anymore. I read,so as not to let the words slip from my mind..so as never to forget.
A piece of paper conveying diverse sentiments, ranging from fear to love to warm hand clasps and big hugs..sometimes even anger, across distant souls. Some are brief. Some are piquant. Some loving. And some plain caustic. But all are heartfelt. All are earnest, unfeigned emotions that I had managed to evoke in someone; emotions strong enough to warrant an unbridled, unchecked expression of thoughts through a letter.
It never ceases to fascinated me.
A few years back when I was in the Army, I used to write long letters back home and to my friends. There was no cell phone connectivity along the LOC and landlines were unreliable. We had to go through 2 army exchanges to connect to a regular PCO. And then wait for days before there was a connection home. And so I wrote. I wrote every single day and like there`s no tomorrow. All that I had was my heart written out in pieces of paper. It was a life line; the only thread that kept me bound to the world outside; the only honest expression that told me I was still in the same world, still under the same sky, still breathed the same air. Everything else was surreal..
I still check my letter box everyday, but no one writes to me anymore. And so,like everyone else, I stick to emails too, though I have never seen it as any different from a letter, hand-written. What better way to put your thoughts and feelings across than by writing. It is gratifying. It pleases me. Satisfies my soul. Yes, Emails definitely help to keep in touch.But communicating? That`s a whole new ball game.
Consider this.
After a couple of long emails discussing Ayn Rand, I got a two-liner reply back from a "friend", stating how we should meet up over elaborate drinking sessions to chat up. I took that seriously. I was excited at the prospect of making a friend(God knows I needed one!). And I wrote back some more.. Only later did I learn it the hard way that sometimes people write two-liners for the heck of it. Yes, emails have made it easier to evade, to palter,to fool..And yet, despite the realization, when I dont get a response,it makes me guilty. It makes me sad. But most of all, it troubles me. Have I just ended up making a fool of myself? Has it been misconstrued as too eager or too desperate or too jobless. Why would someone avoid a coversation by sending back one-liner scraps/replies and sometimes not even that?! How can responding to an email be a bad thing? Or is this simply about not responding to my email?
In a world swamped by technology, everywhere I go, I find my personal space invaded. And it is at such times when I long to receive a letter, all gooey, gushy, maudlin..filled with words carefully chosen and eternal, meant for no one but me.. And yes, I have written such letters too - with no reply, thank you very much! Maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic, or just downright old-fashioned.
In today`s world, where sentimentality is ridiculed and friendships have become a matter of convenience rather than need; where there is a growing apathy amongst men and urban alienation continues to take new forms, I cant help wondering..
Has interpersonal communication really gotten easier?
Or has it simply broken down..

"And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people maybe more.
People talking without speaking..
People hearing without listening..
People writing songs that voices never shared.
No one dared disturb the sound of silence.."

Insanity...and a lost cat!

2010-03-24T10:33:00.012-05:00

"When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being happy and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth!"
- Cynthia Heimel
And so I go about, making a complete F&%%&*%* A%^%*^& of myself.
Each day!
In some way or the other!
People, I have a grad school interview lined up for the 5th of April. It is just so crucial that I do a good job. Because if I don't make it, I will die. No kidding. I can't imagine sitting at home for another year. I feel immense anger at myself for allowing this to mean so much to me. I realize the potential aftermath, if I fail. And yet, instead of working for it, I just while away my time.
Am I delusional? No seriously, am I?
And then yesterday afternoon, the weirdest thing happened!
I walked out to the backyard to find myself being greeted by a cat! He came running towards me to rub against my legs I think. And poor unsuspecting me! I nearly had a fit! You`ll never find a stray animal around where I live. So I realized he must be lost. And terribly scared. And I wondered what to do.
Truth be told, I am not a cat person. In fact I would even go so far as to say that I`m very scared of cats. But I didn't want the poor little thing to die. He would you know, out in the cold(Yes People, even in March! It`s Minnesota!)without food. So I decided to leave the porch door open and wait for him to come inside and sleep. I thought it would be good to wait it out till The G came home. So I left him a bowl of water and the door open. And lo and behold, he came rushing in, even before I had a chance to make an escape. He thought it was his home! But he realized quickly enough(seeing me dart inside) that it wasn't. Nonetheless, he decided to stay for a while. Sniffed around the chairs in the porch, and then settled down on the floor. And then he left, as suddenly as he had appeared.

I cannot begin to tell you how I`m feeling right now.
He`s gone of course. I dont know where. And it`s bothering me. I wish I had some way of knowing that he`s found his way back home.
And as I sit here wondering why he paid me a visit, just like that, I cant help smiling at the momentary truth of the connection we shared, albeit very briefly. It was strange - here we were, Mr Cat and me; loneliness,the sole nexus between us; and each trying in our own ways,to find our way back home..And may be..just may be, we did.

We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
-Pink Floyd

Tangled up in blue..

2010-03-22T20:48:00.012-05:00

My mind is in such a turmoil.
Emotions run rife.Like the rain.
The first drops always refreshing, smooth.Then it gets heavy and cold.By the time I am halfway back home, the wind shrieks through my hair and the rain makes my shirt cling. It batters my bare legs so violent that, for a minute I`m afraid I might never find my way back home..
Emotions are like that. Like the rain.
I sit here alone, typing. It`s the first day of work after the spring break and The G`s coming home late. He has to accompany a visiting faculty to dinner. So I sit here listening to this Spanish song “cucurrucucu paloma” performed by a Brazilian legend Caetano Veloso, in a scene from the movie 'Talk to Her'.
And I wonder how it`ll feel to have dinner alone.
May be I shouldn't listen to it anymore. This song has such a melancholic tinge. It makes me very sad. And yet, I go back again and again to listen. It has a mesmerizing purity about it.
People, I finally got to attend the music club meeting I was talking about. It was awesome; a great change for me. And I will continue to attend the subsequent meetings as well. But I felt like a fool.There were so many great voices there and I ended up so nervous, that I could hardly sing.Gone are those days when I would feel as comfortable jamming with friends in a stuffy ol` room as I would, singing on stage. Gone are the kicks that came from knowing I was one of the best.
Here I was just a new-comer, a nobody. Someone who couldn't get two notes straight. I sat quietly at the corner of a bed and listened to the others sing. I chatted up bull with some nice people. Exchanged phone numbers politely. Smiled some. And laughed some more. I drank up vodka in a plastic cup at 3 in the afternoon. And I realized that life happened when I was busy planning something else. That everything fades away. Eventually everything does.
And here I am, after all these years, flitting around, searching for my lost colors and finding none.
I have nothing.
No career. No job. No money. No friends. Nothing to feel proud of.
Just simple, forbidden desires which seem to have minds of their own and will not play dead, no matter how much I implore.
Yes, that`s all I have.
Wacky desires. Three stories in a book. And this blog to my name.

Have you ever felt the world slipping away from your grasp?
Have you ever felt like a perfect A$%%hole and wished you could disappear?
I wonder why I was delusional enough to think that the world would revolve around me..like it sometimes would.
I know most of you must be tired reading my rants all the time.
I dont know what`s bothering me..
May be it is the fact that it`s almost one whole year that Dad left. And I`m still
aching so bad, I want to die.
May be it is because I suddenly miss hearing his voice on the telephone. Ohh it`s been so,so long..
Or may be..just may be I need to get myself a few friends I can share some laughs with.
May be I really ought to..

P.S - Do listen to the song. It`s beautiful.

Twist of fate..

2010-03-21T15:49:00.004-05:00

I haven't replied to the comments on the previous post because I haven't sorted out my own thoughts yet. I`ll get there soon, I hope. Until then, let me leave you with this..

He allures me with a smile.
Forlorn.
Jaded.
Or happy.
Stings me with his tears.
Water bubbles.
Or lead pellets.
Abysmal.
And unabashed.
Beguiles me with his eyes.
Tantalizing.
Cavalier.
And empty.

He,
A rock.
Or a cloudy maze.
Impervious.
Elusive.
And arcane.
And I,
A marionette.
A cotton fluff.
Or such-like.
I am modeled. Forged. Stashed.
Any which way he wants.
And he skips from one form to the other,
Ruthless.
Unflinching.
Unforgiving.

He, My mind..
A two-edged sword, thus.
Rips me apart.
Slashes me in two.
One half kneels by his side. Head bowed down. Arms up in surrender.
The other turns her back and walks.
Blithe. Unruffled. Unconcerned.
Clouds of fate flit around silent prayers for mercy.
While He, My Mind,
sipping silvery, soulful vodka in a white plastic cup,
looks out at those clouds and smirks.

Food for thought..

2010-03-20T11:49:00.003-05:00

A question to all my blog buddies. You can answer anonymously, in case you`re uncomfortable. But do answer.

Has marriage killed the girl in you?
Are you more programed, more regulated in your thoughts and deeds?
Or are you simply calmer? Assuaged?
Are you still in love?
Or are you simply loving? Caring, fond and loyal..?

What does marriage do to you?

Announcements

2010-03-17T10:57:00.002-05:00

There are two announcements here:

1. If anyone wants to write for Chicken Soup, please feel free to contact Raksha Bharadia at rakshabharadia@gmail.com

2. Here`s the recipe as promised.

And no, I`m not turning into a food blogger. This is just a stop-gap, for lack of interesting topics to blog about! So here goes!

Ingredients for the crust:
-2 cups chocolate cookie crumbs(just grind the cookies to a fine powder, in a grinder).
-2 tablespoons butter, melted
-1/4 cup packed brown sugar
-1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
For the filling:
- semi dark chocolate(I used Lindt 60% because that`s my favorite)
- 2 pounds cream cheese, softened( I used 4 8oz packs of Philadelphia cream cheese)
- 1 1/4 cups white sugar
- 1/3 cup heavy whipping cream
- 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 4 eggs
- 1 1/2 cups chocolate sandwich cookie crumbs
- 16 ounces sour cream(one pack roughly)
- 1/4 cup white sugar
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
For the topping:
- 1 cup heavy whipping cream
- 1 1/2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions
1. Combine 2 cups cookie crumbs, melted butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon in a medium bowl; firmly press mixture evenly onto bottom and 1 inch up sides of a 10-inch springform pan. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 5 minutes; set aside.

# I used more than 2 cups because the thicker the crust, the more stable it is to handle the cake after it is done - or so I thought. It tastes good too.

2. In a large bowl, beat cream cheese until smooth. Gradually mix in 1 1/4 cups sugar, 1/3 cup whipping cream, flour, and 1 teaspoon vanilla. Beat in eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition.

3. Melt 8 ounces semisweet chocolate with 2 tablespoons whipping cream in a pan or bowl set over boiling water, stir until smooth. Add chocolate mixture to cream cheese mixture and blend well.

4. Pour 1/3 of batter into prepared pan. Top with chocolate chips thrown in evenly; pour in remaining batter.

5. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 55 minutes. Remove cake from oven. Combine sour cream, 1/4 cup sugar, and 1 teaspoon vanilla; spread evenly on cheesecake. Continue baking for 7 minutes. Turn oven off and leave in oven 30 minutes. Remove cheesecake, and let cool completely on a wire rack.

# I used very little sour cream on top. You can infact skip it altogether. Especially if you use a 9inch pan instead of 10, you`ll not have enough space to pour the sour cream anyway.

6. Topping: Combine 1 cup whipping cream and chocolate chips in a saucepan; stir over low heat until chocolate melts, and then stir in 1 teaspoon vanilla. Pour mixture over cheesecake while still warm. Refrigerate until serving time. Should be at least 8 hours for refrigerator time, remove about 1/2 hour to 1 hour before serving, remove ring from springform pan, decorate to choice and get out your fork!

That`s the recipe, People. May be I should start a food blog after all! :)

Think Chocolate!

2010-03-15T15:16:00.005-05:00

This isn't a regular post. That I shall do tomorrow. But I just wanted to share a couple of photographs with you guys.
The other day we had some guests over for dinner, to celebrate the beginning of this year`s spring break. And so I spent two whole days cooking up a feast. It all went great, I`m so relieved to say, what with the near hysterical planning and cooking that I did! But the clincher was the chocolate cheesecake I made from SCRATCH! Yes, no exaggerations really! So get your Oohs and Aahs out and check this out!

Tada!!

If anyone wants the recipe, I`ll be happy to oblidge! :)

Chimes of Freedom..

2010-03-08T16:16:00.019-06:00

For the longest time, British filmmaker Zana Briski and Ross Kauffman tried to help several children born into the brothels of Sonagachi,just as several other NGOs did/do - placing children in group homes, enrolling them in schools, fighting byzantine bureaucracies, and parents(who saw their children as meal tickets) and helped them in their fight to survive. For a while, it made news. A Cinderella fairy tale wherein little girls(and boys) born into brothels are allowed a chance to get out of the muck and study in the USA; a chance to breathe free again.
What happened next?
Puja, now 18, ribbons in her well-oiled hair and grey ashes of burnt dreams smudged over her face, is back where she started. Her mother took her out of school.
Kochi, a quiet 17 year old now, got married to a pimp at 14, broke free and came to the USA, accepting Zana`s offer. She joined high school in Utah, opened a facebook account with over 500 friends, and decided to wrench the pain and transform in into something beautiful. Then she went back home again, back to where she started. Why, you ask? Because her grandmother passed away and her mother 'wanted her back to look after her', she said.
The only one who survived the cudgels of fate was a boy, now 20, who is a friend of mine now at New York and so shall remain unnamed.
"Didi," he says, "If Kochi was a boy, she wouldnt go back."
I dont know how much truth that statement carries, but I`m inclined to think there must be something to it really.

Quoting Nick Kristof:
"A girls’ education may be the single most cost-effective kind of aid work. It’s cheap, it opens minds, it gives girls new career opportunities and ways to generate cash, it leads them to have fewer children and invest more in those children, and it tends to bring women from the shadows into the formal economy and society."

A girl child`s education might not be a comprehensive panacea of course. But this is where we have to begin. Is this that difficult to understand really? Why then, is a girl child`s education not given its due importance?
I don’t need to go over the statistics,do I? In India alone, the numbers are unnerving. Despite a major improvement in literacy rates over the past decade, significant gender disparities in education persist. The national literacy rate of girls over 7 years of age is a staggering 33 - 50%(differing from state to state), as against 75% for boys. The self proclaimed moral custodians of our medieval society continue to propagate snow job theories under the garb of ancient traditions and culture. Impoverished parents actually believe that they are saving their honor as well as that of their daughters by marrying them off early (sometimes even at pre-menstrual ages). There is a clear preference for sons for continuation of clan and as bread earners.

I am not here to lecture you on glaring social issues. But it is necessary to point out the facts. So that someone, somewhere reading this might think of making a difference somehow.

For the last two months I have been obsessed with Anne Frank. I reread her diary 5 times. Absorbed every little bit written on the Holocaust ever!Watched all the movies I could on WW2. I tend to have these transient 'Anne Frank' phases often.
But what came as a startling revelation for the first time ever, is that there is an Anne Frank hidden in all the 'Kochis' and 'Pujas' of the world. We just dont care enough to see. Or understand. And even when we do, we rave and we rant. And then we do it some more. But in the end, we walk away, thanking our stars we werent born as one of them. Or simply brushing the thought under the bed so we never have to think of it again.
But hey, stop a moment, will you? It is important.
We are content to celebrate Womens' day today. Hold contests. Write blogs.
But is it helping any?
Now is when we should pause and recalibrate.
Am I doing my bit to make this a beautiful world? A free world?
Am I really?
Yes, as women we celebrate our independence today. But when will we be free?

"Tolling for the aching whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an' worse
An' for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing."
- Bob Dylan(Who else?!!)

Staying awake..or alive

2010-03-04T18:27:00.001-06:00

There was something intriguing about the poster I saw at the coffee shop today. It made me stop and think. It read ' What do you stay awake for?'
People had pretty diverse things to say.
Five said Jared Stevens(whoever he is!)
Seven said Adam Weber(football quarterback of the Univ of Minnesota Gopher`s team)
One said - For my son Duncan(incidentally, he is one of the cutest kids I`ve seen in a while. He plays with me while his Dad works at the coffee shop!)
One said Love.
Three said - for class! Huh!
And One said something that would put a sailor to shame!
It set me thinking. What do I stay awake for?
Let`s see..
A warm hug, a good book, soulful music, a hot cup of coffee in the morning, the monsoons, some friends, a warm hand clasp, chocolates, a walk in the snow, the smile of a two-year old, psychic highs that arise from distant possibilities(or impossibilities!) and The G. Not necessarily in that order though.

I wonder what you stay awake for..

Happy tidings and how the concrete breaks my fall(sometimes)

2010-02-28T17:06:00.021-06:00

Ok People,
I guess a post is long overdue! Thank you for the poke, Nancy! :)
I have been drifting as always. But hey, this time it`s different.
This time I dont feel lost.
A few good things have happened.
First, two stories of mine got published in the 'Chicken soup for the Indian Romantic Soul'. The book`s been launched and it`s available in book stores and people are actually paying money to read what I(and a lot of others!) wrote!I was a wee bit hesitant about sharing this because after all it isnt the New Yorker! But hey guys, I`m in print! :)
Secondly, I started guitar lessons three weeks back. Yes, yet again!
This will be my third attempt( and if anyone`s interested, I can divulge the details of the first two in a subsequent post!).I`m working on 'Blowing in the wind' right now(no, not because it`s my favorite song, but because the chords are easy!). And well, it doesnt quite sound like a song yet. But I`ll get there by and by.
Third, I managed to get accepted as a member of this music club here at Minneapolis. I havent yet attended a meeting. But I`ve found people to jam with on warm saturday afternoons :) For the longest time now, this is something I have so ached for!
Fourth, I met a bunch of people I actually liked(you all probably know by now, just how judgmental and picky I am!) - a couple who are quite fun(contrary to my preconceived ideas!) and who were here at our place for dinner last night. They were wonderful! And someone I havent yet met. But I`m so looking forward to.He appears to be this real cool guy who reads Ayn Rand and a whole bunch of other stuff I havent the faintest clue of! And he makes beautiful music!
So It`s been a happy time all in all, People.

A few days back I chanced upon this quote while randomly blog hopping.
"My life is spent in a perpetual alternation between two rhythms, the rhythm of attracting people for fear I may be lonely, and the rhythm of trying to get rid of them because I know that I am bored." -- C.E.M. Joad
It set me thinking.
Sometimes I find myself recklessly plummeting towards certain people,with a blithe unconcern for the aftermath.At least I have in the past.
Do you know how that feels? To be utterly insouciant?
It`s like hurtling through a vacuum at an alarming rate, with spectators all around to watch you as you fall.
Or surfing to the horizon and back on a big blue wave, while people stand on the shores and watch. Some come after you to pull you out. But you run.
You ride the waves like you`ve never done before. And all there is to do for anybody is to sit and wait for you to crash against a surf-break.
Have you ever felt that way?
I have.
But it has not felt forbidden. Dangerous. Or sinful.
It has felt happy. Comfortable.
Like the first August rain splashing on your face to make you blink. But you still dance away.
Like the dark, deserted walkway by the lake. But you still saunter along.

So here`s my question to you guys.
Have you ever met someone, gone around or done something you really wanted to do, even though your mind constantly yanked you away? Even when you knew you were swimming blind in uncharted waters? Even when you knew it was forbidden?
It could be anything really..Like the time I was dating two guys at the same time and none of them knew about the other! Or the time I chatted up online(for the longest time really!) with this guy my 'friend' was dating and even met him over coffee once, without her knowing!
(In my defense, I`d like to add that I was doing them both a favor - they just werent right for each other - though I realized this in retrospect, in the light of their bitter divorce last year)
Or the time I threw eggs on unsuspecting pedestrians from a moving bus.
(Cant think of a rational explanation for this one, other than a momentary lapse of reason!)
You know..things like that.
Have you ever? Come, come, tell..

..Where music dwells..

2010-02-02T17:23:00.002-06:00

There was a time when I would be sitting on a mountain top, strumming a wooden guitar and singing to keep myself company. Those, unarguably, were the best days of my life.
I was all of five, when Dad introduced me to music. He had a small white Casio keyboard, on which he taught me my very first songs! And then there was no turning back.
Dad played the guitar. He worshiped Clapton, Roger Waters and Jimi Hendrix. He had a band of his own initially. But later on, he went solo. He was the first one to introduce me to some mind-blowing music - Eric Clapton, Simon & Garfunkel, Dire Straits, Pink Floyd, Don Williams, John Denver to name a few! He was the reason I got interested in Rabindra Sangeet. He was the first one to introduce 'Mohiner Ghoraguli' and 'Suman`s music to me.
I never thought much of it, until The G came along. He was hugely surprised to see Dad`s music collection. He pointed out how rare, how precious it is - To have a Dad who not only shares the same taste in music, but who knows it all, who is actually a 'musical mentor' who introduced me to the kind of music I so love, to the music I grew up listening and still do!
To me and to all others who knew him, Music defined my Dad. Oh!How I aspire to be that person he was. To nurture his legacy. To develop the kind of gift and talent he had, and what he taught me. To center one`s life around music. To make soul stirring music and share them with one`s daughters. To enrich them and help them grow musically. To never accept imperfection but patiently wait for them to catch up,wait till they get the notes just right. To pleasantly surprise the grown up daughters with his deep understanding and knowledge of music. To make the daughters feel proud.
Until his last breath(and I mean it literally), he heard the 'Sound of Silence' by Simon & Garfunkel. It was his favorite song. The song is about a growing apathy towards one another and how interpersonal communication appears to have broken down, how no one cares to listen anymore. Dad cried every single time he heard this song. And I would often wonder why. It is only now that I understand a more personal, a more deeper meaning to the song. I guess it wasnt a single reason but a collage of images the song can conjure up in the mind - the finality of silence from a personal perspective, the loneliness, the isolation, the reaching out of hands for one last touch - I guess that is what the song really means and the reason why it affected Dad so much. It was Dad`s favorite song. I haven't heard it ever since.
But I do think about Dad and his music often. I try not to give it up. It`s the richest legacy Dad left behind. And so I hang on, hoping to make him proud someday.

A long,long time ago, Renu tagged me to do a post on my favorite slow,soulful,melodies. I wonder why soulful music is always slow and sad. Why can the mind accept jarring,blaring notes as soulful? :)
Anyway,I guess I was to compile a list of 10 songs only. But that`s an impossible task. So I`m going to mention all the ones I can think of right now. This isnt a complete list of course. There can never be..

1. Sili Hawa Choo Gayi

2. Zindagi Ke Safar Mein Guzar Jaate Hain Jo Maqam

3. Badi Suni Suni Hai

4. Tujhse Naraaz Nahi, Zindagi, Hairaan Hoon Mai

5. Koi Yeh Kaise Bataye Ki Woh Tanha Kyu Hai

6. Yeh Na Thi Hamari Kismat - Chitra Singh in Mirza Ghalib

7. Baat Niklegi to Door Talaq Jayegi - Jagjit Singh

8. Man Re Tu Kahe na Dheer Dhare - Mohammad Rafi

9. Tum Itna Jo Muskura Rahe Ho - Jagjit Singh

10. Mera Kuch Samaan - Asha Bhonsle

Some Others that I have been listening to, this past week - and that all of you must listen to, atleast once!!
1. Patience - Guns N` Roses

2. Girl in the War - Josh Ritter

3. Why Worry - Dire Straits

4. Tears in Heaven - Eric Clapton

5. Bridge over Troubled Water - Simon and Garfunkel

6. Coming Back to Life - Pink Floyd

7. Suzanne - Leonard Cohen

8. Walls of Red Wing - Bob Dylan

9. Handle me With Care - Traveling Wilburys

10. Most of the Time - Bob Dylan

11. Green Green Grass of Home - Tom Jones

12. Walk the Line - Johnny Cash

13. This Land is My Land - Woody Guthrie

14. Fix You - ColdPlay

15. I Still Havent Found What I`m Looking For - U2

16. Girl from Yesterday - Eagles

And saving up the best for the last :
17. Mousumi Bhowmik - Aami shunechi she din tumi
I will try and translate this Bengali song into English and post it. It is too beautiful a song to miss.

So go on, listen up People. I hope you enjoy these songs, as much as I do :)

To Serve for Honor

2010-01-26T15:15:00.018-06:00

For a while now, I have been busy preparing mock question-answers for the grad school interview. Why pursue a career in healthcare and not clinical medicine? What have I gained from my experience in the Indian Army and how will it help me in my career in healthcare? So on and so forth.
And I have been struggling with the answers.
Questions that seem simple enough. Answers that baffle me.
However, today I happened to read JP Joshi Sir`s post.
And it stirred my soul.
Indeed, 'Army is not about making a living. It is a way of life.'

Sep 2004
Mendhar, Poonch,J&K

I ran towards the helipad, all the while shouting out commands to my nursing assistants to carry the drips, injections and what have you for the casualty I had to attend.
I panicked. I panicked for a reason. I had never seen a gun shot wound of the skull, where the skull was split open,the bullet was lodged in the parietal region, the field dressing(bandage) was dripping red and the patient was talking profusely. In my hysteria, I almost snapped at him to shut up.
The moment I saw the patient(still inside the ambulance), I knew I had to act fast.For several reasons. Time is at a premium in cases like these. I didnt want the man to die. And so I decided to move him to the adjoining helipad, where I would institute first aid before he flew off to the nearest hospital(at Jammu). It would take 30 minutes by air(5 hours by road).
By the time I reached the helipad, the ambulance was already there with the patient. I ran to him and started loading an injection. The man looked up at me calmly. I started asking him questions for my record, all the while trying to stabilize my own hands before starting an I.V drip on him. I was shivering. By his side, was his buddy who kept reading out verses from a holy book(I think it was the Quran). Hysterical as I was, I asked the buddy to move and make room for me. However, the patient insisted that he be there.
"Saajid Ali, aap thik ho?" I asked.
"Hnaan ji."
"Gabrao nahi. Thik ho jaoge tum. Abhi chopper aa jayega."
"Main to thik hoon madamji. Aap mut daro."
I felt a hysterical burst of laughter rise up from within. I smiled.
"Achcha ghar pe kaun kaun hain, batao," I said(a known tactic to ease the nerves of the wounded and to distract them while instituting treatment).
"Sabhi hain. Amma, biwi, bachchein..."
"Bahut bariya. Abhi kuch aaram lag raha hai?"
"Madamji," he says and struggles to remove a stained service inland letter from his pocket.
"Yeh chithi post kar doge aap? Khatam nahi kiya hai, but abhi kar bhi nahi paunga. Jitna likha hai kafi hai."
"Zaroor Saajid Ali," I stammer,"Dekho chopper aa gaya. Tum darna nahi. Jaldi pahunch jaoge MH(Military Hospital).Phir thik ho jaoge."
"Dhanyawad madamji," he smiles.
I step down from the ambulance and walk up to the pilot to hand over the transfer documents.
Saajid Ali is brought out of the ambulance on a stretcher and loaded onto the chopper. I utter a silent prayer, clutching his letter in my hand.
As the pilot prepares to fly off, I see a wounded soldier of the Indian Army, a bullet lodged in his skull, sitting up and saluting as the chopper prepares to take off.
"Jai hind Madamji," he shouts before the din of the chopper can drown his voice, "Jai Hind!"

He never makes it to Jammu. But his spirit lives on.

And today, as I sit here trying to figure out what my biggest gain is,from serving in the Indian Army, the answer suddenly rings loud and clear.

I have been fortunate enough to know people who have served with responsibility, who have served with pride, who have served for honor. And I have been fortunate enough to do the same.
That is my biggest gain.

Happy Republic Day, People!

Proud to be an officer of the Indian Army. And I shall always be.

Let there be Peace..

2010-01-12T16:59:00.019-06:00

This post has been selected,People!! :):)
Disclaimer: One hell of a long post! Read at your own risk! :)

The G and I saw 'Firaaq'(Nandita Das`s debut in direction) the other day. Apparently a work of fiction claimed to be inspired from a thousand true stories, 'Firaaq' tells the story of gruesome man-slaughtering, in a bid to rattle the conscience of the viewers and make them realize the horrendous crimes that took place in Gujarat in 2002. Now I am no film critic and
I`m not here to review the movie either. The reason I write this is because somewhere deep within, the fanatic in me stirs and I feel this overwhelming urge to connect.
I confess - it disturbs me - the fact that I am a Hindu fascist at heart(albeit in subtle forms). I confess that when Gujrat was burning, somewhere deep down, I did(even if for a micro second) have the thought that this wouldnt be happening if those 58 HIndu passengers on board the Sabarmati Express in Godhra werent roasted alive.
Am I in any way justifying this horrendous mass genocide? No way! Never ever! Such atrocities can never ever be condoned.
But In spite of rational thoughts and reasons, the thought did cross my mind, didnt it?
That`s how it is.
When I went to college, one of my closest pals was a boy called Adil. We were inseparable for a while. I was so completely smitten; he was the smartest guy I`d ever been with. My letters home were full of Adil and Adil and then some more.
"Dont you have any decent bengali boys in your class? How about Saikat?" my Mumma asked. She thought I was going overboard.
And so I made the first conscious turn of my life. Adil soon became history.
When I joined the Army, my closest pal was a boy named Jafar. He was my junior. But he was the only person I could relate to. He shared my passion of Ayn Rand, Che Guevara and the Pink Floyd. When he dumped his girl-friend of 5 years, a little voice inside me just wouldnt shut up. Outrageous as it sounds, I attributed his infidelity to his religious beliefs! The fact that I was in a war-torn zone where religious antipathy was overt, didnt help me any!
And so it went, little voices inside my head, grappling with what I thought I had to believe in and reaffirming time and again that those beliefs are right; those beliefs are justified.
One cant deny it. This feeling of antipathy against the other religion is mutual; lurking underneath; a thread so fine that all so often we might not even see it clearly. But it exists all the same. But you would expect one to rationalize one`s thought during the course of growing up.
I did not.
I allowed the thoughts of the previous generation, thoughts of a medieval society, thoughts of a degenerating democracy to be stashed into my brain.
Today when I see such darkness at noon, I realize that it is me and other people like me who are responsible for it. The chalice is poisoned and overflowing and we have allowed ourselves to sip from it,a hemorrhaging democracy laced with religious fascism. Like unadulterated Arsenic.
We have to stop before we kill ourselves.

'Firaaq' wasnt the only thing to have caught up with me this new year. When I was back home, I got addicted to the reality series of 'Big Boss'. The interplay of human nature is fascinating. But what got to me the most was how one of the contestants, in a fit of rage against another finalist, threw away food into the swimming pool. Everything - bread, milk,eggs, flour, vegetables, sugar, even tea. I dont know if the punishment(of going hungry for a day and preparing a meal for 15 children) was fit enough or whether the guy had the slightest regret for what he did. BUt it stunned me.
Did you know that 16,000 children die of hunger each day? One child every five seconds!!
In a world where morality in all its forms is slowly dying,we hide behind brittle carapaces where humanity itself seems mottled. Where and how do we even begin to make a change?

This time around when I was home, I realized that we had opened a new bank account for Mom(where Dad`s pension would be credited)in the month of May. It was November and she still hadnt received the Debit card for that account. I went to the bank and asked the authorized person about it. He handed me an enormous register and asked me to surf through the names in serial order to look for my mom`s name. And so I started. Going through numbers one to seven hundred and twenty seven(which took about 45 minutes because I had to decipher the hand-writing!), until I found Mom`s name. And yet I wasnt given the debit card, because the office runner was out for lunch and wouldnt be back for the next hour or so(he had the keys to the cupboard, I was told!).For a change, I wasnt fuming. I had expected something like this. Which set me thinking. Are we simply getting used to sloppiness? Have we become so used to inefficiency that nothing hurts our sensibilities anymore?

Yesterday, we completed nine whole months without Dad. Sometimes I wake up with a strange ache, longing to hear his voice just one more time. Oh! it`s been so long.. And sometimes it seems like yesterday; the pain still so raw, so fresh.
But I guess we`ll be fine. Sometimes when I hurt so bad, I think the pain will never end. It probably doesn't. And those are the times when I slash all the hurt inside me into tiny slivers of bitterness, scatter it all around my world and watch the people in it sear. And when I`m done, I`m on my knees collecting the charred remains. Smoldering fragments of past smiles and togetherness. Dying embers of burnt relationships. And ashes of past hope, now singed,dying.. And as I run around, trying to salvage the burnt remnants, I think of where I went wrong. And I think I`ll never get back my world again, the way it used to be. But I will learn to live with it. Someday I will. And then, I`ll be fine again. I`m sure I will.

Hello People,
I`m back.
And as I welcome the new year,I pledge to do my bit to make this world a better,happier,safer place.
And I start right now.
By leaving the past baggage behind. By forgiving people.
By being a better person. By being honest,sincere and happy.

Come join hands with me, as I pray for a better, happier and a more beautiful tomorrow. For you and for me.

Happy 2010, People! Let there be Peace!

On a Jet Plane...yet again!

2009-10-30T08:18:00.003-05:00

I`m leaving for India in a couple of hours.
Yes, yet again!
This time, to drop Ma back. But I`ll be back. Soon, I promise.
Wish me luck.

Thank you All, for all the warm comments and emails. I dont think I would have survived this difficult phase without all your love and support.

2009-10-09T19:21:00.002-05:00

Hello People,
I know I have been away for the longest time. I dont even know whether anyone reads my stuff anymore.. But I wanted to thank all of you for the warm comments and the queries. Needless to say, I miss reading all of you. And that I hope I`ll be back soon.

2009-09-25T18:52:00.000-05:00

Words smash against each other.
Bowling pins crashing frame after frame.
The clamor of a perfect strike slicing through the soul.
Chronicles of the past carelessly strewn.
Irrelevant. Ill-timed. Inapt.
Creeping tendrils of Thoughts.
Some twirl around the tongue and snarl.
Others drift.
A coiling miasma.
Pervading. Nauseating. Gagging.
Tears plunge down to the lips, sit there and smirk.
Refusing to stay. Refusing to move.
Spikes of rage abate.
Molten lead dumped into ice.
Scared whimpers wrench the mind; twist it into a crushed pretzel,
And mindless crumbs fill the emptiness.
Then,Fear takes over.
Freezing the fringes into an iron chain swung hard.
Whiplashed again. And again.
Explosive paroxysms. Bitter ache. And a slow dying.
Bit by bit.
Piece by piece.
And yet I find no weight. Nor resistance.
Just familiar. Just self spun. And routine.
Amidst them I stand; A doleful spectator
On my knees and begging,
Collecting pieces of lucid illusions(now broken, decayed..)
that I once helped create.

A bit of this..A bit of that!

2009-09-18T13:23:00.013-05:00

It feels strange to be back to my fav coffee shop,writing again. Almost like returning back home after a really longggg vacation.I dont know what I`ll be writing about.I dont really have an agenda; So let this be a bullet post.
***I met the G`s collegue and his wife at someone`s bday party. And the wife pretended she`s never met me before! The truth is that we have been to their place for dinner TWICE! Either she`s a super bitch who was trying to convey what perfect 'non-entities' The G and I were. Or she entertains so much that its difficult for her to remember all her guests! Whatever the reason, it left a bitter undertaste. And I`m in no hurry to attend another 'office' party again!
NOTE: Thanks to Sols, I now know she`s pbly sick(yes,literally so!)

*** A cousin`s wife has gone crazy uploading their family pics on social networking sites. It would have been one happy collection, but for the fact that her pose in each picture makes me sick. Who dangles sunglares over the front buttons(unfastened) and sticks each thumb inside the trouser pockets(sometimes even latches them 'casually'!) and stands like the Queen of Sheeba, fingers splayed out over the ample thighs, just to make the stark white stripes on the sides of the trousers stand out in contrast?? Who does it?? And ohh dear me, WHY??!! It makes my blood boil. The G says,"Ignore. Dont see them if it makes you so mad,". How can I not, when each day there are 100 pictures literally smothering my webpage?
Disclaimer: Normally I would never discuss looks and attires. Never ever.But then again, I have my moments!

*** We had a neighbourhood potluck party which was awesome - more so because we finally met our original home owners - the ones who made the house that we now own,from scratch. He(lets call him P.O) is an ex-fighter pilot of the US AirForce who fought during the World War 2 and she is a homemaker now. They are such warm,wonderful people and they so reminded me of my grandpa.
Along with Subhash Chandra Bose`s Indian National Army(or the Azad HInd Fauj), my Grandpa fought for the freedom of our country from the Britishers,1943 onwards. Incidentally the INA(and my Grandpa) fought against the Allied forces - the side P.O was fighting for!!. I had a fabulous time hearing P.O`s tales. Imagine talking to someone like that! He is the history we read about!!
I never missed my grandpa so bad.
Incidentally I have several books and memoirs that grandpa wrote - a beautiful legacy that he`s left behind.

***I finally started driving lessons. Yes, finally after three years of dilly-dallying and utter disregard(read lassitude) for the unwavering requests by The G! And guess what suddenly brought about the change?
The fact that my sister has started driving(licence et al)!!
The G was aghast at the rivalry I still feel towards my kid sister(who is no longer a kid but has a kid of her own,whom she has to drive to play school and hence the licence!)!
"Whatever works," he said.
And so its been uneventful so far, but for minor ripples. Like the time I drove the car over someone`s lawn at 12 in the night and had their dog literally rip me apart, but for the fact that I was inside the car! Seriously!
That and the fact that I stopped at a busy intersection while taking a right turn because I forgot to accelerate(I had practiced turning in a parking lot with the brakes on and no acceleration!)!! Other than that and a near hysterical G, its been great!
NOTE to all NON-DRIVERS: NEVER TAKE DRIVING LESSONS FROM THE HUBBY. NEVER EVER.

***It is Mahalaya today; 5 months and 8 days now since Dad left us.
I remember Oh so fondly of how we would wake up to 'Birendra Krishna Bhadra`s Mahisasura Mardini'. Mom Dad would sit around the radio, chatting up over hot cups of tea, while my sister and I would lazily snuggle inside the blankets and let the music soak our souls. Later Dad would bring fresh,hot jalebis from the market and we would have it over breakfast.
Today is yet another Mahalaya. A year back, if anyone would have asked me to think of a Mahalaya without Dad, without jalebis, without the radio, I would have dismissed it off as a crazy thought. BUt here I am,struggling to find a sense of peace, while all that I loved and cared for,slowly seems to ebb away..
I wont say it has been easy. But I have been making conscious efforts. Efforts not to cry or despair. Not to always grieve over what I have now lost. BUt rejoice over what I have gained all my life. Its not easy. But I am trying.
So today morning, over 'Mahisasura Mardini'(A tape which Dad gifted me JUST LAST YEAR!!Did he know he would be gone?), I prepared a batter for the jalebis and left them on the counter top to ferment.
Things are not what they used to be. But then again, neither am I.

Life does goes on, you know. And so must I..

Ohh and did anyone notice that my Indirank has fallen from 79 to 71 to 63? Is it even important? And if it is, just how low do you think I`ll stoop? :):)

That`s all for now. More later.. Have a fabulous weekend,People!

The Earth Laughs in Flowers

2009-09-04T10:41:00.018-05:00

Ok People, as promised, here are the pictures of my plants.
Striped Purple Petunia

Petunia Rosie(red and white), Red, Violet Star, Plum burst and Pink brocade Petunia

Pink and Yellow Zinias - note the half-eaten(by rabbits!)pink one in the center - before I took over. And the fresh blooming yellow and pink ones on either side! - AFTER I took over :)

Red Geranium

Angelonia or 'Angel Mist'(Love the name!)

And tada! The best of the lot! Tiger`s Eye Gold Daisy

Mostly kept by the front porch right now(for fear of rabbits and gophers!)

And some, near the unfinished flower beds I`m preparing

So if I`m not seen around in the Blog World as often as I would like to, you now know the reason why! :):)

Disclaimer: I have to admit that the idea of starting a garden goes to my MIL and that she did water the plants for a little while. But they are all my babies. I have been tending to them with the utmost love and care I can. Arent they all lovely?

Doing Nothing and them some more..

2009-09-03T14:08:00.009-05:00

Ok People, I know I haven`t quite kept up with the Blog World. BUt I shall get back and soon. Right now,I am busy doing nothing. And then some more. I have simply been taking it easy. Relaxing after a long time. Just letting myself be.
I have this newfound interest in gardening these days! Have been trying to grow some flowers :) What`s amazing is that plants respond if you talk to them. They really do. So I`ve been roaming around, talking to my plants, watering them, letting them soak up the warm sunshine and telling them stories of happier times. It makes them smile. It makes me smile too.I promise to put up pictures of my flower garden in the next post.
And then, The G and I had a midweek movie and a dinner date yesterday. Watched 'Inglorious Bastards'. Frankly speaking, Quentin Tarantino really isnt my type of guy. But I loved the movie all the same. Just as I have liked most of his other movies. Brad Pitt was awesome in this one. As always.
But movies arent what I want to talk about today.
Let me share something with you.
I am not a baker. Never have been. But I have always longed to be. I remember how excited my kid sister and I would be when Ma would bake a cake at home. The good old oven would be out, cleaned up and ready. And we would vigorously beat the batter for Ma and wait patiently(well almost!) for Ma to finish, so we could lick the bowl! Those were such happy times.
So finally today I decided I had to bake. And what better way to start than with a German Black Forest Cake. It wasn`t as difficult as I had imagined(God bless the man who invented a blender!). But the final dressing took a painfully long time. Gah. Patience is what I so need to cultivate!
Hopefully it will taste as great as it looks.
See for yourself.
What d`ya think guys? :):)

Desolation Row??

2009-08-20T15:58:00.005-05:00

For the longest time, I have been thinking about an incident that a close friend happened to narrate about someone she knew.
He is a 50 year old man, a German by birth; adopted by American parents; happily married for the last 20 years with grown-up children of his own; living the American Dream. For years and years,he had been trying to trace his biological parents. And about a year ago,when he finally did,they were gone. But he could still reunite with the rest of his family including a younger brother he never knew he had.
The whole episode has a bollywoodish tinge to it. Without the theatrics.
Such is reality. Such is life.
I just havent been able to stop thinking about it.
Imagine the joys and fears of finally having traced one`s parents after years and years of struggle and anticipation, only to find them dead. Imagine the horror. Imagine never learning why he was abandoned, while the rest of the family lived on to have normal lives. Imagine not knowing any of those answers at all.

Which brings me to an important issue I have been thinking about for ages now. I still havent found an answer.

Visualize this. You make a huge investment of trust in your parents for several years, only to realize that you dont know who they are at all. Imagine having to return back to the drawing board to restructure them again.
Which brings me to the question I have been asking myself for the longest time now.
Do you think it`s wise for a child to know that he is adopted?
At what age and under what circumstances should he be told?
At what age do you think, a mind develops enough tensile strength to stretch, but not break under the horror of this knowledge?

I, Me, Myself..

2009-08-17T15:41:00.010-05:00

After almost a span of five years,I have again felt this need to read 'The Fountainhead'. For me, it is therapeutic at many levels. It has always been.
(For the uninitiated, Ayn Rand is a Russian-American Philosopher/Novelist who developed the theory of Objectivism.)

"My philosophy, in essence, is the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his only absolute." -Ayn Rand

Ayn Rand's endorsement of self-interest before that of others,basically shows her rejection of the ethics of altruism,which all of us are taught since childhood - a moral obligation to live for the sake of others, to keep others` interests in mind before our own, to be thoughtful of others and not selfish.
She said that every individual's own life is his or her own highest value; rationality is every human being's highest virtue, and one's own happiness is the highest purpose of one's life.
That makes perfect sense, doesnt it?
There will be and has always been many to criticize her philosophy. They claim that her vigorous adherence to objectivism can have hazardous psychological effects. Some say that her theories are incomplete and sketchy.Most others claim that her theories are in black and white, with no scope for shades of grey.Whatever the criticism, Ayn Rand continues to influence my life in more ways than one.
Over the years, I have allowed myself to be pulled into the flow,to be dragged into a herd, standing in the line, conforming,bending,evading,pandering to the needs of others before my own,compromising. I can hardly think of a thing that I did for my own happiness and not because others wanted it/liked it/approved of it. And in doing so, I`ve lost track of who I was and what I had wanted to be.
Today I am so lost, that I cant spend 5 minutes of my life without wondering if what I do is going to be liked/approved or disapproved by others who surround me. I cannot think for myself. It could be anything really. Even a simple thing as wearing a pair of favorite shorts on a hot summer day, without the fear of being smirked/talked about by those close to me. A stamp of approval that is not my own,seems so important. Important enough to twist my life in a route such that I might never find my way back again.
There was a time when I had a hand-painted(by me ofcourse!) Ayn Rand quote up on my walls. It made me smile. It made me feel alive. Today, as I`m grappling to resurface, to break free from the rusted roots, I`ve put it up again.

"I swear — by my life and my love of it — that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine."

Most of the Time..

2009-08-11T16:00:00.005-05:00

Wednesday April 8, 2009 5:03am
Apollo Hospital, Ranchi – Room no. 203
I sit here typing, while my father lies on the reclined hospital bed in front of me. Once in a while he looks towards me and I ask him if he wants a sip of water. He quietly looks on and I know he`s thirsty. I hold him up and try to force in a sip through his pursed lips. He chokes. I struggle to make him sit up. Tears roll down some more. And he`s found himself another breather. When does it all end, I wonder. Every once in a while he raises his fingers in a questioning gesture, reaching out for my mother`s hands. And I see her caress his chest and tell him that she`ll be fine. He should not worry about her anymore. She will be just fine. And tears roll down some more.
I sit and chant a prayer over and over again.
Om. Aanandmayi. Chaitanya mayi. Satyamayi. Paramay. Om. Aanandmayi. Chaitanyamayi. Satyamayi. Paramay.
It calms my mind. It gives me enough strength to wish for the end to come soon. It gives me the strength to let go.
I look at my parents together. I keep looking. I want to capture it all and bury it deep within my heart, so I never forget. The two of them together. Not like this. But during happy times.
When Dad could speak clearly, all that he asked of me is to make his going peaceful. That`s all he had wished for. And a chocolate cookie.
How does a person die, I wonder. Is it when the soul is satisfied that one`s work on this earth is done and one must now depart? What happens if the soul is not ready to give up just yet, not even when the body has?
I hear my father talking in his delirium. He reaches out his hand and asks for his mother. He shakes me and points towards the door. He asks me to let his mother in. He tells me he`s going home. To his mother.
And I sit here crying in relief. Because now I know that wherever he will be, he will be at peace. Because he will finally be with his mother.

Yet another morbid post,People. But this is something I just felt like sharing. Something I had written when I was with my Dad in the hospital. He left three days later.
Its been 4 months today.
And yet it seems like an eternity since I`ve heard him, seen him, hugged him close.
It still hurts as bad.
I know most of you must be tired of reading such morbid thoughts from my side all the time. BUt bear with me, my friends. This is the only outlet I have. Maybe I do it for sympathy. Maybe I think that some words of comfort might be therapeutic. Different people have different ways of coping with grief. Mine pbly is to fish for sympathy. Whatever the reasons, it helps me unburden. It helps me loosen up. So bear with me. Please do.

"Most of the time
I'm clear focused all around,
Most of the time
I can keep both feet on the ground,
I can follow the path, I can read the signs,
Stay right with it, when the road unwinds,
I can handle whatever I stumble upon,
I don't even notice she's gone,
Most of the time."
- Bob Dylan

Pictures Worth a Thousand Words - Chicago 2009

2009-08-10T15:28:00.018-05:00

I`m back,People.
And here are some pictures for you to enjoy, while I`m trying to think of something interesting to write! :)
Reflections

Dancing in the Rain

Muah!

Tangled up in Blue

You and I..

Buckingham Fountain

Sky HIgh

Man..

And Earth

Happiness

A much needed Break

2009-08-03T00:06:00.007-05:00

Hello People,
I`m off to Chicago for a 3-days trip. Lord knows,I do need a break(if I stay one more day at home cooking,I shall either kill those around me or die trying!). I shall not be reading my favorite blogs for a while. But needless to say, I shall be back. And soon. Until then, here`s something for all of you(the narcissist in me just couldnt resist this!) - its a picture of me on a pontoon. A fabulous afternoon. Just drifting along, as I always have. Shimmering waters. Casual banter. Some music playing in the distance somewhere. The sound of it all reaching my ears. But not quite. More pictures later. For now,I`m signing off. Shall be back soon.

That`s me sitting by myself at the edge of the pontoon

The Pontoon from where we took off

Past lives and other worlds..

2009-07-30T18:34:00.007-05:00

I have always admired people who can run on a treadmill. Because I never can. Normally I walk on the treadmill. And I almost always listen to 'Brothers in Arms' while doing so. No other music album holds my interest long enough for me to burn a few hundred calories on the treadmill. I get bored easily.
So today,there I was listening to my favorite songs and panting away.And suddenly came the song 'Why Worry'. It made my heart stop just for a minute.
I was 10 when my Dad introduced me to Dire Straits. This song was a personal favorite then. It continues to remain so.
That was the beginning. And then there was no looking back.
My best pal had once gifted me a cassette back in school(yeah we had magnetic tapes with two brown spools back then! Hmmphh! Am I getting old?!!) with all our favorite songs recorded.
> Crying in the Rain
> Its yesterday Once more
> Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow polka dot Bikini
> Top of the World
> Johnny Get Angry
> California Dreaming
> Cherish
> Bridge over Troubled Water
> And the best one : That`s what Friends are for..
The tape`s old now, its reels cachectic over time. But I still have it. I still cherish it. I still listen to the songs(on youtube now).
Over the years, my taste in music has grown. From Dire Straits to The Beatles to Rabindra Sangeet to Lata`s melodies to Floyd and Led Zep to Dylan and Baez and back to good ol` country music. And then again, to some beautiful songs from unnamed bands and vocalists. But the songs I liked as a little girl, I still do.
Same for books. I could still spend an entire afternoon reading 'Anne of Green Gables', Noddy books or 'Trixie Beldon'. We never had Harry Potter back then. I still havent found the inclination to read or see any.
I still like the same food. Home made Indian meal. We never had Thai/Mexican/Greek restaurants in Ranchi. We still dont. I never knew what any other food tasted like. I still dont find much interest(though I sometimes do try out newer stuff). I disliked fruits and veggies. I still do.
I have a collection of things from the past which I cherish. Old letters. Cards. Photographs(some damaging ones too!). Crafts which I made in school. Old diaries. A paper doll house. A miniature tea set from childhood. A dried jacaranda leaf which a close pal once gave me. Old posters that once brightened up my room(one of Sachin Tendulkar too! Geez!). An old scrap book from the first years at school and a Geography project on Volcanoes done years later. Some 50-year old slender aluminum boxes for storing syringes(this one from grandpa`s collection). Zippo lighters(from dad`s). And thanks to Mom, a couple of dresses from when I was a year old and a crochet lampshade she had once made.
I still like the same people. I still dislike the same ones. I still have a couple of close friends from school. NONE from college. And a couple of recent friends who have almost become family. It`s difficult for me to go out and make new friends.
I`m still the same. Fond of dogs and radio shows. Still dislike the concept of a circus and a zoo. Still mortally scared of birds. Childishly excited at times. Opinionated. Stubborn. Angry. Never letting myself forget. Or forgive.

I sometimes wonder if it`s healthy for the human psyche to roam around with the past clinging around one`s neck like rosary beads. Gagging at times.
But then again, I feel content. Sheathed in the old dreams. Vivid. Happy. Fascinated.Sad.Scared. Roaming around the world aimlessly. Like a lost soul.
For all I know, I may have just become one...
I sometimes wonder if this is normal. If it is okay to never allow myself to grow up. Never open up to new ideas, new people, new horizons.
Is there anyone who feels the same way? Or is it just me?

All my best memories come back clearly to me.
Some can even make me cry. Just like before.
Its yesterday once more.
- Carpenters

A Lesson Learnt - Part 4

2009-07-23T14:42:00.009-05:00

Ranchi
April 21,2009

It was the hottest day this summer, or so it seemed. The heat was killing me. The sun was burning my soul. It was the day we had arranged a prayer service at home, for Dad.
I stood by the door, mind of stone, watching the priest recite prayers for Dad. Every once in a while I looked over at Dad`s picture and smiled. He smiled back. Dad wasnt religious. Neither am I. I knew how amused he must be, at all the dramatics going on. More on this at a later post.
Just then, I saw a rickshaw pull up by the door and a little girl, all of four, hop off with a bottle of Pepsi in her hands. Before her mum could realize what was happening, she held it out to the rickshaw puller and said," Here. Arent you hot?"
The mother yanked her away and bent down to talk to her. She was fuming.
"Now that you`ve given your bottle away, don't come crying to me when you`re thirsty!"

I was stunned. For several reasons.
Here was a four year old teaching us one of life`s most valuable lessons.
The need to be perceptive. The need to be a little more sensitive. And yet, was being reprimanded for being 'naughty'.
I glared at the mother. You have the power to shape up your child, I thought. Go on, make a devil out of her, so she never thinks of sharing a cold drink with a tired rickshaw puller ever again.

It is true that children are more sensitive. Because children are simple. Children are not 'objective', so to say.
We as adults fight wars all around, all the time. And it has become a question of who breaks whom. It is spartan. It is all-consuming and frenzied. It is a paradox. This desperate urge to conquer. To covet. And the urge to please. To conform. To follow suit.
Children dont understand such complexities of life. They live uncomplicated ones.
We dont understand the complexities of life as well. Hence we think we live uncomplicated ones too.
But you and I know that I am not seeing uncomplicated any more. When exactly we parted ways is difficult to pin point...somewhere between my first date and getting married, I guess.
You were on the same bus,remember?
The obliviousness of the next turn of life has just become so increasingly fuzzy. For both you and me.
Is that why our minds are so blurred?
Is that why the sensitivity of our souls has simply gone up in smoke?

This particular episode brought back memories I had long forgotten.
A long, long time ago, I was standing at the door and fighting over the five extra rupees that a rickshaw puller was demanding one such hot afternoon. And Dad came out and quietly asked,"What do you propose to do with the five bucks you manage to save today?"
Lesson learnt. For Life. The value of empathy. The need to be sensitive. The need to let go of pettiness.
And as I looked backed at the picture and thought of the man who had taught me to live, I knew it was Dad. That he was around. Showing me the way yet again.

Not that I`m a fan of Mahatma Gandhi, but there`s one quote of his that makes sense to me.
"Be the change you want to see in this world."

Happy Things

2009-07-16T15:58:00.012-05:00

The Chic Geek asked me in a comment about my 'favorite simple pleasures'. It set me thinking. Simple things that make me happy. What better way to spend an afternoon than to think of the things that I love. Of things I can think of and suddenly smile. So here goes, even though The Chic Geek seems to have covered most of mine in her own list!

1. Sunshine and colorful gift wrappers
2. A hot cup of coffee and a cinnamon coffee cake
3. Children playing in the rain.
4. Children playing.
5. Plastic tambourines and a goldfish bowl
6. Warm fleece slippers and a blue comforter
7. A good book ; A lazy afternoon
8. A coffee shop; A snow mobile
9. Shrimps ; Smell of sauted onion in cinnamon-cardamom spice mix
10. The smile of a two year old
11. Bumble bees and Yellow flowers
12. A Nose Pin
13. Warm sand and Stars on a moonless night
14. Soft music, A wooden guitar and Old photographs
15. Smell of fresh baked bread
16. Thunder, Dogs and A black dress
17. Handycams and Food Processors
18. Old letters, White stationary and Photo frames
19. Baby clothes, See-saws and Warm hugs
20. A bubble bath, A hot oil massage
21. Cigarettes, Vodka in orange Juice and Motorbikes
22. Molten chocolate cake
23. A log cabin; A Piano
24. Meatballs , Mangoes
25. A long drive, A snowstorm

That`s about all I cant think of right now. Its a pretty honest compilation of my favorite things. Does it say anything about the person I am?

P.S - It took me less than 5 minutes to think of about 40 things that always make me smile. Small things. Magic things.
And yet, for an entire lifespan I have been roaming around,a lost soul,in search of peace. In search of happiness..
Can I therefore conclude that Happiness is simply a state of mind? That circumstances dont bring happiness, but the way I choose to react to them, does? That every time I feel unhappy, bitter, angry or discontent, I should know that I always have a choice. That I can choose to remain bitter and unhappy, or I can fall back on this list and choose to feel happy? Happy to be alive. Happy being me. Happy Just Because...

You and I..

2009-07-13T17:02:00.000-05:00

The sun bursts through the darkness.
The sky,a downy, feathery mesh or such like..
The wind whistles through the distant pines.
Zinnias blossom.
Birds chirp. A teapot boils over. A baby smiles.
Children play with cutaway plastic tambourines.
Life goes on.
And then there`s You and I.
Not afraid of shadows. Not even of the dark anymore.
Sometimes flaky. Sometimes childlike.
But mostly slower. More programmed.
No tunnels of escape.
Comforted by the sound of music in hot cups of coffee;
And the smell of faraway lands.
Dewy nights. Quivering lips. And a blanket of stars.
Thirty two miles closer. Thirty five nights apart.
One teardrop meets another. A wilting smile slowly ebbs..
Words tumble in the mind like marbles in a game of rolley hole.
While some get cached in heartbeats.
Mist laden dreams dangle on a silver moonbeam.
While lonely shores are washed by fire.
A smothered wail. A torpid mind.
A wavering soul. A skittish laugh.
Lines of fate twirl around. A slow tango to the beat.
Blue skies. Deep eyes.
And then there`s You and I.
You.
Poised on a silver thread,ambling along. A peregrine. A peasant. Fostering your dreams under the moon. Spraying them with tears and sweat. Corralling the sunbeams in your fist lest they dry those dreams away.
And I.
Sifting junk from old memories that sit and smirk.Some stink. Some smile. While I pour myself a glass of red wine and wait for the sun to rise.

Apologies..

2009-07-11T17:12:00.006-05:00

After much debating, I have decided to take down my last post "Drunk on Power".
The reasons are simple.

1. Confrontation scares me. Its unnerving at many levels.

2. This post was unwarranted.Totally and Completely. Personal grievances are one thing. Making a mockery of someone`s parents on a public forum is totally uncalled for, no matter what the circumstances.

3. I`m at a stage where every day is a struggle. I`m still battling to hold onto the last remaining vestige of sanity after Dad`s death. I see him standing by my bed, watching me shrivel up and cry. I want to reach out. I do. And yet, he moves just out of grasp. And at a time like this, I sit and think of the people who have been around. And those who havent.
And herein lies the root of all troubles.
Expectations.
Suppositions
Presumptions that 'Family' shall always be around. That they shall(atleast once) bother to ask about you and your Mom.And just how you`re doing.
Or defend you when no one does.

That is where the bitterness stems from. And manifests outwardly into an outburst like this.
"Drunk on Power" shall remain in my drafts.
I shall publish it once I know I am ready to stand up and fight.

Until then, my deep gratitude to people who have sent in comments. I shall reply to each one of those here in the next post. My sincere apologies to you all.

But for now,I need to take this post off. At a time when I`m grappling to come to terms with my own loss, I may have bitten off more than what I can chew. I dont need any added headaches right now. And hence, this decision.

P.S - Its been three months today since Dad passed away. Three whole months.

Little things. Magic things.

2009-07-06T16:06:00.019-05:00

Deeps tagged me to do this picture post a few weeks back. I thought about it and then I thought some more. Its difficult to put in words, the journey into adulthood. So I shall simply post pictures in a chronological order for you to read the story hidden beneath.

Pic 1 : Piper with Ma : a few days old

Pic 2: Piper with Grandpa : a few weeks old

Pic 3: Piper at 9 months

Pic 4: Piper with Dad - a year and a half

Pic 5: Piper with Lil Sis

Pic 6: Piper`s first day at School

Pic 7: Piper`s first official passport size photo for the school bus pass(Note the scowl!)

Pic 8: Piper then

Pic 9: Piper Now..

Long time ago I did a post on how incredible it is, the way a child moults into an adult. The wires click right in place as we traverse the journey of life and at some point we cease to be children, roaming around the world in wide-eyed wonder, without fear. Without hurt. Without anger. At some point we cease to be clueless little kids,fascinated by the world in all its splendour, smiling at ourselves in the mirror, crying and yet not knowing just how bad the strength of those tears will eventually hurt.
I yearn to go back to the time when I was happy. I long for the time when I didnt know how else to be.
At what point did my mind register fear, I wonder? At what point did my world mutate into a stage where year after year I continued to play a myriad roles? When did I start to bend,twine,tangle into a twisted mass of pretzel,never to untangle again? When did my scraped knees and broken bones suddenly become easier to fix than my broken heart? And Why exactly? When, inside all the grey matter did the circuits click in place, so that little things, magic things suddenly disappeared, never to come back again?

I often wonder.. Do you?

Happy Independence Day, America!

2009-07-04T01:10:00.001-05:00

Disclaimer: Gross Exaggerations and stereotyping coming up. NO OFFENSE MEANT. All in good humor.

America, Where Oil is the blood that runs through the veins of the motherland;
Where it`s no longer "My SUV is bigger than yours" but "My Hummer is better than yours".

Where no longer is it only drive-through fast food and coffee shops, but drive-through drug stores.

Where gun laws are liberal, 'pro-life' activists flagrant and Darwinism considered an ancient fairytale.

Where people blissfully live life 'Mac D' size, while politicians watch Russia from their front porch!

Where Friday evenings are a 'Budweiser-ish Blur'.
While Saturday afternoons bring Families together to 'A Prairie Home Companion'.

And then there are the Americans themselves. A distinct conglomerate of the incredibly bright, the incredibly dull, the incredibly warm and the incredibly honest set of people I`ve met; who make my life here, a dream come true.
All of that.
And Bush is no longer President!

Happy Independence Day to All my American Friends. May you soon breathe free..

God Bless!

Hello People!

2009-06-30T00:11:00.002-05:00

Yeah..I`m still around.
For now, I just had to say hello and that I miss reading all of you. Shall resurface in a little while.
All is fine.
In-laws are visiting.
Feeling quite the outlaw myself. A rebelliously vocal one at that!
Still grappling to come to terms with what is and shall be.
Hence the absence.
But I shall be back. As always, I shall be back and soon! :)

And Trouble..Yet Again!!

2009-06-23T16:34:00.005-05:00

Mom`s purse got stolen from the train last night. She was traveling with my sister to Kolkata for a visa interview. She was traveling without Dad for the very first time in 36 years!
The loss wasnt substantial. The purse had an ICICI ATM card, a Kolkata sim card, Dad`s photograph and about Rs 2500 or so. After an hour`s anxious efforts to block the card, we finally managed to do so. The money in the bank was intact.
The F.I.R was lodged. And a (duplicate)return train ticket was issued. All was well. Atleast for the time being.
But I was angry. Angry as hell. We didnt need this. Really we didnt. One fuckin` trouble after another! Why us? Why us, all the fuckin` time???
*Apologies for swearing on a public forum!*

As I sat seething, a happy memory from the past crept its way back into my soul.

One friday afternoon,Ma took me and my sister to a fair to buy a pullover for Dad. With the two of us(all of 8 and 10) clinging onto her two arms, a spring in her steps and a sparkle on her lips, she set out. I remember roaming the entire stretch of the fair till Ma finally converged on a pullover that she found smart enough for Dad to wear! She bargained with the owner of the stall and settled for Rs 300. As she opened her bag to remove her purse, she realized it was gone! Someone had managed to slit the bag with a knife and remove the purse! She turned white, apologized to the owner and pulled us away from the stall. We quietly hopped onto a rickshaw and headed for Grandpa`s place where Dad was to pick us up on his way back from the Office.
I remember like it was yesterday.Ma broke down and cried the moment Dad returned.She had lost Dad`s hard-earned money... a few hundred bucks, she said. Dad simply laughed in reassurance and said its only money, just a few pieces of paper. It`ll come back.
I dont know if it did. But I do remember how Ma cheered up instantly. I remember that feeling of warmth that came from seeing them together this way..
When I heard Ma sobbing quietly on the phone, I wondered if she was waiting for Dad to return back, to reassure her that all was well. That it was only paper.
The loss wasnt really much, I told her. We`re lucky her passport wasnt in the purse! See, He`s up there looking over us, I said. We`ll be fine.
But it didnt feel fine. The whole thing left all three of us pretty shaken up. We could seriously do without this kind of trouble.
We spoke for a while about Dad. My sister and I cracked a few jokes about the visa interview. My aunt(one of the very few friends I have)talked of a few things from the times we were happy. And suddenly we were all ok. Once again, at ease.
We missed Dad. We missed the quiet assurance his mere presence gave us. But we are going to be fine,I thought.
We always have..

I sat alone in the den reminiscing. I wondered what I would do or say if Dad was to come back for a minute. I know he will not. Never ever.
But still..just in case.
And then there was a small thud. Perhaps in my mind.
Was it Dad?
Was it just my imagination? Or was it simply a tear landing softly on my soul...?

Sometimes its stifling. Nauseating. Like a huge weight on my chest. Sometimes it hurts so bad that I feel this pain will never end.
But I guess it does..
I hope it does someday..

And here I am again..

2009-06-15T11:14:00.000-05:00

Thank you A, for tagging me on this. I appreciate the sensitivity of your thought that this tag will help me untangle and start writing once again. It has.
So here goes.

1) When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
"I was young when I left Home.."

"I was young when i left home
An' I been out a-ramblin' round
An' I never wrote a letter to my home.
Not a shirt on my back
Not a penny on my name
But I can't go home this a-way.."
- Bob Dylan (Who else?!!!)

2) How much cash do you have in your wallet right now?

About $30. And some $1 notes to tip the cool guy at the coffee shop.

3) What’s a word that rhymes with DOOR?
Sore. Bore. Pour.
Does that say anything about my state of mind?!

4) Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
A telemarketer from Chase(who insists on pronouncing my name as 'Mankashi'!!)

5) What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?
Ohh I`ve never been a stickler for ringtones. Just the standard T-Mobile thingy on.
Though back home, I had 'You and I in this beautiful world Green grass, Blue Skies in this beautiful world!' - the Hutch ringtone. Isnt the song simply splendid?

6)What are you wearing right now?
Ohh the usual. Jeans and a red tee.
No interesting answers here, unless I re-write this post at midnight ;)

7)Do you label yourself?
I guess I do.
Sometimes as an insecure pessimist. At times as an angry pessimist. But Mostly as a depressed pessimist.
Ha!

8) Name the brand of the shoes you currently own?
A pair of Nike sneakers. And a couple of non-branded sandals. That`s all.
(Its interesting to note that personal branded/non-branded shoes collection gets increasing mention in so many blogs. Is that a matter of pride, to own 250 pairs of shoes?? Just wondering..)
In the same breath, here`s a joke.
A fat woman goes to the beach on a bright Saturday morning. She looks at the other women in bikinis and scoffs. And then she scoffs some more.

Yeah, either you have a dashboard stomach to flaunt or you think bikinis are immodest! :)

9) Bright or Dark Room?

Bright kitchen. Dark bedroom.

10) What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?
About A, who tagged me - I think she`s an awfully caring and sensitive person.

11) What does your watch look like?

I dont wear a watch.
Never wore one.
But now I have been carrying my Dad`s watch with me, which he wore till his last aching breath.

12) What were you doing at midnight last night?
Peering out of the guest room window, trying to figure out if its a racoon or just a rabbit scooting across the lawn!

13) What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
"The gym has a potty for god`s sake Mish!" - The G

14) What’s a word that you say a lot?
"Oh Shoot!" and "Aare Yaar!"

15)Who told you he/she loved you last?
The G.

16) Last furry thing you touched?
I`ve never touched anything furry.
Never intend to either!

19) Your favourite age so far
EIGHT. It was the year my Grampa bought me my first 'adult' bike. It was maroon, had two balancing wheels and curved handles, a black leather seat and a basket in front. And I was thrilled! The memory still makes me smile.

18) What was the last thing you said to someone?
Call me at lunch.

19) The last song you listened to?
"Mora Saiyaan Mose Bole na" - Fuzon.
Excellent song. A must hear(and hence the link!)

20) Where did you live in 1987?
Ranchi, India.
I have some pretty fond memories of the old house. Especially important is that of this huge well in the campus, that my mom tried so hard to warn us about.
"Dont go near the well. You`ll fall and I wont be able to pull you out", she`d chant religiously every evening when we moved out to play.
Cant help wondering if she knew I`d fall in anyway.

21) Are you jealous of anyone?
Not of anyone in particular. But sometimes, I do feel jealous of some women who have it all.
Parents. Children. And a job.

22) Is anyone jealous of you?

I dont think so. I dont have anything that anyone might want and not have.
Except for The G.

23) Name three things that you have on you at all times?
At all times eh?? Ahem!
Let me modify the qstn as three things I have at all times when I`m out of home. :)
Cell phone, wallet and keys.

24) What’s your favourite town/city?
It`ll have to be Pune, inspite of some pretty horrendous memories that I have tried in vain to bury deep inside.
And now of course, I`m beginning to fall in love with the Twin Cities here in the US.
This qstn reminds me of a post I did a long time back about roots. I dont really feel attached to any one particular place. Its always been the people around who`ve meant more to me.

25) When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?
In the year of the Lord 2005, when I was posted at Poonch, J&K.
Never ever wrote a letter after that. Have religiously stuck to email.
Incidentally, going through Dad`s things last month, we found three letters that he had safely preserved over the years.
- One that my Grandpa had written to his sister, from Japan in 1944. He was posted there as a Major in the Indian National Army, fighting along with Subhash Chandra Bose in the Azad Hind Fauj, against the Britishers during World War 2!
- One that my great grandpa wrote to me on my first bday! :)
- And the third One that Dad had written to me when I was a year old and away at my Grandpa`s place with my mom.

Amongst the other things which Dad had treasured and safely kept were my parents wedding card and a family photograph of his parents and siblings.

26) Can you change the oil on a car?
Nope.
(Does that say a thing about who I am?)

27) Your first love/big crush: What is the last thing you heard about him/her?
My first crush??! Havent the faintest clue! Was some guy from a neighboring school we`d met at an inter-school recitation competition. My closest pal and me, both fell for him at once!! (J, if you`re reading this, do you remember that Ojha Guy?? He joined DAV after that).
My first love..well last I heard, he had married his cousin`s girl friend! :)
Ah! And to think his Mom thought I was weird?!!!!

28) Does anything hurt on your body right now?

My eyes, from lack of sleep. Spent the night trying to tell apart a raccoon from a rabbit.(Oooh! First time home alone in three years and its getting a little too much to handle!).
And my heart, from an unreasonable,overwhelming urge to hold my Daddy close, just once more. Just for a minute. Just one last time.

29) What is your current desktop picture?
Of The little devil(my nephew) trapped inside a laundry basket!

30) Have you been burnt by love?
Burnt. Bruised. Broken.
But up and running all the same.
On second thoughts, who hasnt?!

Back in the US of A..

2009-06-07T07:29:00.004-05:00

And I`m back, though not quite on track.
Thank you all, for remembering me in your prayers. I`m deeply overwhelmed by the surge of emails and comments, asking me to come back.
I am back. But somehow, it feels dry. Words abandon me. I know not what to write.
No one wants to hear sob stories of my life. No one wants to read sad stuff. And that`s all I have left now. Or so it seems.
It feels awkward in my own home. So quiet. So alone. Listening to my own voice for company. No horns blaring. No one shouting. No cows on the road. No water-logged drains. No jostling and shoving. No fighting to board a train.No children playing in the gutters. No wiping of sweaty foreheads. No cursing the weather. No smell of sweat. No Mainland China. Or the neighbourhood tea stall. No arguments over cups of tea. No homemade yogurt. No smell of fish. No walks in the rain. No candles burning. No smell of incense rising up in the air.
It feels strange. It feels distant.
But that`s not because my life has suddenly changed.
Just that it always feels this way to return back to a country I dont belong to, to people I dont belong to, to a place I have no right over, to a nation where I am a 'resident alien' reduced to a numerical.
Doesnt it always feel that way to return back from home?

Immortality of Man

2009-04-28T22:17:00.008-05:00

Here`s to you, Dad. I know you`re around somewhere, quietly watching over us,as you have always done..

How foolish to weep because a glorious sun has set,
which the next morning shall anyway gild the East again.

How foolish to mourn, that a mighty strength must yield to fate.

Oh!How foolish to shrink from pain,
Yet know that without its friendly strife
Joy could never be..

To make a terror of death
Who smiling, beckons us to farther life,
Like a bridge to a persistent breath;

How foolish to rend the Heart
To Despair and Anguish and the tragic grief
Of such disastrous tears or dry set eyes;
Yet know the strength of tears and the power of its relief.

How foolish to give in to all such man`s ghastly company of fears,
Which are born of the folly
that believes the span of physical life
To be the limit of Immortal man.

Sri Aurobindo, on the Immortality of Man:
Although consenting here to a mortal body,
He is Undying; limit and bond he knows not;
For Him, the aeons are a playground,
Life and its deeds are his splendid shadow.

April,11 2009

2009-04-11T21:53:00.002-05:00

Thank you people,for all your prayers and wishes. I wish I could respond personally to each one of you. I dont really have the heart to that right now.
Just thought of letting you know..My Dad passed away yesterday afternoon.

Updates from Dubai

2009-04-02T13:54:00.001-05:00

Heyy.. Surprise!! :) Am waiting for the connecting flight back home at the Dubai International Airport. And realized that they have a wi-fi connection all over! :)
And I had to post this note right now.
I am so completely touched and overwhelmed by the flow of prayers and best wishes from all of you. Thank you my friends. I need all of it right now.
The Dubai airport is awesome. But I find myself a little uncomfortable. The racist that I am, I cant help feeling a little scared of the vast mob of people from all over the world - literally.
The flight from JFK to Dubai was uneventful. Could sleep throughout - needed three seats to lie flat! Is that too short or tall enough, I wonder?! The guy sitting on the fourth seat kept guzzling down beer like its going out of fashion. For most parts, it was good.
The next flight leaves in four hours. After I sign off(batteries dying), I shall sit and read 'Desirable Daughters' by BHarati Mukherjee. Anyone`s read this?
Anyway, Didnt realize I was so addicted to internet!
So long my friends. More updates later. And thank you all for thinking about me at this hour when I most need your support.

Leaving on a jet plane

2009-03-31T22:27:00.003-05:00

This is it,guys. I`m going home.
I`m leaving early tomorrow morning for New York. Spend the day at my sister`s place. And then catch the late night flight back home to Kolkata/ Ranchi.
I shall be off the blog world for the next few days..maybe weeks. Shall miss reading my favorite blogs.Shall miss letting my opinions be known. Shall miss writing.
But I shall be back. And when I do, hopefully you all will be back as well,so we can together pick up the threads from where we`re leaving them now.
Dad is in the hospital. I have to be there by his side.
Do pray that he makes it back home. And someday soon.
That`s all for now.

I am Me. And I am Good. Becos God dont Make No Junk!!

2009-03-30T16:32:00.005-05:00

I took this Personality Test a few days back. I normally am pretty cynical about these tests but I have been astounded by the accuracy of this one. So here goes :

Introverted (I)
Introversion is a preference to focus on the world inside the self. Introverts tend to be quiet, peaceful and deliberate and are not attracted to social interactions.

Yes,yes,yes!! But I wasnt always like this. Those who know me from school will probably be surprised reading this. Infact most of my family (Mom Dad and sis for sure!) would find this really astounding. I have always lived upto this image that people have had of me. In fact when I started writing this blog, the first few posts were claims of me being this bold,outgoing New Age woman!
Over the past couple of months, I realized that deep under the veil,that is not who I am. I dont like being that woman I talk about.
Me an introvert??!!
Yes, I am one. In fact I will go so far as to say that I`m a loner.
And I like it.
This is the person I am most comfortable being.

Sensing (S)
* Concrete
* Realistic
* Lives in the present
* Aware of surroundings
* Notices details
* Practical
* Goes by senses
* Factual
No, not quite true for me. Not at all true in fact. I wish I was more realistic. I tend to brush away worries under the carpet so I never have to deal with them. I`m like an ostrich that way. As long as I can bury my head in the ground and safely avoid looking trouble in the eye, I convince myself that it does not exist. I wish I was more practical about the world and its ways that I so grapple to live with.

Feeling (F)
* Decides with heart, subjective
* Dislikes conflict
* Passionate
* Driven by emotion
* Gentle
* Easily hurt
* Empathetic
* Caring of others
* Warm
:):) I guess this is me. Its ironic really. To quote from one of my previous posts:

"Over the years I have acquired a reputation for tactlessness, being too outgoing, too unconventional by standards set by a medieval society, too open and laughing at the wrong people at the wrong place, a worrying lack of respect for the hierarchy..while on the domestic front i continue to be startlingly naive."

"Well meaning" relatives and friends think of me as this person who wouldnt ever mince words or think twice before telling them exactly what I think of them. I have done that to a lot of people. I still do with some.
But it scares me if I have to. And I dont do it unless I feel like the world will collapse on my head. I hate to get into a confrontational mode. I hate being noticed. I`m the kinds who normally sneaks into a party(if I ever go to one!) unnoticed and quietly sit in the darkest corner to avoid people!
But trust me, that`s not something most people would imagine me to be! Not even those who think they *really* know me.
On maturer thoughts, No one *really* knows me except for The G.

Perceiving (P)
* Adaptable, Flexible
* Relaxed
* Disorganized
* Care-free
* Spontaneous
* Changes tracks midway
* Keeps options open
* Procrastinates
* Dislikes routine

Well, mostly true. Except for the first two points. I`m as stubborn and refractory as they come. A true Taurean Bull, if Linda Goodman is anything to go by. I have my own warped up ideas about how the world should be run and by whom. And nothing..I repeat NOTHING in the world can normally shake that idea!
Also, lately it seems that I can never relax. My mind is always in turmoil. Probably a reflection of how my life has been in the last few months, I`m guessing. It takes an effort on my part to sit still and relax. I wish I could do it more often.Like I would at one time.

So that makes me an : ISFP -

Much as I hate to, I must confess that this is an accurate characterization of who I really am. Behind the mask, there`s a cloak(just in case the mask is ripped off). Behind the cloak,there`s a thin veil holding back a fragile conglomerate of fragmented pieces of life. Like a yellow sponge cake. A smile here, a blow there. Lots of laughs thrown in for good measure. Memories soaked in tears and wrinkled and yellow over time. A generous mix of anger, bitterness and fear - lightly beaten into a batter and baked until ready to present to an unsuspecting world.. The mask, the cloak and the veil all hold up air within the batter, for it to rise evenly. To breathe free and clear. If these layers are peeled off, the batter collapses. The fragile conglomerate breaks. And I`m left cold and shivering.

That`s me, Guys. Or perhaps just an alter ego under the veil.
Love Me. Or Hate Me.
But Pray, Dont be Indifferent :)

And with that, my list shows a 100 posts (I still have a few unpublished ones, but I am so excited about this that I just had to share it with you).
A request to all my anonymous and silent readers. Do drop in to say hello, just this once. Just to celebrate this 100.

VOTE FOR EARTH!

2009-03-26T16:10:00.021-05:00

Please excuse the rather weird way the picture has been masked. Didnt know how else to do it :)

Having grown up in an obscurity called Ranchi, 'load shedding' as it is referred to, is not strange or unfamiliar. Infact we have erratic day-time electricity hours there, while in the evenings, 6pm to 7pm and every alternate hour thereafter until 11pm. I believe the situation is pbly not much better than what it was 20 years back.
Hence, while in the Indian Army Medical Corps,when I was posted to Mendhar, Jammu & Kashmir, the concept of 'no lights after dark' didnt come across as alien.
The most beautiful memories of those times are of the underground shell-proof bunker that I would live in. A wooden cot with electrical generator wires spiraling down from the ceiling onto a 60W bulb. Two buckets of water in a makeshift bathroom. Spending the day watching raindrops slowly darken the hay on the roof and blue clouds assimilate into weird, inchoate shapes. Fingers itching with a desperate urge to grab the sun by its rays,yank it out of hiding and pull it over and across the black night. Strumming the guitar every now and then and listening to my own voice for inspiration.
Hurriedly finishing up dinner before the generators go out at 10. Walking out into the darkness to hear the distant roll of thunder. Marvel at the sensuous silhouettes of autumn trees heavy with copper leaves and the tiny lights in the distant villages, like stars carelessly strewn down and across the mountain slope. Dreaming of unknown places yet to be seen and a lifetime of existence and not just survival.. Cozy up inside the comforter and read 'Thornbirds' by candle light. Every now and then pick up the lifeless telephone set and let a tear drop float down. Soak up the heartache and wonder when you`ll get to hear Ma`s voice at the other end of the line. Sending a silent prayer up above for making it through yet another day. And falling asleep wishing there was someone to share the darkness with.
Looking back, it was gratifying. To be able to stretch the boundaries of self created constraints and pushing myself through yet another day.
Today, to prepare for an hour of darkness, I walked across the aisles at the grocery store, picking up scented candles and flowers for the evening.And I couldnt help but wonder at the contrast. There`s a smile in my heart and love in my eyes as I send a silent prayer to the Heavens Above. Because I shall spend an evening by candle light again. And I shall not be alone.
Sometimes wishes do come true.

An appeal to everybody who`s reading this. On March 28, between 8:30pm to 9:30pm, Please VOTE FOR EARTH by switching off your lights for one hour.

As I prepare to do so myself, my heart goes out to all those I`ve left behind in my journey of life, who continue to live in darkness. May God Bless them! Jai Hind!

A Visit to the Zoo

2009-03-24T20:35:00.003-05:00

I am overwhelmed by all the wishes,prayers and hugs coming my way.I don't know how else to thank everybody. Hence this note.
When I wrote the previous post, I was in a state of shock. All that I needed was some assurance,some hope. I am still grappling to come to terms with what is.
I have no doubts in my mind as to what I should do at this hour of crisis.
I thank everybody for all your love and support.
Sometimes along the path of life, you come across things that appear black and white. But a closer look would reveal shades of grey, albeit microscopic at some levels. I am traveling one such path today.
But I`m smiling. Because I`m not alone..

On a brighter note,to celebrate the last day of Spring Break, The G and I went to the Como Zoo here at the Twin Cities. It was a perfect day.
Bright, colorful parents frantically running behind excited children. Excited children running around the enclosures, shouting "Mr. Tiger, Mr.Tiger, Can ye hear me?!!". Mr. Tiger hiding behind dark shadows and pretending not to hear.
Ohh and there were penguins too! Tiny flapping,waddling baby penguins that stood on the artificial banks and stared back. One even flapped its tiny wings in response to my wild flailing!
A growling,irate Gorilla sitting at the mouth of a cave,occasionally shielding its eyes from the intrusive glare of cameras.
Two big Orangutans. The Mommy clutching a ragged cloth with one long hand and the branches with the other, as she made her way to the top of the enclosure. A little baby hanging onto her neck and licking her all the while. And then perching on the top most branch, She wiped her little baby with the rag and looked down on us. We looked up and smiled.She merely smirked.
There was lots to see really.
One lone Zebra that stood there and hung its head. A mother giraffe that pushed its baby back and paced about guardedly.
Happy, dancing sea lions that came up for food every now and then. And dived back into the waters. Swimming their way through life.
A senile,doddering lion that lay with his head on a roll of rubber tyre. Submissive. Resigned. Tired. A bright colorful throng danced around the enclosure,making absurd gestures to draw his attention. A harried mother clung onto her charge for dear life.
"Look at his eyes! Can you see how angry he is?"
The child stood back and stared. So did I.
Indeed there was a glaze in those eyes.
I stared long and hard.
What it anger?

I came back home,humbled.

I woke up this morning to yet another new day. And it is the same. As alike, as it is distorted. As distorted as yesterday was from the day before. And I wonder how it will be tomorrow. I don't see a pattern. I don't remember what I was thinking when I woke up, or what I dreamt, or what was the last thought I had before I fell asleep.
And I wonder.
The leaves of the trees move with the wind but there is never the same pattern in which the tree will sway.
I think about those fleeting moments when I`ve marveled at the beauty of the creator.The last time it was the smile of a two year old. As also, the loving caress of a mother orangutan. Or the lion as it lay with his head on a roll of rubber tyre. Finally he can relax, let go. The fight is over. The inevitable has occurred. Yet the look in his eyes stays clear in my mind.
What did it say?
Was it anger? Was it fear? Was it pain? Was it a glaze of tears or Was it just my imagination?
And today as I wake up, still not out of bed, those eyes..they flash in front of me for one solitary second. And I think to myself.
But He was Born Free. Oh He was Born Free!
No one Should take that away from him, don't you think..

Life..or something like it

2009-03-17T15:22:00.019-05:00

The pain slashed her soul apart.She leaned back against the wall,clinging onto the telephone and listening on. Helpless. Tormented. Numb.

"Shuncho? Kichu bolo na..Ki koshto hochche bolo? Kichu bolo na..."
(Can you hear me? Talk to me. Are you in pain? Talk to me please..)

Ma`s whimpers to Dad plunged down the telephone wires and across the oceans straight into her heart,ripping it apart into a million pieces. She stood there in a cold stupor, letting the pieces strew all over her.
She involuntarily lifted an arm to reach out.To shield Ma. To shield herself.
Unshed tears threatened to ravage unspoken words. And she shivered under their weight.
And then Ma was back on the phone.
"He`s not responding," Ma cried.
"You have to move him to a hospital IMMEDIATELY. Is someone there with you Ma?" she asked.
"Yes." (The neighbors were).
"Ok,now listen to me" She said calmly. As calmly as was needed to not throw Ma in any more panic than she was already in.
"Get all the medical documents and move to the nearest hospital.I`ll call in a while. Stay calm. We`ll figure out something Ma."

She let the telephone drop. And then she cried.
For the helplessness that was devouring her up.
For the insurmountable anguish.
For the pain that tore her soul apart.
For the vastness of the oceans separating them.
For fear of the finality of death.
For her Father.
And most of all, For her Mother.

Nope, this isnt a scene from a new movie. Nor is it a short story I am writing.
This is exactly what happened a couple of days back.
But life has given us a breather.
Dad is back home. He had an episode of severe hypoglycemia(very low blood sugar) which resulted in the unresponsive state. But he is back home and recovering.

There`s no kidding. No evasion of truth here. We know that heavy times lie ahead. Possibly just around the corner.
How do we cope with grief, I wonder..
How does anyone cope with grief?
Which brings me to the main point in this post.
Sometimes I wonder if my life would have been any less stressful had I been living closer to home. Would there be some peace of mind, knowing that I could be there by their side, when my parents most need me to be?
This particular incident left me terribly frightened for my mother.
Imagine this.
She gets up in the middle of the night to see my father in an unresponsive state. Her mind goes blank in panic. She leaves him alone, runs to call the neighbors. Then she dials my number.
Now, I consider myself plenty lucky that my parents do have lots of close friends and family around, who will help in crisis situations. They all did. But I somehow have not been able to get over the thought that I would`ve been a little less worried if I knew there was a constant support system around her. Like maybe an old-age home or something.
I do not understand why sending parents to old-age institutions has such negative connotations in India. What other options do I have?
A close friend of mine who lives in the US along with all the other siblings, literally forced their parents to uproot their lives in India and make the big move - leaving their home,family and friends behind and move back to the US to live with the kids. A seemingly perfect solution to the problem. But I now know for sure what a mistake that was! Its herculean, if not downright impossible for ageing parents to adjust to life here. I am still grappling to.
The G and I oftentimes worry about our aging parents. But I guess we have not seriously explored the possibilities of moving closer to home. At least back to the same country if not the same place. Are we being selfish? Is this the price we pay for choosing the path best suited for our careers?
Is it not pay-back time, though I dont like to use the word at all..?
Remember how they held our hands and taught us to walk? Pulled us up when we stumbled and fell? Remember how they taught us to ride a bicycle, running alongside the bike, holding it up by the seat with one hand on the handlebars, to show how you balance and turn around? And then when we took off on our own, remember how they still stood by,just in case we fell?
Now at the fag end of their lives, is it not our turn to take care of them and make sure they dont fall?
For all those of you who stay far way from home, what is your way of coping with this dilemma? Do you at times feel selfish to be where you are and not by the side of your parents? Can you think of any solutions to a situation like this?
I wish I could.. Oh how I wish I could.

Ode to A Woman

2009-03-07T11:16:00.012-06:00

Long long ago in The Garden of Eden, God created A Man. He sat back to admire his creation. He looked and he looked.
"I can do much better than that," He said.
And then He created A Woman! :)

Happy Women`s Day, People.

Here`s hoping for Liberty,Justice and Equality For All!

Let me end on a bright note,with an all-time fav Billy Joel song - She`s Always a Woman to Me

This song is a true Ode to a Woman - There`s a kind of bitter-sweet tinge to the song. A delicious cynicism perfectly balanced with admiration.

This song makes me feel strong. It makes me feel beautiful. That is what womanhood should be all about, dont you think?

Erma Bombeck - On Motherhood

2009-03-02T17:03:00.010-06:00

To all my Mommy-Blogger Friends, With Love.
You make me want to become one.. well almost! :)

And most of all, To my Little Sis-
Its ok to want to fling your Little Devil out of the window once in a while!

1.All of us have moments in our lives that test our courage. Taking children into a house with a white carpet is one of them.
2.A child who is left at home alone, during school holidays, knows its a high-risk occupation. If you call your mother at work thirteen times an hour, she can hurt you.
3.Do you know what you call those who use towels and never wash them, eat meals and never do the dishes, sit in rooms they never clean, and are entertained till they drop? If you have just answered, "A house guest," you're wrong because I have just described my kids.
4.Housework, if you do it right, will kill you.
5.In general my children refuse to eat anything that hasn't danced in television.
6.It goes without saying that you should never have more children than you have car windows.
7.It is advisable to put off entertaining until the kids are grown.
8.My teenage kids always perceived the bathroom as a place where you wait it out until all the groceries are unloaded from the car.
9.My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.
10.My theory on housework is, if the item doesn't multiply, smell, catch fire, or block the refrigerator door, let it be. No one else cares. Why should you?
11.Never lend your car to anyone to whom you have given birth.
12.No one ever died from sleeping in an unmade bed.
13.Somewhere it is written that parents who are critical of other people's children and publicly admit they can do a far better job - are really asking for it.
14.When a child is locked in the bathroom with water running and he says he's doing nothing but the dog is barking, call 911.
15.When your mother asks, "Do you want a piece of advice?" it is a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway.
16.Who in their infinite wisdom decreed that PT uniforms be white? Certainly not a mother.
17.Youngsters of the age of two and three are endowed with extraordinary strength. They can lift a dog twice their own weight and dump him into the bathtub.
18.Everyone is guilty at one time or another of throwing out questions that beg to be ignored, but mothers seem to have a market on the supply. "Do you want a spanking or do you want to go to bed?" Don't you want to save some of the pizza for your brother?" Wasn't there any change?"
19.The age of your children is a key factor in how quickly you a re served in a restaurant. We once had a waiter in Canada who said, "Could I get you your check?" and we answered, "How about the menu first?"

And finally

20. When mothers talk about the depression of the empty nest, they're not mourning the passing of all those wet towels on the floor, or the music that numbs your teeth, or even the bottle of capless shampoo dribbling down the shower drain. They're upset because they've gone from supervisor of a child's life to a spectator. It's like being the vice president of the United States.

The reason I love to read Erma Bombeck is because I can identify a part of myself in every piece that she has ever written!
I hope you guys loved this as much as I did!

Random Ramblings

2009-02-23T13:30:00.002-06:00

Ok People, I have a confession. I`m just too lazy to take up tags because it makes me think! :) But this particular one was too interesting to pass up. For once, its a COMPLETELY HONEST unveiling of self, on a public forum. So here goes :

DeeplyDip, Amrita, Serendipity
Have tagged me on this.The rules for this tag states that you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged.I havent chosen anyone because almost everyone has already done it. If you are reading this and you havent, please go ahead and do it. Its awesome fun!

Here are 25 random things about me:

1. I am judgmental of others. Hence, I believe others to be judgmental of me.

2.I cannot sit still at one place for more than a few minutes! That is so not me. I get restless and fidgety if I have to sit still for long - no matter where I am...!! Could be at a coffee shop or at someone`s place. Or even during a 4-hours long test!

3.I hate to experiment. I like to stick to the usual! Be it a meal,a hairstyle,a grocery store, an icecream flavour or a pair of jeans.

4.I worry to pathological proportions, when I have to travel. I want to reach the airport 3 hours in advance, so I`m there when the previous flight is boarding! Standing in long lines at security check, cursing the traffic and wondering if I`m going to make it, is so not my deal!

5. I cant hold onto one train of thought for long. I switch between topics in a conversation and most people dont follow the track.

6. Which explains why I`m a bad listener. I`m always waiting for my turn to speak.I never listen carefully enough.

7. I never say no to dessert. Never ever! (Nancy, are you reading this?!)

8.I was nicknamed 'Gubba'(short for gubbara,read balloon!) in college. Nope, that`s not the weird part. The weird part is that I still continue to sulk about it!

9. I love Enid Blyton books. All of them. I read and reread them even now.(Nancy???!!)

10. I have read 'Anne of Green Gables' almost 50 times! And I still love it.

11. I own a total of three pairs of shoes,two bags(one of which is a very trendy backpack!) and one lipstick. I dont like strappy or heeled sandals. I`m totally a sneakers person. I dont ever do make-up.
* the reason it crossed my mind to include this, is because,going by the different blogs I`ve come across,I`ve realized I`m an ectopic character in this regard!*

12. It takes me a maximum of 5 minutes to get dressed. Formal parties/interviews/baseball games or a movie - No Exception. Five minutes is all I`m willing to invest!

13. I look like a typical Bengali Auntyji - sindoor, 'shakha pola' et al! This is another of those things I`m scared to experiment with! :)
*white bangles made from conch shells and red ones made from acrylic — Married bengali women are 'required by tradition' to wear it as a symbol for marriage, though many dont anymore*

13. I detest physical exercise of any kind. I dont like eating healthy.(Sunshine Gal??)

14. I hate long,random chats on the telephone. No, no, you probably dont get it. I really hate to talk on the telephone,unless its urgent. The only person I ever call up on my own,is my sister(and The G when I am away!). Other than that, I`m bad at taking calls and returning them.

15. I have never had a professional manicure done.

16. I am a music person. I`ve grown up on music. I`ve learnt music for more than 12 years. But I cant remember lyrics. Never ever. Neither do I remember the artists or the albums(Lets call me A??!!)

17. I feel that people who wear glasses are the cool,intellectual kinds!(lets Call Me A???)
Incidentally/Co-incidentally both me and The G wear glasses!

18. The one thing I`m most proud of is that my Dad had a band of his own in college. They still get together on weekends for jam sessions.

19.The G is the only one who knows how insecure a person I am. I am mortally scared of rejection. I am scared to meet and interact with people. When I was in Kolkata this time, I had the oppurtunity to meet up with a few blogger friends,but I let it pass. I was scared of what they might think of me if they see me.

20. I have a fiery temperament at home. Mom, Dad, Sis and The G are the only ones who`ve seen it.

21. I am a racist at heart. "Religious/Social/Nationality-wise" Racist.

22.In the second year of Med School(Pathology viva), I learnt that You can get by on charm for about 15 minutes. After that, you'd better know something.

23. I seriously believe that I suffer from a Histrionic Personality Disorder(Sunshine Gal??). I still throw tantrums at home, which I believe, is a pattern of excessive emotionality and attention-seeking, including an excessive need for approval.

24.After I met The G, I learnt that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different. And I have known that to be a beautiful experience.

25. And finally, I`m scared to be me. I hide behind a veneer of arrogance and pride. Very few people in the world actually like me.

“Action speaks louder than 'thoughts', but not nearly as often” - Mark Twain

2009-02-20T17:22:00.008-06:00

I judge myself by what I think I am capable of doing.
While Others have always judged me by what I have done.
Logically speaking,this should make perfect sense, shouldnt it?
What doesnt, is that the two continue to remain startlingly and immutably disjunctive. No matter how hard I try, I cant seem to coalesce the two.
I have never ever in my life, performed the way I think I am capable of performing.
And therein lies the biggest irony of my life. Many a time,I desperately needed to ace a particular test or atleast do reasonably well(I`m talking of a test, but it could be anything really),and I have been confident enough to know that I can and I will. But lo and behold! I have let myself down. Always and Everytime!
Does that happen to any of you? Or is it only me?

Happy Valentine`s Day, People! We did it! :)

2009-02-13T15:16:00.007-06:00

Ok Guys, I really should be studying for tomorrow`s test. But then again, Its Valentine`s Day! I need to raise a toast now, more than ever(even if its only 4 in the afternoon!)!!
Here`s Why:
For days I have been reading various debates about the efficacy of the Pink Chaddi Campaign. I am very excited about it, just like scores of women from all across the globe. However,there have been times when I confess, I have doubted the efficacy of such a campaign.
But today, when I heard the news on NPR on my way to The U, I knew for certain what a perfect thing this was.
We succeeded!
We, The Women of India, have managed to reduce The Moron(Pink Moron should I say?) to an object of ridicule GLOBALLY!!
I`m glad people didnt waste their precious time trying to think of more 'appropriate' ways to react to unscrupulous SOBs like Mr. Muthalik. I`m glad they retaliated in the language the SOBs would understand.
The following, I believe, define the true success of the campaign:

1. Mr. Muthalik has been reduced to an object of utter ridicule. Henceforth people across the world will know him as Mr. Pink Muthalik.

2. Other major religious fundamentalist groups have backed off. They`ve washed their hands off the Ram Sena, seeing the public outrage.

3. The campaign has managed to unite Thousands of men and women across the globe under one common cause. Liberty for All.
I do believe this is the biggest success of all.
(Since the last thousands of years,injustice to women has often been meted out at various levels. Some in more subtle forms than others. The reason why fighting against it is a herculean task is because its impossible to unite people on a common ground, before one can start fighting the war. Now that this job is done, I think we should make efforts to take this one step further. What do we next? Do we wait for a repetition of the Mangalore incident, to take our next step forward? Or do we plan to start making a difference now?

Anyway, here`s a link of all the news channels in the USA talking about the campaign.
I believe this to be the true marker of success.

1. BBC News
2. NPR
3. Fox News
4. NewYork Times

And before I raise a toast, here the clincher YOU MUST READ!

5. CNN IBN

Happy Valentine`s Day, India! We are the Change we have been waiting for! :)
Here`s to Indian Women all over the World!
We rock, dont we?
*Piper flings the jacket on the bed and shoes in the air, while she does an excited jig around the room, shouting "We Did It! We Really Did It!!*

STOP Moral Policing. Liberty For All.

2009-02-07T11:13:00.005-06:00

There comes a time
When we heed a certain call
When the world must come together as one.
There are people dying
And it's time to lend a hand to life,
The greatest gift of all

We can't go on
Pretending day by day
That someone, somewhere will soon make a change
We are all a part of
God's great big family
And the truth, you know love is all we need

We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So let's start giving
There's a choice we're making
We're saving our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day
Just you and me

For a very long time, I have been a mute spectator to the horror that continues to unfold in front of us. But I realized that keeping quiet about it probably gives encouragement to the defaulters.
So here it is today - a petition to the President of India.
Do go over it and please,please sign it.
I dont know if it`s going to be of any help. But that uncertainty cannot prevent us from NOT voicing our opinions and dissent.
Staying so far away from home, this is the least we can do.

SO, PLEASE GO AHEAD AND SIGN IT HERE.

Married or just happy? :-))

2009-02-05T19:24:00.002-06:00

A few days back, The G and I saw 'Revolutionary Road'. I wont spoil it for you guys by giving away too much, though I dont really think its worth a watch.
The movie`s dark. It left us both with ambivalent feelings.Depressed. Grateful to have each other(so far!). And scared.
Of late, I have been watching too many movies on suburban lives and it comes as a surprising revelation - they all portray the average suburban wife as oppressed under the drudgery of routine and dying to break free.
I am a suburban wife. Do I ever see myself in that light?
Well, to be very honest, sometimes. It can get pretty depressing when one has to sit at home all day - because one doesnt have a permit to go to work. More so if the one in question was a working, independant woman all her life and suddenly finds herself wholly dependant on another human being. Financially. And in every other way thinkable.
But would that be sufficient reason to drive one into the arms of any random bloke who offers a reasonable alternative?
Apparantly, going by these movies, Yes!
What,then, are the reasons that working men have, for flinging themselves at the 20-something chicks, who roam around naked, as if clothing is out of fashion?
I`m wondering here, if a decaying relationship is all it takes.
If that be so, how then, would one explain such acts of indiscretion, by people who are in seemingly loving relationships?
I know of a friend whose 6 years of marriage broke down because she found herself crazily attracted to a younger guy at work. All this while, I thought they had the perfect marriage. They did.
I have been thinking about this. Why is it considered a sacrilege for anyone to be in multiple relationships? What is so wrong? Why is it considered aberrant behaviour for one to go elsewhere in search of love, physical or intellectual stimulation of sorts, if one is not satisfied with one`s partner?
For centuries now, man has been conditioned to think of the institution of marriage as a sacrament,rather than a contract between two interested parties(though I personally believe that to be the reverse).If I were to go back in history and see where it all begun, I would know that if man was to be given a free reign, the fabric of society would fall apart. The institution of marriage was needed to create a system of rules to handle the granting of property and other rights and the protection of bloodlines.
But now, the times, they are changing.And yet,the sanctity of marriage still holds true. We continue to see it as a supreme institution, in spite of a whole lot of corrupt practices creeping in(but that`s for another post).Why?
Is it because, we as human beings have conditioned ourselves to stick to a certain set of moral values.And a breach of those would constitute aberrant behaviour on our parts? Is it because, as human beings with a functional(and overtly so!) brain, we realize that it is 'wrong' to violate the trust of another human being? In that case, what exactly is wrong and what is right? Who decides these rules for us? And why exactly?
What do you think,would happen if the institution of marriage was to be dissolved once and for all? What is the purpose of marriage?
Or do you think that it is important to honour the age-old practices(No questions asked), to stand in line, to follow, to conform, without pausing to think why?
On a different note, do you think that being in multiple relationships, married or not, is for people of a different league? That 'such' people have some inherently different qualities in them, that pushes them across the moral line? No, I`m not talking of different circumstances under which such affairs happen - Just the inherent natures of people it happens to - because then again, would it not be an inherent quality of man to choose the way he would react to Life`s circumstances?
I, for one, think that I am capable of falling in love with someone outside of the relationship I share with The G, IF my life`s circumstances were to change. My inherent nature is such.
Shocking?
Not that I will. Not that I think I ever will go elsewhere in search of love.
But I think I`m capable of it.
Some would not be. Are you?

p.s - Revolutionary Road wasnt about extra marital affairs, in case anyone`s wondering :-))

Here`s toMom & Dad..

2009-01-27T00:15:00.004-06:00

I never really write about my family – my folks back home, my inlaws or the cute little devils in the family. It’s a conscious decision not to write about family. Because most of them aren’t happy about being discussed on a public forum. I don’t necessarily see the logic in this statement, as I don’t in most others that they make. But like always(or mostly) I have reconciled to not writing about family.
Today,however, happens to be a special day. So I shall break the unwritten rule for once.

Sometime back, I read this letter written by a six year old.
“Dear God,” she wrote..
I bet it is very hard for you to love all of everybody in the whole world at all times. There are only five people in my family and I can never do it.
-Nan
I was astounded by the truth in this simple statement.
I wish I could say that I`m very happy with where I am, in the relationship with my folks back home. But I cant.
Because I`m not.
But I can say this much.
I`m very happy with where they are, in their relationship with each other.
My Mom and Dad, by chronology, have completed 35 years of togetherness today. By all other standards, it’s an eternity lived over and over again.

For a change, Dad sounded animated on the phone today.
“Happy Anniversary Baba! 35 years huh?!!”
“Thank you, thank you!” he beamed, “ Yes,35 years with Mom!”
“Yeah..Hats Off!! A Standing Ovation to you”
“Yeah yeah, join the kids and make fun of me,” Ma shouted somewhere in the background, amidst a thunderous roar of laughter from Dad,that is still resounding in my ears.
The happiness was palpable through the phone line.
My relationship with them has never been a breezy walk by the lake on a warm summer afternoon. Infact it has been more like an urgent sprint across slushy, sliperry terrains in a raging snowstorm. But it has vastly improved over the years, although I guess I`ll forever have my differences.
Oh they have been around to help me pick up the pieces when my world was falling apart. They taught me time and again,to recognize the slow,calculated circling of an eagle before it swooped down on me with extended talons.
They religiously repeated those lessons through the years and yet I never learnt.
They were disappointed. Disgusted. Even angry.
But They were there all the same. They never gave up on me.
I`ve shouted abuses(yes!Unbelievable as it sounds), thrown sickeningly horrific tantrums and locked myself up in the room. I`ve spent hours planning an escape.
I`ve nursed grudges forever. I`ve blamed them for who I have become.I`ve spent my life finding faults with them. I`ve hated them for the negativity I see in them.
Never an open arm and or a warm hug. Never a word of love or appreciation. And yet, I find comfort in their constant presence. I feel reassured, knowing they are the only people in the world who shall accept me unconditionally. Whether I`m good or very very bad, I shall not be abandoned. I shall always be theirs. To love or to hate. But I shall be theirs. Which is more than what I can say for any other relationship that I share.
I see them after all these years. Time having left unmistakable prints on their physique, while their minds and hearts continue to be startlingly fresh.
And I feel like talking to them. You know, I never really had an adult conversation with them ever.
“You guys could have done better. A lot better,” I`d say.
“ But thank you for trying atleast.
I know you gave up the comforts of your own lives, so we(my sister and me) could live out our dreams. Thank you for all of that.
(But really, did it matter so much if I lost three water-bottles in a row, in school? Or that I got 15 instead of 18 in a Maths test? Could it not have been overlooked?)
Do I wish you were better/stronger/ warmer/friendlier people? I guess.
But I wouldn’t ever want to trade places with anyone else.
I wouldn’t ever give up on you. Really I wouldnt.
Because you never gave up on me.”

A Lesson Learnt - Part 3

2009-01-16T17:20:00.006-06:00

Kolkata
Dec 2008

I dragged myself around the corner to the rickshaw stand, wiping away a wet forehead on a sultry december afternoon. There was only one rickshaw waiting at the stand. In exasperated resignation, I hoisted myself onto the battered seat and snapped at the puller to move it and move it fast. I didnt have all day to spend.
I sat impatient and edgy, as the man huffed and puffed(was it my weight, I now wonder?!) uphill towards the pharmacy.
You know how there are some days when you hate everything and everyone around you, feel like snapping their heads off and usually do?
This was one such day. I hated being where I was. I longed for the comfort of My Iona Home.
And suddenly, my train of thought was interrupted by a fresh dribble of sweat across my face. The rickshaw was not moving.
"What the..", I said to the man,only to see a big van blocking the way. The rickshaw wala backed off a little, allowing the van to pass.
And we came and stood in front of an old building that had seen it all. Battered by the years gone by. Its bricks crushed by the weight of abandoned dreams. A forlorn dilapidated skeleton, yet standing tall.
And just as I was turning away, I saw a small door at the street level that opened onto a dimly lit room beyond. In my frame of view,I could see a wooden charpoy frame strung with long ropes and balanced on broken red bricks. A couple of steel vessels lying one on top of the other on a black floor. And an old woman sitting there facing the door, with a little boy of 3, singing songs to him and teaching him to clap.
"Probably care-takers," I thought and instantly dismissed them off, until I noticed the rickshaw puller peer inside. And just then the little boy jumped up and came running out.
"Baba (Father!)!" he waved excitedly.
"Aikhon noy (Not now)," said the embarrassed rickshaw puller and hurriedly moved ahead for fear of another jab. But I could hear the smile in his voice.
He kept waving one hand over his head, until we completely turned around the corner.
I sat stunned, all the irritation suddenly evaporating. A muscle contracting in shame.
Did I really forget how to smile?

Part 2
Part 1

No Words contd...

2009-01-09T17:17:00.005-06:00

Somehow, my interaction with the deaf couple the other day seems to have left an impact. I havent been able to get them out of my mind ever since.
Did you know that Sign Language is not Universal? I wonder why I thought it would be..
Just like all other languages of the world, Sign Languages vary from one region to another.
Ever since I was a child, I remember being hooked to the t.v set every Sunday afternoon. Just before the regional films at 2pm, there would be a weekly news telecast for the deaf. Anybody remember that? I remember looking on,fascinated. I would wonder how people communicate without words.
I still do.
Its different from sharing a moment of quiet, is it not?
I for one, continue to remain vocal. Very vocal. Although that`s not to say that I havent had my moments of quiet, when just a look or a smile or a lingering touch has spoken a thousand words.
But I wonder if that kind of silence is any different from the one this couple shares? What about you? How intense is your need to be vocal?

No Words

2009-01-04T17:46:00.020-06:00

Today as The G and I sat opposite each other quietly working, a Chinese couple walked into the coffee shop and came and sat behind us. They dragged the sofa chairs around, so they could face each other and then settled down quietly. I waited for them to begin talking.
And then I waited some more.
I shifted in my seat,stuck my neck out,trying to catch a few bits of conversation. No Joy!
Fifteen minutes later - still no words.
"Aha!" I thought and motioned to The G.He raised his eyebrows questioningly, irritated by the interruption.
"They`re not talking," I whispered and grinned meaningfully.
The G isnt too big on the talking scene. He would happily spend time with me, reading a book, listening to a favourite track, planning things out or even cooking together.But he would not talk. Not to spend time, no. And somehow I`ve always held that against him.
"Ofcourse they`re not", he said and got down to work again.
I waited some more.Five minutes later and still no words. I turned back in curiosity.
There they were, the two of them. Mustve been around 50 years of age. Conversing like I have never seen two people converse before. Two pairs of eyes locked into each other. One excited,gleaming,bubbling over. The other quietly smiling. Their fingers moving in synchrony. Graceful. Fluid. Faces alive with unspoken words. Eyes brimming over with unuttered love. Thoughts tumbling down through fingertips like snowflakes from Heaven. Soft. Untouched. Electrifying.
I looked across the table at The G. He looked up and smiled.
There are times when words can be done without. This was one of them.

Joy to The World..

2009-01-03T17:07:00.005-06:00

I`ve been sitting with the laptop religiously everyday for hours without the faintest notion of what I should post. Today however, a realization dawned on me.There seems to me, an unwritten rule in a lot of blogs that in order to create a post, one must either backpack Europe, give birth, join the order of holy matrimony or embark on a holidayish adventure. I now find myself in an aforementioned category, and thus another post!
This being the first post in yet another brand new year, I guess it should be all bright and hopeful. So I`ll try, even though I remember putting a comment on OJ`s blog about how much more scarier the future(read: new year) seems. And that, it is the only tangible difference I can recognize from last year! And guess what`s scarier? That its all true!!
Last year, I remember feeling happy. I had managed to quit The Indian Army and was home with The G! I remember thinking that this is all I want. And I was happy.This year I am home with The G. And yet, there`s this niggling itch somewhere deep within. Maybe that with each passing year, our definitions for happiness change. Or that small things in life cease to be of meaning anymore. Or that the more we get, the more we want.
I was home in time for Christmas. The G and I spent a warm December evening decorating our Tree, putting up red stockings and glass fairies with much love and laughter, amidst bites of juicy oranges(!!) and freshly baked garlic bread! And then drove 250 miles in a snow storm the next morning, to spend a warm white Christmas together in a log cabin by the North Shore. Just the two of us. The days have simply flown past since then, in a flurry of activities. Frantic raids of showrooms to find The Perfect recliner for our family room, until we did. Endless hours at our favourite coffee shop, discussing Life`s plans. Home cooked dinners and Netflix movies over Strawberry IceCream. What more can a girl want?
Apparantly more!
I spent the first day of the new year sulking. I wouldn’t have allowed that to bother me. Because that was what my new year resolution was all about! Nope, not that I shall not sulk. But that I shall not let the sulking bother me anymore.The wise soul in me has long made peace with the fact that sulking is an inherent part of my being. I sulk, therefore I am.
So anyway, coming back to the original point I was trying to make, that having had an extraordinary adventure of sorts this Christmas(And more for lack of better ideas!), I feel I should do a post. Let me not ruin it by words. Let me just post some pics for you to enjoy!(This one`s for you OJ)..p.s - The pics are in the post below.

The log cabin and view from the inside..

2009-01-03T16:50:00.002-06:00

Coming back to Life..

2008-12-29T11:35:00.004-06:00

I`m back People! And as always its taking me a while to wean in.
I`ve come home to a quiet white Christmas, glittering snowflakes, colourful glass balls, confetti garlands, distant sound of carols and little white angels flying over me.
As I leave you today with prayers for lots of peace, let me go find mine.
More later.

The C - Word

2008-10-20T18:29:00.008-05:00

My Friends,
The reason I have been away for so long and shall continue to be after this post, is that a couple of days back my world crashed in. And I was busy picking up the fragments and trying to glue them together. I still am.
You know how life can be. Like a broken piece of glass. Even if you do manage to collect the slivers and plaster them in, the cracks somehow always remain. Insistent. Like a token of disquiet.
My Dad was diagnosed to have a serious ailment in the advanced stage of the disease. And I`m flying back with them to Kolkata so he can get treated at the earliest. In spite of the state-of-the-art technologies and advancements in medical science in this country as well as the super efficiency of the health care system, it continues to remain inaccessible to middle class people like us, due to insane costs. And I have to take my ailing Dad back home, because we cannot afford the treatment here.
I dont know for how long I shall be gone. I dont know whether any of you will continue to wait for my return.
And yet, the ties that bind me to you, my readers, are so staunch, that I could not leave without saying goodbye. And that I hope you all shall put in a word for my Dad, in your prayers. The Gods up there just dont seem to listen to mine.

P.S - Thanks for all the comments on the previous blog. Nope, I wasnt trying to influence anybody with my thoughts or make the 'environment unwelcoming' as someone thought! I was simply stating the obvious. That Money Can buy Me Happiness. I wish I had some more.

And lastly, even though I might not be able to blog, I shall definitely check my email in case anyone wants to write in :) Here`s my email address : piperish@gmail.com

A Lesson Learnt... part 2

2008-10-07T16:46:00.010-05:00

Has anyone read 'A Christmas Memory' by Truman Capote? It is a story about a poor little boy Buddy somewhere in the middle of the nineteenth century. Buddy normally gets nothing for Christmas but hand-me-downs from relatives and a subscription to a religious magazine. He does however receive a prized kite from his special friend one year. And he is thrilled and happy at the thought of going out on a warm windy Alabama morning and flying his kite.
A small part of the story is also about how he was offered money for his Christmas tree but he declined. He believed that theirs was the best and nothing could ever replace it.
But that was then. Times have changed. Stories have changed. Lives have changed.
Today I learnt an important lesson. That Money can buy happiness. It always has. Not completely and at all times. In fact like they say, the best things in life are all free. But Money Can buy happiness. Most of the times.
The relationship between money and happiness, it would appear, is more complicated than the romantic entanglements of any of the Desperate Housewives. Guess what? Not quite. Its a simple math really. A directly proportional equation even a fourth grader can solve.
That`s the lesson I learnt today. And one I`m not likely to forget in a hurry.

Honest Confessions

2008-09-30T15:32:00.011-05:00

As I sit here writing, a thousand rambling thoughts nestled in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee,tumble against each other in the mind. Like marbles in a game of rolley hole. And it feels like a homecoming. Truly.
I know I`ve been very tardy in taking up this tag. Infact a little comatose too,of late. But better late than never, I suppose.
Jira, Mystic Margarita, Nisha and My Space had tagged me to do this post a zillion years ago. Thank you People.

The rules for the tag are: #1 People who have been tagged,must write their answers on the blog and replace any question they dislike by a new question. #2 Tag 6 people to do the quiz.

Ok so here goes:

1.If your lover betrayed you, what will your reaction be?
Deep, deep hurt. Followed by alienation with a vengeance.

2. If you could have a dream come true, what would it be?
Hmm lets see.. Off hand I cant really seem to think of any.

* Its been 15 minutes I`ve been staring at the screen, trying to think of one dream that I want fulfilled. Cant seem to think of any! Strange! Have I stopped dreaming then? *

3. Who`s butt would you like to kick?
The cigarrette`s! And trust me, I have been trying..

4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
* Piper grins devilishly*
Lets see... buy a mansion in Sunset Boulevard and rent it out. A summer get-away log cabin by Lake Superior. A world cruise. And save up the rest to splurge on clothes, books and dvds. Oh and also give some amount to Mom. I guess I dont know what to do with a billion dollars. Gimme a few thousand and I`ll tell you exactly what I`ll do :-))

5. Will you fall in love with your best friend?
I do. Everyday.

6. Which is more blessed : loving someone or being loved by someone?
Being loved by someone. Although it took a while to get used to being loved.

7. If the person you secretly love is engaged, what will you do?
10 years back I would`ve sulked and tried to make life miserable for 'the other woman'. I actually did! :)
But if you ask the Piper of today,assuming for a moment she`s single, I guess I`d simply let it pass. Have I started growing old already?

8. If you could root for one social cause, what would it be?
Education for the girl child in India. Its of vital importance that a girl be able to support herself when she grows up, esp in a bad, bad world.

9. What takes you down the fastest?
Hypocrisy and back-biting. It affects me in volcanic proportions.

10. Where do you see yourself in 10 years time?
If I give it a sincere thought, here`s what I would like to see myself as, in 10 years : a successful counselling psychologist and a terrific mom to a beautiful lil girl. Crazily in love, like I am today.
But here`s what I think I`ll see : a successful hospital administrator and still crazily in love. That`s good too, right? :)

11. What`s your biggest fear?
Losing my loved ones.

12. What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
I think all of them have excellent writing skills and are very honest in the way they document their lives on the web. I wish I had the guts and the freedom to. And Mystic of course has grown to be my confidante. One among the very few that I have.

13.Would you rather be single and rich or married and poor?
Married for sure. Whether poor or rich is a food for thought, I shall dwell upon when I have more time :)

14. What`s the first thing you do when you wake up?
Look across at the G.

15. If you fall in love with two people at the same time, who will you pick?
Well, 10 years ago in the second year of Med School(when everyone was 'falling in love' with everyone else and it was considered kewl!), I had picked the guy with a better sense of humour. Now as the teeth fall out and the hair turns grey and twilight approaches with the speed of a jet in flight, I realize I cant fall in love with multiple people at a time. Three years through and The G`s still my guy. And that`s how it shall remain I suppose.

16. Would you give all in a relationship?
Nope, I dont. I always take the bigger share of the dessert.
On a serious note, what a weird question! Of course I would. I do. That`s the only way I know. Or none at all.

17. Would you forgive and forget someone, no matter how horrid a thing he may have done?
Nope. Never have. Never will. Never can. That`s understandable right? I`m as vengeful as they come. But only if you rub me off the wrong way. Very wrong way. Very, very wrong way that is. You get it I`m sure :)

18. Do you prefer being single or in a relationship?
In the relationship that I am.

19. If you were given a chance to trade places with a celebrity just for a day, who`s shoes would you rather be in? ( My own question)

Priyanka Todi.
I still wonder why she changed gears. I want to know exactly what she thinks and feels. And just how she continues to live on..

20. List of people I tag :
As i surf through the blogs I regularly read, I see almost all have already done this tag. So anybody who has not, feel free to take it on!

Edited to add : This friend of mine read the blog and called up right before dinner to remind me that I do have some special dreams of my own. To have a book published some day. A best seller of all times! :)
Thank you my friend. I`m flying high today because you`re there with me :)

A White Butterfly

2008-09-28T16:44:00.003-05:00

I havent disappeared from the face of this earth. Not yet. Though many might just be wanting me to, considering the preposterous mannerisms I seem to have developed over the last few weeks. Infact on maturer reflection,I think it might even be a good idea for me. Because when I resurface, this earth by some miraculous snap of the heavens above, might just become more livable. Huh?
I feel like a white butterfly flitting around in a sepia rain, in search of its lost colours. And I`ll surface when I do. Here`s hoping all you readers bear with me and stick on until then. Much Love.

Shining Bright... and brighter.. :)

2008-09-16T17:56:00.008-05:00

Ok People, I`m back. Not only have I managed to wean in(and how!). The guy with the sexy smile is back at the coffee shop. About time, I should think.
For weeks now, I havent been able to sit quietly, harness my thoughts and put them into words. I guess this post was long overdue. So here goes..
Firstly a sincere note of thanks. To The G for putting up with my myriad tantrums, for blog buddies who`ve become friends and friends who`ve become family. You all know who you are :)
Secondly, an apology for the late acknowledgement. But needless to say, its been the high point in my life - all the awards that have been been so lovingly bestowed on me. Whether I deserve all the acclaim or not is a major food for thought (which I will happily never dwell upon!). So allow me to graciously accept all the awards with open arms. No acceptance speech ready. But lots of hugs in tow.
* Piper takes a bow, walks around the stage waving and throwing kisses in the air(Hollywood style, no less!) *

I`m taking the liberty of bending a few rules here(so what`s new!) and not doing a proper post on the Brilliant Weblog Award. I`ve already done one before. But my heart-felt thanks to D, NC, Roop, Sunshine and Renu who all thought me worthy of the honour. Hugs.
I will of course continue to flaunt them on my blog.

The Best Friends Forever Gold Card is one of the best gifts I`ve ever received. Thank You People! You know, many a times on lonely afternoons, when nothing and everything seems to matter, I would often long for a friend I can share stuff with. Nothing special. Just a hug here. And a warm word there.
I dont anymore..
Its strange how nameless, faceless people can gel in so well. An easy camaraderie. A sought-for catharsis. A warm hand-clasp across oceans.
I hope that some day I shall get to meet all of you. Until then, Here`s to Us! :)

I have already received the BBF Gold card from people I would want to gift it to. But here`s my list all the same :

* Mystic Margarita
* Nostalgic Chica
* D
* Raising T
* Mira`s Mom
* Suki
* Roop
* Sunshine Gal
* Renu
* Apple Bee
* Jira

A Birthday Wish

2008-09-15T11:29:00.005-05:00

Last night I had a dream. That I had managed to ensnare a royal eagle in flight, clip its wings and cage him for life. There he was, peering out of the cage in helpless anguish, nursing a broken wing now and then, longing to fly and dreaming of the day when he actually will. And I stood by,watching him silently suffer, endure, bear..
I woke up in fear. The fear was not because he would cease to endure. The fear was because he would cease to dream..
Happy Birthday, My Friend..
May you flourish.
May you always soar high like a royal eagle in flight.
May you be fully expressed.

I love you more than you`ll ever know.

Cant think of a title :)

2008-09-12T19:33:00.001-05:00

Have you ever felt your limbs slowly growing cold, your face on fire, a deafening buzz in the ears and the mind going numb? Sometimes with pain, sometimes with anger and sometimes when gory memories from the past which you thought were long buried, suddenly jump out of their graves and come snarling at you?
In another hour I`ll be meeting an old batchmate and his wife over dinner. They`re here in town for work and I couldnt refuse. This batchmate, lets call him D, was never really a pal. Infact I dont remember ever talking to him much. But his best pal was my best pal of sorts for a while. I cant seem to remember why I agreed to meet him. But I do remember that I just couldnt refuse. Its not really as bad as I`m making it sound. D`s a cool kind of a guy and I`m sure he`ll get along famously with The G. But there`s something gnawing away inside.
It was raining in the morning today. I stood by the window watching the puddle form underneathe the window. In a sloshy heap. And I thought to myself, "How like me! One sloshy heap. Stagnant. With no direction home."
The rain continued to beat against the window. As if by furiously pelting down on it, it could wash the glass clean. But that doesnt happen, does it? Like the cold memories from the past, nothing ever washes away. And even if it does, the stains always remain, dont they?

p.s - Wish me luck for tonight, friends :)

Random Thoughts

2008-09-08T10:00:00.001-05:00

Why are woman referred to as ‘the fairer sex’?

Why does the walk sign turn red the moment you reach the cross-walk?

Why does it begin to rain on a warm summer day when you`re planning a picnic lunch out with friends?

Why is it the windiest day in the city`s history ,the day you schedule an appointment at the hair dresser`s?

Why is the line at the restroom the longest when the bladder is ready to pop?

Why does a baby stop smiling the moment you click the camera shutter?

Why does the corner store run out of your favourite ice-cream, just when you think you`ll die without a scoop?

Why do late-comers in a theatre always have seats in the middle of the row?

Why is the boss late, the day you`re early?

Why do I hold a boiling tea-cup close and closer, knowing it`ll scald my soul?

Just wondering...

Back home..but not on track

2008-09-02T22:11:00.005-05:00

Yes, I`m back People. It does feel a little strange though. Like it’s a whole new world. And I have to go back to the drawing board, redesigning again.

Today afternoon I decided I had to come over to the coffee shop at the University. That`s where I can get some substantial work done. So I did. But it felt strange really. I was gone only a month. And look what the cat dragged in, in this time. New faces all over the U. The normally empty bus crowded with strange, unfriendly faces. The gym teeming with freshers. Even the guy at the coffee shop(who incidentally has a sexy smile!) was gone! I`m feeling rather dismal.

Has it ever happened to any of you? You come back home, thinking you just have to pick up the threads where you`d left them. And lo and behold! You find those threads gone! There`s no comfort in the familiarity anymore. Because there isn’t much that is familiar anymore.

(* A melodramatic Piperish sigh* )

I, for one, am allergic to change of any sort.The G,on the other hand, loves to experiment. It could be anything really. Movies, books, food, meal timings. Anything. Even grocery stores for that matter. Which incidentally happens to be another thing that has me quite disconcerted. The G discovered this new Cub Foods very close to our house. So we`ll be turning that into our regular grocery store now. Which by the way, also means changing the brands of orange juice and milk that I normally consume. But of course, I have given in, grudgingly.

I like the brands we use now. I`m used to them. And although I`m not really a stickler for brand names and there`s nothing wrong with the ones available at this new store. Hell, infact the prices are even better here. But I hate the idea of change. Even if it means changing the brand of orange juice I have. You get the gist. Does that sound a little weird?

I know I`m probably being a little silly here. But I don’t quite like the idea of the campus being mobbed by a multitude of new faces in a new semester. All Chinese and Indians, by the way.

I wonder why I am so peeved. Is it because I always take badly to change of any sort, but shall eventually wean out? Or is it just a case of PMS? Or maybe, just maybe there`s a small fraction of me longing to be a part of a new semester, a new beginning and I know I cant really have any of that. Not right away, in any case.. Maybe that`s why there is some amount of disquiet in the mind. May be I shall be fine eventually.

Anyway, I leave you here with my rambling thoughts today. More later, when I`m feeling a little more coherent and bright.

Goodbye..

2008-08-29T13:00:00.007-05:00

Hey People!
The party`s over. Finally! And in a few hours,we take the flight back home from Frankfurt. Its been an awesome break. And much needed. And now the heart yearns for home. And some good ol` 'dal-chawal'. And chicken. Its funny how they dont serve chicken anywhere in Germany. Atleast not in the small towns we were in. Only pork and beef! And in the last one month, every time I have tried to order something fancy at a restaurant, vivid visions of a hundred, stinking boars running amok in the gutter, come flashing by. Or an incident from childhood does reruns in the head, where a hundred enthusiastic cow-worshippers in Kolkata had taken out a rally, shouting slogans of 'Gai humari mata hai!".
(And a bengali youth, notorious for his irreverance, had shouted back - "Woh to tum logon ke shakal se hi maloom par raha hai!")

So I have pretty much lived on grass for the last 30 days.
No, no. Not that grass. Just some lettuce, spinach and some other fancy leaves.
I`m in no mood to do another travel blog on Germany. Though the place is worth talking about, really.
Anyway, so this is just a goodbye note. And a rather disjointed one at that! Shall write again,once I`m home. Do pray that I have an uneventful flight back, though I have my own doubts! I have run out of my 'Avomine' supplies, which incidentally means that a very nauseated and air-sick Piper shall board the flight tomorrow. *sigh*
My sincere apologies to all fellow travellers , you know, just in case.. ;-)
Ciao then,
More later..

A Lesson Learnt...

2008-08-27T10:39:00.011-05:00

October 2007
Kolkata

The clock on the railway platform said 5:18 am. I sat by the window seat in the ladies compartment,watching fellow commuters scuttle across the crowded Sealdah Station. Loud voices screaming out to each other. Aroma of tea rising up in the morning air.Vendors hurriedly loading their barrels and wicker baskets onto the train. Newspaper men juggling enormous bundles. Last minute rush onto the ladies compartment. Catfights. And the smell of sweat, even at that ungodly hour. I sat there, waiting patiently for the train to leave. It would be any minute now. All of a sudden I heard this loud din and I looked across the aisle towards the door. Two hefty vendors were holding up an old man and literally shoving him into the ladies compartment where I was sitting. I realized minutes later, that it was only because his frame was so crooked, he could barely stand up straight. For a moment I wavered. Didnt know what to do. Should I get up and help the old man,who was by now,on his knees, and fishing for something in the torn satchel that he was carrying. But he looked a little scary. Tattered clothes. Broken glasses. Wrinkled skin. Shrivelled up eye brows covering two muddy yellow eyes. Forehead knotted by the years. And for a moment I felt sorry for him. Here was a man,not less than 90 years of age, threading his way from one train to the next, begging to live through just another day. What on earth could have happened to compel him into such dire straits? Didnt he have a family? What kind of a job did he do when he was young and more able-bodied? Or did he forever make a living out of the alms thrown to him by the daily commuters.
And then I saw him stagger towards me with a small packet of peanuts. He came and stood in front of me , offered me the packet and said,
" Ek taka" ( One rupee a packet).
A disclaimer at this point. I dont like peanuts. I can even go to the extent of saying that I really hate peanuts. Cannot stand the sight,smell or taste of it. I can be quite quirky that way!
But I certainly didnt want to turn the old fellow down. Whatever little expectations he had from me (even if it was a rupee) I didnt want to disappoint him. I was too busy feeling sorry for him!
So I fished in my bag for a 2 rupee coin and extended it to him. He thrust 2 peanut bags in my hands. I quickly returned them, saying,
"na na eta chai na" (no,no I dont want these).

And time stood still just then, for this one moment of truth to sink in.

He slowly took out a 2 rupee coin from his satchel and kept it on the seat beside me. Then looked me straight in the eye and said,
" Gorib thiki. Kintu bhikhkhe chai na. Kaaj korchi!"
( I may be poor but I`m not a beggar. I work!).
He walked away, leaving a downright ashamed me with another of Life`s lessons I`ll never ever forget..

True Colours...

2008-08-25T06:27:00.004-05:00

I am peaceful today. Cool,calm and collected, as they say. I am Blue. The lovely refreshing blue of a calm ocean. People talk of 'feeling blue' and 'blue Monday'. But my blue is the sky making friends with the sun and cotton-puff clouds. The Blue of a robin`s egg. A Blueberry muffin.The Sapphire Blue eyes of a maiden princess. It is the colour of welcome water in a heat wave.

Red is inside me too. My red is not the angry,bleeding red. It is a happy colour, rising up inside me like a great ball of fire,exploding into the air and spurting forth small flames of laughter. The Red of a clown`s nose. The Red of the symbolic heart. The Red of the vermillion on a young Indian bride. The Red of a ripe strawberry. Red rubies and rust. The same red glow I see at sunset and at the wake of dawn. My Red is vivid. My Red is pure.

And then there is Green. Not the green monster of jealousy.But the green of Life and Love. Green grows in me like a tree, slowly bursting forth into a greeny mosaic of young leaves. Green is life when I watch winter branches become heavy with green foliage in Spring. The Green of a traffic light. The Green of a dollar bill. The Green city of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The Emerald Green waters around a coral reef. My Green is fertile. My Green is rich.

Black is not dull ,dead and gloomy. My Black is elegant. My Black is feminine and chic. It is exquisite. It is classy. It can be shiny, glittering, stunning. My Black is not a reminder of storms. My Black is the sky at night - sparkling with stars and carrying the Moon on a silken thread. An evening dress studded with diamonds.

My Silver is a special colour of adventure and excitement. The stars at night. The moonbeams reflecting off the Silver sequins of a bold evening dress. A jet in flight,the Sun chasing it and making it shine. It is a dangerous,exciting silver of flashing swords and clashing 'en garde' cries.

And finally White. I save it for special days. White like the clouds on a clear day, a long dress and a veil. A white orchid bouquet. A white cake. A White wedding and Love. A White Christmas. And White oyster pearls. My White is always special. My White is always shared.

Inspired by an article in the Readers` Digest, read a couple of light years ago!

Rhythm..

2008-08-22T07:45:00.020-05:00

Jostling. Shoving. Rambling along.
Hot tears. And angry sobs.
Snarling. Biting. Slicing.
A hand clasp here. A hug there.
A split lip. A bared soul.
A bitter word. A warm hug.
A hop and a skip every now and then...
A slashed soul. A soaring spirit.
Holding of hands. And a lingering conversation.
Fierce struggles. And a hot cup of coffee.
Heart wrenching whimpers. And soulful music.
A hop and a skip every now and then...
Ashes of burnt dreams. Footsteps in the mud.
Jingle of windchimes. Amidst volcanic outbursts.
An easy catharsis. A thawing ego.
A breach of trust. An act of betrayal.
A hop and a skip every now and then...
A staircase here. A brick wall there.
A blur. And a rainbow.
A skirmish. Or a war.
Bleeding hearts. And bruised souls.
Broken promises. And dreams realized.
A balmy embrace. A gasp for air.
A fall down the hill. With no direction home.
And a hop and a skip every now and then..

Life and I continue to be friends..

Inspired by this

Awards Part 2

2008-08-21T03:18:00.001-05:00

Ok, so D has been kind enough to give me this award. And I quote her :

"The Brilliant Weblog award- a prize given to sites and blogs that are smart and brilliant both in their content and their design. (Ahem!)
The purpose of the prize is to promote as many blogs as possible in the blogosphere. Here are the rules to follow:
1. When you recieve the prize you must write a post showing it, together with the name of who has given it to you, and link them back
2. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs (or even more) that you find brilliant in their content or design.
3. Show their names and links and leave them a comment informing they were prized with ‘Brilliant Weblog’
4. Show a picture of those who awarded you and those you give the prize (optional).
5. And then we pass it on!"

And the seven brilliant weblogs I award are:

1. Nostalgic Chica : For the funny,yet endearing way she narrates her tales and because in every post of hers, I find a certain part of myself :)

2. Suki : For her brilliant style of writing and wonderful insights. And to think she`s just a kiddo! :-)

3.Mira`s Mom : For making such an interesting read out of a Mommy blog! I love the simplicity with which she narrates her tales.

4. Orange Jammies : For the poet in her, par excellence! You read her blog and think that is exactly what you might want to convey to the world. And yet,you never can.. She`s brilliant! Really!

5. Raising T : For being the wonderful Mommy she is,to Lil T. For the fabulous way she addresses her problems in life and finds simple solutions to them..all in her blog. I love to read her blogs, though I sure wish she`d publish more often :-) She`s one of the first blogs I got addicted to and one of the first bloggers who was kind enough to leave encouraging comments on my posts :-))

6. Chrysalis : For the brilliant and spirited posts on issues that all of us should spend time thinking about, even if for a little while..

7. Sukanya : For having the guts to bare it all. For the simplicity in her writing style that has me hooked!

One last note of thanks to D, for being sweet enough to acknowledge my presence in the blogosphere. And here`s hoping that we get to read more and more of her fabulous posts!

Awards Part 1

2008-08-21T02:57:00.005-05:00

18 years back in time...
A little girl of twelve comes running through the kitchen door. The old sachel flying behind her,shirt hanging out and hair spilling out of the clutch. A sight to see. But her eyes say it all. And in her hand she tightly clutches the award she got at school. Excellence in various subjects. She won,after all. She`s not the useless brat people think she is.And Mommy pats her back,gives her a glass of lemonade and says, "Well done Baby. But who won the medal?"

8 years back in time...
A tired 20-something gets up to wash her face. Grabs a cup of coffee and sits down to study again. Nobody had said that Med School was easy. But then again, no one ever said it would be this hard. But she knows she has to go on. Violently rubbing off the sleep from her eyes, she roams around the hostel corridor, reading, memorizing, struggling to keep afloat. People swim past her in aggressive strokes. All illusions shatter. An intelligent young woman,set out to be the greatest doctor in the world, now stands by and watches people swim towards the finishing line. While all this time, with her head under water, she struggles to stay afloat.Coming up for gasps of air now and then.

5 years back in time...
Limping along, she`s managed just fine. All around friends and college mates take to the winning stand,while she slowly bumps along. People turn back with eyes of pity.Sometimes even disgust. Some think she may have been on drugs.While others think she`s fallen into 'wrong' company(?!!). Why else would a smart young girl ,who set out to win the world, somehow get confined to the last staggering few.. But she carries on,mindless to the insanity of the world around her. Bumping along ragged unknowns.Shoulders drooping. Spirits soaring.

1.5 years back in time...
A woman sits by the window of her favourite coffee shop and looks at the world racing by. She no longer feels the need to join the race. She`s content to sit by and watch the rats win. Not overtly happy. But reasonably content. And at peace. Here she sits, waiting by the window for The G to show up. And thinks of what to write on her next post. It started of as a past time.Her Blog. Her space. But grew in proportions to become her life line. As readers increased and comments flowed in, she felt something stir inside. A longing for a stamp of approval that is not hers. Vignettes of appreciation now and then. And nameless, faceless friends. Warm hugs and hand-clasps across the web.What she lacked in reality, she got it here,in this space.

And now...
A young woman of 30, comes running through the kitchen door. Purse flying behind her, shirt tucked out and hair spilling out of the clutch. A sight to see. But her eyes say it all. And in her mind, she tightly hugs onto the award, that D so sweetly awarded to her.
"The Brilliant Weblog award- a prize given to sites and blogs that are smart and brilliant both in their content and their design."
The G looks up startled, wondering if she`s sick. And then the words spill out. She`s won after all. She`s not the useless brat people think she is. And The G pats her back, gives her a glass of lemonade(albeit a lil spiked! Apple Bee are you reading ;-) ) and says, " You so deserve it,Baby!"

Aaaaahhhh!! :-))

2008-08-20T14:42:00.003-05:00

Hey People! Its working! My laptop started working again! Just like that! Boy, am I relieved or Am I Relieved!! Going over some of the 'Greek' IBM Thinkpad sites, I think I diagnosed what the problem was. Looks like the poor baby went into hibernation because of over-charged batteries!! I had not the faintest inkling that such things could occur! The whole episode scared the living daylights out of me. I`m taking extra care to see that the batteries are only half charged now! Gosh! What a day its been!
My earnest plea to any and all techies reading this post. Is this hibernation thing for real? Could there be any other problem with the darn thing? What,if any at all, precautions can I take to avoid such hair-raising, bone-chilling episodes in future??
p.s - A Big Hug to Suki for her response :-))

Aaaarrrrgggghhhhh!!!!!

2008-08-20T09:07:00.006-05:00

You know how there are times in people^s lives when they look at others in distress,click their tongues, roll their eyes in pity and say , ´All shall be fine´,while they smugly think that this could never happen to them?
Well, this is one such time in my life!
Just yesterday I was reading Suki^s post about some trouble that she had with her laptop and I sat back on the couch with a cup of coffee,passing smug, smart-ass comments on her space-
And Lo and Behold!
Today my Laptop crashed! I^m still in disbelief. Have been trying to start the darn thing since morning now. Any techies reading my blog? Help!! Cant believe this happened...

P:S Have been using the public computer here in the guest house. The rackety old keys are making an awful lot of noise, as I^m furiously typing away .
And exasperated students trying to study in the commonroom are staring at me with killer eyes. I glare back.
´My laptop just crashed´ I say, in an effort to draw some sympathy.
But the students have just about had it.
One comes up, pats my back by way of consolation and says, ´I^m sorry for you mate. ´
(pause)
´Still,´ he continues, `Just dont push it..`

I^m beating a hasty retreat! Any techies?? Pleeeeaaasseeee Help!!

The Fairest Place on Earth.. - William Wordsworth

2008-08-17T08:43:00.002-05:00

Home to The Beatles and The Pink Floyd. To Charles Darwin,William Shakespeare and Lord Byron. To Wordsworth, Jane Austen and William Byrd. To Issac Newton and Captain James Cook. And that is to name a few..

The pints of cider just taste better out here and the smiles seem more genuine. The Sun more guarded. The moors greener. The air more crisp. The sheep look up startled. While the ducks simply mock at tourists in wooden punts.
The unspoilt English countryside. Just as I had imagined it would be.
We gratefully took the opportunity to take a load off and escape the chaos of routine life. Destination - Lancaster and The Lake District,including Grasmere,Windermere and Ambleside.
I relaxed completely(for a change!), lazed around, ate lovely home cooked meals(including tandoori chicken,chicken sausage kathi rolls and phuchka, no less!!) and spent a fair amount of time letting my shoulders unknot the prior weeks of tension.
There's so much to tell. Ingrained in my mind is the image of a family reading,eating or watching t.v, while curled up near a heat convector, tossing ideas of life plans into the mix and stretching out like cats. And all along,a little bundle of joy purring contently in his rocker, occasionally looks up and smiles.
Amidst all this, we also managed to wander around the countryside from one leisurely activity to the next, with a strict "no-planned-fun" policy.
One August afternoon post-lunch, we headed out towards the countryside. A tad too often I did think of buying a pair of Wellies(Kate Moss style,no less).But promptly let go of the idea for fear of outrightly appalling The G and his family! A perfect day in August. To a perfect place for repose. With perfect company.

The trip was splendid. An endless patchwork of fields, moors and dales, with an occasional break for a tiny little wooden fence.
Green,rambling hills stretching endlessly. Old stone cottages, skittish rabbits. Rambling rose bushes. Feisty roosters. Random sheep wandering about,alongside the narrow winding roads and rustic footpaths. The sights and sounds yet untouched by the passage of time.
Farmers still building wood and stone pasture walls by hand, years of history in each perfectly placed rounded rock. Here time stands still and the pace is relaxed.
We took a walk through the Grasmere village. Over wooden bridges and stoned pathways.Where you look over your shoulders every now and then,expecting to see a horse-drawn buggy. And you almost do. A unique mosaic of lakes, tarns and rivers, linked by wooden bridges. Houses with finishes of lime wash and distinct use of granite,sandstone or limestone for details. Rose bushes creeping up on the moss-covered stony walls in unexpected warmth. And bushy hedegrows fiercely guarding the little cottages. Walking across the fells or climbing their crags felt strangely liberating. Like I was free to breathe again.
The walk took us to the burial sites of Wordsworth and his family. And I wondered if the great poet actually layeth below!
Also worth mentioning is a Wishing Well in the centre of the village. Where I was so taken in, craning my neck and peering inside the cold,stony walls of the well, that while backing of,I bumped into an old farmer on his evening walk and profusely apologized to his unsuspecting dog!
We also walked by the Dove Cottage - where Wordsworth spent a large chunk of his professional life. Easy to see exactly what brought out the poet in him! By the way, has anyone read 'Dorothy Wordsworth`s Grasmere Journal'?
It eloquently describes her life in the Lake District along with her brother William Wordsworth. And I`ve heard its a must-read.
So anyway, we were warmly welcomed by most people and sized up by awkward glances from the locals every now and then. Slowly as the spirit of the countryside seeped into each one of us, we gave up on etiquette and the cheesy jokes began to fly back and forth. But somewhere amidst all the euphoria, I sensed a little something tug at my heart. A feeling so empty.Yet it weighed down on me. Something so intangible that I couldnt really grasp it. Yet it continued to disquiet me with its blue fangs. And as we drove back home into the sunset, it suddenly became clear. I miss our home, The G`s and mine. I so miss the ease of mind that comes from familiarity and routine. And so, no matter how splendid the journey or how fair the destination, I just cant wait to get back home..

Pictures of our trip to Lancaster and the Lake District

2008-08-15T13:28:00.017-05:00

The Answer is Blowing in the Wind..

2008-08-15T04:27:00.004-05:00

The nation has been 'blazing'. Literally. Serial blasts. Unprecedented violence and mass massacre. Mass killings at the hands of our very own Police force, not to mention terrorist activities, have become the latest fad. First Bangalore.Then Ahmedabad, where the sick and the grieving were targeted in hospital attacks. Followed by Jaipur, Surat and places in U.P and Jharkhand. Not to forget the Nandigram massacre on the orders of the Left Front Government, to stamp out protests against the Government`s plans for a Special Economic Zone. And now Jammu is burning. Unmerciful killings in broad daylight. Darkness at noon. Land turned into burial grounds. Nourished solely by a red,bloody alluvion.
The past year has been a bloodbath where all fellow Indians, irrespective of caste,creed or religion are forced to dive in.
And here we are celebrating the 62nd year of Indian Independence, like there`s no tomorrow. Probably because there really isnt.
Its a little scary to look around and see the callousness of the Government and its people alike. Are we getting used to terror?
Happy Independence Day to All Fellow Indians!
Yes, we have attained Independence.
But when will we be free..?

Goodbye People..

2008-08-08T08:32:00.002-05:00

Hello People,
I`m off.. Visiting The G`s family in UK first. And then to Germany. Shall be a lil irregular with my blogs until the 14th. Thereafter, updates from the Land of Cuckoo clocks and beer :)
So long, Farewell.. Auf weidersehen...Goodbye for now.

A Hard Day`s Work..

2008-08-05T23:28:00.004-05:00

The G and I finally bought ourselves this L-shaped table, spreading across the two walls of the home office,on the far side of the room. Nothing spectacular about it except that it seemed sturdy enough to bear the weight we were planning to burden it with. And like all good things from Ikea, we had to assemble the darn thing ourselves.
So last night after dinner,we set out to make ourselves the table ,that lay in front of us in small bars of wood and steel. The home office was a mess. Papers, nails, hammer, screws, blades and what have you - strewn all over the place. All the tools we`d ever require, lay there right in front of us. We started out with the smaller pieces first. Adding a layer of cohesion here. Fixing up a few disjointed parts there. Drilling in screws. Tightening the bolts for strength. Giving some leeway and letting loose for some flexibility at the hinge. Misinterpreting the users manual at times. Arguing over the routes to take and vehemently defending our own wrong decisions, only to realize later. And then undoing parts of it and redesigning again to set things right. Bruised by a sharp edge here. Patching up a few harsh exchanges there. Singing along with the radio. Sometimes disagreeing. But mostly content to be working together. The quiet amidst the chaos, a hushed testimony to all the hopeful anticipation in our souls. The realization that I was more skilled in certain parts and that he was good in the others. That our combined efforts were greater than the sum of its parts. And finally after a few hours of struggle and synergistic efforts put together, a whole path of emotions traversed - from hesitation, doubt and skepticism about how it would all turn out, to anger and despair at taking the wrong turns, frustration at having to undo things and start afresh to the sheer euphoria of having reached one`s goal - here I am sitting and admiring a thing of beauty. One that I helped create. And I am left wondering if it isnt the same with our relationships...