Senseless Searchings

If Only

2011-10-17T15:23:00.002+04:00

If only you had asked,

For me to stay for long,

If only you had said,

That my leaving was wrong.

If only there was loss,

In your unshaken tone,

If only, for that once,

Some feeling you had shown.

If only there was longing,

In your stone cold eyes,

If only there was pain,

In your somber goodbyes.

If you had only done,

What I secretly wished you had,

If only you had seen,

The breaking of my heart.

But these are just talks,

of the mere wishful kind,

the distance has grown,

You have left my mind.

But fool that I am,

Cannot help but wonder,

If only you had asked,

If only, If only...

If you see me someday

2011-10-16T00:35:00.004+04:00

If you see me some day,
From somewhere afar,
Don't cross that path,
Don't wave, don't shout,
Don't make any sound,
To make me look,
Don't move in a way,
To make me turn.

For I will wither there,
Standing will I wilt,
I will crumble before you,
A palace of playing cards,
A sand castle hit by the sea,
A sailboat in a storm,
Like ignited wood,
I will burn, I will burn.

If you ever see me someday,
From somewhere afar,
I plead, I pray,
Please walk away.

Unseen

2011-09-19T10:07:00.003+04:00

There sadly isn't a sign,

Of physical harm done,

Of an unappealing scar,

Or any smoking gun.

There isn't any blood,

Or charred remains of fire,

There isn't a bullet's shell,

Nor a burning funeral pyre.

And yet there was a death,

The brutal demise of a heart,

Perhaps a true love, lost a life,

When we grew suddenly apart.

And yet the wounds burned,

Far deeper than the skin,

And yet the ache persisted,

Like there it had always been.

So distraught, I rue,

To you, unassuming passerby,

Because I don't lie screaming,

You leave me high and dry?

Because the wounds are hidden,

You close your naked eye?

Look away like nothing's wrong,

While I weep, I weep alone ,

In tempestuous times, In misery
I mourn in grief, I weep alone.

What a World Cup means to an Average Indian

2011-04-05T02:00:00.003+04:00

We, the humble Middle Class of India are subjected to a world of obstacles, but also a universe of opportunities since the time we step foot into this big bad world. We’re a people of determination, courage, tolerance, flexibility, ambition, understanding. We are a young nation of free thinkers, a nation of spirit, a nation of symbiotic relationships. The Middle Class specifically, is a grandiose structure, a society of individuals bent on making small big. In a lifetime of strife and struggle, to achieve, to survive, why do we rejoice at a victory that is not personal? In a world of personal battles, why does a cricket match bring so much of, what can only be explained as happiness, to us?

I am a Middle Class Indian girl. I am lucky, to have been born to an educated liberal family, who cherished having me as the first grandchild. I was showered with love, and pampered with attention. This is a luxury that many Indian girls are deprived of. They’re born to a family, which does not want them, they’re born to a society, which does not understand that it needs them. They’re born to a life of cursing and being given second-class treatment, while their brothers and the men in the family get treated like royalty. For a girl born in these circumstances, the first breath itself is lucky, if they haven’t already been killed in the womb. Upon birth, the family is often consoled by “well-wishers”, rather than congratulated. And thus begins, a lifetime of proving to the world, that they are not a mere burden, thus follows a life of torment, a life of someone else taking decisions for them, a life where everyday, every achievement is a World Cup of sorts.

Do not be mistaken, the life of a Middle Class boy is no bed of rose petals. Even though he’s a wanted child, the burden of being the prodigal son is immediately shoved upon him. He has to excel in everything he does, often mistaken for Midas. Disappointments follow, so does frustration. Responsibilities are forced, expectations skyrocketing, and again, someone else to take basic decisions for you. A boy is a man before he can walk, and his future is laid out for him, whether he chooses it or not.

For us, the Middle Class citizen, nothing is given. We’re hard-working, service or business class people, who are bound by day-to-day restrictions and setbacks. We contest millions for school admissions, but are often rejected because our parents cannot afford a hefty fees or “donations”. If lucky, again, we reach the schools, but are always made aware of our financial and economic conditions, by our rich, upper class counterparts, who happen to get things a lot easier than us.

Somehow, we pass through that phase, and complete our school education, only to enter into a mammoth battleground of college admissions. We’re hard working, deserving, but not connected. We have the brain, but lack the brawn. We have the marks, but where do we get a politician or a business tycoon for a father? Again, if by some sheer stroke of luck, we make it to the university of our choice, and go through the process, how do we get jobs? We have a degree, but no letter of recommendation. We have the calibre, but no backing.

Slowly, but surely, parts of our heart and spirit breaks away, becoming victim to the ugly realities of life.

Then one day, we watch a World Cup Final match, and we put a lifetime of hope and prayers into the game. We watched and prayed and wished for our Indian team, to reach that place, and it finally has. With every run an Indian batsman makes, a part of our soul and spirit returns. With every ball an Indian bowler bowls, we put our hands on our hearts, and feel the blood flow in anticipation. Through all the struggles, resistance, friction, our lives have energy accumulated, and every time an Indian batsman connects with the ball, and runs down the pitch, that energy is released. A roar comes straight from the bound strands of repeated disappointments and screeches out of out throats. The ball becomes our personal obstacles, the bat our will, with which we courageously pass through one step after another.

The match progresses, and the excitement rises. We laugh and sing and cry and scream. We cheer for our heroes, we celebrate the highlights, we loyally stand behind our team. We put years of hopes into this one match, which will give us the chance of being titled as World Champions. It’s a victory shared by a nation, something that eluded us for years. Like the countless other misgivings, this is one goal that we struggle and strived for, something we came so close to, but could not achieve.

Then, the magic moment comes. Our Captain smashes the ball right into a screaming stadium. We, the Middle Class, forget a life of troubles, and embrace the sheer joy of the moment, when We won the World Cup! Victory comes through perseverance and determination, and who knows this better than us. The ball is finally smashed right out of the field, and we feel an inexplicable exhilaration. We hug and sing and dance and celebrate. We run down streets, burst firecrackers, march with strangers, honk and drive, go wild. We let go of the clasps our pressures and responsibilities and party it up like there’s no tomorrow. We celebrate together, and we weep with happiness, we bow to our cricket gods. A World Cup victory, is not just a victory of a game, it’s the victory of our spirit, it tells us that we can still hope, we can achieve, we can get whatever we want if we put our hearts to it. Hard work does not scare us, and our World Cup is not far from us. We are Champions, and our World Cup is a symbol of that!

We are the Champions, my friend!

Two Cups of Tea

2010-08-16T11:00:00.008+04:00

The setting sun, the perfect setting,

For light conversation and deep talks,

Rain drizzling, musical sounds,

Two cups of tea, some long walks.

The dew on leaves, the colour green,

The scent of freshly wet mud,

Cold water under bare feet,

Blooming white orchids, a new-born bud.

The drifting smells of frying snacks,

The tingling jangle of wind chimes,

The unruly breeze blows long tresses,

The background music, soothing rhymes.

The feel of your palm against mine,

The sound of your laughter, your dimple,

Your gentle pat, your soft whispers,

Your words so clear and simple.

We stand together holding hands,

Watching the roaring deep blue sea,

On the terrace we stand embracing,

Just you, me and two cups of tea...

by-

Neha

Silent Scream

2010-08-09T20:43:00.002+04:00

The voice in my head,
screams itself hoarse,
"Help, I desperately need",
It screeches with force.

Every muscle, every bone,
Every tissue, every vein,
Cries to be heard,
Tortured, in so much pain.

Every nerve is calling out,
every tear pleading,
every gasp for breath,
every hope receding.

Please hear me scream,
the sounds have died down,
Let me live, let me breathe,
Please let me not drown.

Silent screams of help,
leave my eyes and frown,
Please listen to the pleas,
Please let me not drown.

Parting

2010-05-03T21:41:00.003+04:00

I know, with a sigh, that today,
You're going far and away,
But even though we'll be apart,
You'll have a place in my heart,
Where memories and laughter,
Of times long gone and after,
Form a warm shining glow,
That burns strong and slow,
Where our time freezes forever,
Where the bond will break never,
You'll be far from me my friend,
But friendship does not depend,
On distance or space or time,
But on your love and mine.

Betrayal

2010-04-27T21:01:00.002+04:00

A lump somewhere,
An effort to breathe,
A suppressed sigh,
A misplaced tear.

A constant struggle,
A fight from within,
An ache to smile,
A damaged, dismal heart.

A rude awakening,
An ignorant dream broken,
A promise not kept,
A traumatic loss.

It's a funny feeling,
That of Betrayal,
I want to detach and live,
But I know, and always will,
That a part of me is forever gone.

Somewhat conclusion..

2010-04-26T15:16:00.004+04:00

Its almost tradition.
During every single exam session, I turn almost instinctively to my beloved blog, where I've poured my woes and troubles and some cheer. From the time I started writing here, exam times have inspired the deepest thoughts, the most random observations and the most dedicated writing. Perhaps, it has something to do with my uncontrollable urge to procrastinate, which makes my creative juices ooze out of my free-flowing veins, and words swoon out, like the notes of a classical melody. I come here again, to escape from the dreaded academic textbooks, from the looming doom of an impending exam, from the lack of sheer motivation and from the guilt which devours my every moment. I come here, for refuge, for creativity, to save my mind from the rusting clutches of theories and dull rules. I come here, to escape, from the wandering thoughts, which get energized due to the drab nature of the books. I come here, to do what I love.

Over the course of last month, I have been forced to do a lot of thinking, about people, about friendship, about how I value people, and how much they value me. And the end of all that thinking I came to the conclusion that....To Hell With It! All my thinking does is make me trapped and sunk deeper and deeper into my own thoughts, my own inhibitions, my own insecurities. My mom has on occasion said to me, that I take life too seriously. Now, after years and years of thinking and pondering and sighing and not really reaching to any solid conclusion, I realize that she is absolutely right. I do take life too seriously, and in the process, miss out on all the less-serious aspects of it. Heck, I'm 23 in a week (couldn't help slipping the subtle hint about the nearness of my birthday :P) and all I think about or write about is life, people, relationships, etc etc. Good lord N, Chuck it!

So, on the brink of my 23rd birthday, I vow to myself, that I need to stop taking myself and my life so seriously. What will come, will come. What will happen, will happen. People who will stay, will stay, and those who won't, well its their loss. All the time and energy that I spend in making people stay, is so wasted, I realize, since the ones who're worth keeping, will stay without all the drama or the effort. They will stay because they want to, they will stay because they need to, they will stay because they know, that wherever they go, they will eventually come back. And if they leave, and do come back, that will be my only vindication for the pain, the tears, the heartache.

And the insanity? the craziness? the quirks? Well, they'll remain a part of me. Where's the fun in sanity anyway? ;)

Retrospection

2010-03-07T09:38:00.002+04:00

I love to write. I hate to read what I write.

Over the years I've come to realize that my most powerful writing has been during times when I felt low and demoralized. Its during those times when I open my heart and pour it through my fingers into this blog. As a result of which, the most negative thoughts, the most cynical thoughts get written about. I'd like to believe that there is more to my thoughts than negativity, that there is more to me than lamenting, that I believe in more than just the ultimate doom. I'd like to believe that even those tough times have not made me into a pessimist and that there is still some bright thought left in me. I'd like to believe...

I just went back and read the posts I'd written a year back, around the same time this year. I astonish myself, and that's not only because I can write such dark stuff, its because at some point in my life I have actually thought that way. And to be very honest, there are times when I still do. Not much has changed about those bad times. The thoughts, the insecurities, the feelings...its all the same. What has changed however, is that I realise that its a phase. I also realise that I'm probably saying all this right now when my frame of mind is sane and optimistic, but I want to believe that somewhere deep down, I always know that its just a phase, and it will pass again. I want to believe that I'm better than my worst thoughts. I want make myself believe that there is still some positivity left in me.

Blessed

2010-02-08T00:11:00.003+04:00

A friend told me a couple of days back, that I'm truly blessed. Made me think a lot about how and why he thinks that. Then I realized that I felt that too. Nothing specific happened, just moments and realizations that mean so much..

I go around my room to find notes attached to my closets and drawers saying, "Keep Smiling"..placed there very discretely by a couple of my friends who decided to show up and my place to surprise me! The moment I saw them that day, made me feel blessed..
The very firm knowledge of the fact that no matter what, my family is and will always be there for me.
Getting a message which started with, "I was thinking of you yesterday....", reminds me that someone somewhere is thinking about me..
The warmth of a tight bear hug.
Having someone to wipe my tear.
Hearing from someone else, that a friend told him I was special...and had to be made to feel that way.
Feeling comfortable enough around a group of people to be at my silliest best.
A smile, which says, I understand without your words.
Being able to call someone in the middle of the night and be made to feel like it's absolutely fine..
A friend breaking down because he can't see me going through a tough phase..
When a friend understands that something is wrong, even when you just say "Hello" on the phone.
The feeling, of bliss, when a group of friends stand around and simply laugh together...

I guess, for the time being, these are more than enough reasons to make me feel blessed. I live for these moments, I cherish them, I thrive in them and they make me feel alive...make me want to live...

The Bain that is Love

2010-01-18T00:06:00.004+04:00

I don't exactly recall when it happened, but at some point in my life, Love ceased to be a pleasant, fuzzy, happy feeling and became a complex process of the Four Cs....control, consideration, compromise, care. The perception of love stopped being that of a fairy tale love story, but became more realistic and dimensional. The colors of pink and red got replaced by purples and blues, and suddenly the music in the background changed from being a happy duet to a retrospective ballad. It is rather sad, that I don't see love as unconditional and pure anymore, but more like a drug which consumes every inch of the body and soul and in the process of consumption slowly but surely finishes the person off.

Cynical. I call this view cynical and negative. But hello, open your eyes and look around. I see love cause a bubble of happiness, but very soon burst into a sea of tears. With that burst bubble, hearts break, self-images shatter into million shards and relationships fall apart like rickety boats in a storm. The starry eyed lovers soon realize that the stars were just sparks of the bullets shooting towards them, ready to scorch them into mangled corpses, left scarred for life.

And the Heart...oh the evil heart. The Heart plays the role of the plotter, the drug dealer of sorts, who entices the victim with the promise of a riveting high, the feeling of eternal bliss. The heart plays games of seduction, temptation and provocation, engaging people into senseless idiosyncrasies. Once the effect of the initial high subsides, the body and the mind feel a maddening craving, a desire for more. The moment of happiness becomes the addiction, the feeling of pleasure becomes the much wanted high. The heart plays the games, and the victims fall deeper and deeper into the abyss of emptiness, to then wake up one day and realize that the body and mind can take no more..that all the desire and need and want is a trick of the heart. What is left is a wrinkled body, a corrupted devastated mind, and a helpless heart.

Maybe I'm wrong.

My moments

2010-01-11T00:04:00.006+04:00

Conversations have a funny way of hitting the bulls eye at times. A lot of my most enlightening moments of revelation have been during conversations which I did not expect to be so meaningful. Most of these conversations are with my friends, people who I believe understand me, or want to get to know me on a deeper level. A lot of what I know about myself, comes from these conversations, and much of what I believe in becomes evident during these very times. I had several such conversations today, and have been having them for the past few months. You get a whole new perspective about yourself when you hear it from people you trust, and for me, that perspective is extremely valuable...at times, more than my own...

A conversation with a friend today made me realise, how easy it is to do something for someone else, because the smile on their face gives you so much happiness. He told me that making others happy makes him happy. I realised, that is true for me as well. I'm happiest when I see a smile on someone else's face because of me. There is nothing more gratifying and satisfying than that, and I realize that I thrive at that one little smile, more than a lot of the big pleasures in life. These are the moments that I live for, these are the moments which wipe away every pain, every tear, every insecurity, every fear...These are the moments which bring the smile to my face as well.

I decided something after that conversation...If not for anything else, if not for myself, I'm going to be happy, because I realize that it is only when I am happy can I really make someone else smile too. It's like a vicious cycle really....smiles are like fuel to my happiness. So to keep that happiness going, I need to have the fuel. Once I have fuel, the happiness and genuine feeling of well being goes on for longer, which then cause more happiness around me. So basically, I have to keep myself positive and happy...and that will cause me to be satisfied and feel generally good from within..

I don't really believe in new year resolutions...but I guess...I will have to try this one for now :).

Day 1

2010-01-01T16:18:00.002+04:00

2010....

I started the first day of the year with a scrumptious breakfast, a good dining table conversation with family, some laughter, many smiles, and a big bear hug. The day proceeded, and I found myself standing in the balcony, watching the rain, as droplets sprinkled my face. Then, the clouds parted, a out came the most clear beautiful rainbow. I watched, and sang an old hindi film song... thandi hawa yeh chandni suhani...ae mere dil..suna koi kahani...

I now sit by the open window, sipping hot capuccino, tucked in a soft comforter, and watching the dark clouds growl and grumble, the lightening cutting through those clouds and the softness of the breeze brushing against my wind swept hair. There's an inexplicable smile...there's a feeling of utter relaxation, and there's a hope...

The first day of the year...started off well. To say the very least.

Some thoughts, Some emotions..

2009-12-29T14:24:00.003+04:00

I've suddenly gotten a lot of time on my hands. Its probably because my semester has ended, the exams are finally over and because all my friends have gone back to their homes to be with their families over winter break. As a result of which, I actually have time for stuff like, gasp, reading! And, bigger gasp, thinking. You know, just sit on a couch, and look out of the window, admire the blue sky spotted with clouds, enjoy the cool breeze and just let the mind wander. Its a good practice, I recommend it.

Topics swarm in and out of my idle mind, but the one that remains constant is the most relevant one, the one of the people I have recently encountered and am just beginning to understand. Slowly, layers have started to come off (please control your twisted minds, I talk of layers symbolically). It is a very exciting time, getting to know about people and their lives and understanding how and why they are what they are presently. Its interesting, to say the least, to listen to unheard stories about families and funny stories about crazy stuff done with friends. Its enlightening to know about the turning points in people's lives, and getting to know how choices were made, how decisions were made, how mistakes happened and how solutions found their way to change lives.

These last 4 months have been going on a fast motion mode. Everything has been happening quickly, with high intensity and extreme action. Feelings, emotions, moods...have all just accelerated, sometimes with disastrous effects. In these 4 months, I've felt more emotionally alert and vulnerable than in the entire year before that. I attribute this to the fact that I've met so many new people in such a short span of time, and have spent so much time with them, in high pressure conditions. Even Chemistry taught us, with increased pressure and heat, chemical reactions become quicker. Similarly, in such a high strung environment, with little time for everything, all these feelings just had to materialize in a small time frame.

Its rather overwhelming to realise that the friendships I've made in these few months, feel so strong, so deep, so promising. It scares me sometimes, to realise that I feel so strongly about people I've known for only 4 months. It terrifies me even more that this acceleration of emotions will hurt me in the long run, that these new friendships will not be what they seem, and the trust that I have placed on them with so much faith, will be broken. I fear that the bonds that seem so unbreakable now, will not stand the test of time, and the strings with which they are tied will give way. I'm a fool perhaps, to get so emotionally attached so soon, but is it not foolish to not let myself experience the warm of these emotions just because of fear? I know that I haven't learnt the art of Self Preservation, but will I not be giving up on a lot of these emotions if I were to turn cold? True, I'll be protected from a lot of pain, agony and mental trauma, but will that not be at the cost of a lot of happiness, warmth, love, affection? It is a trade-off really, and I choose to give my heart out, for those friendships, for that acceptance, for that love...

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

2009-12-03T01:48:00.005+04:00

Yesterday, a breeze blew, the winds changed,
Yesterday, the circle completed one round,
Yesterday, my heart spoke, all it had to,
Yesterday, I took control, sober and sound.

Today, the void remains, black and deep,
Today, the wind has stopped, abrupt ending,
Today, my heart weeps, blood and tears,
Today, I look back, at life, needs mending.

Yesterday, I floated, I sighed, I breathed,
Yesterday, it all made much sense,
Yesterday, the burden got lifted, at long last,
Yesterday, I promised to smile hence.

Today, the lungs refuse to expand,
Today, its blur, clouds loom, they hover,
Today, the weight is heavier than ever,
Today, my panicking eyes seek cover.

Tomorrow, I hope, and pray, and yearn,
Tomorrow, I wish with all my might,
Tomorrow, must bring back the blessed ray,
Tomorrow, must be, a better day.

Message from the skies

2009-11-19T19:10:00.002+04:00

My day started off badly today. In Dubai, getting a license is like getting the Philosopher's Stone...eternal bliss. Today, I failed my first attempt at it. Assessment test, not passed. Oh well, a week more, and maybe I'll cross that hurdle. Still, it really isn't such a nice feeling, to be failing at anything, be it a silly road test or any task assigned in life. So, I spent my morning in not the best of moods. If I had to assign the color to my mood, it would be grey. Dark, gloomy, and dull.

With a morning like that, I did not hope for anything to liven up my spirits any time soon. Not even the thought of spending a full 3 days on campus, the one place that brings a smile to my face these days. Its my happy place. Even as I was in the car, on the way to college, a general gloom succumbed me.

Just then, by chance, I look to my left, while crossing the Dubai Creek, where the trees part, to show the open sky. Across the sky, I saw bright colors...Red, Blue, Green..in shape of a big heart. Now, how often does it happen, that you look out of the window and see a big red heart in the sky? I couldn't help but smile...I couldn't help but jump up in glee and point out that red heart to my parents in the front seats. I couldn't help but wonder, why today? Why now, when I felt in the mood that I did, did I get to see a sight like this? Is there a reason? Maybe, maybe not. But it sure felt like the universe conspired to bring back that smile to my face.

As I watched, I realized that the big red heart was part of the Dubai Airshow, which takes place every year, where pilots in air-crafts push their imagination to the limits and literally pain the sky red...

As I watched, the plane went on to draw an arrow through the red heart, cutting across diagonally. Beautifully done.

The heart, faded away. My smile's back. And hope, oh hope, will be there forever.

Its all about Love and Hate

2009-11-13T16:38:00.007+04:00

The process of getting to know new people is amazingly intriguing. People are capable of surprising you when you are at your unsuspecting best. This is the time when you're fairly vulnerable and at the same time attempt to be guarded. Its the uncertainty of emotions, of reactions, of assumptions, that make this process so mysteriously appealing.

I have started noticing two main emotions around me. Love and Hate. The reason I use such strong words is because, even if its just the start of these emotions, like seeds, I predict and firmly believe that it takes such a matter of time for these emotions to intensify and justify the names. I'm noticing positivity and negativity all around me, and luckily, the positivity outshines the negativity by a staggering margin.

Small things make my heart warm up these days, or go cold. Like, the brush of a guy's finger, gently against those of the girl he likes. The soft touch, the look in their eyes, the moment they share, the smiles which say everthing, the warmth that they exude, which makes you feel like you're intruding on them by just looking at their harmless smiles. Its love. It makes me smile to look at. It gives me a mushy feeling, and it makes me believe in the magic of love even more.

Then there are the sights which make my heart go cold. Like, walking back home, I witness a girl running, being chased closely by a guy, who tries to get hold of her. He finally grabs her arm, and she stops, and looks back, with tears in her eyes, pushes him away, turns around and walks straight ahead. The guy stands there, the look of helplessness clear on his face, and then yells, out, "Its bye then, please try not to hate me too much." Then he watches her walk away, and slowly, turns and walks in the other direction. I stood there, a little distance from them, and watch them both go in different directions, and become very aware of the fact that I just witnessed a relationship end. Sad, is the only way that moment can be described.

These new emotions are around me all the time, and I'm just savouring them all in my mind. Keeping a collage of memories, of moments, which make up for some interesting thinking, and some much needed perspective to life.

Catching up...

2009-11-04T23:42:00.008+04:00

I feel I owe this space some of my time. I feel like there is a lot that has to be said. I feel like there is a lot that I haven't been writing about, for the sheer reason that it is a lot, and I was at a loss for words. I did not know where to begin, what to say, and what to leave behind. I guess I'll just have to make the best of that and write whatever in this point seems most relevant, even if, over course of the last few months, this has not been the most relevant happening...

Life has a rather strange way of taking turns. Its overwhelming really, how quickly and drastically twists appear, how the road curves, how the paths change, how new destinations are found, how detours are taken, and most importantly, how new fellow travellers are found, and how old ones still accompany us in the quest for that final place...

Its been a little over 2 months now, that I've started my MBA education at the Institute of Management Technology, Dubai. All those months of thoughtlessness, restlessness and aimlessness came to a crashing halt when I stepped foot into the classroom on the first day. I found my aim, I found new people and I found how I wanted these next 2 years to be. Because of the year of nothingness, what I have now is acquired treasure. Every person I talk to, has a story to tell. Every day is a learning process, a new experience. Every class I attend acts like a cure for my rusting mind, and triggers the fire that simmed down for sometime. I can almost feel myself come alive, I thrive in the company of the new people and I strive to revive the spirit that got lost somewhere over the years..

The most relevant factors in my life currently, are my new friends. I'd forgotten just how interesting new friendships are. Just when I start to think that I know how people behave and I understand the nature of different individuals, I'm shaken and stirred, and made to rethink of all those things that I thought were correct. Its quite an humbling experience really, when you realise that your learning process has just touched the chip of the iceberg of understanding, and there's a mountain underneath, still waiting to be explored. People's behaviour, reactions, interactions, beliefs, values, personalities, quirks...they just simply amaze me. I've said this to the very same people enough times, that everyday I feel like an infant taking her first precarious steps to discover the simplicity of walking. It feels like I had forgotten how to take the first steps, and now I'm going back to the basics.

Another very interesting thing that has happened, is a change in my own personality. I sometimes observe myself, a bystander observing a street-show. I see myself as the main player, and yet cannot relate to the person I see. The protagonist in the play is a stranger, someone with overwhelming energy and enthusiasm, with thirst for a life and an unchallenged positivity. I still cannot understand how the observer and the actor could be the same person. I cannot fathom how the bridge between the two people was built and I fail to comprehend the catalysts behind the change. All the sense I can make out of it is that possibly some part of my mind decided that it was enough, and something had to be done, and another part reacted to that, some reaction took place, and the change happened. I think it will take me sometime to get complete clarity, be able to merge the observer and the protagonist completely and to be able to stop doubting the very evident transformation.

That is all that I want to say for now. I'm going to leave, with a song, that is very relevant with my thoughts these days...

Katra katra milti hai,

Katra katra jeene do,

Zindagi hai, zindagi hai,

behne do, behne do,

pyaasi hoon main, pyaasi rehne do..

Halke halke kohre ke dhuen mein,

shayad aasmaan tak aa gayi hoon,

teri do nigaahon ke sahare,

dekho toh kahan tak aa gayi hoon,

kohre mein, behne do,

pyaasi hoon main pyaasi rehne do...

( lyrics by Gulzar)

For the love of Delhi

2009-03-27T23:12:00.004+04:00

As the car tyres screech through the roads of Central Delhi, crossing well-known locations like the India Gate, Rashtrapati Bhavan, Jantar Mantar, Connaught Place, the thrill I feel is undescribable. The roads at night gleam with golden lights, and flickering lights from the few cars on the roads. The vastness of the roads embrace the speed of the moving vehicle. The breeze kisses my face with the smell of the freshly wet mud after a dose of random rain. The sky is a shade or dark orange and the horizon shows the thousands and millions of bulbs that cover the city in a warm blanket. The shiver that runs down by back is calmed by the sight of a mother holding her toddler tight to warm the little doll up. We stop at Kevender's and swollow in the deliciousness of cold milk shakes, served in heavy glass bottles. I walk a few steps farther, and witness the emptiness of Delhi at night, and the feeling I get can not be described as anything short of blissful love.

Its been almost a fortnight since I've been here, and somehow I did not even realise it. Time does a funny disappearing act in this place, which never fails to amuse or amaze me. Mornings merge into afternoons which merge into evenings with such seamless ease, that all I can do is just flow with the movement of time. Its almost like I'm removed from the goings on, and floating through space and time, letting them take their own course, just letting things happen. And the surprising thing is, they actually do. Everything just happens, and I am left wondering how and by what force. Time is an independent entity here, and controls you more than you can control what you do with it.

The energy that swarms around the place is unparalled. I suddenly get the feeling that all the cells, protons, neutrons, eletrons, in my body have gone on crack and are completely going beserk. They're acting like restless 3 year olds after 50 doses of sugar. So I have the need and desire to constantly do something, say something, write something. The motivation is unprecendented and the willingness to work hard, absolutely alien and rather alarming.

Every inch of my soul is loving every fraction of a second that I spend here, and I'm glad this magical city has enough time to completely enchant me. Time is on my hands, or rather, I have left myself at the hands of time, while I glide through the enchantment that the city has cast upon my unassuming self...

Yeh Delhi Hai Mere Yaaaar!

2009-03-17T23:21:00.005+04:00

( Title translation: This is Delhi my friend!)

There are just some places that inspire you. They inspire you to think, they inspire you to observe, to draw, to talk, to learn, to write. My city, Delhi, is one such place. The car ride from the airport to home was enough to make me want to say something. It was enough for the sleeping writer in some corner of my being to wake up, and have the desire, or rather, need to write. There's just so much to say!

A mere example, the order in the chaos of Delhi intrigues me. There are people E-v-e-r-y-where, but goodness, every person has character. Every movement has meaning, every disorder has reason, every situation has a solution. Every visual image has a story to tell. The posters on the street lamps show a picture of some lady religious guru with a big bindi. It announces her birthday "pooja" (prayer). Somewhere else, a man serves water from a big container covered in red cloth, with some lemons and leaves on top. I turn my head once again, and a person selling magazines is running between the cars, fearless and persistent. I look around the other cars on the street, and among the scores that surround me, I see activity in almost all.

People's actions interest me. Living outside India for so long, you tend to forget these little nuances, that really catch your eye when you see them again. Like, while passing in front of a temple, my little 12 year old cousin instinctively folded her hands and closed her eyes, something which I recall doing as well but have lost the habit long back. Then, the way strangers just interact with each other. Every second person, who's a man and slightly looks older becomes "bhaiya" (brother), or if he looks a lot older becomes "uncle". The immediate familiarity makes an interaction so much easier and pleasurable, that despite the formality and purely functional reason for the interaction, there is some marginal level of bonding. It's just a feel-good pheonomenon.

There's conversation everywhere. There's movement everywhere. There's sound everywhere. The laughter of the group of teenagers at the mall sharing a pizza, has the same sound has that of the men on the street corner playing a game of cards and sharing their stories of the day. The couple in the restaurant have the same look when they look at each other as that of the one sitting outside on the pavement. Money is a mere token, as it should be. Happiness is the real wealth. In the general sense of the word, India is a poor nation, and it shows, everywhere. But when measured in Happiness, I can proudly rate India very high!

As the colours of Delhi seep through my inexperienced optical nerves, the exhilirations soars through me, and I live through the madness of the city. As my eyes see more, my hands feel more, my ears hear more, I will write more. For now, I'm just going to go back to my blissful admiration of my city.

Yeh Delhi hai mere yaar,
Bas ishq mohabbat pyaaaaar...

Family Noise

2009-02-12T15:09:00.002+04:00

For the 2 and a half people who've noticed my absence from this space, its because I was overwhelmed with Family and visitors for the last couple of months. And when I wasn't surrounded by that mayhem, I was recovering or doing my other most favourite thing to do these days (NOT), Job hunting!

Anyway, back to the topic of an over-bearing family. There was a time, long long LONG, time back, I mean it almost feels like another era altogether, when I was actually so involved with weavings of family happenings and politics, that it felt rather natural to have all the drama going on at all times. So involved was I, that a peaceful non-controversial, unexciting day was the hardest and longest thing to go through. Then, I was uprooted from the midst of the family forrest, to a "family draught" infested region. That was the place where I just craved to be around the noise and chaos again. It was moving from a bird sanctuary to the Antartica. From chirping and movement, to such a still that I could hear the twig, a mile away, break.

So well, as life is, you get acclamatised to even the most ruthless conditions, and eventually the quiet started to sound almost musical, and necessary. Then, when at certain intervals, the noise broke out, it was welcome only for that time being, because I knew I'd be going back to my quiet again. And then catastrophe struck. I was thrown in the midst of roaring lions...next to a birdcage....the noise levels have just sky-rocketed and I even need a sound blocker to hear my own thoughts. Well, I guess I will get used to the overwhelmingly overbearing situation, but cannot promise to stay sane.

Hence, the absence was absolutely excusable. The herd that came charging at me has left me breathless ...and i'm still trying to find my bearings. Need time. Need Quiet. Shh....quite now...yes...thank you...

Hey! I said QUIET!

Reminiscing again...

2008-12-16T21:47:00.000+04:00

It has been a while now, but why does it feel like time has stopped and I’ve entered a vacuum? A phase of my life has ended, and I keep repeating this to myself, trying to live a new life, with new goals to look forward to, new people to meet. But what do I do with what I’ve left behind? Those memories that haunt me day in and day out refuse to leave, and I’m tired of battling with them. The spirits of my past cling on to my already troubled brain and have engraved themselves in the emptiness of my life.

Today, of all the days, I want to be where I was once happy. It’s my best friend’s birthday today. At every special occasion, since we’ve known each other, we’ve been together, with all our other friends and shared our joys. We’ve laughed till we cried, and talked till the wee hours of the morning. We’re taken pictures, which now remind me of the times we had, and wrote cards which brings smiles to my deprived eyes even now. It’s his birthday today, and I cannot be there to give him a hug and tell him that I’m going to love him more each year and be there for him whenever he needs me.

I miss going shopping with the others for his birthday present, and spend hours trying to figure out what he would like. I miss walking around Milan, going to each and every store worth its name to find the perfect gift, for my perfect best friend. I miss the planning and the excitement, I miss being a part of all the buzz. I miss being physically present for all the occasions when my friends meet up and relive the good ol’ times. I miss seeing the look on someone’s face, when they open they open their birthday presents. I miss the toasting, for someone’s good health. I miss the birthday cakes, the candles, the decoration, the games. I miss it all, and so much more.
I can only send my wishes across, and hope that, sometime in the future, we’ll be together again, to be a part of each other’s lives.

Happy Birthday A!

Holding On

2008-12-09T00:21:00.004+04:00

Slowly the lights dim, but surely,
Slowly the fire flickers, to extinguish,
Slowly distances grow, move away,
Slowly the fog thickens, solidifies.

Soon the mist will fall, blinding,
Soon the picture will fade, to nothing,
Soon the tears will dry, numbess,
Soon the smiles will forget, the reasons.

One day the memory will fail, some day,
One day the heart will stop, to ache,
One day the roads will diverge, separate,
One day the trails will disappear, new paths.

Then we will reminisce, sometimes,
Then we will wonder, where all went,
Then we will let the tears fall, for loss,
Then we will try to hold on, for the last spark.

So now is the time to fuel, the flickering fire,
Now the bridges must be built, to meet ends,
Now there must be new paint, on fading pictures,
And now is when I hold on, reach out, to my people.

My heart bleeds with Mumbai

2008-11-29T16:00:00.006+04:00

Peace.

Why is it that we realise the worth of this precious word only when there's lack of it?

My family and I just watched the Mumbai ordeal, glued to our television screens for two days straight. The images have engrained themselves in my mind, the heart has bled, the eyes have wept and the blood has boiled as I have watched Mumbai succumb to heartless acts of terror. Before my eyes, there was fire and pain and anxiety, and all I could do was sit transfixed in front of the television, just hoping and praying for the nightmare to come to an end. The helplessness of the whole situation was more painful than seeing any of those images before me. My country was in pain, and there was nothing I could do.

When we first heard about the attacks, panic was the initial sentiment. I called my friends and family in Mumbai, and heaved a sigh of relief after making sure they were all safe and far away from the danger zones. Then began the endless hours in front of the television screens, flipping though various news channels, trying to get news about the latest developments. A handful of beastly vermins reduced Mumbai to a warzone. After each blast, each gunshot, each erupted fire, I could feel my heart race. Each sound of a gunshot rang in my ears like my own life was in danger. With each fire, it felt like my own skin was burning. With each hand grenade blast, it seemed as if a portion of my own self was amputated and left behind somewhere, where the world was a better place.

I cannot even fathom how the people actually going through the trauma of the attacks would be feeling, if I, sitting across from a television, could go through these emotions. I cannot even bring myself to imagine what I'd go through if I was a hostage at the Oberoi or the Taj, watching dead bodies and fear everywhere. I cannot even begin to understand what mental torture it is, to lose a loved one at the hands of terror attacks. But the fact is, there have been people who've been subjected to this pain. There are people who've lost family and friends, whose lives have changed in the span of 60 hours. There are people, who never thought, that in an instant, they would never see their loved ones again. My fingers tremble even as I type this, so I can't say I understand the pain of those who have gone through it. I cannot. All I can do is, extend a hand of sheer support to them...

The news channels are now showing the funeral of the brave men who died to save our lives. Who bravely and fearlessly fought terror, so we can realise the worth of peace. It infuriates me to see brave soldiers of our armed forces lose their lives, over non-sensical terror attacks. I am angry to see a mother break down at her son's funeral. What for? Why did they have to die? Their courage is exemplary, and their reasons honorable, but why why why? It doesn't make sense. What good comes off acts of terror like this? What will change? Brave men lost their lives...but how long are we even going to remember their sacrifice?

At the end of the whole traumatic operation, the news channels have now started to talk about the reason and analyse executed plan of the terrorists. The blame game is about to begin, so is the finger pointing and the one-upmanship. The politicians, like hungry vultures, have already started taking rounds of the streets, and giving speeches and false promises. The fingers are raised, and so are the voices. They have come to scavenge of the civilians and get a few more votes in their bank. Will they remember these days and nights of terror for long? Well, only till the next elections. Will anything be done? Only till this has been forgotten? Are they going to be any more prepared? Only to face the next attack. With my deepest and more heartfelt feeling, I request them to sod off and leave us alone. We don't want games, we want life.

After 3 days, I find myself in a state of mixed feelings. Fear. Anxiety. Pride. Patriotism. Grief. Sadness. I will perhaps never forget the faces of brothers, fathers, wives, husbands, sisters, mothers...who cry at their loss. I will never forget the anger when I hear gunshots from inside the Taj, or watch a roaring fire deface the Oberoi-Trident. I will never forget the story of a newly-wed woman, who lost her husband in the attacks, and broke down on television. I will never make myself forget the sacrifice of the armed forces, who gave their lives for my safety. I will never forget the pride I felt as I watched the commandoes getting dropped off by helicopter at Nariman house. I will never forget that one of my dad's business associates, a friend, were caught in the line of fire along with his wife, and their bodies were sent home yesterday to 2 young children and an elderly father.

I salute the armed forces.
I salute the unsung heroes of this conflict.
I condole all those who lost their lives
I pray, that I never have to see this again.

Proud to be an Indian today.

My Wish

2008-11-19T01:38:00.004+04:00

I was led here, by my unquenching thirst,
for a little bit more, for a time more fine,
for contentment and peace and bliss,
for that disobedient wish of mine.

In agony, I struggled and wriggled,
out of thorns' reach and fire's burn,
away from all tormented tempests,
only to faulter at the very last turn.

Fate's whip bore a deep gash in me,
the blood poured, the wounds screamed,
the bones pleaded, the hands shook,
as the tears rolled and smugly gleamed.

At last arrived the end of pain,
the ultimate goal, the journey's end ,
the doorway to a newfound place,
I walked forward, right over the bend.

Once crossed, the doorway closed,
the world beyond, a desert showed,
the colours of emptiness all around,
the barren land, the grey surround,
the rocky pave, the dry drowned air,
this was my wish, and I am here.

Disappointment

2008-11-18T12:40:00.003+04:00

I hate how life is always trying to teach you a lesson. How it always turns out that what you really really want, is not always what's best for you. How you get what you wanted, and realise, you didn't want this at all. Life is a bloody bitch.

I'm scared right now. I'm in a situation, in which I wanted to be, sometime back. I asked for this. I have no one to blame, but myself. I have no one to point fingers at, but right back at me. I wanted this, and I got it. So now, I'm really scared. What if I ask for something else, and work towards it, and then realise, that that's not what I wanted either? How am I supposed to know in advance that I'm going to be unhappy in that place too? I didn't know before that I'm going to be in the situation I am in now, so how am I supposed to know that the next thing I wish for is going to be any better than this. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret any decision I take by myself. I'm just amused by the sheer evil of life, to put you back down, just when you think you finally got what you wanted!

I have nothing else to say. Nothing at all..

Graduation Day

2008-11-13T14:16:00.005+04:00

I always come back from Milan with a jumble of emotions sprouting up from everywhere. My little short trips are microcosms of a life I once had, and remind me of a time which once was. I go through the same routines that were once just that, daily routines. I meet people I used to live with, literally eat, sleep, study, play, cry, laugh, shout, whisper, just simply exist with. People who know my favorite food, who know my pet peeves, who laugh at my quirks, and hug me when they feel I need the warmth of support. The places I see, are those that still bear my footprints , or have glimpses of where my most beloved memories took birth. How a city can bring back so many emotions all at once, I fail to understand. I do know that I always come back with tears in my eyes, and a faint smile on my lips.

This time, the trip had a unique purpose. I went back for my Graduation Ceremony. Glee. Apprehension. Utter excitement. Euphoria. I set out with my head already up in those proverbial clouds, and my face already breaking out in unexpected smiles, each time I thought about what awaits me. Images of the past swarmed around me, as I made the journey towards my recent turned memory lane. How can I even begin to put it in words? How does one describe the joy of reuniting with friends? Running upto someone to engulf them in an embrace, and feeling the tightness of their hug in return? The look in the eyes, when someone sees you from a distance and beams as they approach you? Or the delight in their voice as they say, "Welcome back"? You're just simply left with simple thoughts, which question why you left in the first place, and how easy it is to be where you are right now. Pure bliss.

The Graduation Ceremony was undoubtedly one of those moments in my life, when I sort of float up above my body, look down and just absorb the benevolence of the entire atmosphere. The black toga-gowns, the funny little square hats, the laughter and cheer all around, the proud familes who cannot stop marvelling at how good their child has been, the friends who come to be there for you on your day, the photographs which capture the happiness and pride which radiates all around...its just magical! Walking down the steps to collect the scroll, which symbolises all my blood and tears of 3 years long years, is a moment I'll always cherish. In that moment, all the pain becomes insignificant, all the tears become past obstacles that I crossed, all the sweat and anxiety, the panic before exams, the disappointments, it all gets stored in a little box in the brain, and gets tied with a string of relief and pride. I did it. I finally did it!

On a more superficial note, its also great to look at what everyone's wearing...and even cooler when you're the most unusually dressed of all! I take my uniqueness seriously, so I decided to dress in a sari..in Milan...in November...in an Italian university. The result was much better than I could have expected. I have never felt more of a celebrity! People actually stopped in the streets to turn and look at me...and honestly, I'm not complaining! The evidence: the pictures, which tell the tales accurately of an unforgettable day.

Of course, even the brightest colours have a darker shade. We were all so charged up in the day, that when the excitement simmered down, we were left with enormous exhaution. Its great wearing high heels with pretty dresses, but how much fun is it to walk in those murdering shoes throughout the day? The sounds I made when I took my heels off in the car could easily have been censored from any respectable PG-13 movie. I guess bleeding feet is just a minuscule price to pay for an enchanting day.

The day is already behind me, its still fresh. The goodbyes were hard. The tears unstoppable. The pain of watching my friends distance away as the taxi pulls out and carries me to the airport, hasn't been burried yet. The blurr as the tears roll out is still clear. The quiver in Mr.A's voice, still seeps through my ears, and shakes me. I'm back home now, the new abode where everything's distant already. I now smile at the pictures of that wonderful day, and hope for another where our grinning faces will be captured again in a single frame...

PS: There was a party too later that night, at a club, with alcohol...but some things should just be left to imagination ;)

Mamma Mia, Here I Go Again!

2008-10-29T12:41:00.003+04:00

It's been long. Wayyyy too long. But really, honestly and sincerely, I had *nothing* to write about! And how could I? It's not like there's anything major happening that I'd want to write about. Life's same old same old, and how often can you read about the same stuff? Right? Meanwhile, I've been lazying around, doing some introspection. After all the deep thinking and the mind rest, I have come to the conclusion that I can't sit idle anymore. I've thoroughly enjoyed giving my over-worked brain a break, but now it aches for something to do. So I've been actively researching for Post-graduate programs, and sending out my CVs to companies. Now, I'm actually looking forward for something to do, and so glad I decided to take a break from the rut. At least now, I know what I want to do, and am really motivated to pursue that goal and don't feel like I'm being forced into something. Some decisions, although controversial, *are* the right ones after all!

Anyway, in my "thinking time", I've been following the US Presidential Election campaigns. This year, its been amusing more than anything else. I've gone through all the debates, the videos, the advertisements, the speeches, the spoofs, the analysis, the polls....everything! And there's ONE person I want to comment on....

Sarah Palin is an airheaded ditz of an excuse for a politician. She has NO clue what she's talking about. She should stay put where she belongs...on some hockey field with her minivan and children's bags. Mainstream politics is not for her. Even though she may have seemed like a "breath of fresh air" according to McCain, now she just seems like a liability who falters and sputters in every interview. She has never answered a question directly without making a mess of matters, she has no idea how the US economy works, has no experience working or even interacting with world leaders, she can't go through a single interview without using the words "maverick", and the most annoying thing is, she goes around with the look and image of miss goody-two-folksy-homely-shoes which makes me want to puke! I wonder if she even knows where "Aye-Rack" (Iraq) is or what are the issues with Iran. Anyway, this lady has been my one-woman-entertainment for these last few months, so her interviews and public appearances are very much welcome!

Anyway, waiting eagerly for the elections to be held. The polls show the results already, but want to see the look in Palin's face once the final results are out. I bet her maverick self will have some priceless expressions!

Wilted Times

2008-09-30T16:09:00.011+04:00

I was watching the news the other day, and something that a news reader said really caught my attention. She was reporting the recent blast in Ahmedabad, which left 1 person dead, and having a conversation with a reporter on site. She asked, "So what do you think, was it just another terrorist attack, a crude bomb accident or a mere cylinder burst?". Hmmm. Just another terrorist attack. The casual tone with which this was said left me zapped. Is this what we've come to? Are terrorist attacks such a common fact of life that we're discussing them like we'd talk about the proceedings of a reality show? Is it so common for people to die in these frequent acts of violence, that their deaths are just reduced to being statistics on a news bulletin? I'm disgusted and appalled.

In the last one week itself, I have seen news about 4 bomb blasts in 3 different cities in India. First Delhi, then Ahmedabad, then Delhi again and yesterday, I freshly heard about blasts in Malegaon, Maharashtra. Is this what our future looks like? Are the bomb blast stories going to be so common that they won't even make it to the headlines? Is there going to be a page in the newspaper titled, "Terrorist attacks of the Day"? I don't think we're far from that situation at all. Terror strikes are so common now, people who hear about a bomb in my city, don't even bother to ask anymore, if anyone I know is affected. What's the point? How many times are they going to ask the same question? All we can do now is, to pray and hope that we're not personally affected by any of these attacks. But I'm sure, that day is not far, when each of us will be personally and directly be affected by these terror strikes. What then? Is that going to be the last limit? Is that going to be enough for these terrorists?

I don't fall into the category of the weak-hearted do-gooder. I'm not entirely all-truist and don't go out of my way to do extraordinary good deeds for people. I don't weep in movies, I don't look at the poor and tear up, I don't help the disabled, I don't pray for victims of the blasts, I don't volunteer at hospitals, I've never donated blood, I've never educated a child. In short, I'm not the kind of person who cries at a stranger's pain. But today, I ache. My heart is in pain and my mind is in agony. So much pain, so much suffering...what for? I'm seeking a reason...I'm looking for a motive...I want to know why?

I don't get it. Maybe I'm too fickle or too soft, but I just don't get it. What is a good enough reason to take innocent lives? What cause can be so big, that the common man needs to die for it? What do people get out of defacing someone for life? What good can come off killing someone's brother, sister, father, mother, husband, wife, friend, companion? What kind of a heart does a person need to have to drop off a device that would, in an instant, change or end the lives of hundreds? I only have questions, the answers evade me.

These are the only words that come to me right now...

Changing times, rocky souls,
crimson, black, grey and finally white,
flooding eyes, broken hearts,
burnt dreams, and shredded homes.
Fearful lives, hateful deeds,
mourning mothers, early deaths,
panic stricken hands, detached limbs,
lost loves and tearful goodbyes.
Flickering hope, damaged faith,
the reasons still buried deep,
man hates another, another hates too,
The end lost, the light now dimmed...

A post about nothing really...

2008-09-26T16:32:00.003+04:00

I just discovered that my Dad found my blog...uh oh! Apparently he went and searched on google and found it. So all my secrecy simply went down the drain. Well, at least there's nothing that he doesn't already know about. Its not as if I'm confessing some crime, or declaring my love for someone. I literally have no secrets. How boring is THAT! Now more than ever, I realise that I write about absolutely nothing. Not complaining, just an observation. If I sit down and try to point out what I write about, there's not one particular theme or topic that I'd be able to put my finger on. Well, I suppose there's a lot to say even when there's nothing really to talk about.

So, I'm officially done with university for now and doing nothing all day. Its not like I never did anything before, its just that I can be guilt-free about it now. For all those telling me I'm aimless and wiling away my time, I again want to tell them, uh hello, I'm on a holiday after grueling for 3 long years. It's been barely a week since I got back, and I really don't think its such a LONG time for me to be worried about what'll happen with my life. I'm choosing this, and if anyone has a problem with that, well, I'm sorry for you, but I'm not going out of my way to prove my worth to you. I'm not a bum, and not irresponsible, and when I feel it's the right time, I'll start again. For now, lay off and let me chill, ok?

On a lighter and more exciting note, I got a new iPod Touch!! For all those who have questioned it, hold your tongue people, its Fantabuliscious!! One of the best gadgets I've ever owned and I really don't give a flying fuck (Umm, dad if you're reading this, sorry for the lingo!) if it gets outdated in a year, or if there's an updated model in the market within 3 months. I have this awesome thing in my hand, and I will not trade it till it breathes its last breath! Its easy to use, its great in terms of appearance and utility, the sound quality is stupendous and most importantly, it's so slick to hold and carry around! I know I know, again I'm sounding like a ditzy airhead, but seriously, this thing just makes you feel all cool! It's every penny ( or cent or fil or paisa) worth its price and all those critics and cynics can buzz off...I have an iPod Touch!!!!

Next step, making friends! So far, the only people i've had any interaction with apart from my family are my housemaids, the grocery delivery man, the laundry man, the electrician, the check out girl at the supermarket, my parents' friends, my uncle's friends, my dad's driver....well you get the picture! Dubai seems to be devoid of any young activity, or so I feel right now, since I dont quite know how to get around and find people my age. I guess I'll find a short-term job, a good way to meet people who're not older, hired or selling me stuff!

Anyway, more later peeps! All those people still reading my blog, kudos to you for bearing with the accounts of my mundane existence. I promise to write about something more interesting, when something more interesting happens in my life! Hopefully that'll be soon, excitement's never too far away from me, and that's not Always a good thing!

Till then, Ciao ciao!

The end of a road...

2008-09-18T15:19:00.006+04:00

I've been away a fortnight and it seems like forever. When I look back on the last 15 days, I can only marvel at how so many things can change in so little time, and how other things will never change no matter how much time passes. I did not have much time to just sit and think in these days, but upon retrospection, I remain amazed at how much I can think about.

When I left from here, to wrap up my life, I was filled with fear and apphrehension. I was unsure about everything, and insecure about the future. There was just one little milestone to cross, which seemed miles away from where I was standing. From that point, the destination seemed so close, and yet so intangible. A mirage formed in front of me, of somewhere I wanted to be, but didn't know whether it was a real place or not. I did the only thing I could, I walked on.

A little further down the road, I met with obstacles, which I did my best to tackle. I was knocked over a couple of times, but my people held their hands out to me and pulled me back up. As I struggled through the rocks on the road, people kept giving me the tools to be able to break them. At one point, I almost gave up and sat on the side of the road, with tears in my eyes and helpness in my mind. I thought of dropping everything right there, and slowly turn around and make my way back from where I started, and look for an easier and shorter road, with lesser obstacles. As I turned around, a strong pair of arms caught hold of my shoulders and held firm. They made me stop and gave me the reassurance that my milestone is just beyond this last rock, and I need to go on, and not turn around at this point. The Person held my hand and walked me to the rock and handed me the tools, and told me I only had to look back and he'd be right behind me. I had to go on, just had to go on. So I did, I went on.

After a few more blows, that obstacle was beat too, and I found myself right in front of my milestone. It wasn't a mirage, it was solid and tangible. I took two more steps, and reached out and touched it. A wave of elation surged through me as I caressed the milestone. A looked around, and My People were there, right behind me, smiling with me, happy for me. They held my shaking body, and felt the worries being released from me. I could see the happiness in their eyes, I could sense the sincerity in their smile. In that moment, I felt the same fuzzy warmth in my chest, and I knew I'd just felt the first air of achievement. I had achieved, and I had My People to share this moment with. Bliss, pure bliss.

I'm back here now, after accomplishing my last task. I'm happy to have completed what I once started, no matter how much I had to tackle and dodge, I'm glad it's behind me now. My People are always there with me, and I'm sure of this more than ever now. There will be more boulders and rocks and stones in my way, but I know, whenever I look back, My People will be there to tell me I can go on, and I will go on.

Though here at journey's end I lie
In darkness buried deep,
Beyond all towers strong and high,
Beyond all mountains steep,
Above all shadows rides the Sun
And Stars for ever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
Nor bid the Stars farewell.

J.R.R Tolkein

Bliss

2008-09-04T14:58:00.004+04:00

Bliss is sitting in a coffee shop with friends and laughing hysterically over just about anything.
Bliss is not worrying about anything to do or anywhere to go.
Bliss is forgetting the umbrella at home, and it actually turns out to be a sunny day.
Bliss is eating food that you love, with friends that you love.
Bliss is knowing that your hard-work will eventually pay off.
Bliss is being able to wake up early in the morning and actually not be sleepy anymore.
Bliss is to breathe the fresh morning air, as you see the sun rise.
Bliss is to have home cooked hot meals cooked with affection and served with love.
Bliss is to be back in a place which is so familiar that you feel like you never left at all.
Bliss is to have your trip extended by chance, when you really wanted to stay longer.
Bliss is to meet people after a very long time and feel like no time has passed at all.
Bliss is dress in a hurry and find out that you don't look so bad after all.
Bliss is knowing that you have a long holiday awaiting you.
Bliss is having nothing to write about and yet find a lot to say once you start.
Bliss is eating chocolate cake.
Bliss is meeting deadlines without last-minute panic.
Bliss is seeing the look on people's faces when they like the present that you gifted them.
Bliss is to feel a general contentment for no obvious reason at all.

Bliss is life, Life is Bliss.

One of those moments...

2008-09-03T02:10:00.003+04:00

It was one of those moments that make you smile.

I was with my family, the entire jing-bang, having dinner at a chinese restaurant in Dubai. Known for the otherwise tranquil atmosphere, Chopsticks, this night was stirred with noise. The table next to ours was occupied by a party of around 25 people, all celebrating and creating a royal rucous. There were only these 2 tables eating at the restaurant that week night. Since usually we're the most noisy table in radius of 10 meters, it was unusual to find some other group making more sound than us. Rather, its unusual for us to be able to hear any other people over our own noise. A table more noisy than ours, gasp! We gave our share of dirty looks, and taking advantage of speaking a language that the other table wouldn't understand, or hear in this case, we indulged in verbal bashing. How improper to be so rowdy, and make so much noise. Hmph. Of course, forgetting how we usually are. After all, who likes competition?

So anyway, after an hour or so of pure hostile looks being sent in the direction of the other table, we were done eating and ready to go. Just as the last of the hakka noodles and the stir fried veggies were being polished off, from the corner of my roaming eye, I noticed a guy standing at the next table, with a bunch of flowers in his hands. Curiosity bubbling, I looked on.

His friends seem to egg him on to do something, which I got a hint off, but wasn't sure. He stood meekly, with white flowers, and seemed hesistant. From his face, I could tell that he was mentally preparing himself for some herculian task, something which he seemed to be mustering up a lot of courage for. He walked around the table, as his friends moved their chairs to make way for him. He came and stood next to a girl, and by this time I was sure of what his intentions were. The loudness grew and the cheering started as the others around the table realised what he was doing. The girl too must have realised, because she erupted in a hysteric fit of giggles. She turned towards another girl next to her, and giggled uncontrollably. Meanwhile, the poor lad stood there, clearing his throat, pleading for silence.

Soon, after a lot of hoots and whistles, they silenced each other. The room went quiet ( the rest of my table had also stopped talking and turned to look), except for the giggles of the girl. Then, the guy bent over on one knee, and rose the flowers in his hands. He chose a time when the girl had momentarily stopped giggling, to ask in his very soft voice, "Will you marry me?"

As he asked, of course cheers went up around the table, and clapping and screaming and hooting. Unconsciously, I found myself cheering along with them. In fact, many of them turned to look at what I had to celebrate, only to see that I was self-inviting myself to their excitement. I just wanted to root for this guy, who seemed so sincere and so sweet! So then, a loud chant of "yes yes yes yes" went around, as the friends wanted to hear the girl's reply. At last, after a lot of jumping around excitedly, giggling uncontrollably and being red in the face, the girl replied, "yes, I will"

I don't know why, in that moment, I genuinely felt a warm fuzzy feeling inside me. All the irritation and annoyance I had felt earlier disappeared, as I joined in the noise to cheer the couple. It felt nice to see good things happening to other people. It felt nice to see a young pair getting on in life. And most of all, it felt nice to see that oh-so-doubted feeling of love so opening declared for someone.

I left with a wide grin on my face, and sincere hope for those strangers to be happy together :).

Taking time off

2008-08-29T02:03:00.004+04:00

Note: I read my friend Rambunctious Whippersnapper's latest post about Career and it made me think about my current occupation, hence the post.

I think I overuse the words "life", "fate", "depressing", "mind", "thought", "desire"...but hey, don't blame me. My mind is constantly going through depressing thoughts about what my fate will bring me, and what I desire from life ( heh heh). I guess I'm at that stage where there are so many paths visible that choosing one, and the right one at that, is quite a challenging task.

These days, the most frequent question I get asked is " Oh, so what're u doing now? Studying or working?". People get most surprised when I say, "Oh, I'm on a break, just chilling for sometime". I can see the look on their faces, which just drops me from their expectations of someone useful to talk to. It's as if i've broken some un-written law which condemns you if you're just idling away and not constantly running in the rat-race. Taking time off? How dare I do that when there are people slaving like ants to beat the competition. Don't know what I want to do? How can I not, when there are so many options available to me, and in this day and age when opportunities are popping out from every corner. I feel those eyes pierce me with looks which ask how I can even think about wasting a year of my life, when others my age are always on the go, and can't even think about not doing anything.

To all those people who judge me for my choice of taking it easy, I'd like to very politely tell them that I'm tired of running around and stressing. I've had my share of competing, my share of stress (what a big share that was!) and my share of worrying about what to do in life. What's the big hurry anyway? If not this year, next year i'll do something "worthwhile", as people put it. If not next year, then the year after that. I still don't get what the big rush is. I might be coming across as a completely air-headed spoilt brat, but hear me out for a while. What use is that decision which you take just to beat the crowd, just to be doing something that seems respectable to those peeking people? What use is that life chosen in hurry, and then later regretting your decisions? What good is a career or a job in which you're neither happy, nor satisfied, and as a result often, not even successful?

So, I say, just chill yaar, if you take a decision in time, good for you. If you don't, the world is not coming to an end. Instead of being fixated with one thing even if I'm not happy, I'd much rather try out a lot of things and then decide what I want to do. And even if I already know what I want to do, and still want to take things easy, I really don't see the big problem with that.

I have a lifetime to live, what's a year in that? Right?

Bye Bye Beijing

2008-08-24T23:36:00.005+04:00

I watched the Olympics Closing Ceremony today. It was spectacular! The Opening Ceremony had also been out of this world, but never before did I see the closing done at such a grand scale. China proved to the world that it really is a super power and that the resources and the man-power available to them is incontestable at this stage. The sheer organisation and grandeur of the event marks the arrival of a new world leader. The torch was switched off to to show China in an entirely new light to the rest of the world. I bow today, overawed.

Sharing the same stage, was the handover to the London 2012. What a stark contrast. The presentation was shabby, the dancing amateurish, the singing hardly heard, and the guitaring strictly fair. David Beckam appeared, and that was the high-point of the whole deal. A direct comparison is inevitable, to the show that China put up. London has a budget of around half of what China had, and I'm waiting to see how they are able to stand up to this breath-taking event. I'm hoping to not be disappointed by seriously doubt that that can be avoided.

The Great Indian Television

2008-08-20T14:01:00.010+04:00

I get to do some guilt-free TV watching during the summer, when I have practically nothing else to do. Going outside is not an option, because I still have some unscrewed nuts in my otherwise rickety brain, which tell me that I'll get scorched in the Dubai heat if I step outside. So, in the comfort of my air-conditioned house, lying on my soft bed, I soak myself with some Indian television.

Alas, yes people do say "alas" even now, I am restricted to just 2 or 3 watchable channels. I'm bound to watch NDTV ( the one and only decent news channel), Channel V or MTV India ( for some decent music) and maybe Star World. The rest I usually flip through, and cringe as I go along. The movie channels have decent films on weekends, but weekdays are nothing short of doomed. The entertainment channels are a disgrace as well, but they are not even in the running when it comes to the disaster of the zillion or so news channels. So, an overall bleak picture.

Let me begin with the worst..the oh-so-dreaded news channels. I don't get it, do they want to be laughed at or are they really so brain-drained ( I wanted to use a ruder term, but I'm restraining myself, with difficulty) to realise that their so-called "news" is nothing but a cheap mockery of reporting? Here's an appalling example; A few days back Zee News was showing a story of Abhinav Bindra not having a car to go back to the hotel. The news reader actually sounded hurt and insulted that the gold-medalist had to go back in a taxi. GASP! How hurt Abhinav Bindra must be feeling that there was no car for him! How significant it is that there was no government servant to bend over twice before the athlete and serve him like a faithful slave! GASP GASP GASP! How important it is for me as an individual, that Bindra had to stoop down to take a, hold your breath, taxi ( oh no!) to get back to his hotel! Well, I guess Zee News found this important enough to air for 2 hours, and make Everest out of a pimple. Meanwhile, on the same day, at the same time, common people die in Kashmir, but who wants to know about that, right?

Star News is not much better. There's a vein in my head which pops every time I hear the news being told on this channel. Everything is "breaking news" and all news needs at least 2 hours coverage. Everything is sensationalised and the mere tone of the news reader's voice makes me want to climb into my television and slap the living daylights out of him/her! These people need to be taught that high volume and pitch does not make their news more important, talking rapidly does not make us more hooked on to their rubbish reporting, and background hindi film music does certainly not make the story more involving or touching. It makes me want to laugh, it makes me want to scream and it makes me want to throw my remote on the television. If I ever do that, I'm definitely suing these news channels for instigating violence!

Moving on now, to the entertainment channels. I remember 8 years ago, when the first saas-bahu soaps got really popular, I used to walk past all the apartments in my area, and the only music I heard from every house, was the music of those two soaps, Kyunki... and Kahani Ghar Ghar Ki. Even then, it bothered me to see these soaps with the weepy bahu, the overdressed saas, the dutiful devar, the vamp with the atrocious jewellery, the sidey cousins, the righteous son, the duffer husband, the invisible father in law and the gazillions of other useless characters. But it was alright, the ordeal lasted a mere two hours. Now however, things are absolutely and ludicrously out of hand. Any channel I flip through, I see teary-eyed dressed-up doormats, with their georgette saris, and gaudy jewellery. With headache inducing camera angles and loud background music, laughable storylines and sketchy characters, these soaps all look identical, so much so that I can't tell one from the other without reading the title! Don't even get me started on the reality shows, I promise to write a post dedicated only for those!

There was a time when Indian television came out with genuine gems, with daily or weekly family entertainment, that was well made and not mass produced like some toy in a chinese factory. I miss the days of Dekh Bhai Dekh, Mirza Ghalib, Fauji, Circus, Hum Log, Buniyaad, even as recent as the 90s, I miss watching the first season of Hip Hip Hurray and be able to relate to the lovely school kids, miss the excitement of waking up on sunday morning to watch Bournvita Quiz Contest followed by Sunday Ke Sunday, remember the craze around Mahabharata, I remember watching Barkha Dutt interview Capt. Vikram Batra and hearing the words "yeh dil maange more", I even remember watching and loving Antakshari and Saregama, when music was all these shows were about. Currently, there are only two regular shows that are worthy of watching. One is We The People on NDTV, hosted by Barkha Dutt, debating current issues and the other one is Saregamapa which actually has some loyalty left for music.

Today, I'm just left to riminisce those times of good television, while I flip through scores of mind-numbing junk that we're currently, mercilessly, subjected to watch. Indian Television has finally lived up to its name of The Idiot Box!

The Inevitable Independence Day Post...

2008-08-15T20:24:00.009+04:00

...Just a week later!

When you have been bombarded endlessly, a week preceding the day itself, with the national flag, the Independence day celebrations, patriotic movies, slogans and speeches, and lots of promises and hopes for another year of the Indian Independence, it is rather hard to evade the obvious Independence Day post.

The year of India's 61st Independence Day, I think of myself as an average Indian citizen and ponder what a free India means to me. As an Indian, how do I perceive myself, and how do outsiders perceive me? What are my thoughts about the free India and what are my hopes for a modern India?

In human terms, 61 years is a mature, fully developed age, with wisdom, mental strength, achievement, expertise, experience and basic connaissance of how life runs. In terms of a nation, in this case, my nation, it is merely the beginning. We're a young nation in every respect. Our learning and growing has just begun and there's a whole life ahead of us. There is so much to do, so much to learn, to experience, to develop, to embrace. We're a young nation, of a young people. With the average age being from 18-25, I consider ourselves toddlers, taking our first steps into a modern and broadened outlook. India's life-cycle hasn't even reached it's peak, there's a long way to go till we reach that milestone.

And yet, why is it that I hear so many voices of resentment, hopelessness and writing-off our country? I never hear people complain when an infant cannot solve problems of a college student, then why is it that people are so impatient towards their country? India is a child, but it is a bright and vibrant one. We're a young nation, but certainly not a slow one. Recall the last 10 years, and you will see how far we've arrived. Our milestone is still far ahead, but we're catching up, we'll get there.

Having said that, like everything and everyone I adore and hold close to my heart, I desire for my country too to excel. Living outside of India, I hear so much about India soaring, India growing, India this, India that, my eyes gleam with pride. But then, I come back to the country filled with lots of hopes and expectations, only to see the attitude and mentality of the people there, and be disappointed by the pessimism in their demeanor. Corruption, bad infrastructure, poverty, lack of education, overpopulation...all these inter-related endless issues are lined up to bog down the average Indian, as a result, holding back a country which could be soaring by now. I don't want to sit and judge, because I'm in no position to do so, not having contributed to the progress of the country myself.

Yet, it physically hurts me to see children barely clad on the streets of Delhi, it hurts me when I come to know that there is no electricity at least 3-4 hours a day, that there are huge shopping malls, fancy restaurants and general joints at exorbitant prices, and yet, the roads outside these establishments are filled with potholes, and jammed with traffic. And this is the capital of the country, I haven't even been to the other areas. It is disappointing to hear stories of people being paid a bribe to get a simple income tax claim settled. There are 100 new seats for college entrants, but 5,000 more applicants. Its frustrating when I hear my friend, who got 100% in Maths in the 12th boards, not get admitted in any of the mainstream leading universities, and a slightly above-average student with the advantage of an OBC title enter IIT. With globalisation, salaries have increased and people are able to afford a lot more than they could earlier, but everyday they call their wives/husbands and ask "wahaan light aa gayi?"(Is the electricity back?). There's Barista, Starbucks, Pizza Huts on every nook and corner, high-end fashion brands with high-end prices, mobile phones in every hand, young or old, and yet, no matter how poor or how rich, these people all have to deal with the same corrupt policeman who will stop you for a traffic violation, and then be happy with the bribe of 200 rupees. People travel far and wide now, but still, they will stuck in traffic jams for 2 hours while commuting for work. There are swimming pools in houses now, but water in the taps is not potable, and you're lucky if it comes 24/7. Rules are reduced to being guidelines and implementation of laws a laughing matter.

I know I know, you must be wondering where my optimism just went. Nowhere, it's still where it was. Just because I list the problems and things that I personally observe, does certainly not mean that I don't think India's going to overcome all of this and zoom way ahead of the world leaders of today. We can, we have the potential and the brains to do it. This is just the times of transition, soon the positives will overtake the negatives, and then all this won't be relevant anymore. Till that time comes, we have to stay positive and not give-in to the pressures of our everyday struggles. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, and India as a nation has been attacked many a time from all directions, so I am sure we'll emerge as a strong power.

Woh subah kabhi toh aayegi...

Music and Lyrics

2008-08-12T01:14:00.006+04:00

Note: To all those (two) readers of my blog, I apologise for whining about the same thing again and again. I'm cranky and whiny, there, that's something you know about me now (if you didn't already). So, please read at your own risk and don't pelt me with stones if it's about the same stuff all over again.

Sprawled across my double-bed right now, I'm listening to songs by The Beatles. The song I'm listening to right now is called With a little help from my friends, and like any day when I'm feeling vulnerable and weak, I can relate to music more than anything else. The song talks about how this person who's away from his love can "get by" because of his friends. It was true for me too, there was a time when I was away from my family and the only people who kept me going were my bunch of close friends. Like the person in the song, everything becomes tolerable with the company of friends, and that was very true for me. All the troubles become easier, and all the pain bearable, when you have friends close by, and people who you can talk to, who support you through your good times and bad.

Before this song, I was listening to Hey Jude, by The Beatles again, and although the song is entirely unrelated, there are some lines which I can understand really well. Someone said similar things to me once..

And anytime you feel the pain,
Hey Jude refrain,
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.

How simple and how true. When we are down and low, we tend to magnify our problems and make them seem grand, while they can still be solved. We become so engrossed in our suffering that we lose perspective and rationale. In those moments, it is so important for someone to help you regain that lost clarity and remind you that there is nothing in the world that cannot be solved. I was so lucky to have someone remind me of that (again and again).

I don't know if this is something uniquely bizzare with me (though I truly doubt it), but when I'm feeling low, I go and listen to the most depressing songs that I can find (not referring to The Beatles of course, they're lovely). Assuming that I'm not the only one who does that, I wonder what makes us do it. Do we really revel in our doom, so much that we fuel it with music that would induce more pain? Does music really provide that extra push towards the feeling of impending doom?

I think to myself, why do I do it? Why do I go looking for more reasons to feel the way I do. Why do I listen to song that remind me of the times that once were, or remind me of the wishes and dreams that I had so carefully woven, only to be disappointed afterwards? Why do I want to listen to words and sounds that push me deeper into those dreaded feelings?

Alas, I don't have any answers, only a handful of questions. I'll go listen to Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler now, and enjoy the sounds that match my mood...

Still wondering...and now humming..

Fulfilled wish or mistaken desire?

2008-08-11T12:04:00.009+04:00

You know it really amazes me just how ironic and ridiculous life can be. If you really wish for something to happen, it ultimately does come true. Now, the trick is, did you really want what you wished for? When you wish for something, you have no idea what really is in store for you. Your desires are after all untreaded territory, and you have no clue what lies beyond the threshold of your current reality. After wishing and hoping for long time, your desires are fulfilled, and then is the moment of truth when you realise that you did not really want what you wished for. And in that nick of a moment, you realise, what you left behind was actually closer to what you wanted. What do you do then?

Well, nothing. What can you do after all? All you have left now are the memories, and the regret of not having appreciated what you had as much as you should have. You stand at the beginning of another cycle, another phase of your life, where you can't stop looking back and remembering the peaks and the troughs of the previous one, and the familiarity and stability you had established. But the worst part is, who can you even blame now? Isn't this exactly what you wanted? Isn't this what you've been working towards, preparing yourself mentally for? Isn't this what you looked forward to? How can you say now, that it's because of someone else's decision that you are where you are now, when you have yourself been waiting for this moment for a long time? Well, you cannot, this is what you wished for and this is what you have to live with.

So what now? Once you are in this situation, what's the step forward? For one, there's no looking back. You are where you are, and the only way to cope is to chin up and deal with it. If this is something that you wanted so badly, there were probably reasons for it. Finding those reasons is the key now. Remember why, in the first place, had you wanted to be here, and keeping those reasons in mind, move forward and find new reasons. Your life that once was, is not anymore, but there is another one waiting. New experiences, new challenges, new relationships waiting to be formed. How bad can it really be? You've done it before, you can do it again..

Anyway, one thing though, is quite clear. Always be careful of what you wish for, it might actually come true!

These are the days...

2008-08-10T20:48:00.004+04:00

Of leisure and plenty of time,
Of vacant days and barren nights,
Of some music and some books,
Of plenty of new unseen sights,
These are the days...

Of checking for unrecieved calls,
Of empty inboxes and waiting eyes
Of restlessness and disappointment,
Of text messages and no replies,
These are the days...

Of daily bickering and foul mood,
Of aimless wandering for naught,
Of tasks waiting to be touched,
Of motivation still to be saught,
These are the days...

Of memories sparkling bright,
Of reminiscing distant years,
Of remembering the easy laughs,
Of recalling those heartfelt tears,
These are the days...

Of walking new first steps,
Of fearing what the future holds,
Of uncertainty and anxiety,
Of apprehension of what unfolds.
These are the days...

Stages of my anger.

2008-08-10T01:26:00.008+04:00

Note: Had written this at 3 am, but got yelled at by mom for staying up that late, so posting it first thing in the morning. Yes, I'm actually awake at 10.30. The world is cruel.

When the world sleeps, I seem to get energised and motivated for some reason. My brain begins to race, and my heart begins to pump, as ideas come storming into my under-utilised head. While the rest of the day I put my mind to a deep slumber, it's at night when there's silence around, and a nagging guilt of pending sleep, that I get most charged up to write. Regardless of any worthwhile content.

I argued with Mr.A today. Nothing new, we argue all the time, mostly over the most insignificant little issues. It takes a few words from me, and few replies from him, we huff and puff in annoyance, and are laughing again within the next 10 minutes. Admittedly, I have a lot more of such meagre issues than he does, being the complicated wreck that I am. Distance doesn't help either. Most of our biggest arguments have been on the phone, or when we don't talk for long. Misunderstandings and miscommunication tend to be artificially enlarged when the person is not in front of you.

So anyway, it has been around 9 days since I'm away from Italy, and as expected, my frustration of being alone and away gets translated into sentiments of abandonment and I drown myself in self pity. Nobody cares about me. Nobody writes to me. Nobody texts me. Nobody remembers me. Nobody even reads my blog (sob sob). These are just some of the familiar thoughts that encircle my tormented mind. So who do I usually dump these thoughts and feelings on? My dearest friend, Mr.A. When he's with me, most of the times, he just hugs me and tells me to shut up. The hug does the trick, all's well and good. But then, there are those unfortunate times, when he's not there in person. These are the times when I growl like a vicious mongrel, hiss like a troubled cat and bare teeth like a wild chimp. It takes only a tiny trigger to make me take those claws out (talking metaphorically here, for those hiding their faces) and dig them where it hurts. All those pent-up feelings come soaring out in the form of unreasonable anger and I roar like a hungry lion(ness).

Anyway, my usual reaction after the thunderous outburst, is to storm off (usually hang up the phone, or go offline). Then comes the phase when the adrenalin starts to wear off, and anxiety starts to crawl up. Does nobody really care? Does nobody notice that I'm upset and angry? Why isn't anyone bothering to ask me? Why doesn't someone call or message to see if i'm still angry? Why why why? Oh, I was right, nobody really cares after all! I revel in those same feelings of self pity, and often burst into angry tears. Oh, how they flow, effortlessly and endlessly.

Now, Mr.A is one smart cookie. He knows me to my very core, can predict my every move, probably can even tell what fingernail I broke! He knows very well that I'll sulk for sometime, then cool off and call right back, usually to yell some more about not having recieved a consoling phonecall. So he waits. He waits till I cool down, till the anger subsides, till the storm passes, till the breathing resumes its normal pace. He knows I'll call or text or something, so he waits. Predictable that I am (to him, cuz I can't even surprise him anymore), I call, and I yell some more. Those proverbial claws scratch some more, then fold right back. He laughs at my predictability, tells me not to be silly, and that he obviously does care, and I melt. I laugh along, at him, at myself. At the situation in general. Anger gone, frustration gone. The world suddenly becomes a better place, and I suddenly become a happier person.

Today he was a bit more clever though. He left a comment on my blog, in other words, hit the nail on the head. And what did I do? Well, I burst out laughing at just how well someone can read my thoughts.

For now, free of anger...

Disobedient Tears

2008-08-08T00:41:00.001+04:00

Away from a dreaded land,
And yet I yearn to be there,
Have desired to be where I am,
Tell that to my disobedient tear.

When flow once they did,
For the lack of a mother's embrace,
Now they fall free and long,
Missing that comforting friendly face.

An agonising state of mind,
Perpetually homesick, I happen to be,
Constantly taken miles away,
From those who genuinely care for me.

Attempts to stop these wretched tears,
Have failed in the past, miserably so,
When for my mother's gentle caress,
I waited and sobbed some months ago.

Once again, the dams have broken,
the flooding has filled a vacant space,
the abyss created by a major shifting,
leaving behind my favourite place.

Change

2008-08-06T14:38:00.000+04:00

I've often said, and I have truly come to believe that change is the only constant. Try as hard as you might, this is one thing that is inevitable. My life has, once again, gone through some major changes. I've changed countries, occupations, phone numbers, even some perspectives about people. And all this, in a span of 2 weeks. Now that i'm beginning to settle in the routine of life again, I'm keeping in mind that this routine is only transitory and there will be a time when this too will be different.

I just moved from Milan to Dubai. The two places could not be more different from each other. While Milan has the feel of an Italian big city with Fashion treated like a religion, Dubai is a majorly Asian setup with buzzing life and noisy construction everywhere. Milan was relatively easy-going and chilled out, with dinner and happy hours with friends, with a quiet movie here and there, with frequent shopping escursions, with late night drinks and public transport, with the quintessential European living. Dubai however, is a city of fast life and consumerism , with food joints open till 3 am and cars which look like aircrafts on roads, with some new building or road being built at every corner, with South Asians everywhere and Indian food easily available, with the social circle of other Indian families and a rather modest dress code.

I'm adjusting. It'll be a slow process, but I'll manage somehow. I do miss my apartment in Milan. I do miss living alone. I do find it hard to be told what to do again. I miss cooking for my friends. I miss the aperitivi ( typical Milanese concept of drinks and buffet in the evening). I miss hanging out at my friends' houses. I miss going shopping with them. I miss just laughing with them. I miss the rain and standing in my balcony with my friends looking at hailstorms. I miss the company of my friends when we studied till 4 in the morning for some annoyingly difficult subject. I miss the celebratory lunches after the exams, when we all did well. I miss the long walks to get to Duomo. I miss the feeling that all my closest friends are just a phonecall and maximum half an hour by tram away from me. And most of all, I miss my best friend Mr.Adorable, I miss talking to him for hours, I miss watching Sex and the City at night with him, I miss calling him up when I was feeling low, I miss eating at the kitchen table with him on the other side. I miss his affectionate hugs, I miss his heart-warming laugh, I miss his shoulder on which I've broken down many a time.

I'll get used to it, I'm sure I will. I will get used to my life here and slowly all that I miss will fade away. It will stop piercing my heart so sharply. It'll hurt me less. Soon, I know, I'll get myself busy with the routine here. I'll find new things to miss, I'll find new people to be around. What I will not forget are the moments I spent in Milan, the closeness I've felt with my friends there, the precious bond that we share. My life will change, my feelings towards them will probably not. We will probably not talk to each other often, or see each other often, but I will always care for them, I'll always try to keep them a part of my life, and will always hope that I remain a part of theirs. Yes, change is constant, but so are true friendships.

On to another set of challenges now...on to meet new people...on to a new life...

Fear

2008-06-17T03:43:00.000+04:00

My earliest memories of fear are those of a 2 year old me, standing on a beach, on the Southern shores of India, wailing when my parents were entering the water, and watching as huge waves swept into land, where I stood. I vaguely remember the feeling of desperation at the thought of my parents being lost to the engulfing waves. A panic, an enormous sense of peril and a feeling of helplessness at not being able to do anything. I did what any other infant does, bawled my eyes out! I remember crying so much and so loudly, that eventually mom and dad had to get out of the water, and stay away from it!

Nineteen years later, with new fears of my own, the emotion rather intrigues me. As a cynic and an alleged pessimist, I constantly keep an eye out for weaknesses. Whether they are faults in houses, countries, families, friends, colleagues, teachers, or just some random person I meet somewhere, I tend to notice the faults almost subconsciously, and keep them in some corner of my mind. I figure it works sort of like a defense mechanism, that I use to stop myself from being intimidated and overwhelmed by the close-to-perfection around me. Don’t get me wrong, I would never hold these weaknesses against anyone, I would maybe not even think consciously about them, but I know that some corner of my mind gets comfort knowing that this weakness exists, and makes me accept and possibly even love, the people or the places even more. Since I see fear as a weakness, it always interests me knowing what might scare people, what is the one scary thing that scars their seemingly (to me) perfect lives of contentment? So, I ask.

After getting a lot of, “I don’t know”s, and “Oh, I never think about that”s and “Umm, you’re random”s, I finally managed to get a bunch of people to spill out their deepest fears to me. My best friend, Mr. Adorable (a-d-o-RABLE!), aka Mr. A, told me the thing that scares him the most is loneliness. Very similar to my own fear of abandonment, the feeling that the people around you are going to go away (somehow, with some deep dark magic), and you’re going to be left alone, all by yourself. Writing this out is nearly giving me the chills and the expected shiver down my spine, so i’ll swiftly move on.

Another close friend, Goofy, fears fights, huge disagreements and arguments, specially the ones she’s involved directly in. She’s scared of everything from the beginning to the outcome, and it doesn’t surprise me. It take so much effort to lead an uncomplicated life these days, that any glitch is enough to break the facade of perfection. So, it’s understandable that someone would fear these triggers and sparks, and the unpleasantness that comes along, since it puts all the efforts of simplicity in scrutiny and unwanted risk.

Then again, most of us are so scared, that we somehow create a barrier for ourselves to live our lives the way we want. Mr. Self-Assigned Misfit (SAM), told me that the thing he fears the most if putting yourself out, opening up to people, and then not being taken seriously, or worse, rejected for who you are. While I can completely understand his fear, and partly relate to it, I also feel that there’s this tiny bit of risk that people should take, just because without this, fear will be the only ruling factor, leaving less or no room for freedom of just being who you are.

My friend, Ms. Biker, has a very strong fear of failure. She’s excellent at nearly everything she does. She’s ambitious and determined and knows how to get what she wants. I can’t remember the last time that she actually failed at anything, and that this possibly because of this pulsating and beastly animal called fear, which crawls inside her and inhabits the very core of her consciousness.

Over the years, my fear has found new meanings, new targets and an entirely new set of reasons. They have grown into obsessive, almost psychotic, tangibles, which have sadly but surely, become an integral part of my being. My life is engulfed around them, and I spend most of my conscious time trying my very best of evade or avoid facing them. But then come times, when you just cannot ignore the so-called “elephant in the room”. What do I do in those terrifying moments when my fears challenge me to a face-to-face combat? I cower initially, but then regretfully stand up and face them. At that point, it doesn’t matter anymore whether I win or lose. The simple act of standing there, facing the sea of my fear, with its monstrous waves of terror, and physical reactions of trembling, shaking and overall disintegration of any sense of calm, remain the only relevant factors. The result becomes insignificant in that moment, since the process itself drains me from any ambition or goal.

I still see myself, somewhere on a beach, still crying and fearful...the only difference is that I take my fear with me, and enter the water. I’m scared to my very core, but I enter...and hope that someday, this fear will just go away....and i’ll be left to enjoy the softness of the sand and the waves brushing gently on my legs...

Life is an Act

2008-06-10T19:35:00.000+04:00

Disclaimer: I wrote this piece for an acting class of a friend of mine, when she asked me for some last minute help! But I liked what I wrote, so posting it here. Enjoy!

I think it was Shakespeare who said, the whole world is a stage, and we’re all mere actors in the play, directed by some higher power, some force. I’ll take that a bit further and say that not only are we in a play, it almost feels like we’re all puppets in a show, and there’s a hand, of fate I think, which is controlling our strings, making us dance to a tune which we neither understand, nor can clearly hear. We just move, unable to decide what to do, when to do it. All we have to do is to move according to where the strings lead us, and obediently play the roles in our life that have been pre-decided for us.

We all go through our lives playing different roles, and not even realizing that we’re playing different parts. We’re friends, family, guides, supporters, leaders, liars, promoters, believers, lovers, haters, fakers, consolers, workers...and many many more. From morning to evening, I play different parts of the bigger play, and not even realize how inconsequential my movements really are.

I start my day as a liar. Isn’t it lying when I open my eyes and wish that this day will bring something new to my life? Isn’t it superficial to hope for something which I know wouldn’t happen. When the first flicker of hope sparks in my mind, it’s the lie of ignorance which keeps it alight.

The day goes on, the hand up there decides to jiggle a few new moves. Unexpected happenings, new emotions. I’m now a supporter, a consoler, for a friend who has just realized that her ex-boyfriend does not love her anymore, and there is no chance of ever getting back with him. I want to be there for my friend, I want her to feel protected and loved, I want her to know that her life has not finished here, that this is just a phase and the next one will be better. I forget all about my other roles, and in that moment my only reality lies in knowing that I have to be supporting of a friend in need, and am going to be there, no matter what it takes.

Another moment passes, and another unexpected move has been made by that mysteriously mischievous hand. I have done badly in my project, again. Now I change roles instantly, and become the vulnerable victim, looking for consolation and support myself. I am now the seeker, the troubled soul, the target of a minor tragedy. I need someone to tell me that my life does not depend on a grade, and that it does not matter that much.

The real cruelty of that patronizing hand is that, just when you start to get comfortable in a role of life, it squiggles and squirms, and you find yourself in some entirely new situation, in an entirely different costume, in an completely new act. The best you can do is to shed your old costumes and apprehensions, wear the new make up, tie the new strings and dance to a brand new tune. The more you change roles, the more you start to understand the tune that the hand is making you follow, and with time passing and experience you become slightly more accustomed to the sudden movements, and adjust your strings in such a way so they don’t hurt you. And yet, those unexpected surprises evoke strong emotions, and become catalysts for the change of scenery. Such is life, I suppose.

End of Act 1.

Act 2....still not sure about!

The End of an Era

2008-05-29T16:46:00.000+04:00

Today was the last lecture of my undergrad university life, and I don't feel anything at all. I have no remorse, or joy. I have no memories flashing by, and no regrets to look back upon. It doesn't feel like a day that I'm going to remember, it has no meaning in my life. Somewhere, there's a voice in my head saying, "this is the end of an important phase of your life", but these thoughts do not get translated into any feelings or sentiments. They float around my mind, but do not find any solid ground. I feel detached and unable to feel any emotion towards this conclusion of a time, an end to the last three years of my life...

I wonder if i'm just in denial of an upcoming change, or that the difference would not change the fundamental features in my life. Soon, i'll be changing houses, moving countries, and geographically relocating away from people who have been around me 24/7 since the last 2-3 years, but when I look at all this in perspective, it all seems rather miniscule. It doesn't really change anything that matters to me. I won't change, what I feel for these people will definitely not change, and ultimately, this movement is inevitable and comes not as a hindrace, but a rite of passage. Sure, i'll be leaving a country and a lifestyle which i've been accustomed to for the last 8 years, but i've come to terms with that fact that change is the only constant in my life, and if I accept it for what it is, it will just make itself easier for me. Apphrehension still hovers around, but i'm slowly learning to vanquish the inexhausting thirst for certainty, and mentally preparing myself to embrace the unpredictabilty of life.

Stability is something that gives me immense comfort, but i've also seen the flip-side of it. I've also suffered from this stablity turning into monotony and rigidity. I know what it feels like to have everything chalked out, striving for a stable future, and then one blow bringing down this cemented falsity of a concept. The impression of control is the most harmful phenomenon, as when you face the raw facts, the cloudy pleasantary of pretentious control vanishes, leaving behind a hollow emptiness, creating an enormous void of bitterness in life. That said, i'd still welcome the idea of having a stable future, a fairly determined path, and the least amount of change needed. I dream of making a life for myself where I would be able to control at least some aspects of the direction it takes, with just enough amounts of unpredictabilty, which would ensure that my stabilty does not become monotony.

After saying all this, a quote by C.S.Lewis is dwindling it's way into my memory... “The great thing is, if one can, to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions in one's "own" or "real" life. The truth is, of course, that what one regards as interruptions are precisely one's life.”

Till next time...Happy Changing!

Mind of a Business Major

2008-04-16T18:01:00.000+04:00

I had not quite realised the extent to which studying business administration tweaks your brain, till I asked my best friend what was the first word that came to his mind, and he replied..."strategic control". Words which had made absolutely no sense earlier, have become a part of my everyday vocabulary, even though they still make as much sense as they did 3 years back. This fluff of lexicon sounds bright and businessy, giving the impression of intellectual connaissance, and to the benefit of many, also acts as a disguise to hide the lack of any tangible expertise.

On the brink of exiting the undergrad level of jargon, I often tend to question myself on my knowledge, since it sure feels like I haven't learnt much apart from some colorful words, which make me sound smarter. Sure, in more quantitative subjects like Mathematics (ugh), Economics (puke), Accounting (eww), you get more direct answers of what you know and what you don't. But what about all those management and business classes? Apart from being fun to talk about, and analysing case studies, I really don't know what I have gained from them. I do believe that I learn a lot from those case studies, and it stimulates my brain talking about real practical issues that firms have had to deal with. I learn a lot from that. But what about all that theoretical mush? The basic thing that i've learnt from all of them is, keep your eyes out for uncertainties, watch your competitors, and treat your employees well. And to that I say...Well, DUH! As if I didn't know that before enduring 3 years of business junk!

A flickering memory

2008-03-23T21:32:00.000+04:00

Light and sound of a familiar kind,
drown me in their delicious warmth,
I float in the ocean of silent noise,
and hum the tune of lonesome joys.

A sound sparks a distant memory,
a time so far, it's barely there,
flickering lights of colorful pleasure,
buried behind my precious treasure.

Strangely though, follows through,
closely behind the euphoric elation,
prickling jab of distant laughter,
which turned to tears shortly after.

A hesistant smile escapes my lips,
and forcefully shrugs those images away,
that time has left, bygone are the days,
only morbid eyes and a weeping heart stays.

Moments Before (Fiction)

2008-03-08T01:48:00.000+04:00

She slowly and gently passed her index finger along the sharp end of the knife. It was rigged and left a slight scratch on the finger. Hardly noticible, hardly there. The kitchen floor was cold and her hands shook. As Naina turned the knife in her hand, the metal reflected her eyes, and the tears in her eyes reflected the shining knife. Holding the knife flat in her hand, she was intrigued by the smoothness of its finish, and the firmness of the wood. Her mind seemed to have shut out any other thoughts, apart from those of the weapon in her hand.

A bell tolled at a distance. It was a strange sound to hear, considering she lived in the middle of a crowded buzzing city. The zooming cars, the ambulance sirens, the loud motorbike engines, the barking of dogs and men, were the usual sounds to be heard. In the midst of all that, church bells were a welcome change. The bells rang, and the sound carried an unusual tranquillity with it. Naina sat still and listened, searching for the meaning of the rhythm in which the bells rang. The tone was demure and the tempo slow. "Probably a funeral," Naina thought.

The bells stopped, and Naina's mind drifted back to the knife she was holding. It was wet now. Strange. "Oh right, probably my tears fell," she reasoned logically. The cold floor pierced into her skin like thorns. Her legs were almost numb, except for the pinpricks she felt now and then. She made an effort, and rose carefully, clutching on to the knife with loving care.

"Moonriver...wider than a mile...I'm crossing you in style...someday...." she hummed softly, letting her voice carry her to the next room. She drifted across the room and eased herself on the floor in the center. She fingered the knife again, and immersed herself into the titillating shades of metal. The feel of the cold knife against her skin felt welcoming, and even the sharp end touched her with flowery gentleness. She pressed her finger hard on the tip, and a trickle of blood oozed out. It reminded her of the redness of paint, which she'd used to create dozens of her artworks. It was inviting. It was addictive. It was a drug, which she wanted out of her body instead of inside it, to feel the serenity she so desired.

TRING TRING!

The sound of her phone ringing shook her out of the daze. She looked around and saw her phone lying close by. She saw the lights, she heard the sound, she could even read the name of the caller, but she didn't move. She just stared. She had to. Her mind had imprisoned the rest of her body, and it did not want to give the command to move. The phone kept ringing, the sound became monotonous. The name blinked, screaming for response, but Naina did not reach out to answer. It was too late now.

After 4 calls, the phone relapsed back into its dark silence. It sat still. Naina slowly got up, and walked to her desk. She took a notebook, and wrote. She felt the need to. She knew what she was about to do required an explanation, and she owed it to people. She wrote without emotion or tears. She wrote, addressing no one, naming no one in particular. The feelings had left her, the writing was mechanical, and the pain had gone.

She finished the letter, ripped the paper out of her notebook, and returned to her spot on the floor. Then she blissfully held up her wrist, and with one quick motion, slit it with the knife. The blood spilled out. Naina watched it, feeling nothing. The drug worked, the numbness increased and the mind swam into a cloud of peacefulness...whiteness...purity....bliss....

...end.

Moments after Death (fiction)

2008-02-29T04:04:00.000+04:00

I still remember the sight when I first entered her room. The redness of her blood impregnated everything and it all radiated in a crimson shade of light. She lay there, on the floor, her body face down, arm stretched out and wrist slit. The moment halted, and time came to a surprising stand-still, as I absorbed the image in my mind. The stillness of her body, the river of blood, the peace on her face, the blood-bathed sheet of paper lying next to her and the knife...the culprit. In that moment, I already knew that I'd lost my best friend forever.

What happened next is still hazy. I can recall snapping out of my daze, and rushing forward. I could not feel the grief then, it was just hysteria. I turned her, I shook her, I took her blood-soaked arm and tried to find a pulse. I couldn't. Her eyes remained shut. She did not breathe. It was over.

It felt like a huge arm had clamped around my throat, and it was suffocating me. I fell back and sat still. Slowly, I reached out and dialled the number of the ambulance from my cellphone. How I remembered the number in that moment, I don't know. How I could make my fingers move, I cannot imagine. What I said on the phone, I cannot remember. The call ended, and I just sat there, unaware of anything. The imaginary arm relaxed, enough to let me breathe.

The sight before my eyes did not change, even the blood seemed to have frozen. I noticed that she had been wearing her favourite pink pyjamas. They were stained now. I observed that her hair was unruly, as if it hadn't been brushed for a few days. She'd probably just ruffled it, like she did when she cried. I saw the bracelet on her un-cut wrist, which had her initials NM strung together on a black thread. It was made of beads, five different colours. I cannot remember the colours now, but I remember they were very bright. She used to call it the Rainbow bracelet and she said she wore it because looking at the brightness gave her a reason to be cheerful. I looked around her, and saw the drenched piece of paper. I reached out and picked it up, and let the blood drip off. Then I read it.

It said...
I don't know who will see this letter first, so I don't know who to address it to. Whoever it is, I'm sorry you have to see me like this. I genuinely regret for anyone to see such a sight. You will not be able to forget this for maybe the rest of your life, but then, maybe that is what I want. I know that if you are the first one to see this, you probably know me, and all my life i've always wished to be in someone's thoughts forever. So, along with the apologies, I also thanking you, for fulfilling this desire of mine. Just to make things clear, this actually is a suicide. I will not rant about how sad I was or what a bitch life has been. I think this scene itself proves that, I don't need to put it in words. However, I want to say that I really did try. Don't judge me, and don't hate me.

If there is anything life has taught me, it is to keep trying till you die. I kept trying, but I'm choosing to die now. There comes a point in everyone's life when you seek eternal peace. I'm going in search of that peace, which no matter how hard I try, life will never be able to give me. I saw this knife today, and it screamed of peace, and the sound was so loud, I just could not ignore it. I decided to take this step because the silence offered by that noise was really irrisistible. The knife's shine is calling me, hollering for me to experience that end. It is magnetic and I cannot resist the pull much longer. I'm going to let it win, because I'm greedy for the reward. I beg you, don't judge me, please don't judge me.

I'm leaving behind a lot. There are people who love me, and will be destroyed by what i've done. But i've gone my whole life choosing my actions according to what others want from me, and now I just want to do what I want to do. I have put the most important people in my life as a priority, even before my own needs, and I don't regret that at all. I just want to put myself first now. It is selfish, but I have to do it. Maybe now, I will be a priority too. I lived like an option my whole life, it's time for a change now. There is only one person who has the slightest hint of this. I know he will try to stop this. I just want to explain to him, that there is nothing he could have done. I know he will miss me, and my heart weeps at the idea of what i'm doing to him. I'm sorry, but I cannot anymore. It's too hard. Just too hard. And now, the knife awaits me, it is asking me to succumb, and i'm going to give in. Please don't hate me... Naina

I don't know what I could have done and what I couldn't have. Now it did not matter. She'd ask me to not hate her, so I won't. Maybe this is the only thing I can do now.

The next few hours zoomed by. Paramedics came and took her away. It was over.

The redness blackened,
the light darkened,
the room emptied, a life just ended,
and with it, a part of my soul disappeared forever.

Can't Explain...

2008-02-24T03:07:00.000+04:00

A simple home-cooked meal,
a decadent piece of chocolate cake,
a sip of piping tea,
the feeling, I can't explain.

The scent of my mother's hands,
a joke shared with dad,
a cosy meal at the table,
the feeling, I can't explain.

A desire finally fulfilled,
a challenging task overcome,
a phase of life changed,
the feeling, I can't explain.

An unexplained tear,
an urge to break-down,
the absolute pits,
the feeling, i just can't explain.

Milano: The Milanese (Part IV)

2008-02-13T22:36:00.000+04:00

A city without its people is like a ravioli without the filling, like a pizza without topping, like a girl without pretty shoes! Milan, like any other metropolitan city has a mix of different kinds of people and cultures, but unlike other metropolitan city, there's a strange sort of homogeneity which is rather prevalant. Milan is probably the most international city in Italy, yet its foundation remains stubbornly Italian. If the cobbled streets don't remind you of where you are, the immaculately dressed, high-heeled, slim-waisted, stunner of a waitress definitely will!

People's Style

As I walk out of the metro at Piazza Duomo every day, my eyes dance around, prancing off and observing all those people who walk around me. Once overcome the grandness of the place, I steal a moment or two to notice those in my vicinity. Whether its the businessman in the chic Armani suit, or the little kid holding a big read baloon, whether its the skin-tight jeans wearing teenager, or the moderately dressed middle-aged woman carrying a Fendi bag...they all exude an obvious fashion sense, which i've never witness in any other city in the world! According to some statistics, (let's not be picky, I have NO idea where these stats come from!) an average earning Italian spends 40-45% of his/her income on clothes. I'd doubt this statistic anywhere else, but in Milan, this percentage seems to be just right!

I've learnt a lot about people's fashion on my gazillions of shopping trips with friends. Specially during the blessed sale times. As crazy as it might seem to me, spending 300 euros for Prada shoes seems to be quite acceptable here. I've gone roaming around Via Montenapoleone, the fashion Mecca, and have been absolutely dazzled by the displays, and the prices that accompany them. But to a Milanese, the 50% off tag is enough to go and purchase the most excuisite fashion accessories and garments. Oh, but don't be mistaken. The people I usually go shopping with are "poor" students, who thrive during sales. These branded fashion stores sell all year round, to the fashion-worshiping Milanese. Its us "poor" students who go buy 600 euro shoes at half price ( tsk tsk) or D&G jeans for 75% off ( sigh...).

Milan is home to some of the biggest fashion labels across the world. Names like Giorgio Armani, Benetton, Cavalli, Etro, Fendi, Salvatore Ferragamo, Gucci, Max Mara, Trussardi, Prada, and many more, are based here. I guess it's no wonder then, to see Fashion penetrating right down to the day-to-day wear of the Milanese. Walk into a Bocconi University classroom and this theory is instantaneously proven. From sunglasses to bags, from shoes to caps, from fur coats to low-cut jeans, everything is labelled! And these people would not have it any other way! Imagine my plight on the first day, when the girl sitting next to me was holding a Louis Vuitton bag, while I vehemently tried to hide my modest little jhola-bag bought from some godforsaken run-down shop on the streets of Delhi!

The Milanese Attitude

Eloquence seems to run in the air in this city, and the Milanese wear it with pride. Although accompanied by a genetic humility, they also hold a very obvious vanity in their demeanour. Two and a half years in the city has made me learn a considerable lot about the people, and their attitude sticks out like a shining sword.

Walking into a Bocconi classroom, again, once over the initial shock of the glaring brands, you tend to notice the behaviour of the people. There is a certain poise in the manner of speaking, it has a refined sound to it. Students being students, there is of course the general mocking and joking around, but still, somehow they even manage to be hooligans with some amount of style! I guess the Armani jeans and the Gucci shoes contribute to that....

Often known for their flamoyance and uhm, snobbery, the Milanese, like Italians from any other part of the country, are proud people and love to be what they are. They loudly criticize, happily drink and lovingly banter till they can scrape up energy. I feel, compared to other places in the country, the Milanese are a lot more open and accepting and willing to go international and let outsiders integrae with them. I admire them for their flexibility and the eagerness with which they want to expand out of their horizons.

The Milenese attitude is as infectious as the fashion sense, but heck, what do I have to fear? Can't hurt to be stylish, can it?

That's all for now....will come back with more snippets soon!

Milano: Italians and their Coffee (Part III)

2008-02-07T16:43:00.000+04:00

No matter how long you stay in a place, there will always be some things that will perpetually amuse you about the locals. In India, the gossiping "aunty-jis" have been quite a spectacle to me. In Bahrain, the horn-honking rich Arab brats, who drove around the main street on Saturday night, made me smirk. Then, I came to Italy...and Italians just take the cake when it comes to amusing! As a people, they're passionate and gregarious by nature, and their enthusiasm no less of being contagious. Having been bitten by most of their favourite bugs, i.e. fashion, food and fun, one still remains a leering enigma...their passion for good coffee!

Myself being loyal to my Indian tea, or Chai as it's called, it took me quite some time to appreciate Italian coffee. A typical Espresso is a shot of deep brown coffee served in a little cup, and usually drunk on the counter of any remotely italian looking bar. One word: Strong! This is the purest form of Italian coffee, any slight variation, and there's another name for it! There's the Caffé Macchiato ( expresso "stained" with a bit of milk), Cappucino (steamed milk with expresso), Latte Macchiato ( Milk "stained" with expresso), Caffé Corretto ( coffee "corrected" with alcohol, usually Grappa), Caffé Americano (tall glass of expresso), Caffé Hag ( Decaf), Caffé Marocchino ( with some milk and cocoa powder)...and many, trust me, MANY more kinds...

To an ignorant outsider, like me, this special treatment given to a drink is nothing short of alluring. Watching Italians drink their espresso on the counter, any untrained eye would see it as a 3 second action, which doesn't require much thought or time to enjoy the drink. Eight years of experience however, opens your eyes to a lot more. It's not just an activity, its a ritual. Its an integral part of life. It's almost as religious as prayer. It's a lifeline! Try to take an italian of their coffee for a day, and there, you've unleashed a monster! It's this tiny little drink that keeps them so joyful and amiable. Miss a day of coffee, and all the grumpiness comes gushing out. Take my word for it, i've tried...it was NOT pleasant!

In Milan, like any other city, town, village, locale, etc, in this country, every corner has a bar or coffee shop or restaurant which serves italians their beloved drink. I've even written about one such place before, Lino's Coffee. But it is an entirely different experience making this coffee at home. Having recently moved into a typical century old italian house, I found several "macchine del caffé", i.e. coffee machines stacked up in the kitchen. There are 5 of them, all different sizes, depending on how many cups of coffee is needed to be made. Now, this Moka is a very special kind of coffee maker. I shamefacedly asked a friend to teach me, and he very professionally and proudly did. There are three "compartments" in this utensil. The bottom one is where you fill the water, the middle is a little containd, with filtering holes, where you fill the coffee, and then there's the top part, where you, well, dont put anything. The water boils in the lower container, and goes through, and then, with the coffee streams into the top compartment, from where you can pour the coffee out. Whoever thought of this thing must have been a downright genius, since making a coffee has never been simpler than this!

My belief about the love italians have for their coffee was reinforced when recently a friend, who's currently in America for an exchange program told me about her little exchange of words at the university caffeteria. It went something like this:
Friend: Hello, One espresso please.
Poor coffee girl: Ok, what size?
Friend: Umm, Bye.
Then she left.

So, if there's one (more) thing that you should never dream of messing up when around Italians, its their caffé!

That's all for now...there's a lot more where this came from.
Till next time...ciao!

Story of a Cake

2008-02-06T01:38:00.000+04:00

In a bowl of anticipation,
an eager mix of glee and glow,
a spoonful of excitement,
and dash of sweet and low,
a beater waiting lovingly by,
a pinch of fear sprinkled on,
the powdered bits of gusto,
mixing till the butter's gone.

Meticulously, stirred and beat,
the wonderful color of affection,
the chocolatey softy creamy brown,
all put together until perfection.

Poured into a dish of joy,
flowing fluidity the batter bore,
the tenderness of hopeful care,
the gentle warmth of the oven door.

In sometime, with shining eyes,
the pick is recovered clean,
the plateful of love is ready,
radiating a delightful gleam.

Once out, it sits exposed,
the eyes dart expectantly around,
they sadly meet an emptiness so vast,
the heart breaks with a cackling sound.

Untouched, it lies in dismal waiting,
for a desireful mouth-watering heir ,
unfortunately denied of its one wish,
there isn't one with whom to share...

Milano: At the supermarket (Part II)

2008-01-31T18:44:00.000+04:00

After unloading my thoughts about Milan yesterday, I feel like I just have to come back and write more. There's just too much to say. I can almost touch the feeling of emerging into the city life and it is becoming more solid by the day. My new apartment, my new neighbourhood and my new independence have allowed me to explore aspects of the city which I'd never had a chance to explore before. It feels like i'm in an entirely new place.

Living alone teaches you a few things. Grocery shopping, for example. For someone who ran from a supermarket like a dog would run from a bath, the scavenge for food is quite a learning experience. Where I live, there's only one decently close supermarket at walking distance. The others are there too, but i'd rather not lug back bags full of groceries for half an hour. Anyhow, this mini supermarket is enough for all I need to get. I go, I shop, I pay...and then I freak when I see the bills i've accumulated. When my parents told me Milan was expensive, I didnt quite wholly believe them. I do now. As fun as it might be to stock up on all the pastas, tortas, and carne ( meat), I've finally realised what my parents meant when they said life in Milan is expensive. I'm not even thinking of the utility bills yet...

Apart from the cost, the whole experience of grocery shopping now feels like an adventure. I'd never before brought fresh affetato ( fresh sliced meat...like ham and stuff), so the first time I go, I'm dazzled by the choice I have. Prosciutto, coppa, salame, pancetta...these are just names of some. And even within these, there are choices among the variety and prepartion.

When I finally drag myself out of there, I stumble into the cheese section. I dont even know the names of half of them, much less the difference between each one! Gorgonzola, parmiggiano, brasaola, taleggio, mozzarella, pecorino, ricotta, mascarpone...phew! These are just the ones i've tried, there are about a plathora of other kinds which I don't even know about! Each kind of cheese has a character of its own, almost an identity. You identify it, and use it accordingly. It's really fun to see cute little old ladies pick out cheeses, each for different use, picked out precisely for their purpose. Not that Italians don't like to experiment, but still, there's a certain amount of conservatism when it comes to their cheeses and wines. They have to be just right. Give Italians Japanese food, and they'll lap it up with pleasure, but don't mess with their own cuisine. No complains there, why tamper with perfection?

Moving into the wine section now. My knowledge here is a little scarce. Actually, not a litte...I have no clue how to select wines. I went wine shopping with my friend recently, Italian of course, and realised that it's almost sacred territory, to be handled with much care. He meticulously scanned through the entire section ( time no bar, patience no bar...for HIM...I was on the verge of tying him to the shopping cart and dragging him off!), and picked out the wine which he thought would go with the food. The food, happened to be Indian chicken curry...so all the spices drown out any effect that the wine could have. Still, never argue with an Italian when it comes to wine, even the least interested will know more than you. I can bet on that. While I stood apart and let my friend go about his business inspecting wines, I just read the names i'd heard often enough and never really paid attention to. Bonarda, Chianti, Asti, Spumante, Barolo, Gavi..these are just naming a drop in the ocean. Red wines, are more commonly used, though the whites are pretty diffused too. My knowledge of wines ends here, there's a world to be explored though...

Italians are traditionalists. Even in modern city settings, i.e Milan, they refuse to give up their traditional tastes and dishes. Microwavable dinners are a strict no-no, and ready-to-eat stuff is still looked at with...well, disgust. I don't blame them, when your tastes buds have been so used to the freshness and the richness of good food, anything less is not easy to adjust to. And why should u? When you have the best available right in front of you, why would u want anything less? I repeat, time is really not a priority when it comes to good food! For example, I would never think to go an extra 100 metres to buy bread. I'd just pick one off the supermarket. My italians friends don't approve. I go shopping with them, and they do visit the bread shop to buy the fresh bread, about which I wouldn't think twice about. Oh well, I still got a lot to learn I guess...

The rest of the supermarket is more or less the same as any other place I guess. What surprises me though, is that even a universal and equable concept like supermarkets, has been so wonderfully italianised here!

Next stop...well, i dont know yet. You'd have to read to find out.
Ciao ciao for now!

Milano: my love-hate relationship (Part I)

2008-01-31T05:27:00.000+04:00

Fashion. Food. Fun. Friction. Fiction. Yes, all these words are bound to come up when one thinks about the city I currently reside in...Milano. The name itself starts a film reel in the head, with frames of world class fashion shows, outdoor cafés with pretty red and white table cloths, cobbled streets with rickety trams, overwhelmingly grand architecture, young people frolicking along in their fashionable clothes and businessmen in their designer suits and busy schedules just scurrying along.

Then the film reel stops.

A slowly forming realistic painting creates itself on a white canvas. The palette has all kinds of colours. Along with the pastels and the brights, there are also lots of greyscale shades and dark tones. The artist, me in this case, draws from a fragmented set of observations which don't quite fit well together, but still proceed to form a picture... a juxtaposition of stereotypes and the unexpected. The picture completes, and forms an idea...and idea of a city, which people know by the name of Milan.

In true form, this city is full of contradictions. You expect an Italian city to have the typical italian features of a laidback life and a noisy neighbour, but Milan stands out like a sour thumb in the otherwise homogeneity of the rest of Italy. In a country where food, wine and art are close to worshipped, the Milanese hardly find time for decent meals..let alone appreciate art. Yet, you give time to a typical habitant of this city, and they'll definitely give in to their italian gene and settle down for a long meal. The legendary nosy neighbour doesnt exist at all, in fact, you hardly get to see who lives in you appartment building, except the times you see a random lady drying out laundry ten odd times a day! Unlike other cities in the country, you're more likely to come across bars, shops, banks and office buildings than outdoor cafés and black clothed ( with headscarf) nonnas ( grandmothers) .

Did I just mention shops? Let me apologise for just brushing past that so casually. If there's any religion Milano follows, it's shopping! I happen to be extremely pious in this sense, may god bless the fashion houses! I solemnly confess to be have fallen into the fashion frenzied hysteria that engulfs the city. Its there and you just can't avoid it. Try as you might, but the fashion just seeps into your daily life. Suddenly one day you realise, that you've actually started caring about what colour shoes would match the outfit you have to wear to your grandmother's. Yes, scary thought, but what can you do? Pretty may be an enormous understatement when you see the kind of clothes and shoes displayed on the shop windows. As many of my friends have admitted to, the sight of some of the shoes have nearly driven them to orgasmic pleasures. I can't explain it, you have to see it to believe it. And if you don't believe it, then Milan has LOT to teach you! As I said, its better to cave in early, cuz as the saying goes, if you can't beat them...

My life here just got interesting about a month back when I moved into my new apartment in the center of town. Having lived in suburbia for 2 years too long, i'd forgotten why people complain about traffic in the city. Try sleeping in the center, and you'd be reminded of it in a noisy fashion. Motorbikes are noisy. Honks are noisier. Both together...Italian traffic! Apart from that, I realised how many people just stay out till late at restaurants and bars, talking about pleasantly superficial day-to-day happenings and enjoying a few drinks with friends. Drinking is a time for socialising and I really admire the casualty involved with it. There's the typical italian affinity to a casual drink with friends, its like reliving a Leopardi poem.

There's a lot more to say...a lot more to recount and as usual, no time. So the rest will just have to wait, till I gather more meat for more Milan-disecting sessions.

The journey has just begun...

Yet another beginning

2008-01-03T18:47:00.000+04:00

New year, new home,
new beginning, new end,
an era's seen its last,
and another has begun.

The dream now breathes,
it lives its own present,
the future merged somehow
with the moment today.

The snow has returned,
whiteness prevails again,
the grey shades of winter,
have brightened once again.

The house is now a home,
a space I call my own,
the bird has finally risen,
and flown out of the nest.

Yet the trickles of fear,
stain the returned smile,
a tear somewhere stings,
and with it a heartache brings.

Learning from Self

2007-11-25T03:08:00.000+04:00

Once again, I trail back here,
instinctively I return,
after traveling through time,
from myself, I come to learn.

The flowers of my thoughts,
my mind's fallen fruits,
lie here for all to devour,
yet closely attach to their roots.

A palette of colours I besot,
from blood to white to blue,
some grey and black and pink,
all shades of me gifted to you.

Once delivered, the child leaves,
my writing belongs to me no more,
yet I'm drawn here once again,
to nurture a thought that I once bore.

Words written, old memories,
new meaning they have found,
my own thoughts have taught me,
my own self, has turned around.

Top Ten "To-Do" Things

2007-08-26T15:51:00.000+04:00

As i'm very often reminded, I have a lot to do in life. A lot to accomplish, a lot to achieve and a hell of a lot to sort out. Everyday, when people tell me about the "things I have to do", somewhere at the back of my mind I pamper a thought...what is it that I want to do?

Finally, after years and months of rendering this thought, I thought I should actually visualise a list of the top things, in life, that I want to do.

Disclaimer: Some of this might seem lame, you can laugh, but then I'll have to kill you.

Anyway...here goes...

10. Go for a holiday on a quiet island, with lots of palm trees and little cottages. With helpful natives and no telephone network! Spend a summer there, not doing anything. Well...not doing anything useful, lets say.

9. Be able to round up enough courage to be able to sing in front of a crowd of people. Also, it would be nice to magically disappear after that, escaping the rotten eggs coming my way....

8. Have a proper conversation, maybe even spend a day, with someone famous, preferably someone in Media, and really get to know the secret to their success.

7. After 10 years of going different ways, be able to round up all my friends in one place and have a reunion. Perhaps even spend a weekend together holidaying in some resort, and reliving old times, while building new fond moments that will need to be remembered at the next reuinion!

6. Go on a back-packing trip across India with my cousin, and visit all those places i've always wanted to see. Of course, the funds, safety and hygenic conditions would just conviently appear...

5. Write a book...more importantly find at least 10 people who will want to read my book. Once they read it, I promise, i'll take the gun off their heads.

4. Stay in touch with my best friends forever...and ever and EVER.

3. Have a family of my own. Build a life with someone with whom I can talk to about anything, everytime, all the time! Someone who'll make me laugh, someone whose absense will make me want to cry, someone who will understand my neuroticism, and tolerate my insanity. Someone who'll let me weep on his shoulder for as long as I want, and someone who will love me for who I am. Ok, waking up now...moving on...

2. Be respected, if not that successful, in any career that I choose, and be satisfied with the profession I go into.

1. Build a house, and a home, in a good part of town...and build a life towards a "happily ever after".

I think now would be a good time to quote....

"Dream lofty dreams, and as you dream, so you shall become. Your vision is the promise of what you shall one day be; your ideal is the prophecy of what you shall at last unveil. "
By James Allen

A crashed white wall

2007-08-26T03:38:00.000+04:00

It is so often that I find myself in the same situation...well past midnight, sleep remains a distant thought and the night seems like an abyss of sheer emptiness. Somewhere, there's a lull...something lacks, but I can't pin-point what it is. Something remains missing, but I dont understand what it can be. The night carries on, hours, minutes and seconds pass..and yet, time has stopped and dropped into a vaccuum. There is nothing to hold on to, there's nothing to shove, there's nothing to trigger movement or change. Life, in this dismally late hour of the night, is playing hide and seek, but I don't know where to look, or what to seek...

As a dreamy eyed youngster, a foggy "future" was always being formed in my head. Even if it was the next moment, the next month, a fast-forward film always ran through the frame of my developing mind. As time passed, the fog grew thicker and thicker, till one day I realised, that it no longer remained a fog, but had transformed into a blank white wall...it was solid and tangible...yet when I put myself out to feel it, the touch went through nothingness... Still, a raging young mind is unstoppable and unleashed. The wall of future-planning kept growing taller and taller...brick-like thoughts were cemented on with gullible determination, plastered together with amibtious clay. The whiteness remained, the thickness increased....

....till one day...with a hammer taller than any wall, stronger than any cement and more solid than any brick, a blow on that white wall, that had seemed so untagible at my touch, and quicker than a pack of cards, the fog that had transformed into a wall, came crashing down. What had taken months and years of mental meticulous labour, rumbled down, each brick of whiteness crumbling into myriads of broken shards...and the whiteness, well as the wall came down, a new fog was formed around the rubble...a grey mist of floating darkness....and the white was stained forever...

I still reach out sometimes, hoping for that intangible, and now shattered, wall to magically appear and solidify in front my mind's eye again. But its gone. All i see now is grey emptiness, which by every night passing, add the blackness and vastness of the sky to the grey mist. It will never be thick again, because bricks do not form anymore. It will never be tall again, because it can't bear the weight of its own past, and is too fragile for its present. The future, remains somewhere in the darkness...

Loner or Private?

2007-08-16T00:24:00.000+04:00

I stayed home alone today, much to my desire, to cherish that "me-time" that I so rarely get these days. I absolutely love my extended family and love sitting around them with hours of chat sessions, but then, I also value my space and the time I spent alone...even if that time is wondering where in the blue-blazers the rest of the people are and why am I not being called to attend some college party!!

Anyway, after a month or so of living in a full house with family, 24/7 might I add, the only time alone that one gets is when you convince the rest of them that your staying home alone is as essential as food at a party! My saving factor is the fact that I have exams coming up again in about a month, and technically i'm supposed to be studying! Ok, being less harsh on myself, I really am studying...but heck, a girl needs a break! Thing is, even if i'm home alone getting bored and studying, I'd much rather choose this to being around people and socialising. This queer choice that I happen to be making really makes me think...are we starting to enjoy our space and solidarity so much that we're ready to give up on company as a trade-off? Are we turning into regular loners?

It is an undeniable fact that life has become rather busy and challenging, and socialising is expected out of a regular young person. It's something taken for granted...you're just expected to be around people..family, relatives, friends, collegues. Sometimes, there are times when too many people around for too much time starts to get rather overwhelming, if not suffocating...and the simple remedy of having some alone-time is often not a luxury people can choose or afford. But is it so wrong when someone does?

When did u last hear a person say "leave me alone" and people have done just that without either being too concerned or too offended? It has come to the point where being alone has become a treat, like a creamy chocolate cake, asking for it makes you feel guilty and not having it makes u crave for it! In such instances, the only solution that I have been able to figure out is to sugar-coat ( yes..i happen to like sweetness...) the requests for privacy and choose ur words right! Do u think if i'd told my parents that I want to stay home because I need some time to myself away from them, that they'd actually let me stay? Of course not! Even if they would let me stay, i'd have to hear an earful...for eternity!! So I chose the more logical option, studying! This way, I'd feed my ever-so-hungry conscience and get some work done, and also get to stay home alone! Victory was knocking on my privacy-deprived doorstep right when I laid eyes on that Maths book! Of course, right behind that victory, I also felt a gagging sensation at the very sight of intergration, but that's another story...

Then again, what is the line between wanting to stay alone at times and turning into a loner? Recalling another time, I was asked to go to party with a few friends, and I kid you not, I didnt want to go cuz that would involve actually meeting people and socialising! Maybe its just me who's the neurotic case, but how do I explain the difference between me and someone who doesnt want people because he just enjoys his own company? When is it that we cross the line from wanting privacy to only having privacy?

As I've come to realise, socialising isnt that bad, and its not really an obligation or expectation, its society's way of protecting you really. Its the protection that tries to shield people from loneliness and every-man-for-himself behaviour. Its life's way of telling you to just go out and there and let yourself be, and people will absorb you into their lives. Loners may pride their freedom, independence and privacy but they also lack the choice of being otherwise when wanted. The line between wanting me-time and loner is thin yet, its not a frontier, and people are always welcome on either sides. Catch is, there is no-one to recieve you on the latter side!

All said...i'm going back to enjoying my peaceful home...and waiting for people to come back, so I can be around them again! Yes...i'm a living contradiction and I love it!

Interests and Obsessions

2007-08-13T01:36:00.000+04:00

Having recently been very inspired by Carrie Bradshaw, I have an urge to write in that carefree yet meaningful fashion. For all those unfortunate ignorant souls, Ms.Bradshaw is the protagonist of an almost-cult, and rather addictive, television show, Sex and the City.

Since I dont live in New York, and since my experience in writing about sex...or ahem, the act itself, is rather...lets say...negligent, i'll choose my own expertise, my own city, and my own eccentricities. In a world where having hands filled with a variety of interests and time-fillers is the norm, it is rather tricky to pin-point that one thing that I can consider myself experienced enough to actually write about. For that matter, do any of us have any expertise on anything that we indulge in on a day to day basis? Leaving the humdrum proffessioble babble aside, what is it that we really like doing?

We all set about on a busy work day, going through mindless chores just the way they are meant to be done...mindlessly! In those rare moments when time seems to have broken away from its cold-hearted rigour and decides to pity us with a moment of peace, we turn to our interests...some of which are rather, well, interesting!

I believe that a person's interests tell a lot about the person himself ( oh heck, or herself!). For instance, there is a friend of mine who enjoys rating and organising his movies. His methodical lists of hundreds of movies take up a lot of his time and what's left of his energy! Not only does this intriguing way of spending his precious free hours tell me about his manic love for cinema, but it also alludes to the almost anal obsession with wanting to do things a certain way, in a certain organised fashion. Having said that, this is also the guy whose closet resembles a city-dump, and who cribs about coming to class, cuz god-forbid, he'll have to get out of bed for that!

Moral of that story, interests say a lot about the person, but do not necessarily point out the contradictions.

Not only do interests tell me about the people, they also reflect how much time that particular individual is willing to actually pursue that interest! For reasons still unknown to me, I once had a friend who loved to just groom her horse for hours..on ANY day. Not only that, she basically cancelled all our weekend plans to spend time with the horse. Of course, she entered competitions and won...but that's besides the point. The rather crooked point here is, when is it that an interest crosses that invisible line and becomes an obsession? That's a biggy...right up there with when will there be peace in the world?
A simple answer, as long as the interest doesn't become addictive or has visible changes on your lifestyle, and you dont feel mentally and emotionally dependent on it, its healthy. If not, danger looms ahead...and if that sounded lame and melodramatic, try asking those regretfully recovering internet addicts who've spent hours online, just to stay online, while modifying their lives in such a way that staying online becomes a priority! Having suffered from that already, I solemnly agree, that any activity which becomes is addictive ( even if its watching the lovely satc!) needs to be thought over.

Moral being, interests as interests are acceptable and rather necessary, obsessions and addictions on the contrary, are plain unhealthy. That friend of mine, dunno where she is now, but i'm sure her horse knows more about her than any other human, or human resembling, being.

Of course, there are some interests that not only benefit the person with the interest, but also others around. I personally, like people with such interests! Jokes aside, and yes if you haven't realised it yet here's a blatant hint that i've been adding humour here and there, there are hobbies and interests which are just fun to play along with. Another blessed soul, friend of mine, loves to try out new dishes and feed people. Now, free food and a welcome host is like a magnet, and when that is combined with actual talent for the chou, people go flocking towards him! Obviously, that also has to do with the fact that students as a race go anywhere they get food...

Moral...oh there's no moral for this, just stick close to people with such scumptuous talents!

Anyways, I actually had fun writing utterly brainless junk in a Carrie Bradshaw manner. For all those truly rare readers of my blog, or those unfortunate souls who happen to stumble upon this pink thought-chucking-bin, or those I emotionally black-mail to read this, I think I'm gonna follow this style for a while. The usual life-is-my-enemy poems and writings will continue, but SATC writing is my new thing, so don't blame me, point that finger at Ms.Bradshaw please!

Everyday Miracles

2007-07-19T18:36:00.001+04:00

There are so many stories starting with "once upon a time" that sometimes feel that only upon that time were things as rosy and happy as the stories portray. Some months back I wrote about how fairy-tales cannot be reality and how we all search for a fairy-tale miracle in our own lives. Keeping that aside, I say that miracles do happen, but they're not enchanted and magical as they fairy-tales show them to be. Fairy-godmothers, seven dwarfs, charming princes, ginger-bread houses...sound so wonderfully unreal. Yet, miracles take place, almost everyday, every moment and they're real and tanglible...just not glorified enough to be written and told for children to read and picture.

How, you may ask, can I be so confident of that? Well, because some things in life just dont have any explanation. To avoid the simple ambuitguity of these happenings, the easiest way is to name them "miracles". But in my eyes, they're not starry, bewitched happenings but happen for a reason and in the most unexpected situations. My idea of miracles doesn't only involve the result as "living happily ever after"...and at times it leaves people worse off in some ways than they were....but what these miracles do is make those people stop and think and reconsider their lives and priorities.

Simple everyday happenings are more magical to me than any spells or fancy potions or glittery enchantments. Isn't it almost miraculous to turn and see the most breath-taking sunset...with the sky painted like a pallet of orange, pink and red...with the gliding clouds just merging with the vastness of the diminishing light.

To me, its magical to be able to make that one perfect drawing..with the mind sort of pouring on to the paper and reproducing a replica of your imagination.

It might not seem so..but I find it miraculous that something bad happens to you, and the people who you can really count upon are just there to support you. You dont need to look twice, or ask or expect, they're just there for you. The warmth that fills your heart is just a proof of an occured miracle.

Magic is almost sprouting from the moments with friends, where you're laughing so hard, you feel like you're going to burst and tears are rolling down your eyes, yet you want to never stop, and the moment to never end...for the laughter to go on and the humour to infiltrate into a permanent position in that spatial moment.

Don't you feel almost enchanted when after a week of studying for an exam you finally take it thinking that you should have studied an hour, a day, a minute more....and then upon receiving the grades find out that you've infact scored the highest possible?

Would you not call it a miracle when you're on the road, walking along and thinking of a friend ...then turn around and see that very person walk towards you, also saying that he/she was thinking about you?

Miracles happen everyday everywhere...it is up to us to identify them. Once that's done, even the worst days will brighten by the hope of an everyday miracle...

Magic voice

2007-07-07T18:14:00.000+04:00

Swarming late night breeze ,
through the half-open door,
gently ruffling the girl's hair,
crouching in a corner on the floor.

Clutching onto her knees,
tightened grip, trembling touch,
tears freshly staining her cheeks,
teeth clattering, an abnormal hush.

Looking out, down below,
hard inviting greenery lay,
anticipated pain, fearful heart,
body meeting land, perhaps today.

Sudden ring, injured silence,
flashing lights on a telephone,
unsteady fingers grope around,
and answer to a familiar drone.

Familiar warmth, comforting voice,
ample concern seething,
River of emotion, her eyes flow,
quivering lips, quickened breathing.

Slowly sewing wounds and cuts,
reassured surely, heart mending,
infiltrating affectionate sounds,
the impending doom descending.

Working magic, a friend's words,
feeling wanted, looming charm,
Someone cares, if she lives,
Someone hurts, at her harm.

Looking out, down below,
the ground loses its welcome,
fear departs, lingering shiver,
not today, perhaps never.

Panic Attack

2007-07-03T02:53:00.000+04:00

With full force and great surprise,
halting moments into frozen quiet,
once in a while, comes an instant,
enough to alone spark a riot.

With eyes closed to the outside,
nebulous brain and muffled sound,
tingling heart and pounding limbs,
tumultuous blood gushing around.

Quivering lips and harrowed brow,
trembling hands, shaken plight,
frantic groping through emptiness.
runs amok a shiver of fright.

Looming low, triggered mood,
doors closing tightly in,
walled in a timeless place,
life becomes a committed sin.

Grudgingly the tingling leaves,
behind lingers a mental pain,

sinking heart, drowning tears,

familiar emotions, dreaded terrain.

Moment passes quickly by,

damage though is lasting long,

deepest wounds healed with time,

hoping that it be not wrong.

Just a weak moment...

2007-05-03T18:45:00.000+04:00

I just recently watched the popular TV show, "Sex and the City" for the first time. Like so many other girls like me, I can sooooo totally relate to the lives of those women! I'm neither smart, sexy nor successful, and yet there's something about their lives which is in every single girl out there! Anyway...on this totally random beginning, I'd just like to write my heart out, like Carrie Bradshaw in the show...and pour out my random thoughts on random topics....

I was just sitting alone with nothing to do and thought of calling some of my friends. I love them all and have nothing against anyone at all ( yeah..I'm pretty nice that way...), but still at times you cant help but feel...huh..everyone is actually busy with their lives. Its like, there's no better way to be made aware of the fact that you're single than by calling friends in times of boredom! Ever feel like an intruder in someone's territory? Well...I feel like that every time I call my friends and they're with their boyfriends or girlfriends. I don't think there's any way to write this without sounding totally desperate, sad and lame..but heck...I don't feel any better right now! Even if that close friend of mine pretends to want to talk to me at that moment, I almost feel like I'm butting in when I'm totally not supposed to. Its like, when they're with their "partners" lets say, I stand out like a stranger with no right or business with any of them. Even as I write this I'm thinking in my head...why the hell are u even thinking this way? Its such a non-issue!! However, sounding even more pathetic...I'd say I feel rather...no abandoned isn't the word, cuz that would imply they do it on purpose...I'd say its more like alienated... Its of no fault of anyone, its just how I feel...

Ok anyone reading this is probably thinking...gosh, this girl needs to get a life or a boyfriend really soon! But u know..thats not the issue. I'm not at a point of my life when I need to be with someone. Not to sound like I'm defending myself or anything, but I really and honestly don't mind being single at the moment ( Hey you! Stop rolling ur eyes! :P). Anyway, seriously, the issue here is that in these very busy city lives, I guess we all end up sort of compartmentalizing our lives. Its quite a subconscious move, but I've noticed it often enough, that we sort of create different compartments in our lives for different people and different moments. I mean, how many of us even know the names of half of the other friends our best friends have? As the saying goes, even your best friend has other best friends...So I guess what I'm trying to say is, we live a rather segmented life, maybe to keep things simple and hassle-free, or maybe its just easier to let things be the way they are. As is human nature, any sorta of change or meshing of one part of our lives with the other, leaves a slightly unsettling feeling...we've all felt it, the degrees of emotion may vary.

I don't quite know what triggered off all this writing..but whatever it was, I guess it was for the best. It always feels better to have my thoughts out in the open :). Maybe it was just sheer boredom and the unwillingness to do anything worthwhile. Or maybe.. oh wait..i don't want ALL my thoughts out in the open :p! Well whatever, its just a phase I know...tomorrow its all gonna be alright..my friends love me and I know that, and they'd always be there for me....just a weak moment I guess....

Just another day...

2007-04-24T02:50:00.000+04:00

Its 12:50 am...and I'm awake just because I don't want to go to sleep. Yes its that time of the night when I'm thinking to myself why the hell i'm not going to bed since I have to wake up early tomorrow and do lots of things that need to be done. Sleep is screaming to be allowed to have an affect on my brain, but the stubborn part of me just doesn't want to close her eyes and end this day... Its not even that the day was a perfect one. There were good and bad moments. In fact, today was such a well-balanced day, in which I experienced an entire spectrum of emotions. Starting from a looming calm that swept over me in the morning, to a gloomy boredom while I was sitting in class. From the free-electron-like hyperactive energy, to the tired lethargy. From a fit of uncontrollable laughter to a blood-boiling ravenous rage. From a sudden sense of loneliness to a heart-warming knowledge of being cared for...

It wasn't a special day at all. I probably wont even remember what I did today in a couple of days. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary or something I would particularly like to remember. And yet...its days like this that I always want to keep in some part of my memory. As it inevitably turns out, when we look back on our lives, we tend to recall those rare special and unique days which were laden with events that occur either rarely or just once. Our memories are so full of the extra-ordinary that we tend to completely overlook the simple marvel of the ordinary. The hundreds of millions of moments that we go through everyday, add a little tiny piece to the constantly built tower of lifetime memories and I'd love it if I could remember as many of these little building-blocks as possible...

Its late...but I dont want to go to sleep. Maybe I'm scared that sleep will capture this day's moments and lock them up in that forgotten closeted part of my brain. I know that tomorrow i'll wake up and not remember half of these moments I so want to hold on to today. But I guess, thats how things really are...thats how they'll be...What I can do is write what I want to remember...and then it'll be recorded forever...and I know its probably extremely boring to read and just seems like something so blatantly obvious, yet its these little simplicities that make my day..that have made my life....

I wake up by the sound of the alarm on my phone, take about an hour to get ready and then leave home once I'm satisfied ( or sometimes just give up) with how I look. I leave home and take the metro, which is around a 20 minute trip to the place where I get the tram from. I like the tram ride usually, since it gives me time to look around at the hustling-bustling city while I deftly zoom by. Once off the tram, I usually stop by at my favorite coffee place, have a cup of coffee, meet my friends and with them go to class. After a few hours of attending lessons, taking notes ( umm...), exchanging pleasantries with people ( socializing is such an important part of our everyday lives...), I set out to go back home. Since at least 2-3 of my friends are always going in the same direction, we just leave together. I dont like going back home alone.
We talk about the day and how it went, and discuss about the next day and what we want to do then. We joke, we laugh, we tease, we console....just normal everyday conversations between friends. Well, so once I get home, I usually spend my time online or watching a movie or reading or listening to music...very ordinary usual things. By nightfall, I eat dinner and then watch a movie on the computer mostly..... ......then late night, I sit and wonder how was the day...and the answer that comes to me and the only answer that makes me want see the next day ....is that it was Just Another Day....

The Passing Stranger

2007-04-10T21:53:00.000+04:00

Around an unexpected dingy corner,
was a window of overwhelming light,
which brought from the midst of heaven,
the passing stranger's very first sight.

A simple handshake was the first touch,
an exchange of words came right behind,
since that moment of everyday magic,
a new life entered the lonesome mind.

The stranger carrying a divine gift,
through a mental guard smiled his way,
the present which was given to him,
was a clean soul and a hopeful ray.

Time swooned musically by,
and made the bond grow deep,
till the roots of the melodic cord,
make fresh buds of smiles reap.

The stranger found an identity,
that of an irreplaceable friend,
perhaps a bit more than that,
a more which met an unpleasant end.

The friend's title still remained,
and so it will till forever more,
before he left for distant lands,
that is a promise by which he swore.

An unending night-out and some tea,
a silent tear and a gleaming smile,
marked an era's definite finale,
the passing stranger who stayed just a while,
went further away, crossing many a mile...

Monday Mornings at my Hide-out

2007-03-25T21:13:00.000+04:00

I sincerely believe that everybody needs a few of those hide-out, hang-out places, where you can just be yourself, basically chill-out and never feel like getting up and leaving, some place that gives a homely feeling while you're away from home! Maybe i'm just a hopeless dreamer, or maybe its the affect of growing up watching "Friends" have their coffee at the Central Perk, but lately, the one place where I feel absolutely relaxed is a tiny little coffee place around the corner called Lino's Coffee.

My Monday mornings usually start with a hot cup of coffee at this cozy little café. Since no one's really crazy enough to wake up half an hour earlier on a Monday, just to have forty minutes of coffee-time...specially not in Italy, where the concept of a coffee is generally like a shot of concentrated "wake-up" caffeine which is gulped down in precisely 10 seconds...mornings are a quiet time, and I'm often the only ( crazy might I add...) customer at this hour. Of course, it starts filling up as soon as I enter...maybe I just add to the attraction....ha..in my dreams!..anyway...but its relatively quiet anyway. So I enter and usually find the comfy sofa in the corner near the entrance to place myself. I love this little corner of the shop, since I feel like I'm in my own private little corner, and can look out through the class walls of the café, and observe the morning buzz of the university surroundings. Then I go order my coffee, which by the way, is not an easy task. This place has like a million ( remember...i exaggerate..!) different types of coffee, and its quite a challenge to decide which one to take! Anyway, once i make my deliberated choice, I go to the bar counter and watch them make it. I'm even more enthusiastic about watching this process when there's the cute-coffee-guy behind the counter..hehe. Well anyway, after ogling at the cutie ( ...i *will* ask his name someday...), I take my coffee and go sit in my little corner. And then...I just sit...and watch.

Its amazing how relaxed one can feel with a coffee in hand and nothing to do! I look outside and watch people rush past ( yes...everyone's always late on Monday mornings!), I watch cars zip by, trams roll along and the typical 10 am hurry. I watch people come in the shop, chit-chat, then go off again. And this is one of the only times of the day, when I feel absolutely removed from the rush, when I can actually just sit back, settled into the cushioned sofa and enjoy people hurry along, while I take my time and enjoy sipping my creamy frothy coffee . I daze off and think about all I have to do that day, that week, that month, that year..(er... you get the picture) and surprisingly, don't get stressed and worked up or worried ( umm yes...usually thinking about the future is the perfect jerk that gets my nerves go all jittery and out of control!). I go into my own lost world of meandering wanderings, and sway into the clouded reveries of my idle mind.

Then, I'm usually snapped back to reality when a friend ( or friends...depending on who I can con into waking up early and meet me at Lino's) comes and stands in front of me, reminding me, oh i'm in a coffee place, but I actually have to get up and go to class which is in 15 minutes! So wearily, I get up and get my things, and get ready to walk out...but not without a last glance back at my lovely hide-out ( and uhm...looking to catch the cutie's eye while saying Ciao!) and close the glass door behind me...to begin another new day, with the same old crap!

Mirage

2007-02-28T22:53:00.000+04:00

As an 11 year old, I remember being driven across miles of desert in the heat of the summer months. Across the blazing horizon, everything seemed to be the same, with a light brown dusty tedium and occasional sandy dunes, which seemed to give the impression of absolute nothingness. Though I didnt know it then, somewhere deep in my psyche this continuance engrained itself, to be expressed much later in new staining colors. However, right when everything seemed to be dipped in mundane constancy of dust, straight down the grey tarry road, I used to notice what seemed like a clear water lake. The fiery sunlight seemed to punch the ground with all its might, and seemed to bounce back in an agressive retaliation. The water-like body seemed to contain a calmness which was in sync with the general mood of the desert, and yet was so sparkly and fresh-looking, that the heat of the mid-summer desert seemed to be swept by an Arctic breeze. I remember wanting to speed up the car, and drive right through the middle of this light-lake, wanted to be lapped up in its glittery light. My desire to touch the watery mirage increased with every single time when it seemed to distance itself from the advancing vehicle. The distance remained and my thirst for the mirage was left unquenched...

Years later, looking at the clichéd "Big Picture", that thirst for the Mirage is still unquenched. With experience and repeated mistakes, i've learnt the basic lesson that there's always a Mirage in life, something that sparkles and attracts the naked eye. In the desert of everyday life, there's always that imaginary lake of light which tantalizingly invites me towards it. Its different from the rust and dust of routine, its schintillating brightness is a world apart from the suffocating dullness of repetitive days and nights and its inviting freshness has a welcoming warmth that is so enticing, one cant help but be blindingly drawn to it.

There's however a blaring fact that gets overshadowed by the brightness of the Mirage. Its simplicity is often greyed in the presence of the glitter. Its the fact that, despite its enticing realism, in spite of its oasis attraction..it remains a trick, a misinterpretation of reality. In stark reality, its inexistent. No matter how much it resembles a lake of opportunities, the truth is that is a deception that the eyes and a hungry-for-more mind play on the naive eyes and the gullible heart. While the earth, sand, dusty road and flatness of the land are tangible and reachable, this figment of a mistaken reality is what really pulls me towards it. The sand and the heat touch me, swarm around me, and yet I overlook all this and chase after the only image that is inexistent.

Over the years, and after many attempts at reaching this Mirage, the heart and the eyes have learnt their lesson. The glitter while still as bright, has been blanketed by the flying grains of sand. The desert has expanded and the road longer and wider. I still see the trick-oasis in the distance, but I've learnt to look away. I've come to accept the falseness of the ringer...though once in a while, that desire to grab hold of the sunshine-lake still arises and finds its way into the thirsty eyes. The thirst, which is now disguised with the water of acceptance, which is relieving, but still wanting what its thirsty for. The road extends long and wide, the heat slashes against the skin and the light is blinding...and the mirage stays...forever.

Wandering Mind

2007-01-13T04:04:00.000+04:00

I'm in a very random thoughtful mood today. I was thinking ( yes, someone just told me thats always a good thing to do!), and as usual my mind was wandering into various different realms of my life. I have this annoying disobeying mind which chooses to travel to unnecessary distances and delve suffocatingly deep into strayed thoughts, only further complicating my already chaotic psyche...

Today, this mind wandered into the real meaning of people in my life. Must admit, this is one of the favourite places for my mind to escape to. Whenever life becomes even slightly stressful and frustrating, this nomad of a mind goes seeking for refuge in the deep rooted issues that determine the very crux of my existence. So, in its prefered place again, the silly thing dug up all those hidden questions, sentiments, doubts and emotions about myself and the people around me. Issues that I consciously keep firmly at bay just came swirling back in through the open abyss that the mind provided for them...

So here I am now...still looking for unanswerable questions...still searching for intangible solutions to completely mentally fabricated issues. I ask myself, what really Do people mean to me...and more importantly, or rather more selfishly...what do I mean to people I feel close to? How can I ever really know the answer to a question like this..and why i'm even asking this question is just beyond me! Its just one of those mysteries that you've just got to put faith on. No matter how much people say they love you and need you, there's no way to ever really get into their mind and get out their honest and pure feelings. Actions speak much louder than words, agreed, but what if even those actions are misleading? Even if they arent misleading, what if I just dont have enough understanding of people to interpret actions correctly?

Many people have often told me that i'm naive and trusting. After the countless times that i've gotten to hear that I can very easily trust anybody, I genuinely want to find out how can one really measure the amount of trust to be given to a person? I agree, sometimes there are obvious reasons not to do it, like past evidence that goes against the simple criteria behind trusting the person. But mostly, its almost impossible to really tell whom to put ur trust on, and whom not to. The only way in that case, is to just go by your instincts, and then if you make mistakes, you learn by those mistakes and use that as extra evidence for the future. And after all this mental speculation, when I do finally place my trust on a person, I expect for that trust never to be broken. However, as i've learnt so far, life has this mind-boggling way of shaking things up just when u're starting to relax about a decision like that. So, the rest of the time is gone in the constant fear of this rock-solid trust being broken and in a nerve-wracking anticipation of the moment in which i'd regret having ever placed such a binding trust upon that person.

Usually those who do break this blind trust, drift away from me and my life. The only real problem here is that, the more this thread of trust is broken, the more frayed the bond becomes, meaning that the more I encounter such situations, the more hesistant and resistant I become towards trusting people. The trickle of doubt is slowly growing into a ferocious sea of fear, which puts my mind into a tumultous storm. The same mind which went seeking for refuge is trapped into greater mazes of engulfing queries..leaving the issues at hand not solved, but in the midst of already entangled wires of unanswered issues.

Anyways, for now, i'll cage my mind back into the nitty-gritty realities of worldy routines, and place the roots of my psyche back where they belong...dug deep in some remote corner, where they are safely stored till I can actually find some answers for them! Or, then again, maybe they're just better off let loose.......

My Angels

2006-11-26T05:22:00.000+04:00

I stop a second and look around,
halt the usual daily chores ,
Know I must, what have I today,
Before opening any other new doors.

My weakness lies in family alone,
at whom the world for me stops,
and strength is given by my friends,
who make even tears like honey-drops.

My friends, my life-saving drugs ,
In my mind's eyes I gather with care,
and proudly display to all today,
my angels, who are always there.

I begin with that one person,
who became my sane rock wall,
she was my source of stability,
my shield, my guide, my all.

Then came that disguised foe,
wearing the torturing mischief mask,
he took that off one random day,
and handed me the "best friend" task.

Following him, as closely as ever,
with a wit so sharp, and so bright a mind,
was to whom belonged my soft corner,
my deepest fondness and a faith quite blind.

With the last two, also followed,
an unwelcome stranger from far and long,
who settled into my life so soon and well,
like she'd been there from all along.

Then life took a crazy turn to find,
a sudden lapse in people to trust,
no one seemed to fit the places,
of the footprints in my heart's crust.

But then new steps were formed,
when by my luck I happily found,
with her wise thinking and deep emotion,
the elder sister I'd been looking around.

Closely came another such wonder,
who filled such joy in my lonely heart,
gave so much fondness and trust to me,
That no more from him can I live apart.

Finally came the surprising gift,
who was always there, but I failed to see,
he lends me the desperately needed ear,
a confidante, in him, I've found for me.

Thus I look at the kitty I hold,
of merry memories of fondness and love,
and blessed I truly feel right now,
for all these angels sent from above.

Neha

Fairy Tale Reality

2006-11-22T15:28:00.000+04:00

We all heard stories as kids. The same old fairy tales which started with a lonely princess being trapped somewhere and one day a charming prince came from some enchanted land, rescued her, swept her off her feet and rode her away to happily ever after in a kingdom far...far...away...

Cut to Reality.

You grow up into this world, where everyone goes about their business as usual, everyone's trying to lead a good and respectable life, and everyone wants moments of peace and happiness in their mediocre, rather irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, Life. You're not the trapped princess in a tower maybe, but you're just like those thousands of side-kick subjects that walk the streets carrying burdens on their shoulders and minds. Life, as its meant to, just goes on....

And then there are moments, when you feel detached from this normalcy, and yearn to be shut-out in the mist of an illuminated fairy-tale, where reality is denied any access, where magic is the ruling law and where dreams are lived through the eyes of plausable hopes. There's an uncontrollable want to be in a place where the heart is the king that conquers the otherwise rational head and where decisions made always end in the right outcome. In this fantastic world of free-flowing reverie, the most heart-felt wishes would come true, and there wouldnt be a time of disheartened disappointment....

Eventually though, you open your eyes again, and you're back to this world. This world, where people dont always get what they want, and sometimes when they get it, it comes so late that it loses all meaning. In this world, disappointments are a part of growing up and learning to deal with the malicious occurances of everyday going-ons. Innocence is lost to the realisation of the dark side of things and simplicity is shunned in the race of being noticed among the millions of other earthly beasts grabbing for the same measly opportunities. Like savages, people crawl and climb the ladder to a percieved success, which shines in the distance like a treasured jewel , which when aquired just leaves an unquenching thirst for a bigger ornament of desire. Dreams are often forgotten midst the traffic of responsibilities and duties and practicalities...leaving individuals content overall, but having left behind some amount of spirit, some quantity of hope, and some portion of a zest to dream big and want more...

Then again, there are moments that occur out of the blue, which rekindle the rusty faith that young minds once possessed. Light shines through the enclosed entrances and for some time, Life takes a tangent path down the same fairy-land that was once deeply embedded in the minds of innocence.

I live my life as I'm meant to, stepping into the proverbial maze of the world, gradually finding obstacles and traps as I go forward. All I do is..find another route....while deep within, always hoping that when I turn the next corner, I will find the surprising moment where my reality mingles with the mist of the fairy tale....and I arrive to my kingdom of far..far..away.....

A Day Goes By

2006-11-16T01:03:00.000+04:00

Eyes open to a misty white,
a covered blanket of cloudy doubt,
trickling rays find little entryways,
and appear in fragmented little pockets,
and the day begins.

The chilled morning dewy air,
greets the first steps of the day,
the path reaches out and welcomes,
then presents the aching twists,
as the day begins.

Lost sunshine, meandering lanes,
between the concrete towering structures,
darkness looms through an empowering fog,
with nebulous gashes of illusioned light,
and the day goes on.

In some remote corner, the sun descends,
dusk arrives, more darkness comes,
the claws of Night, clutch and clog,
the iota of light that found its way,
seeping through, as the day went on.

Shadows creep over the barren streets,
sleuthing corners of protected secrets,
find the darkened glow of nightly doom,
and triumph over the dimming light,
as the day reaches its ultimate end.

Neha

Distracted Studying Blues

2006-11-04T14:30:00.000+04:00

Student life is fun. Yeah, I'd say it is. College brings free time and independence with it, along with an added sense of responsibility. Well, the bad things get majorly cancelled out by the good stuff. If you have to attend boring lectures, at least there's a possibility to sit in the back row and write notes to your friend, discussing the cuties in the class ! If you have to keep track of all your classes and assignments yourself, at least there are other people around you, who also have the same things to keep a track of, so its not so bad. BUT...there's this one slight factor...which is a painful yet essential part of college life...its these dreaded Exams!!

I dont know how other universities work, but where I study, these wretched exams always seem to be just around the corner! If they're not around the corner, its even worse, cuz then, you're in the very Middle of them!! They have this endless characteristic about them...when they're about to start, they just seem to speed up the process and suddenly you realise...oh, I have an Exam Tomorrow!! And oh, I dont know Anything!! And oh, wait a sec, not only do I not know anything, I dont even have the material that I need! Then follows a panic-filled day of chaos, when you try to scram up all you can, try to stuff the material in your brain which is already on the verge of overflowing or just bursting open and splattering the contents all over!

Its not really that you end up scramming cuz you didnt realise till the last moment that you have to study...its more like, you try to study for a week, and just end up scramming at the last minute. A week earlier, like a good student, you sit with a book and your notes on the study table. You prepare everything..have the music playing softly, get a mug of coffee ready, make sure you have enough light, keep your phone close to you so you wont have to get up to answer it, make sure the door's closed so you dont hear any outside noise that might distract you, make sure that you have all the pencils sharpened, the calculater set, all the erasers, rulers, pens, paper ready...everything that you need!

After all this paraphernalia, you sit down, open the first page of the book, read a couple of pages, make some rigourous schemes in your notes...then, you glance up for a second...and there, on your computer you see a window flashing. Hmm, lemme just see who it is, just for a sec, you think. So you go over, thinking ( and hoping ) that it might be something important...Mostly, it isnt. Its usually a friend, who's bored and trying to study but...cant study cuz he/she's bored! So, like a good person, you exchange a few words, tell him/her that you're studying and then..just as you're about to say bye, POP, a new window opens! What is it this time, you wonder. Well, curiousity killed a cat is right, cuz of Course, you check this out too. Its usually just another bored friend, looking for company. So thats how it goes on, till you casually glance at the clock...and woops..and HOUR passed!! Ok I just have to go study now, you think to yourself. Fair enough, you shut off the messenger, and dont shut down the computer since your music's playing on it of course...

Well, so then, kicking yourself for wasting an hour just like that, you sit back down, and very determinedly open the book again. You start reading...the first para made sense, the second made sense too, the third, well, made a little less sense...by the 4th-5th paragraph, you forget what you read in the first paragraph. So, you go back, and oh, they make sense again. Good. So you read on....by the end of the 2 pages...you have like completely lost interest...Then, you read a random word like, "party", which in the context of the book probably refers to a communist political party which does demonstrations every month. But thats not what you think of, the word "party" triggers off your memory to the last party you attended. You think about what you wore, what your crush wore, what you ate, what you drank...ahem ahem, you usually cannot remember that part! Well, then you think about all the conversations you had, how many times you flirted with the crush, how many foolish things you ended up doing. Oh, I wonder if ________( insert some friend's name here) uploaded the pics from the party! I just Have to see them, you excitedly think to yourself. So, unwillingly, giving in to your sudden urge to see how you looked in the party pics and to find out how many pics you have with your crush, you go back online, and see if your friend's online.

Like most extremely bored college kids, he/she probably is, also avoiding the extremely ardulous and mind-numbing act of studying. So, you talk to the friend, get the pics, and go offline again....just to make yourself indulge in some self-pity about not being online much, cuz oh, you're studying so much!

Well, eventually you do sit down, do some work, feed that guilty conscience of yours. But what can you do about that darn wandering mind? You're reading the most humdrum theories about microeconomics and trying to make heads and tales out of some complicated concept, which you're supposed have understood, well, dayyys ago, and that maverick mind of yours just refuses to cooperate! It goes out, and thinks about every possible thing in the world, except for that page that you're trying so hard to fit in your over-worked brain!

Yup, student life IS fun...at least we dont get fired for not doing our work...fail maybe...yelled at maybe....be in a big-time mess maybe....ok, you get the point.
So to all those going through the same Studying Blues, here's a Best of Luck to you....may you be able to conquer that unruly mind of yours!

And now, I should stop writing, cuz guess what, I Have an exam in 2 days!! Adios amigos!

Moments

2006-10-30T20:01:00.000+04:00

Time has a strange way of speeding up or slowing down, at the most inappropriate junctures. One moment you're doing something...and the next, you look back, and find mere traces of that "something" etched somewhere in the remotest corner of memories. Moments, hours, days, years...just pass. An era goes by, and you look back, and realise...oh, time flies! In the fast paced speeding time-frame, which is only able to scoop up some random moments in its little time-kity, we are left with haphazard shards of reminisciences that stay hidden in some corner of our over-occupied minds.

If I look at my life in divisions of daily units, it seems rather devoid of much or any activity. What's the purpose of everything? What does it all lead to? Why do we go on and on following that same repetitive routine, which we become so used to that after a while, the meaning behind every little action is lost and forgetten. There always seems to be a rush, a haste...as if a time-bomb is attached to Life and its about to go off anytime, anywhere...without prior notice. There are a million tasks to complete before that, so much to see, so much to achieve, so much to remember, so much to experience....a constant race against that imaginary time-bomb, a continuous battle against an invincible force of nature, which ticks away with every heartbeat, a second, a moment closer to when Time would run out...when the time-bomb would tick away its last breath and everything would end...

That's one way to look at it.

The other way, which I prefer for my own sanity, is that, Life is a cumulation of moments and gestures, which need to be meticulously and patiently collected and stored in the most secure parts of the heart and mind, from where they cannot escape, get lost or be forgotten. Moments are like little shiny glimmering pearls of time, which have a painful way of scattering if dropped in a hurry or not gathered with extreme care. Once dispersed, mustering up every little sparkly piece of pearly delight becomes increasinly difficult...as they roll out into the farthest darkest corner somewhere, where years later, at some point of rigourous mental cleaning out, they'd be found..sometimes as a surprise and sometimes as a disappointing reminder of a forgotten memory... While collecting these delicate moments of joy, I try not to overlook those countless millions miniscule winks of time which compose our daily seemingly dull routines. One smile here, one tear there, one look here, a laugh there....and voila! A stringed necklace of glittering pearls is ready...ready to be worn in the drifts of passing time...through the barriers of challenges...through the rivers of flowing past, present and approaching future. Moments are of all kinds...some bring a smile to your face, while others put you in an inexplicable yet ferociously stimulating rage. Some resurface accompanied by our most dreaded fears, while others remind us of times when our hearts were penetrated with utmost joy.

For moments to be precious, they need not be complex or particularly complicated in nature. The simplest of little jiffies can sometimes have more affect than the long durable experiences. A smile from a stranger, a greeting from a little child, a random peck on the forehead by the person you love, an unexpected pat on the back, a warm hug from a friend, a line of a song that touches the soul, a single tear out of joy after an achievement, a rose found next to the morning cup of coffee, an unheralded phone-call from an old close friend, an unanticipated apology for a mistake, an "Im thinking of you" card in the mailbox, a walk in the park holding hands with a beloved, an evening of calm chatter with a best friend, the endearing sound of a favourite song playing out of time and place, a feel of a reassuring touch on the hand in a moment of weakness, witnessing a kind gesture on the street, hearing a wise word that just hits the mark perfectly.......

....The list is endless....and Moments are forever...ever and ever...

Homesickness

2006-10-10T00:30:00.000+04:00

Everyone around us, has a home, a place to turn back to, a place that waits and welcomes them into an atmosphere where they can claim to belong to. We sometimes dont even realise how important belonging can be in our lives...we forget the worth of that place which embraces us after a day of encountering the harshest of the blows that outside world stores for us...

The definition of home differs with what different people percieve as A Home. To some, the material four walls of an appartment are enough to feel secure, while others find their true "home" where their family is, where the people they care about are. There are some, who find any place they can adjust to like their home, while there are others who find homes to be the place where they are happiest in. If I were to define a Home, I'd say its the place I want to go back to, a place which is my pillar, my support..a place where I feel like I belong..and place where I want to live forever...

Sometimes I go and tell my friends, "I'm Homesick", which really amuses them as they counter me by reminding me that I live with my parents, at home, how can I be missing my home? That, is a true example of the difference in perception of the word, the concept. To me, my Home is my country, from which I'm far far away. I live in a house in a foriegn land. The house is where I return to after each day's battle with the world, and its the house where I spend time with my family...but its not Home. Home is where I belong, and that's my country, my city...where I feel like I always want to be, where I feel secure, where I want to live forever.

There are times when I question this view of mine. What is it that pulls me back everytime? I lead a fairly good life here. Like any normal college going student, I do my share of studying, spending time with my friends, enjoy doing the things I love the most, have a good social circle, have a bunch of close friends I can always depend on, have my parents by my side...seems like a pretty full life! Then, what is it that makes my heart crave for my home? Its moments that I realise that no matter how hard I try, I dont fit here...My life is here, but my heart is still back there...back where it belongs. I live here, shuttlling between two worlds. Two worlds which are very different from each other, and two worlds which will never meet. There's always something missing...

What I miss most about my home? Oh not much...just the chirping of the busy mornings, the sounds of the vendors on the streets, the buzzing of activity all around..the sparks of conversation which seem to mesh with the background and are one with the harmony of random noises which act like music to the sound-deprived ears...the multitudes of times when the family gathers together for family functions...the colorful ice-cream carts which carry bundles of children's smiles with them...the smell of the earth after the first Monsoon showers... the green-ness of the wet trees...the kids carrying school-bags jumping into the water puddles that form on the road...the multi-colored air of Holi in spring...eating coal-cooked corn on the side of the summery streets...drinking cool coconut water at the park...getting drenched in the downpour of the mid-july rains...tying Rakhi to brothers and cousins while the entire family gathers to spend the day together...making little "jhaankis" depicting Lord Krishna's life on Janamashtmi...waking up early to watch the 15th August speech of the Prime Minister....flying colorful kites and watching the sky fill with the little colorful day-stars hanging in the air swaying around the clear sky..watching the gigantic structure of Ravana burn to ashes on Dusshera...waiting eagerly for the moon to appear on Karva-shauth day...going all around the house lighting little diya-lamps on Diwali and choosing the brightest, most long-lasting and loudest fire crackers on the auspicious occasions..running out as a passing procession of a baraat passes...taking out winter quilts as the air turns chilly in november...having a huge party on Christmas day with family and friends and lots of music and dancing..going for evening walks with the closest friends with clouds of smoke escaping from the mouths as the wintry chill gently wraps itself around us...attending and preparing for the December weddings and dancing and singing through various nights of celebrations...getting mehendi on your hands and then comparing with other excited girls and ladies, comparing whose color is the deepest red...having a bon-fire party on New Year's Eve ending with an uproar as the clock strikes 12 and being with the closest of family and friends as we enter into another new year...watching the 26th January parade and running outside to watch the airforce planes fly over the house..going for picnics in the February mist, with a gentle breeze accompanying you into a pleasant day of pleasure.......

No...i dont miss much...I just miss it all...

Day Dream

2006-10-08T02:26:00.000+04:00

A monotonous voice echoed through the class of a hundred something dazed, trying-their-best-to-pay-attention students, who cursed themselves for choosing to attend the friday afternoon class. The sun invitingly shone outside, as if probing the drowsy bunch of people into breaking through the glass doors, into the warmth of the April sun and the freshness of the newly blossomed garden.

The drab voice continued, working as a tranquilizer which sedated the minds of the young bunch. Naina, sitting in the last row, had her head resting on her arms, which were on the desk, and was trying her best not to let her eyes droop. Blinking very often, and drinking water frequently, she vehemently fought the sleep that seemed to creep over her..a poison seeping through the pores of her skin, into her flowing bloodstream, right upto her brain which was already working at a lazy pace. The voice went through her ears, but her brain refused to transfer the data into anything remotely coherent. The voice worked its magic, and the sleep crept up faster.

In this drugged state of mind, the thoughts wandered. Naina found herself in the midst of a dream, seen with open eyes. She contentedly settled for a visual story, which her mind was starting to read out for her. The dream took her back to her room, and she saw herself sleeping peacefully in bed. A soft ray of sunlight was gently touching her face, making her stir. Just as she slowly opened her smiling eyes, her phone rang. She answered, and the smiling eyes became a grinning face, as she heard the voice of the guy she loved at the other end. "Goodmorning Sunshine", he greeted her, which made her heart flutter in excitement. Naina tucked deeper into the covers, feeling the warmth of the quilt, which materialised into the warmth of the voice of the love of her life. They talked, enjoying the playful friendliness with which they addressed each other. After about an hour of a heart-warming conversation, they settled to meet for lunch. She got out of her bed, with a smile on her face, a sprint in her step and a song on her lips.

Into the shower she went, treating herself to a warm comforting shower, while she sang to her heart's desire. Naturally, only the most romantic songs that she'd ever heard came to her head at the moment, as she happily pampered herself. Out of the shower, she took her time to select the perfect outfit, which was a pair of jeans and a black short kurta. Slipping into comfortable heels, Naina strolled downstairs for breakfast, after which she grabbed her purse and strutted outside. As she stepped outside, the morning freshness collided with her, and a whiff of flowery scent reached her. She took a deep breath and set out for a stroll.

After ten minutes of walking, she reached her destination...the public garden. She lush green grounds welcomed her, as she walked through the soft grass to her favourite spot under a huge tree with wide branches. Under the tree, she settled, and took out a romantic novel. As the spring breeze trickled through her tresses, making them sway lightly, she sat in the tranquility of the morning and read to her heart's desire, about another girl's romantic desires. As she reached the happy ending, she sighed with satisfaction and got up to leave.

At a leasurely pace Naina walked to the café by the park, overlooking a little lake. As she reached it, her heart almost skipped a beat as she caught sight of his tall frame standing outside the café, with a tender softness on his pleasant face. As she approached him, he stepped forward and from behind his back, brought out one single long stemmed rose. As she gracefully accepted it, she couldnt help simple happiness from infiltrating every cell of her body. He bent down and swept her into a warm hug, which in an instant gave her the feeling of protection, of security. Then, he took her hand and led her to the table reserved for them, which overlooked the lake. They went through lunch, without ever taking their eyes off each other. All the laughter, the gazing, the uninterrupted talking radiated their love for each other and reeked of a unbreakable bonding.

After lunch, Naina took over as the leader, and gently putting her arm through his, she led him to her favourite spot. The tree became their gracious host and spreads its shade to make a welcoming seclusion for them. They sat together, and moments seem to stand still. Time, which promised to never wait for anyone, seemed to have forgotten to move, as Naina sat, lost to the rest of the world, completely charmed by the presence of the one person in the world who made her feel like she was special...Birds chirped...sounds buzzed...nothing mattered..only him...only him....

"NAINA!"

She was jerked off from her parting dream and looked up to see her friend standing by her. Disoriented for a moment, she lingered through two realities. One which she had created herself, and one which had created her. She looked around and realised that the torturous class of the friday afternoon had ended..but then, so had her dream. She shrugged, smiled at her free-flowing imagination, blamed the humdrum voice of the teacher and walked out of the class with her friend....Continued till the next time, she thought to herself.

The Gift

2006-06-26T15:07:00.000+04:00

Through darkened hidden alleys,
with shadows of stranded desires,
the seeking searching silent form,
crosses those never-ending passages.

Walls so high and reach so low,
that heavens' gift to earth,
the sole gift of light and hope,
cannot penetrate the dissillusioned shields.

Then, strikes a lightening bolt,
the camouflaged barely human form,
is outlined against the dark aura,
and the lost gift softly seeps through.

Streaming in, the spring waters of freshness,
illuminate those concealed alleyways,
watering the dying roots of dreams,
which once to the fullest blossomed.

The first touch of the gift,
on a forgotten barely human soul,
frees the long captured thoughts,
and reborn are the wiltering flowers,
buried in which, live the dreams too.

The opening to the skies above,
welcomes with it, starry sparks,
tottering along in an impatient search,
of the gentle breeze, the amourous wind,
to carry itself into a full-fledged flame.

Secretly though, also finds entry,
a corrupted thorn of sharpened fear,
the corner ahead and a new path,
and those unexpected dark streets,
where the illuminated bolt,
might give not way, to light again.

Neha

The Awards Ceremony (Fiction)

2006-06-24T14:56:00.000+04:00

And now we are going to announce the winners of our literary competition

My mind has become focused only on those words, and the world around me sounds like a buzz in the background. I have spent the last six months pondering over how I could have done. My poems are a door to my soul, and those poems’ being appreciated gives me an inexplicable high. I feel as if my soul has been liked and therefore, my being myself has been well accepted. I wait for my name to be called out. The wait grows longer and each second becomes longer than eternity. The sound of my name wants to reach my ears, like a lover longs for his love…

But that name never comes… My heart has fallen into the depths of gloom and a depression has swept and spread over me like a stain of ink spreads through a white cloth. Why wasn’t I chosen? Weren’t my thoughts good enough? The doorway to my soul hasn’t been opened and my thoughts are still captured within.

Happy faces of innocent beings surround me, and still I feel deserted in the sea of happiness. My mind cannot think beyond failure. The ceremony is going on, but my brain has stopped. Around me, I see those who have been awarded, and a pang of jealousy has crept up all over me. I feel an immense inferiority complex. Could I ever succeed in anything? I see my whole life flashing past me. There has always been someone who surpasses me in whatever I do. If I had 99.6 % in a subject, there was always somebody who scored a perfect 100%!

I draw myself away from the crowd…the crowd where I could see tranquility and satisfaction. The corner where I stand at is like a wall between me and the rest of the world. I find myself secluded. One by one everyone’s name is called out and with a twinkle in their eyes and a smile on their faces, they accept their awards. They are congratulated on the way back and their victory is shared by everyone. While I stand alone in the corner, a thrill is roaming through the delighted atmosphere.

And the last award for best short story goes to…

Nandini Rai… The sound rings in my ears and echoes through my whole body. I had given up hope by now…could this really be happening or is it yet another of my senseless illusions? My spirits soar up as I fuse through the crowd towards my award. My poems hadn’t been applauded, but that didn’t matter anymore. “What I call home”, my story has touched people and that’s all that satisfies me now. My thoughts were not in vain after all! More than pride, I can sense relief. I was am an outsider after all…

As I settle in my seat at the heart of the crowd, I find myself merging into that background buzz. Words, sounds sentences, laughs…they can all be distinguished now. The awards continue on, but I don’t expect anything more. Satisfaction splurges inside me and I don’t want anything more than lending my pride to my parents. Their happiness would only multiply my happiness by several notches!!

Once again, time has come to a standstill as I wait for the function to come to an end. Impatience and restlessness takes took over my mind. Pacing up and down seemed to be the most logical way to release my trapped energy, but the consideration of others around me has chained me to my seat.

And the award for Faculty Student of the Year goes to…

Nandini Rai! ... Unlike the last time, this time I feel numb. My best friend standing next to me, pushes me forward but my feet seemed to be weighing a thousand ton! The applause rings in my ears yet again and I catch hold of some of my senses, enough to walk up to the center of the stage, stretch out my right hand and display a grateful smile. Walking back seems to be an even more challenging task as on the way I have to stream through congratulating voices. Since I seem to have lost my own voice somewhere, all I can do is smile and nod like a spring-necked doll.

Did I deserve this? I didn’t find an answer to that question, but what I did find was a voice inside my head. A soft, angelic voice that is only saying one word…Hope! I can sense clarity, clearer than a glass lake. Giving up had cost me my smile, my hope. A smile lost once can be easily regained, but hope has to pass through many obstacles and tests to return to where it once belonged. I am sure of one thing now…that my mind has now become the permanent home of Hope.

My thoughts have finally been freed, but Hope is now captured for life!!

The Death of A Dream

2006-06-22T20:49:00.000+04:00

Through a whimsical and frisky
Discreetly passing thought,
Is conceived the first seed,
Of a faint hope so sought.

The passion and wishes,
Mingle in the silks of mind,
And procreate a magical vision,
Blessed to a being of an enchanted kind.

As visions adjoin one at a time,
The growth of a hope becomes mature,
Becoming a glittering shining dream,
That the embracing eyes gladly endure.

Then the skies of fate hit,
Blinding lethal streaks strike,
Which sheer the heart and soul,
Of the infant dream and hope alike.

The crash comes quicker than,
A vigilantly designed pack of cards,
And soon it’s the moment when,
The dream is sliced to miniscule shards.

The infant of a hope struggles,
Gasping for air from a life-bubble,
But death is all that bursts into light,
From the broken choking rubble.

The inert corpse of a dream,
Bids a departing soul adeau,
Into a world of heartless entity,
A place called stark Reality.

Neha

Ideal Day

2006-06-19T17:15:00.000+04:00

Its exam blues again!
You know what i've always noticed...my creativity seems to really spike up when i'm just 2-3 days away from an important exam! I know, I know, bad girl, very very bad! But heck, You try to study integral calculus, Cost Functions and Forces of Interest for a week and you'll know what the Real meaning of the word "boredom" is!! So to vent out my utter disinterest in books right now, here I am, imagining some example of what I would consider my Ideal Day!

Here goes...

My ideal day has nothing to do with an early morning! Since I find it quite painful to wake up at the crack of dawn, my idea of a perfect day starts around..lets say...10ish. On this day, I would wake up, and find a big mug of tea by my bedside, with spiraling smoke gently steaming out of it. I would stay in bed, slowly sipping my tea, as someone ( Anyone ..) would come and draw the blinds, welcoming the pleasant morning sunlight into my room, and the gentle cool breeze, which would bring with it the whiff of freshness.

After a luxurious few moments of slowly sipping tea, and just looking out of the window, I'd get out of bed...and ideally, not be lazy enough to avoid getting ready right then. So yeah, I'd take a long hot shower, and of course, sing to my heart's desire while doing that for as long as I please. After that, I'd choose my favourite clothes from the wardrobe..that is a kurta top and a pair of jeans, then I'd calmly choose my costume jewelry, brush my hair, which btw, on my ideal day would choose to behave themselves and be long and wavy without being untidy! Then, I'd just slip into a pair of comfy slip-on sandals, yes cuz im basically too lazy to even wear anything that would involve me making an effort to put them on!

Having taken my time getting ready, I'd leisurely stride into the kitchen, where btw, my breakfast would be ready and waiting for me. I dont know how...but yeah, it just would! And what would it be? Hmm...Yup..my favourite..Fried egg and toast! To finish off, there would be cold-coffee with lots of foam and ice ready for me to gulp down!

Ok, breakfast done. Now its the perfect time ( yes, everything is perfect on this day!) to call my friends and find out what they're doing. I would call, and naturally, on my ideal day, they would all be free and excited at any idea I suggest. And what do I suggest? Yes... a picnic at the park!

As I'd wait for my picnic-basket to be ready ( Uffo, told you na, don't ask me how or who does it...it just happens!), I'd turn on my computer..oh and of course since everything's going to be perfect, its going to be my new super cool laptop..which has Bose speakers accompanying it :p! Then, I'd listen to my favourite music while I check my mail and of course, my forgotten blog! I'd also chat with some of my friends online for sometime, and by the time i'm done, the lunch-basket would be ready.

Carrying the lunch, I'd go out, grab my bicycle, fit the basket in the carrier, and pedal off. There would be a very soothing breeze blowing my hair back and gently brushing by me, as I ride through a shaded secluded road which would lead to the park. The park itself would at the edge of a forest, with lots of shaded and rocky closures, a little tiny lake, and bicycle track cutting right through the middle of the dense forested area, which echoes with the sound of chirping birds.

After cycling for a bit, I'd find my group of friends, sitting under a huge tree, on the soft plush green grass, right by the lake, with sparkling clean water. I would arrive there, park my bike and start the chatter, which btw, would go on and on and on. We'd laugh, talk, tease each other, sing, play music, run around trying to catch each other. We'd play games like little kids, eat like hungry teenagers and ramble about ourselves like long-long adults. Then, after a while, we'd get a bit tired of the talking, so i'd pick a couple of my closest friends and maybe go for a stroll with them. Or, we'd all just decide to be quiet for a while, listening to soft melodious old Hindi music, which would fill the air with the magical feeling of serenity. In that case, i'd just find a quiet corner near the lake, put my feet in the welcoming water, and take out a piece of paper and a pencil, and draw whatever comes to my mind. With the music and silence to inspire me, even my sketch would come out to be just as I desire!

However, even on my perfect day, good things would have to come to an end. Come dusk, and we'd all pack up our picnic-stuff and ride off on our bicycles. We'd all decide to drop off our baskets and extra picnic-stuff home, and meet at a certain place in about half an hour's time. So, I would just get home, wash my face, change into some warmer nicer "night" clothes...which would be black btw, and just when I'd be done, my friends would come pick me up in their car.

We'd drive off to a shopping mall, which will be far enough for me enjoy the drive for a while, and close enough to not spend too much time in the car. After getting there, while some of us would browse the biggest clothes' store in the mall, others would go and get tickets for the night show of some really nice romantic-comedy which would be showing at the multiplex. We'd all then meet at the food-court, grab a quick bite to eat and settle in to watch a movie. The movie, of course, would be very sweet, very funny, very romantic and Not lame at all! So we'd all enjoy it ( yes..ALL..even the guys!) and come out of the theatre happy! Then, we'd decide to go to one of our houses, for coffee!

We'd pick the biggest and nicest house to go to, which obviously wouldnt have pesky neighbours to shut us up, cuz of course, we would be very noisy. There, with the hot coffee brewing, the guitar would come out again. We'd sip hot brewing coffee, with chocolate chip cookies ( heck why not!) and sing the best of the best songs that we can recall! Time would just fly and when it would be around 4ish in the morning, and my eyes would be drooping of sleep, one of my friends, would just offer to drop me home.

So i'd be dropped off home...and end the day crashing in my soft warm cosy welcoming bed, after looking out of the window for the last time...at the twinkling little diamonds in the sky and the smiling shining bright full moon. Before finally switching off my bed-lamp, I'd just write 4 words in my personal diary..."I love my Life"...

Ah...
Yes, thats it, thats my Ideal Day..and so what if its too impractical..so what if i'm too dreamy..and hope for too much...so what if i Know that such a day may not ever come in my life...I can still dream right?

So yeah..this was my Ideal Day...what's yours like?

Cliffs and Friends

2006-06-18T17:03:00.000+04:00

The final steps to an end,
And not alone do I stand,
People came along as I strode,
The friends who hold my hand.

Together we crossed the breezy shores,
And united we raced the gushing stream,
Passed such paths of rocks and dust,
Which to cross alone I could only dream.

Rifts were there as cliffs were formed,
Mountains of steal we stood aside,
A blue quivering stripe of water,
Between the cliffs forever reside.

The string of blue broadened up,
As the mountainous cliffs it intersects,
What would be before barely seen,
Into a mighty river it collects.

The stream and river given a name,
Would friendship be for instance known,
As thin it does between the rift,
But flowing and full it sheers the zone.
The rift closes as mountains meet,
And the stream of rich green-blue,
Gushes with the utmost force,
Forming a fall so strong and clean.

Once again the friendship blooms,
Stagnant and drained, down and away,
With cliffs of feeling and love,
And sturdy mountains welcoming another day...

The Waiting Room

2006-06-16T02:16:00.000+04:00

I don't lead a very exciting life. Like any other teenager, I indulge in the regular little fancies of daily life, that bring momentary sparks of pleasure into my inconsequential existence. I havent achieved any major goals as yet, and dont really think have experienced enough in this world to have any authority to talk about "life" in general. What I can do however, is share some thoughts and ramblings about the mini-version of the life that i've seen.

As I view it, Life is the waiting room of a secluded railway station. People come and people go, they stay a while, talk and chat and share and relax...then with the next train of events, next carrier of destiny, move out of that stationary room in your heart, leaving behind some memories, some belongings, some riminscience of their brief encounter. Some stay longer than others, and some just come and go and are forgotten as the next change of passengers come into the room. Sometimes, the waiting room is full of interesting folk, who share a few moments of joy, or maybe even sorrow. At other times, its just a vacant space, waiting for the next train to come and fill its emptiness.

Most people that spend time in the room, share stories. Stories of old and new times, of good and bad moments, of pain and elation. While its raining outside, these people sit and sip steaming hot tea, eat a few crushed snacks of their tied up bundles and suitcases. Some instead, choose to just stay in one corner alone, and lie on the wooden waiting chairs, maybe sleeping, maybe just trying not to make their presence felt. Eventually, they all know that these are just a few moments, between the complicated time-tables of busy trains, that they will get to spend in this station. They know, that come the time of the next train, carefully picking up their modest treasures, they will leave. What they might take is a couple of number, contacts...which might also just eventually get lost somewhere in those millions of loose sheets of unused paper piles, which hold the remains of meetings similar to the one in this waiting room. There...here's the next train...move on...

Then there are those passengers whose mere existence leaves a mark on the mind...a mark so permanent that no amount of change can wipe it out. But, as is quite obvious, such passengers of life are few, rare and far between. They might even just spend an hour's time in life's waiting, but even that little time spent together etches such a rock-solid image on the walls of the room, that not even the pureness of watery tears can wash away these images. So deep are the footsteps, that they entwine with the basic roots of existence. These few people in life are what remain, even after they have caught their next train, in the essence and aura of the waiting room...

...The waiting room...which I call Life.

Flowers of Gulzar's Mind

2006-03-25T20:55:00.000+04:00

Poetry.
What is poetry? If looked at from a literal and basic sense, it is quite easy to say that it is just a string of words streamed together in verse, keeping in mind a few norms of writing, and staying in a certain rhythm. However, if we go deeper into the meaning, poetry can be described as a flow of ideas presented through the ink of the poet's feelings, ideas and maybe even some hypothetically posed questions.

It is not an easy task to put your deepest thoughts, sentiments and desires on paper, and it is even more difficult to put these pieces of a person's mind out into the bare public view, for everyone to read. In the case of film lyricists, the situations and subject of the verses are already provided for, but even then, a part of the poet's or lyricist's own sentiments always accompanies the fabricated lyrics on set situations of cinema. One such person, who has shared his most profound lines of verse with us, through several decades of Hindi Cinema is an undoubted poetic genius, Gulzar.

His life and works can be found anywhere on the net, so here i'm just gonna share my feelings towards his words. I was recently analyzing the kind of music I like. I got out all my favourite songs, and lined them up. Then, one by one, I went ahead and googled the songs up. What I found out wasnt unexpected exactly, just a little surprising. At least 95% of my absolute favourite songs had one thing in common: They had the R.D.Burman-Gulzar combo. Starting to list all of those brilliant songs would require no less than an eternity, but then, I just cannot resist myself from listing at least some examples. Songs like "Ek Akela Iss Shehar Mein"(Gharonda), "Roz Roz Aakhon Tale"(Jeeva), " Seeli Hawa Choo Gayi"(Libaas), "Jaane Kya Sochkar"(Kinara), "Mera Kuchh Samaan"(Ijaazat), "Tujhse Naraz Nahi Zindagi"(Masoom), "Tere Bina Jiya"(Ghar), and many more, are just examples of the exceptionally talented duo.

People say Gulzar's lyrics were/are unconvetional and too "off the mark" to really understand. I mean, when do you usually hear such unusual metaphors like "Seeli hawa chhoo gayi, seela badan chhil gaya". True, these words are not the ones that people just humm and sing for the heck of it, and then forget before you even get to the next line. These verses really compel you to stop, go back to what you just heard, and try to comprehend the profoundness of the meaning. Every metaphor or simile, every little play-on-words, used has a meaning so deep and so enchanting that once you really understand it, you just cannot help but giving in to the sheer beauty and brilliance by which such simple thoughts are presented. The ideas of love, longing, joy, dismay etc, have been used time and again, but every single time that Gulzar saab has presented these very ideas in his choice of lyrics, even the most trivial of ideas becomes so deep that they find their way right to the heart!

If i was ever told to pick out my absolutely most touching Gulzar song, it is needless to say that I will find myself at a total loss! But, yes, i can say there are some songs and ghazals which have touched me more than others. Maybe because, some words and ideas have been able to tap my sensibilities more than others, or maybe that i have lacked in the maturity to really comprehend the meanings behind some poetry. Nonetheless, I guess that is the beauty of Gulzar's lyrics, they affect you in different ways through different stages of life.

One such example that i can dig out from my memory is "Dil Dhoondta Hai"(Mausam; Music: Madan Mohan ). I've heard this song at different phases of my life, and every single time, i've been able to derive entirely new meaning out of it. While, some years back, i just heard it for the pleasant tune, some years later i actually began to understand the first stanza and its meaning. Some more years down the line, i could actually interpret the ambiguous meanings of the words, and it wasnt long ago that I actually felt myself attaching my own personal memories to the pearls of Gulzar's mind, the sheer greatness of the poetry. It was as if, that one song and its words were enough to submerge me into my own memories and swim in the flowing rhythm of the music as words softly carried me into the oblivions of the most hidden portions of my soul...

I find myself rather insignificant to be able to end this post with my own words, while i'm talking about a poetic genius. Here are words...which have moved me time and again...and give full justice the poet I truly respect, Gulzar.

jeene ke liye socha hi nahi,
dard sambhalane honge
muskurayen to, muskurane ke karz utaarne honge
muskuraoon kabhi to lagata hai
jaise honton pe karz rakhaa hai
tujhse naraz nahi zindagi ...
(Masoom)

Khoon Chala- But where?

2006-03-11T16:08:00.000+04:00

Scholars and revolutionaries have said time and again that the first step to change starts right from your soul.

Over 50 years ago, my country, India, was fighting a freedom struggle. Millions of young men and women were ready to die for a country in bounds. That was the time when great minds gave birth to great ideas, and these great ideas became the sole passion for myriads of charged individuals.Flaring minds and raging determinations swept the nation up in a furor of maddening desire to unleash the country from forced chains. Like a river of fire, the young minds flooded through the streets and brought about the very change, because of which India is now an Independent Republic. The youth of the country yelled out, in pain, in glory, in rebellion, with conviction...towards Victory. That was the India of 1947...

Cut to 2006. Today. India is still in a struggle. The momentary victory of independence that was gifted upon us by great souls, has faded away in a daze of corruption, illiteration, poverty and overpopulation. While before 1947, India was trapped in the binds of British imperialism, Today, after several decades, we are still bound by parasites of society that are eating away our country.

We look around, and what meets the eye? Millions of people fighting the race to survive through a system which crushes them right when they try to get up. People say politicians have ruined our country, they are to blame. I say...WE are to blame. Its probably a cliché by now, but one thing has be be repeated again and again...The one who tolerates in injustice is as much the culprit as the one committing the injustice. It is so easy to just point a finger at someone, but what we dont realise is that three fingers are pointing right back at us.

"Be the change you want to see in the world"- MK Gandhi

Taking a very simplistic example, I just recently saw the movie Rang De Basanti. The movie deals with the issue of the Indian youth being foreign to their own culture, and how they've lost all hopes in the country. Carefree individuals turning into contemporary heroes for a cause. Seems far-fetched? Well only to a certain extent.

By now, I assume you're thinking...Here's another idealistic kid who lives in an unrealistic ignorant world of bliss, who finds it easy to preach about standing out and doing something for the system. Yes, I may be idealistic in my thinking, but my ideals are not baseless. Nor do they strive for something entirely inconcievable. Why do we find it so hard to take up a duty upon ourselves and just resort to pointing fingers most of the times? How many of us have actually read and understood the "Bill of Duties" of the Indian Constitution, instead of stressing on the Bill of Rights? Are we even eligible to the Right of our Constitution, after having completely side-lined our duties?

I dont claim to be a righteous citizen, but i guess all i'm trying to get at is that, we as Indians, dont even have the right to critisize just any glitch in the country, unless and until we are ready to do something about it. Things will not get better, if we sit and wait for them to improve.

I dont advocate violence or any drastic steps...those have never really solved any problems, just created new ones. Sure, it would be easy to just stand up and shoot down the corrupt politicians, policemen, doctors, lawyers...but till when? And how many? And what will be the result? Jail...or Death. No. Our country needs us alive. India needs our resources, our mental capabilities, our cooperation, our honesty and dedication. What we need is to take pride in our country, and work towards improving it. Instead of taking our intelligence elsewhere, we need to stay in this country. Sure, things might be a bit hard at first, when has the right path been easy?

Zulm karne se sada zulm hi haazil hoga
Jo na sach baat kahe voh koi buzdil hoga
Sarfaroshon ne lahoon deke jisse seencha hai
Aise gulshan ko ujadne se bacha lo yaaron...

( words by Gulzar, from Sarfarosh)

A Child's Smile

2006-03-10T20:35:00.000+04:00

We dont live in a very "happy" world. In the rush-rush, mundane, humdrum, drab life...there are really not many things that can bring a smile to your face and at the same time, fill a certain endearing warmth in your heart, that melts the frigid coldness, that the aches of everyday routine freeze in you. One such ingenious and miraculous occurance is A Child's Smile.

Everyday, when I step into the metro/train, I happen to come across the same routine stuff. People, lots of different kinds of people...but hardly any of them ever have smiles on their faces. Maybe because its the time of the evening, when people are coming back from work and are drained out from a day of labour. "What are they thinking?", I sometimes wonder to myself. "Is that lady over there wondering what she'll have to cook tonight or deciding on who will take the dog out for a stroll in the morning? And there, the girl leaning on the pole, what is going on in her mind? Did she not do well in her test today or did she get scolded by a teacher because she was talking in class? And over there, that man with the typical grey overcoat...what is he thinking about? His next project or about the discussion he had with his boss today?"

As I usually stand at some corner of the train, and trying to guess the thoughts in the minds of people...I look into my own thoughts. I replay my day, which is sometimes not a pleasant thing to do at all! Some memories make me smile to myself while some just make me break out from my dreaminess and land me right back to the harsh reality.

In the midst of all this, a door opens. Now you can call this the door of the train, or the door to some moments of joy. And through the door, glides in a soulful bundle of delight. As if on cue, all heads turn, and this little angel becomes the centre of attention. Sacked up in bulky little pink clothes, the little-wonder tightly grasps the finger of an adult, who's presumably her mother. Her eyes, were large and darted from one place to another, as if scanning the train compartment to find something of interest. She might have seen everything as big and brown, tall and overbearing, dark and gloomy...which it was, compared to her bright pink attire. It was as if, the brightness of her clothes, lit up the room...but then again...it might not have been her clothes...just her presence was enough for that.

While observing her, I also glanced around, and what I saw really amused me. All these people with preoccupied thoughts had tranformed into smiling invididuals, who were totally engrossed in watching the little kid, as much as I was. They probably didnt even realise it, but each and every person looking at her had a slight smile on his/ her face...and then I realised, I probably had a smile on my face too. All that I was thinking about seemed to have taken a backseat...and at that moment, the only attraction was that little bundle of joy...who was trying very hard to get out of her pram!

Then...while her darting eyes hopped from one view to another...they looked right at me. Instinctively, I smiled at her. I mean, why would I not? And then...she smiled right back at me...and at that moment, I felt such a strange kind of happiness...that is really quite inexplicable. I dont even know that child, and an innocent smile got me to feel better about myself...as if i'd achieved something. Just a moment of physical gesture, was enough to swipe away a day's worth of drearyness.

I dont know what Magic is....and If it exists in the true sense. But I think, the only way you can describe moments like this are by just one word...Magical...

5 Misconceptions about NRIs

2006-03-10T15:56:00.000+04:00

Ah, what the heck! I'm in a list writing mood!! Having been an NRI for a major part of my life, it really amuses me when people come up with these typical stereotypes about NRIs. Its as if we're some different species, which people characterise in their own way. So these are some misconceptions that i often come across, in India.

1. All NRIs are filthy rich --- We would want to be, but the thing is...there is a Big difference between what you want and what you get. I want to be Sushmita Sen..but Am I?...HELL no!!

2. NRIs all have American accents when we speak in English and they forget their Indian Languages --- Irrespective of the fact whether you're an NRI from Srilanka, or one from Zambia, or Alaska, people kinda expect you to have the typical american accent and kinda have an "air" of foriegnness! NRIs ...at least not ALL of them...dont forget their mother tongue, just because they've been out of India. I remember this, one year after moving out of India, when I visited home for the first time and called my friend, the first thing she told me was..."Arre, but you still speak Hindi". I wanted to reply, " Yes hunny, that part of my brain still exists you know, it doesnt go away just because i have a foreign visa stamped to my passport!"

3. NRIs are Non Returning Indians---BIG misconception. Its true that a lot of people who go out of India dont come back, or dont want to come back...but its also true that many DO want to go back to their country. Its not a One Way Trip.

4. NRIs are snobbish---another huge misconception! The thing is, its really unfair to generalise this snobbish characteristic on All existing NRIs. I mean, they do exist, obviously, but then they're not the only people who are snobbish. And not ALL of them are snobs.

5. NRIs forget how life is in India and cant survive if they decide to come back --- again, that is just a generalization. Its more of a matter of adaptation. I mean, why only NRIs...if a person from Delhi moves down south to Chennai..there will be adjustment problems. So its a myth that NRIs somehow cant get accostumed to India once they're out.

Can come up with some more...but I have to go now!
Happy Reading!
Neha

Things that Irritate me

2006-03-08T15:04:00.000+04:00

I was just going through some blogs ( yes...i have exams coming up..yes i have a room to clean, yes, i have to study for today's lecture...and yes, i'm a velli by nature!). So yeah, i was going through some blogs, and i realised this is like a hot topic among bloggers. So, since i dont wanna strain myself thinking about what to write, i'll write about this too! So here goes..

1. Hypocrites

2. Lying Hypocrites

3. Lying decieving hypocrites ( whats that? u want me to move on? Yes..sure!)

4. Waking up the in the morning ( damnit!)

5. Sound of the alarm clock ( Trrrrrrriiiiiingggggg...arrrgghhhhh)

6. The stupid Snooze Button ( i ALWAYS oversleep because of this!)

7. Himesh Reshamiya ( he's broken Kumar Sanu's record at being nasal!)

8. The guilt of living in a dump ( yeah, thats my room...I keep looking around at the mess and feeling guilty...and thats irritating!)

9. People who meet me after a long time and say, "Arre tu itni badi ho gayi!"( Arre..aap bhi toh itni boodhi ho gayi hain!)

10. People who tell me to act like a "Propah Lady" ( oops, excuse me ma'am, but take a hike!)

11. People who tell my mom (in front of me), "Itni badi ho gayi, ab iske liye ladke dekhne shuru kar do!!" ( Gimme a break! I'm 18 for god's sake!)

12. George W.Bush ( idiot!)

13. Samir's lyrics ( this guy has no vocab other than, "dil", "jaaneman", "pyaar", "jahan", "saajan", etc etc!)

14. Raghav ( the latest craze...ugh!)

15. NRIs bashing India ( HA! )

16. Indians in India saying, "i live in a shit country!" ( i could go on and on and on about this)

17. A classmate who thinks its her duty to provide the teacher with a running commentary of her stupid answers!

18. Filmstars saying "My role in this film is Different!" ( Sure honey, we know u have a new designer for this film!)

19. Writers like John Grisham, Jeffery Archer, Sidney Sheldon and the likes...Superficial as hell!

20. People promising to give newcomers a break and then disappearing into thin air!

Well the list is longer...but i have to run along now...!!

Happy Blogging!
Neha

2006-01-18T15:48:00.000+04:00

Singing Attempts with Dad

"Ranjish hi sahiiiiIeeieieie" I croak.

"Ouch", my dad nicely encourages her only daughter's (non) singing abilities.

"What dad? That was not in sur kya?", I ask. Yep, accepting a hint is not my forte.

"Oh of course it was in sur...just not the Right one!", Dad grins

"Yeah whatever dad, I'm gonna practise it till I get it right," I retort, with a stubborn determination on my face. At the same time, there's a look of absolute horror on my dad's visage, as if someone told him to eat mouldy bread, with blue spots of fungus as prominent as Bush's stupidity.

"Why dont we do something Else in our Father-daughter time?"he says, trying his best to save himself at the last minute.

"Nooo dad, now u have to listen and tell me when I get it right," I insist. Its funny you know, I'm not really as dumb as I might seem sometimes. For Real..I'm not kidding...Seriously. Argh..Fine Dont belv me! But what i'm getting at is that, I usually see signs of people trying to not make me do something. Well, this time it was my own dad, and even though i saw signs, I just carried on. Yeah, call me spoilt, but thats how it was.

So I went on. "Ranjish hIieeIIIeee saheieiii", and that hurt my own ears, so I very nicely just put a finger on one ear.

"That is SO unfair,"my dad pipes up, " you put a finger on your own ear, and Expect ME to listen!"

I laugh. And then ignore him and go on. My eyes closed, full concentration, hands moving like those singers I see in Saregamapa.

2 mins later, i open my eyes, and look at my dad for...ahem...Compliments.

The only thing is, My dad's not there. He's in the other room, nicely talking to my mom...while I shatter some glass in the neighbour's house.

Sigh, I guess you cant just annoy anyone you want. Not even your own dad! He just walks away!!

2006-01-18T15:37:00.000+04:00

Between Times of Torture

The time between two exams is a rather strange one. You're done with the first, and thinking about the other. Since the gap is rather large ( 10 days to be precise), there's this back-of-the-mind thought that there's a lot of time left to study. At the same time, there's this impending guilt and a voice in your head, which amazingly sounds like your mom's, yells something like "Study NOW you fool!". So while you're battling the urge to tear all your hair out in frustration, *To study, or Not To Study*, That is the question!

As it invariably always happens, the "not to study" part of the question wins and once again, I'm left studying a night before the exam, till 2 in the morning, with my dad shaking the walls with his booming voice, yelling at me for not having studied before. Sigh, I guess you win some, you lose some!

2006-01-04T16:41:00.000+04:00

My first step into a crazy, mystical, exciting new world...!!

After scorning this system of keeping an "online diary" for quite a while, I just had to bite the bait in the end and create a blog of my own. Its natural human instinct to be tempted, and the idea of writing my thoughts out in an unleashed way was just to tempting to ignore for long. So after labelling this Blog system as LAME many times, I too find myself here, doing what I love the most...writing!!

Ok..so that was my share of rather serious, and inevitably random thoughts. Now lets come to the real "ME" part...where sense doesnt make any sense whatsoever! I didnt title my blog "Random Ramblings" for nothing...I truly, honestly pledge to be random and rant to the fullest. And being a silly-little teenager, I dont think that would be a problem. All teenage girls come equipped with a ready-made "non-sense" talk package, which includes lots of giggles, tons of uncontrolled laughter, a sack full of brainless ideas and a handfull of (high!) hopes and dreams, all strung together with a string of parties, rebelling and lots of stupid mistakes.

So yes, in that way, I can claim to be a normal teenaged girl, if there exists something like a "Normal" teenager that is...