Coffee Stains

Saroj looked towards the old red building as she stepped out of the taxi. She did not have lots of luggage. Just a small bag with a few belongings to suffice her for a few days. Until she is here -- in her home town. Calcutta. It might have become Kolkatta now. But for her it will always be Calcutta. The city she grew up in. Today after 33 years she was back. Has it been 33 years already? She asked herself. Was it not just yesterday when she was the darling of her dad and 2 elder brothers? When she was the little princess of her mother?

She was so caught up in life that 33 years ..just went by. She got married to Ravi, the man her parents chose for her, who sometimes, she feels, is still a stranger to her. She was a dutiful wife and the best mother to her two daughters. Now, that her daughters are married and Ravi was out for business for a week, she could leave all of them behind. Atleast for a few days. She had spent the last 33 years living for everyone but herself. She had earned a short break for herself.

She started climbing up the stairs of the red building she used to call home. Her house was on the second floor. Age had started to take a toll on her. She could feel her knees straining while she climbed up, smiling at the memory of the time when she used to run down the same stairs to catch her tram to school. She opened the lock, and pushed away the crash gate. The view of her home, which now stood, covered in dust, was painful. A house full of sounds of the her brothers quarreling, her mother's instructions to Nathu -- the house help, Her Father's serious discussions with his friends was overshadowed by the silence which ruled the house in their absence. She remembered how annoyed she would be by all those noises, when she would try to study or read. She loved reading. Never the one with lots of friends, she found solace in the company of her books.

Today, for just that moment, she wanted those annoying noises back. She wanted her mother, whom she lost to cancer, nag her, "Why dont you go out like other girls! Saroj?" She wanted her two brothers, Pramod and Prabhat, to irritate her. She wanted her father to come to her like always and say, "Baby ji (That is what he would call her) What are you reading today?" For just today, she wanted her home to spring back to life. Only if.

Towards the right was her room. It was used by her nephew after her. There were torn posters of rock bands she didn't recognize. But the room still held her. She felt the same comfort she would feel years ago surrounded by the same four walls. She walked near her study table. The 3 children had carved out their names on the table. She could see Prabhat struck out and Saroj written below it. Aaah!! and there are those endless coffee stains, left by her after she would pull all nighters before her exams. They haven't faded. She noticed.

She went to all the rooms and felt the same gush of emotions coming in. Her Parents' room, her Brothers' room and the kitchen. The place where her mother, the best cook in the world, would make her best dishes. She remembered the sundays where all the family would sit together for a heavy breakfast,usually Poori Sabzi, and how all the three children would fight to take place besides their dad. The kitchen was also the place where her mother trained her to be the fine cook that she is today. "Although, I am not even half of her." She thought fondly remembering her mother. She was the most beautiful lady she knew.

Passing through the hallway, she remembers the last day in this house. She was just nineteen. But like most of the parents, her parents decided to marry her to the simple engineer boy from Raipur -- to a strange city and a stranger family. She never knew how to rebel. She never ever knew that she could say a "No". Her last minute packing was in process. There were suitcases all over. Was she really leaving? She was not focusing on her packing. Too much always overwhelmed Saroj. Even today. Weddings are happy times. They are equally sad. "Wasn't chachi ji (that's what she called her mom) crying non stop? And so was I." She reminisced. Even Chachaji could not control his tears. His favorite daughter was to leave the house tomorrow.

"There's never a day when I don't remember you." She said out loud in the empty house, hoping ... knowing that wherever her Parents are, they would be listening to her. Her voice was shaky but she tried to control the tears. Her girls would always make fun of how her tears are "ever ready" to fall. But today they had to come out. In the memory of Chachi ji, the silent loving mother, In the memory of Chacha ji, the most wonderful Dad a girl could have asked for and in the memory of Pramod --- her favourite elder brother, whom she lost in an accident. She instinctively walked towards her room, her sanctuary since forever, and cried, taking the support of her study table, fondly touching the name carvings and the coffee stains, which just like memories, never fade away.

And then it rained (Book review)

Despite repeated warnings to myself, I commit the same mistake again and again. I pick up books by amateur Indian authors and repent over my purchase later. A cancelled class and a messed up plan led me to buy a book by a first time author Gaurav Dashputra to kill time. Name of the book? "And then it rained". Now titles with "rains" in them resonates with me. Somehow, I love to write about rains. And that was the only reason I hastily picked up this book, hoping that atleast it would be decent, if not good. I was in for a huge disappointment. So although I will try to give a fair review of the book, I might get a little harsh and pardon me for that.

To begin with, the "author" is a final year medical student in Mumbai and he has written the story of a medical student in Mumbai. So far, so good. It always helps to write about the environment you have been in , because you can easily describe the intricate details in your story. The protagonist of the book is a guy called Akash Sarin (Or is it aman Sarin?) who shifts base from Nagpur to Mumbai, lives a "fairy tale" life and is struck by tragedy. That is the story for you in a nutshell. I will not go into the details for 2 very fair reasons. One , I don't want this blog to be a spoiler and two, there is nothing much to tell about the story. Its filmy, melodramatic and (in my language) tacky. You might as well go and watch an 80's or early 90's drama hindi movie. At the very least you will be spared with the childish language used in the book. I should have understood the very moment I read the tagline of the book as "COZ life is not always a fairytale." Coz?? Really Mr.Dashputra? Although, the sentences were grammatically alright (atleast they were not down right ultra pathetic like "The thing between u and me" ) but , it was still childish. You do not use phrases like, "I guess" , "Nothing re", "I wanna" in a proper book. You also do not say "I and Krish" or "I and Riya". Its always "Krish and I" and "Riya and I" (Atleast till I checked last). I do not want to be an English teacher here. My command over the language is far from perfect or even strong. But, it is disappointing to read such amateur use of the language when you can make it pretty readable. Also,I did not understand the connection of the hero worship of SRK in the book.

On the plus side, however, the end, WAS unpredictable. It did come as an "Oh" moment, but thats really about it. I did not find the book funny or entertaining or even minutely "touching". Probably I was reading it with a really closed mind or well ...

So yes, I am not a published writer. Maybe, I will never write a book (Not much of an ambition anyway) Maybe, its not such a bad book, just probably not my taste. But I am keeping my distance from the so called "metro" reads.

I'll close here by wishing all the luck to Mr.Dashputra the doctor/author. Hope you become a good doctor and hope you write an amazingly well second book.

Out in the rains ...

Its raining here. I hope its raining where ever you are. So that we can share the same shower of nature.So that we can share the same feelings.It has been ages we have done that. It has been ages we have shared anything. Except for the bitterness and the occasional silences ofcourse. We decided to go on our seperate ways. But, I could never undertstand,why do two people come together when they ultimately have to part ways?
We could never settle our disagreements. Could we? Probably we were both equally strong headed. We were too much alike to have stayed together. But we were also alike in our choices.
Remember our long discussions over those books we used to read? Or our appreciation over Pablo Neruda's Love Sonnets? "Tonight I can write the saddest lines". How we used to love eating out and experimenting new cuisines! I still remember the look on our faces when we ordered "the sizzling rice in tomato sauce" just for the kicks and vowed never to experiment again. How we ran like 2 naughty school kids after that. It was raining that day also. Just like today. And that day we did not share just the rain and sweet smell of the earth. We shared the same love in our hearts and the same look in our eyes. The same promises on our lips.
They say, promises are meant to be broken. Do they say it right? Well!! Atleast we didnt mean to break our promises. Mine is still intact.
I don't know in which part of the world are you. But I know that you have, with you, a small piece of me. I gave it to you on that rainy day.I hope you have thrown it away leaving it to die some where in the lashing rains. Because thats how it feels. I feel dead without you.


Addendum : This is just a piece of writing. All Fiction :)

My best 5 senses

My latest read is called "How to think like Leonardo Da Vinci". Honestly, it is not a really great book and I dont think I will start thinking like Da Vince once I am done reading it. But there was one interesting thing this book asked me to do and I thought I can make it my next blog topic since anyway I am totally out of topics to write these days. The author asks to list the best 5 senses experience you have had in your past. So hear goes my list :

Best Sight : I am sure this is yet to come when I go on my dream "world tour" trip. But till then, it will be watching snow fall on a mountain from a distance while standing at Pangyong lake in Laddakh. Pangyong lake is probably the most beautiful place I have ever visited and the snow fall looked like melting clouds. It was just ..."dreamy". Until I go to Europe and see the wonderful sights I only see in pictures, this is going to my best "sight" experience.

Best Taste : I am not really fussy about food. I eat almost anything veg kept in front of me. So the "Best taste" might have eluded me. But one experience does come to my mind. Ritu (Thats my elder sister for the uninitiated) had once brought freshly baked just-out-of-oven chocolate pastries from a near by bakery. They literally melted in the mouth. I have never had tastier pastries than them. This story is probably 10 years old now and I still remember the texture ,smell and taste of those amazing ABH pasteries!!

Best Touch : Undoubtedly when Lona (Thats Ritu's daughter) ran to hug me ... not because she adores me but because she had switched off the main circuit leaving the entire house in darkness and she was afraid that her mother is going to spank her little butts till they turn blue. Since I am the "santa Claus" mausi who meets them probably only once in a year, I always save her from her mother's fury. The little one ran to me and hugged me calling out the whole time "Mausi maine kuch nahi kiya". That was the moment I realized why parents love their children so much even when they are nothing but soul sucking little demons. It was the sweetest touch ever for me and although I knew she had switched off the mains, I just didn't have the heart to turn the little criminal to the "authorities" :)

Best Sound : I will again have to go back Laddakh . We were lingering outside of Shanti Stupa enjoying the beautiful scenery, clouds and mountains of Laddakh. There was one angrez nomad , with long hair and all the works, playing the flute, wonderfully. I think it was the beauty of the place which added to the beauty of the sound or vice versa. But unknowingly, this counts in as my most beautiful sound experience ever.

Best Smell : This might be a very common answer and the most agreeable one as well. The smell of the earth after the first rains. That smell is sort of magical. It takes you back to your childhood, it brings out the writer in you, it brings out the cook in you (inspiring you to make hot pakoras and chai :) )It just fills in you and makes you smile. As I always say, nature never stops to surprise you. Rains has the quality of making you happy, sad and even irritable. One may associate lots of emotions with the rains. But the emotions attached to the first rain of the season is ALWAYS happiness and a sense of relief and ofcourse the earth rejoices along with us --its happiness surrounds us in the form of the wonderful smell!!

So these are my best 5 senses experience. I dont know how much this exercise will make me think like Leonardo, but it surely was fun to actually realize it. What are your best 5 senses experience?