Sunday, December 22, 2013

Distances ....



We loved each other,
Though we were never a couple
You made me laugh till my stomach hurt
You stood by me through grime and dirt

There were endless cups of coffees
and so much to talk
there were stories and advises
over a drive or a walk

We knew we would one day
let go of each other
and we would do that gladly
without a tear or a flutter

We went our own separate ways
And We knew we were happy and bright
But then there are these few days
when something does not feel right

I have friends, please don't misunderstand
and I am a friend for them too
We make each other laugh and cry
But they are certainly not you

I don't know if it is me
Or if you have really gone far
If you have changed
or if we have just grown apart

Sometimes, I feel really alone,
Not that I complain
It is good, or even peaceful
I just wish I could have a friend again


Tuesday, November 26, 2013

For the God Himself (Guest post by Ambika)



Honestly, Sachin Tendulkar retiring was not a big deal for me. I respect him immensely as a human being, but owing to my lack of interest and knowledge in the game of cricket, I am not really going to "miss" SRT play. However, I do know one crazy fan, who watched cricket all these years for the one single man, no prizes for guessing -- Sachin Tendulkar and have revered him from then on. So I leave it to her , to express her true feelings on an occasion that made the entire nation cry. Over to Ambika :

‘Sachin Tendulkar Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar Thank you Thank you Thank you’, those were the words of the commentator when Sachin was caught out at 74 in his last ever innings, his 200th test match. And I was watching in awe, watching the packed stadium where every single person gave that man a standing ovation, between that thunderous applause his biggest fan Sudhir watched his hero walk back with moist eyes. As the camera followed Sachin up till the pavilion, I sat wondering how many Sachin lovers, like me, would have bunked office or called in late just to watch their ‘God’ bat live one last time in the Indian jersey, how many would’ve queued up early morning outside the stadium and how many would have felt lucky to have witnessed him play. What is it about this man that people across the globe have such a high regard for him? Then came the speech, that heart-felt speech that brought tears to our eyes. He hadn’t written down anything apart from the names of the people he wanted to thank, every word he said was what he truly felt, it was pure gratitude. And that moment when he went and touched the pitch stirred a million emotions in me; it reflected his strong value system and his utmost respect for the game. The gesture was unexpected, it was perhaps the last time he would be standing in those 22 yards and he was grateful for everything it had given him, whatever he has achieved was because of cricket and he genuinely wanted to thank the game that made him the icon he is today. 24 years, a career spanning 2 decades, with injuries, with the harshest critics, with controversies, this one man stood tall through everything and focused on what he loved doing the most – playing cricket for India.

He mentioned in his speech that his father always told him to chase his dreams but not look for short cuts and to be a good human being. To quote Andrew Symonds who gave him a t-shirt saying 'To Sachin; the man we all want to be”.

For me personally, apart from all the records, the trophies, the awards, the one characteristic that makes him so special is the person Sachin is, it is who he really is. Despite the enormous amount of admiration, the hero worship, the craze, the media frenzy, he remains so grounded and humble. His honesty, his integrity, his devotion towards the game is what separates him from the rest. In 24 years of living with a celebrity status in a cricket crazy nation, not once has he been dragged into any controversy or lost his cool or snapped at the critics or media. There must have been times when he would have been frustrated angry and a complete mess after all he has always been under a constant pressure of performing, he always had a billion hopes resting on his shoulders. Yet he always maintained a calm and composed demeanour, flashing that innocent smile while he let his bat do all the talking. His attitude shows in his game, it has been his only passion, the only dream he ever had – to play for India. Passion – a word we all use so frequently but what we don’t realize is what goes behind it. It calls for years and years of hard work, perseverance and sweat, being focused, dedicated and staying strong enough to fight all the failures on your way to success. He could have taken it easy, he was talented and was already a part of the Indian team, but he did not miss even a day’s practice. In every single match he played you could see the child in him come alive, his enthusiasm was unbound. He could have rested after breaking a few records, after all his name had already gone down in history, but he went on because he loved the game he was driven by his passion and considered himself blessed to be able to play for his country. He faced the most difficult bowler’s right from his debut; he played against the strongest opponents, the rudest teams who would take to sledging and abusing on the field. But that man remained unfazed and determined, he answered all those bowlers simply by playing his square drives and master shots for sixes and fours. I am sure he must be laughing it off later because surprisingly he shares a great camaraderie with the players across all teams and everyone respects him and looks up to him.

“When you bowl at him you are not just trying to get him out, you are trying to impress him. I want him to walk off thinking ‘that Flintoff, he's all right isn't he? I feel privileged to have played against him” – Andrew Flintoff

“I have seen God, he bats at no. 4 for India in tests” - Mathew Hayden

"The only batsman I would love to see by paying for the tickets and sitting in the stand just to watch him is none other than Sachin Tendulkar." - Brian Lara


His hunger to win, his zeal to play, his eagerness to excel and his love for the game is an inspiration to all of us. Not only is he an amazing sportsman, he is also a gentleman with wonderful qualities which reflect in his affection for his family, the warm bonding and protectiveness for a son who is bound to face comparisons on every ball he hits. He managed to shield his children from the limelight all these years and I am sure they must have been taken aback seeing the adulation, recognition and tributes showered on their father from across the world. What a proud moment for the entire family, for the mother who watched her son play for the first time in 24 years, for the brother who sacrificed his own career and nourished the same dream, for the coach who pushed him harder each time and for the father who made Sachin the brilliant man he is today. It is truly admirable to see a middle class man achieve so much success and fame by being righteous and honest towards his work and continue to be shy, modest and down to earth. He breaks the myth that looks, stature or wealth make a man, instead sound principles, morals and good virtues maketh a complete man. I guess these were also the reason he was put on a pedestal of God and he has not let any act spoil his name or done anything to let down a billion ordinary people who worshiped him. His longevity, consistency is inspiring as he has been compared with cricketers across generations with him being the only constant. He has the power to make time stop. He is the only person on planet who unites India and I don’t think anyone else can ever do it this way. We all have our Sachin moment, the nail biting, the wow what a shot, the joy when he would walk to the crease, following some silly superstition while he would bat,the sadness at his wicket, and many more such cherished memories that will stay with us and countless stories that will be passed down to the generations to come.

He said his farewell was scripted by the almighty, I believe he is the almighty in some form. He is a legend and he is truly blessed!

“His shots, His drives
His squat, His smile
His style of raising the bat, His persona on the field
His humility, His honesty
His jersey number, His die-hard fans
Everything about Him is irreplaceable
Sachin Tendulkar ... You will remain the God of cricket forever!!”
- Ambika Jugran


Thank You Ambika for an amazing post!!

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Little good things in life --2

I was supposed to write a story prompt but something else in the morning caught my attention and I have to write about this. Every morning in the cab, Arjun , our driver, passes across a book to sign for all of us. Before I go ahead, here is something about Arjun. I don't think he is above 24-25. He has a bad collection of songs (at least Hindi songs, I can't comment on the regional ones) and his favorite song is "Tum he ho" from Ashiqui, so much so that he keeps crooning it all the way to Target. He seems like a happy go lucky , jolly, like-able fellow.

So, this morning with the attendance book, he passed across something else -- a box of sweets. That's not every day! Heck! That's not even every cab. It brought a smile in every one's face. It touched my heart. Not only that, when everyone was getting down , he was asking everyone with a bright smile ... "Did you have the sweets?"

One little good deed, enough to brighten many faces!

May there be lots of love in the world!

Happy Diwali!

Monday, October 28, 2013

The Pause



Naina huddled herself and rubbed her arms as she stepped out. She accidentally kicked a beer bottle that went clunking down the small steps. It was darkerthan what she expected. There was silence all around and she could only hear the soothing sound of the crashing waves. After the deafening music at the beach party just a few hours ago, the silence was welcoming. She moved closer towards the water. Who said beaches were scary in the night? It just had a darker side like all of us.

She sat down and felt the damp sand beneath her. She closed her eyes and filled her lungs with the moist air. "hmmm" she thought. "Nothing to think of.' "Wow!"She muttered under her breath. For once she was in the world and yet so away from it. She was in Goa,
the party capital of the country, and yet ironically, this is the place where she sat in peace. Of course life was still going on as she sat there. But she wanted to revel in the nothingness of now.

She would go back in her room where her drunk friends would not have noticed she was gone."Thank God for that" she thought and smiled. But right now she was happy being alone,with the waters shining under the fading light of half a moon. Of course there were
matters going around in her life which could use her attention. But they can wait. Sometimes all you need is an empty moment. No,it does not give you a solution to anything. It does not even leaves you enlightened . It just helps you to stop and feel.It helps you slow down.

She could do this all night. But logic suggested otherwise. It was time to go back. She was not sure how long she sat there but she guessed it was late when she saw a lone fisherman tugging his boat. Naina got up to walk back to her room. On the way, she turned back and smiled towards the playful waters. "Thank You" she muttered as she hurried towards her room. Life was waiting for her after the pause.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Shine bright like a diamond!

Rockstar, aka Saviseh was playing at Legend of rocks today at Kormangla. For the uninitiated, Saviseh works with me in Target and is an amazing self-taught drummer. I went to see him play but unfortunately the place was too crowded for us to even stand. Eventually, I entered to wave a quick Hi to him and then moved out. So I must have been there for 10 seconds and fortunately managed to catch hold of rock star’s attention. In those ten seconds, I could see how much he was enjoying himself while playing his drums. In fact, it is a lot of fun even seeing him while he talks about his drums, his set up and all the music jargon. His eyes sparkle, his energy goes a notch higher and a tiny smile plays along his lips. That man defines passion for his art.

Sadly, passion is a very over used and over abused word. One should be really careful when to use it. It is a beautiful word and it is an even wonderful feeling. I can still not say that writing is my passion. I enjoy it immensely, yes! But I am still scared to call it my passion. Many times I don’t feel like writing. May times, I don’t understand what to write about. Many times, I have to push myself to write and more often than not, I come up with ill standard content. Should I then, still call writing my passion? May be passion is also developed, slowly and steadily. I have never spoken to Rock star about how much did he work on his drumming skills and seriously looking at him play for even the shortest span gave me such a high that maybe I will talk to him at length about his passion.

I am definitely happy about one thing, though. My writing is going one step ahead. As of now I am doing dry freelancing content with not an iota of imagination, but it still gives me a satisfaction. It gives me a sanctuary to hide in. It gives me an assurance that I will not forever be stuck in the IT world, which may sure be my bread and butter but it sure is not something I really am in love with. I still have to go a long way in writing. I have to reach a certain standard which, right now , does not seem too far-fetched but looks like a huge amount of hard work.

Even Sachin Tendulkar slogged. Just having a skill is not enough. Then of course I cannot complain. Someday, even my eyes will light up like Rock star’s, while I write, every single time and that day I would declare to the world that writing is indeed my passion.

Here is a parting question. What will make you excited enough to not snooze that alarm or make you stay up without a single trace of fatigue? What makes your eyes light up?

Friday, October 25, 2013

Memories



Have you ever felt a familiar whiff of aroma of tea from your favourite tea stall, when all you were doing was walking by the streets minding our own business? Have you ever felt the air and remembered a breeze many seasons ago, when you had wrapped your shawl a little tighter, hugged yourself and smiled..perhaps for no reason at all? Has memory ever sneaked up, walking behind you like a naughty kid all along only to appear suddenly, taking you by surprise?

That's what memory does ..you know. Every single time. It catches you unaware and all you can do is slip into its warmth, reveling the moments gone by. Remember those lunch boxes in school, which were opened together and every bite was shared? Did you go running to you mom saying, "Mummy, Minali's mom makes the best aloo ka parantha's in the world. Please take the recipe from her!" ? Well I did! Remember those bus rides home, or the sunday morning breakfasts with everyone and sometimes even with the neighbours bringing in their pohas and upmas?

The first day in college or the first time you met the people you now call the best of your friends -- what they said the first time, your first impression -- they are all lovely conversations over coffee .. that go and on and on. The jokes still crack you up and the secret pet names are still fresh in your minds. You go through the photo albums, look at your professors and in a jiffy, there you are ... in the same class, at your seat , doodling at the back of our note book , trying your best to control your laughter or maybe , even listening to the lecture?

Memories -- they make you laugh, they make you smile and more often than not , they make you cry. They also bring along regret. You want them to stay , you want them to hold your hand and take you back once again to the days of carefree laughter and worries that hardly mattered. Be careful, they may fly away if you don't look closely ...leaving you with a hazy foreground. Hold on to them .... these days , it is difficult to make memories.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Bit by Bit


I stand tonight
like every other night
wearing the brightest of my clothes
pulling down my blouse
showing a bit extra

He touches me, and I squirm
He smiles, comes closer
reeking of cheap alcohol
but.. It was I who called him

I smile, brighter than my dress
I lure , I talk
inside I scream
I hope and pray that he does not stop

But sometimes I pray that he does
and He goes back happy and staisfied
So that he pays me well
Atleast I can buy more than just food

I wish I earned enough to buy more
I wish I could buy happiness
I wish I could buy peace and respect ...and maybe dignity

I stand tonight
like every other night
getting judged, gawked upon, stared at
by the "good people"

This is my work .. I tell them
Atleast I don't beg and cheat, I tell them
Atleast I don't kill,
Though my soul dies ..
bit by bit ...Everyday


Tuesday, October 15, 2013

A review really matters!

What do you do when you are confused about which restaurant to have dinner at? Or when you have to decide which should be your latest read? Or maybe, which holiday destination to go to this weekend? That's right! You check for the reviews! You ask friends, find out their experiences and finally go to your best friend... Google! Reviews and feedback have become the most important measure of our decisions.

Now think about what do you do when you want to find out which is the best online retail website? Or which is the best website to research for your upcoming project? Maybe you want a help in your code and we know there is a lot of everything all over the net! How do you, in the whole wide web world, find out which website will really help you get out of the soup?

Some good people in Bangalore got their heads together and understood your dilemma, thus coming up with a one stop shop for the reviews of the entire websites in the world. Say hello to Reviewmatters.com! What you get here are honest reviews, an insight of what people think of a particular website.

Sort out the best from the rest by reading the online experiences of people like you. Share your online stories with the world. Help someone find a better deal on the internet. With reviewmatters.com, you can make sure that you have an unbiased view on the website you are looking for. Didn't find what you are looking for? Why don't you put up a review and let the world know how did it go! You can also get to know about websites you didn't even know existed! Browse through the categories like Clothes and Fashion, Electronics, Entertainment, Kids, Leisure, Transportation, Public Services.... trust me! The list goes on and on. Read the reviews and make your decision. With its colorful and easy to navigate interface, reviewmatters.com helps you find your way through the huge, entangled world of the internet. When you look for a review, not only will you get the point of view of the visitor, but also the summary of the website itself on the same page, so you don't have to go to every website to have a glance of it.

It is also of immense help to you if you own a website. You can encourage people to write about what they liked or disliked about your website and help you improve it. Discover your strength and weaknesses and build a loyal customer base. Sounds like a good idea .. Doesn't it?

On an ending note, Browse, read and share your (re)views and let the world know! Bookmark this one right away!

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

The little good things in life ...



Among all the stress, the work load and the reluctance to work, I witnessed an unussual incident at work yesterday. Lunch in Target is a fun deal. There is Veg, Non-Veg, Chinese, Indian and Rolls! The best part is , all of it is free. The taste however is a different story. They display the food with plates and menus at the side. For a yet another corporate company, it is pretty good.

So when yesterday, like every other day, we were deciding which cuisine to choose, one person was talking to a friend way too loudly, reading every item on all the menus.

"Cauliflower, Rice, Rotis, Radish Rasam .... Oh there is Gulaab jamum in GMR. Lets go there!"

Shilpa and I looked at each other. We smiled the "who is this moron" smile, shrugged and left. While Shilpa went to one caterer, I followed the noisy man and his friend.

After a minute or so, Noisy man told his friend "You want another spoon of the curry?" The friend nodded in a no. Noisy man dragged his friend's plate while carrying his own in his hand. Something was not run of the mill here.

They moved to the rice section. Noisy man said. "I have put one and a half spoon of rice. Do you want more?" The friend nodded in a yes this time.

"Next we have black dal. Do you want that?"

I could not control my curiosity. I peeked in just so carefully.

The "friend" was blind.

Suddenly, Noisy man was a sensitive, helping friend and I was the moron. I couldn't help smiling to myself.

May there be lots of love in the world.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

What if money was no object?



I came across this wonderful comic site called Zen Pencils. The comic phrasing Alan Watts pleased me the most. Such a thought liberates your mind, although the body feels captivated instead. But , what if really, money was no object? What if we did not have to think about "security", "savings" or "settling down". What if being an engineer, a doctor, an MBA graduate, owning a car, a house were not the measure of a person's success?

They say 'what' and 'if' are two harmless words as harmless they can be. But put them together and they have the power to haunt you for the rest of your life. If I had no "responsibilities" to think of, I would have definitely been a travel journalist. Because, what is life if it is spent in a corner, without ever getting to know, what was out there to explore? There are sunrises and sunsets that take your breath away, there are luxuries that let you fly and realities that bring you down. There are people to meet and talk to, who give a completely new set of thoughts to think about and dishes, whose taste would be alien to our palette. Did you know that lake hilier in Australia is pink in colour?

Did you know about Giethroon , a city with no roads ? Or that the phenomenon of norther lights is a miracle in itself? Or that the castles of ireland are the most hauntingly beautiful in the world?

To live a life with a memory in every corner of the world -- does it not sound the most beautiful thought ever? Also, to have it recorded in words, to be shared with the rest of the world and inspire others to have the same experience -- doesn't that sound the most wondrous of ideas ? That's where the journalism part comes in, where you let your thoughts come out and play in form of words, where the memories stay as pictures and the witty comments below them. Writing lets me express myself in a way I can't do while I am talking. It lets me paint a picture, with the colors I want.

Of course, such a life is not easy. But, isn't the sleep a tad bit more enjoyable when you have actually worked for it or the food a tad bit tastier when you have strived for it? No one has shied away from adversities. It's the lack of passion on an everyday basis which depresses the most.

So, if money was no object for me, I would have been backpacking my way through the world, known and unknown, with my words, putting every tiny detail on the paper. I would make friends with strangers and crash with friendly locals. I would do odd jobs and who knows, probably enroll myself in a university for a writing course or maybe learn baking at a local bakery. Ah! The sense of unknown, the sense of novelty and the exhiliriation that comes with it! The high is better than any alcohol in the world.

Maybe , Billy Bryson is actually living the life of my dreams.

PS: Thank you for the picture Amber! :)

Monday, September 2, 2013

Stares

“Tell me honestly, haven’t you been preparing for interviews?” asked Ajay, adjusting his right leg on the sofa.
“No!! Seriously! I am just brushing up my basics. We need it!” I said.

When was the last time I sat down with a few people to just talk? I had to strain myself and still no answer would come out. It felt good that after so long, my friends and I were lounging at my house.


Maybe it was too late. Or maybe we were too noisy. Although I do remember shutting the door of my room. I am sure something was wrong, because we woke up Grand ma.
I was distracted by the opened door. Grand ma was standing there, without making any noise. Age had shriveled her up. She was staring at all of us as if she was seeing us for the first time. Maybe, she hadn’t seen me interacting with my friends earlier. Her hair was disheveled and she was making no effort to put those grey strands back to their place. She was wearing a red sari with a dark red border. It covered her carelessly. You cannot expect an 80 year old to be dressed perfectly. She had her red bindi on her forehead. She still looked beautiful.

“Grand Ma?” I said “Sorry did we disturb you?”
Ajay turned to see whom was I talking to. He turned back.
“Whom are you talking to?”
“Right! Silly of me! People! That’s my grand mom. Grand Ma... They are all my office friends.”
Deepika and Ajay looked at each other.
“ok That’s not funny .. I get scared with such jokes. Cut it out” Said Deepika.
“Hey that is my Grandmother. What is wrong with you?” I laughed.
“There is no one standing out there” Ajay said.
“Ok Enough. Come sit Grand Ma”

She was walking very slowly towards me. I got up to help her. Her skin was too cold to touch.

“God Grand ma! You are freezing. Do you want to sleep in a blanket?”
Ajay and Deepika got up.
“I think we will leave” Ajay said. Deepika was already walking past me.
“Wait up guys, this is weird.” I said.
“Yes it is” Ajay said, reaching for his backpack.

I shrugged.
How can they get scared of my Grand ma? She is the sweetest lady ever.
I looked back at grand ma. She was still staring at me, as if she wanted to say something.
“Are you ok Grand Ma? I asked. She did not say anything.
“You are too cold Ma. I’ll get you a blanket” I said as I went out of the room.

It was a little difficult to understand what was happening when I came back to my room where Grand Ma was sitting on the sofa. I had heard of people doing head stand. For the first time, I saw someone sitting on their head.
“Grand Mom?” I said, the blanket falling from my hands. My legs started to take me away from her, without me even realizing it. “Sit comfortably Ma! How are you even doing this?”
She was still staring.
“Grand Ma .. It is going to pain. Please sit properly”

Did I miss something? When did she stand in front of me, her eyes staring me down to my soul? They did not feel like my grand ma’s eyes. They were cold, two stones in a white sea.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



I find myself sitting beside my father. The room is dark. I don’t know if the curtains are pulled down or there are no lights at all. Dad is holding grand ma’s head , raising it slightly to give her some water. Her eyes are closed. She is not taking the water in. Her face is full of blisters. Were Deepika and Ajay right? How did I forget that Grand Ma had been fighting her illness since a year? How did I forget that her blister face frightened me so much that I had stopped going in her room?
Her skin was clear when she came to meet me in my room last night, or was it just some time back? I do not know.
I am lost in my thoughts while father puts her back in bed. My eyes wander. I don’t like to see Grand Ma this way.
My eyes have stopped to wander. They widen looking at her, as she stands there in the same sari, her skin clear of any blister, her red bindi back on her face. She still stares. Back in the bed, father had covered her face with a bedsheet.

A chill runs through my spine …and I wake up.

Monday, August 5, 2013

One Night

3 Friends, one outsider
3 Bottles, one night
3 heart breaks, one story
Sad songs, a zillion incidents
Secrets , regrets , smiles, tears
Haunting memories , lost souls
Ocassional silences, distant glances
music,fun,heartfelt past
The outsider looks and smiles
She listens , she feels
She wonders, she questions
People move on , or do they?

Saturday, August 3, 2013

Ammu



Ammu leaned back, resting her head in the rocking chair and stared at the cieling. Closing her eyes was difficult these days. If she closed her eyes, she would go back to that dark room. She would have to listen to the cries, the gut wrenching screams of the girl's mother, once again. She would have to see Arun, her son, Her Aroo. She would feel the heavy air of that room weighing her down, shrinking her to a size where no one could see her.

Finally she would see her -- sitting as a stone. She would see her as clearly as she did on that day, in that room.
Their eyes met. Ammu's eyes were moving rapidly, searching for some life, a glint of hope in that girl's eyes. But there was none. They pierced her, baring her, revealing her soul and saying, "Yes, I can see your soul. But you know what Ammu? You can't even do that. You can't rip my soul. You know why? Because your son took it away from me. Your son raped me.
Ammu sat straight with a jerk and shut her ears with her hands. Her son -- a rapist. The news was everywhere -- In every channel, in every newspaper. There were OB Vans standing outside the gate of her house. Everyone wanted to cover the news of the sinister boy who raped a 15 year old.

"Go away" She shouted, but the adamant journalists would not listen to her. They would jump over each other, thrusting mikes on her face, asking the where about of her son. Every question was a stab with the sharpest knife. “Where is your son Amrita ji?” “Amrita ji, are you hiding him”? “Did you see any signs of him growing up to be a rapist?”

“What?” Ammu squinted at the journalist. She shook her head in disappointment and irritation. Pushing herself away from the prancing maniacs, she forcefully closed the door.

“Did you see any signs of him growing up to be a rapist?”

The question echoed in her ears. She supported herself on the door, looking around her house. What should she do? Where should she go? Maybe the utensils needed cleaning. Maybe, the furniture needed some polishing. The fishes needed fed, something had to be done. Something had to be done to take her mind away from the madness.

“Did you see any signs of him growing up to be a rapist?”

Aroo was the best son, she wanted to tell them. The little Aroo, who would come running to her with his little feet, “Ammu, I got some more laddoos for you”, “Ammu, why does Shankar Uncle have no hair?” “Why does Shashi’s mom beats him?” She almost smiled at the memory. The world called her Ammu for Amrita. Aroo called her Ammu for Amma, his Amma.

How did my little Aroo become a beast? Today, she could not understand her own son. She had failed as a mother. She had failed to teach her son the most basic etiquettes. Her throat felt dry. Her lips had started to quiver. The tears refused to stay back anymore. They ran down her cheek, unstoppable, and she let them. She had pretended to be strong. She had pretended to be in denial – until she met Aroo after the news broke.

“What are they saying? You could not have done this Aroo. Son, why is this girl lying? Which girl lies like that? What has this world come to? Girls staging their own rape? “ She stopped herself. She was talking too much. She was talking too wrong. But she did not understand the conundrum around her. She was moving around in short circles, walking in and then turning back. They were accusing her son of the most heinous crime. Aroo wasn’t like that. “Aroo?”

Arun was sitting on the sofa, not saying anything, not looking at her.

“Tell me the truth Aroo”. Why is she lying? What does she want?”

“She is not lying” He said, barely audible.

“What, son?” She raised her eye brows,trying to hear his mumbling.

“She is not lying”. He said again, still not looking at her.

Ammu felt her guts coming to her throat. Her hair band felt too tight. Her tongue, too heavy.

“She is not lying? You …..”Ammu could not say the word. She could not say anything. She collapsed on the cold floor. It was too cold, like the air around her.

“Get out!”

“Ammu. Pls listen to me …..”

“Go away Arun. Run away, hide, or I will surrender you to the police.”

She never called him Arun, not even when she scolded him. His real name felt strange from her. But this was not her son. This person was demon. There was no other word for him.

“Did you see any signs of him growing up to be a rapist?”


She was still standing leaning back on the door. She remembered her Baba, the strongest person she knew. She could feel the smell of the curry from her mother’s kitchen. She wanted to go running to her mother, hiding behind her and closing her eyes with the pallu of her mother’s sari, like she did as a little girl.

“What do I do, tell me Baba? What should I do?”

“Do what is right Ammu.” She heard her Baba say, the one advice he always gave her. Do what is right.

The news reporters were still knocking at her door.
“Amrita ji, your son has been caught. How do you feel?” Amrita ji, please open the door; People need to know the truth. Will you hire a lawyer for him?”

Ammu turned back and opened the door. The reporters were ready to attack her, like a pack of wolves.

“Hang him”

There was a stunned silence amongst the reporters. “Do you really want your son to be hanged for what he did? Do you disown him Amrita ji?” asked a reporter, in slow pronounced words, as if searching the right words.

“He deserves it. If he would not have been my son, I would have asked for a harsher punishment. I ask you to forgive him and give him the easiest way out. Hang him” She took a step back and closed the door. The reporters were still knocking the door.

Ammu walked around the house. Every corner was shrieking with the memory of a family she once had. She sat back in her rocking chair. She felt a heavy weight lift off her chest. She did not know what will happen tomorrow. Will they really hang him? Will they leave him after 7 years? It did not matter anymore.

Her Aroo was dead long back.

Monday, July 29, 2013

I never

Lists are great cheats when one does not know what to write. Ergo, here is a list of 10 things I will never do in my life. Never. Ever.

1) I will never drink anybody's blood -- Now why would I even entertain such bizarre thoughts? Flashback to Friday evening, when the husband and I settled to watch a movie called "Limitless". For the benefit of people who have not watched this movie, I will not reveal much except for this one scene where Bradley Cooper is faced with this situation. Either he drinks this other character’s blood or die. He chooses the former. Now I , like many others, have a bad habit of putting myself in the shoes of the protagonist and thinking ... "Would I have done that?" "NO!" Shrieked my conscious! Never. Ever.

2) I will never shoot a man above his knees -- This again gets its roots from the zillion movies I have grown up watching. It is so easy to kill people in the movies! What if I have to, God forbid, face such a situation? Simple! Shoot him on the leg, hit the groin with your knee and run for your life!! But do not kill a person... Unless it is Osama Bin Laden or a rapist.

3) I will never stop reading! -- I was in Germany this morning. Sounds so cool, right? That's because I am reading Schindler's list. I was in Mississippi last to last week. It was bloody hot there! I felt it! I also felt the pain of all the maids in Mississippi. Thanks to Kathryn Stockett for taking me there through Help. Last to last month, I went to Europe with Bill Bryson through Neither Here, Nor there. All in my head, painting along the wide canvas with my imagination. Why would anyone not read? Why? Just why?

4) I will never hook up with a vampire -- Basically because it is too messy! Look at poor Elena. She could have lived a normal life like any other teen, but there she is. A vampire now, stuck in eternity having to drink blood of other people! Not something I would approve of.

5) I will never hook up (With anybody for that matter) -- I am happily married with the guy I love (Touchwood). I will never cheat or be an infidel, not only because I don't need to, but also because it is cheap and down market to cheat. Cheaters and Infidels should be kept in isolation with nothing to do but stare at infinity. Period!

6) I will never eat Non-Veg -- Shobhit, my lead from IBM and my best roomie's husband (That's another love story for another day and post) has only one thing to ask from me. Eat chicken! Even Rahul has tried offering me his KFC Chicken pop corns, which I have declined politely. One simple reason. My stomach is not a graveyard of dead animals. Case closed!

7) I will never re-open my FB account -- Once upon a time, there was an FB addict. Her name? Let's just call her VT. She started her day with FB, ended it with FB and of course would refresh it in every 10 minutes, wondering if her net connection was working or not, if there were no updates. It started growing on her. She started thinking of tag lines for her pictures even before they were clicked. She started comparing her likes with others. She realized she was losing it. One fine morning, with calm on her face and hand movements, she de-activated her account, never to bring it back to life. Today, it’s more than a year and she does not care enough!! "I am more than a profile", she says. I agree with her.


8) I will never smoke -- I Hate smokers. Hate with a capital H. There is no logical explanation to why someone would willingly want to burn down his lungs or others surrounding him for that matter. Don't give me the crap of "it feels good". Had this been a hedonist society, we would not have been working like idiots in our cubicles. Only hippies are true hedonists. So, no. Whatever explanation you give me over why you smoke, it is not good enough. If you even give me the shittiest answer of "It’s my life, I will do whatever I want to with it" then I am sorry buddy. When you smoke, non-smokers like me inhale your goodness. I don't know about you but I want to live a long life. Then, its just not your life you are risking, but also your friends and family members. If you have that killer roll between your fingers, then you better stay away from me.

9) I will never watch a Sajid Khan movie -- I know it is wrong to judge a person with the image portrayed of him in the media, but I cannot stand this one guy and on the top of that, he makes really bad movies. It's just sad. Mr. Khan may not really get my hard earned money for his tickets. Not that it makes an iota of difference to him, but this decision does me a lot of good and saves me time and money... And my sanity.

10) I will never sing in public -- I am bad, very bad. I am so bad that I will make Himesh Reshammiya sound like a better singer. Far better. Oh, he already has music sense, you say? Then maybe I will make anyone look sound better. Did I tell you I was bad? Trust me on this one!! Don't ever ask me to sing in public. I will curse you for life!!


Crazy , right? This post won't come as a surprise to people who know me or are used to my maddness (including the members of Army -- actually, especially the members of Army) Rest,if you are reading this, you will get used to me.

May there be lots of love (and craziness) in the world!

Monday, July 22, 2013

I hugged MS Dhoni (Dream Watcher series 1)

... in my dream!

They are the best source of entertainment, in every sense. When people say "Nothing is impossible", a dream is one place which actually proves that to you. Sometimes you are running on railway tracks to save your life from a man after you or you are talking to your best friend on a swing and you suddenly realize that the friend has vanished and you are now standing on an unknown beach. You even go prepare yourself for an interview with the Dalai Lama (Yes, I saw that too!!)

I have had some brilliant dreams. Unfortunately, like any lesser mortal, I forget them within the first half an hour of waking up. I even tried to maintain a dream journal, but could not be regular with it. Moreover, I was suffering from a fitful sleep just because I used to be too keen to record my dreams. But today, I woke up with a silly teenage smile on my face. In fact, I was smiling like a silly teenager in my dream too! Any girl would! I hugged MS Dhoni -- in front of the WHOLE SCHOOL!! Yes! That's what I dreamed of. Now that I think of it, it's as silly as silly can be. I was in my school and there was probably a foot ball match happening. MS was playing in it and for some reason he called me and told me that I will captain the next match. He was speaking to me like he already knew me. There was no question in my mind about that. See!! This is what I love about dreams. Logic is packed in a bundle and thrown off the red sea never to be seen or talked about again. That is such a huge relief for creative people. (or pseudo creative ones like me) Anyway back to the dream, this is the dialogue.

"You have to captain the next match." Said Dhoni, pulling me out of the crowd.
"What are you talking about? I don't do strategies and things. I will have no idea about this." I said with panic.
(a hint of logic here. I thankfully don't forget who I am)
"Don't say that! You are my last hope" (These would be dire conditions for him!)

By the way, while this discussion is happening, Dhoni and I are standing on a cemented raised platform, as thin as the divider of a road, and since its width is too less to keep our feet on, we have our hands around each other's waists. (I have the same silly teenage smile on my face as I write this)

Then, when he convinces me to captain the team, I put my other hand around him and give him a hug. Now all this is happening with all the girls of my school watching us and probably fuming with envy. (Ha!) In fact I say this to Dhoni.

"Do you realize all the Carmelites would be jealous of me right now?" I said with a smile. And then with that famous sly yet naughty, sweet, childish smile that Dhoni has, he says. "Oh yes, I think so!"

This part ends here. But the dream does not. I go back with a song on my lips and spring in my feet to I don't know where. It was not home. It cannot be a hostel because our school did not have one (Although, there was no cemented divider in our school where Dhoni and I were standing,if you think about it!! ). But where ever I am, I am now informed that I am supposed to go to Dubai for a good 3-4 months/years. (Not sure) Unfortunately, I piss off another girl now who was waiting for this Dubai opportunity since a very long time.

So I don't know Dhoni! I have never even seen him, let alone hugging him. I know about Football as much as Dhoni knows about Datawarehousing and ETL. I am not going to Dubai! I make no one jealous! But for a few minutes in my sleep, I did all of that. If nothing else, I got a reason to be happy about. Not bad eh?

Let there be lots of love in the world! Dream on!!

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

She Knew ...

In the wee hours of morning
she peeks out of the window and see him leave
sneaking out , dragging his bike
so that no one knows
But she does ...
She knew he will break her heart
yet she gave it to him
she knew he was the con man
and yet she closed her eyes .
She closed her eyes
when he had slowly come near her
when he had touched her cheek
when he had whispered those promises
She knew he would break them all.
She was flying and she knew one day
she will come crashing down
that he will crush her feathers
and throw them
leaving her hopeless and heartless
she knew she wanted to die.
But, years later, when he came back
she knew nothing
she did not know how to hate him
how to slap his face
like she dreamed of for all these years
she did not know how to stop those tears
to stop making her heart beat so fast
All she knew was that she still wanted to love him
She knew she wanted was to live.

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

The Bucket List



1) Visit Disney Land during Christmas
2) Write a best seller
3) Read and have a coffee at a roadside Parisian café
4) Be a part of making a movie
5) Back pack through Europe
6) Dance a ballet
7) Watch Northern Lights live
8) Have coffee with Barack Obama , Oprah Winfrey and Morgan Freeman … oh and Leonardo di Caprio
9) Speak at TED
10) Shop at the Fifth Avenue
11) Dream Lucidly
12) Experience Astral Projection
13) Get a law passed to castrate rapists
14) Eat every vegetarian dish from every part of the world
15) Learn to bake cup cakes
16) Donate my Eyes
17) Have a popular blog
18) Find a passion
19) Kiss in the rain
20) Live happily ever after

The Choice



They say Life is not meant to stay in one place and die in a box. It should be one hell of a crazy ride, where you arrive at the end, sliding by your side, clothes torn and tattered , shouting, "What a ride." Nothing can be truer for my life. If life is a combination of ups and down, highs and lows, mine is a combination of every ride you see in a theme park. Yet, I have enjoyed it all.

I was born in a broken family. Only we knew it was broken. For people outside, our family was picture perfect. A well earning father, a lovely mother for a house wife and an elder sister. What could go wrong? I never saw my parents smile at each other or even share a few pleasantries for that matter. I never understood what the problem between the two was. All I knew was that a simple mundane statement like dad asking, "Where is my shirt?" or mom saying, "Sugar will soon be over" was enough of a catalyst to start off a fight. Maybe they could never fall in love with each other. Maybe they were stuck with their respective parents' choices. Divorce or separation were still taboo words in an Indian society, hence they did not have much of a choice. So they preferred hanging in there, but never shied away from expressing how difficult it was for both of them to live with the other.

So there we were my sister Rashmi and I, living in a house of extremes. It was either silent, occasionally filled with sounds of the television or the radio, or it was filled with the quarrelling noises of our parents. Rashmi and I had a choice, as we saw the mayhem in our house, which had become a routine. We could either grow up frustrated, fighting with each other as well (We did have extremely limited amount of patience in us) or we could do something different about it.

Fortunately, both of us chose the latter. We decided to look at the other side of life, which was, thankfully way beyond the constant bickering of our parents. Rashmi gently woke me up one Sunday morning and asked me, "Guess what’s exciting today?" Too groggy to understand her question I groaned and rolled over to the other side. "Neha!! Get up. Tell me what's going to be exciting today." "Nothing!" I said, irritated.

"Dad's going to be home all day and we will spend the whole day living in the fear of a war!"

"That's where you are wrong, sister!" She said. "We are going to make an elaborate lunch today and give mom some rest. Then when mom and dad will be busy taking their siesta, we will sneak out for an ice cream!"

I looked at her like she had lost it forever. "What is wrong with you Rashmi? We get just one day off from school, remember? “I said.

"Everything is right in the world sweetheart. Now get up. We don't want to eat a late lunch, do we?"

Reluctantly, I got up and prepared myself for the day. Besides already dealing with two fighting parents, I will now also have to deal with a crazy elder sister? I was not exactly in love with my life.

Even mom was surprised to see her two lazy daughters take over the kitchen. Unfortunately, our mother was among those who could not have a foreign element enter her area of dominance. It was a bigger effort to keep her away from "her" kitchen than to make the actual lunch. After a long haul, Rashmi and I made some really good lunch. We set the table, served our parents and ended up having a surprisingly good family time. Our parents, both proud and surprised with their daughters, were actually talking normally to each other. It was turning out to be a special Sunday after all.
Later, when both of them retired for a short afternoon nap, I decided to take one myself. I had, after all, earned it.

"What do you think you are doing?" Rashmi asked me as I was about to get comfortable under my bed covers. "Sleeping?" I said, confused.

"What about our ice cream plans? Come on!" She whispered, clenching her teeth.

"I am too tired." I cried.

"My treat!", she raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"What do you want from me, Rashmi?" I frowned and looked at her. I was honestly not getting this sudden change in her. Although it was infectious, it was still puzzling.

"I just want us to be happy. Now get ready. We don’t have much time."

"Are you not supposed to be the responsible elder sister? What if we get caught? “I was still too reluctant.

Now it was Rashmi's turn to be irritated. "That's where the fun is!" She said. "Do you want to come or not?"

I considered for a while. It might not be a bad little adventure after all.

"Give me 2 minutes." I rushed to change while my crazy sister smiled behind me.

The ice cream shop was just around the corner and fortunately, we did manage to get home in time. Not that we were doing something wrong. It was harmless fun and we had our little secret. It did turn out to be a fun Sunday!

The next morning Rashmi woke me up with the same question. "Guess what's exciting today?"

"It’s a Monday morning, Rashmi!" I almost raised my voice. "Nothing is ever exciting about a Monday morning! We have to go back to school." What a depressing thought! Did she have to rub it in, this early? I could have still caught up with 15 minutes of my precious sleep.

She was groggy in her sleep but was still smiling. "Well! I get to see Varun and don’t you have 2 free periods in a row today?"
Alright! My sister was officially crazy! But I had to smile at this remark.

"My two free periods in a row are fine. But Varun is a twelfth standard senior. He does not even look at students like you in ninth!"

"That's alright! But I still get to see him!" she winked and went towards the bathroom.

I found myself asking the same question. "What IS wrong with her?" But the thought of two free periods in a row did pep me up a little.

In the coming days, it had become a custom every morning to ask each other about the most exciting part of the day. If we could not think of anything, we would come up with our own. " I am going to sleep one extra hour today." or "I am going to go window shopping with friends after school." I was enjoying our game. In fact, we would look forward for a reason to celebrate that “happy moment” the next day.

Our lives never had a revolution. Our parents did not stop fighting. Sometimes it even grew worse. I went through my own life as any other girl. I had my share of success, failures, boys and heart breaks. But amidst all this, I did find my reason to be excited about for “today” even if it was, “Tonight I am going to lie down and watch Friends for the 100th time with a cup of coffee”.

Years later, I was to teach the same priceless lesson to my little one. However, she was not as easy to handle. One rainy morning, when I woke her up and whispered, ruffling her soft hair, “What’s exciting today, honey?” She looked at me with big quizzical eyes and asked, “what if there is nothing exciting for today, mamma?”

I brought her closer to me and kissed her little hand. “Every day, honey, even when you don’t really realize it, there is one moment to be happy about. You just have to look carefully.”

“But today is Maths test, it’s raining outside and I hate going to school wearing a raincoat. What should I be happy about?”

“Then you create one!” I said.

“Like?”

“Like when you come back from school, having done brilliantly in your test”, I said raising my eyebrows and smiling, “we can have lunch outside and you can play in the gaming palour”

Her mouth and eyes were widened equally and before she could jump high enough to touch the ceiling, I reminded her that she still had school to attend.

What started as a way to escape an unpleasant house became a way of life for all of us. Rashmi had taught me the biggest lesson of my life -- to hold on to what was mine and was in my control – my happiness.


Saturday, June 22, 2013

Unknown Source

I do not know who has written this poem. Unfortunately its not me. Its a sad and lonely yet a beautiful and heartfelt poem.
Here goes :

It's gone
What's gone? My mind?
Soul? No, I'm fine
Not really
Deep inside, something is missing
The love and tender kissing
She walked out herself
Now all I do is talk to myself
in the mirror, with my reflection
My heart is dead
Soon it will make a resurrection
Once the wounds heal
And I'm loved for real
A type of love I can feel
But nobody loves me
Nobody cares
Nobody loves me
That nobody is me
I can't love myself because no one does
I'm all alone and no longer what I once was
But the only thing that keeps me alive
Is knowing that the next day, it might all change
For the best
And that "nobody" becomes somebody

Friday, June 14, 2013

Everyday Angels



Do you believe in the existence of ghosts? Caught your attention, didn't I? The subject of spirits and ghosts tends to do that. It brings out excitement and gives one goose bumps. People sit around and rack their brains for the scariest ghost stories they have experienced, heard or read.

But surprisingly, no one asks each other if they believe in angels. Maybe because we encounter angels almost everyday. Only it is not an extra ordinary situation. Angels come in the form of any of us. Any other normal person can actually be your angel. Do you remember when was the last time you were really thankful because a complete stranger or even an acquiantance for that matter helped you, when you thought you were deep in trouble?

I remember one such incident in my life. This was back in 2006-07 when I was in college. I had gone to the old part of my city very unimaginatively called "Old Bhopal" or more unimaginatively called "City". Although the reasons that took me there now completely elude my memory, but I do remember that I was standing at one of the busiest road of Bhopal -- Bharat Talkies. I was supposed to catch a mini bus to go back home and unfortunately I was standing at the opposite side of the road. A bus came in and I signaled it to stop. Always desperate for more passengers than it can handle, the bus stopped.

"J K Road??" I shouted from the other end of the road.

JK Road!! JK Road!! Said the conductor, moving his hand fast asking me to come quickly since it is obviously difficult to stand in such a heavily moving traffic.

People who know me well might have guessed what happens next. I am terrified of crossing roads. However I tried, I just could not muster the courage to cross that terrible road. I would take one step ahead and two steps back.

"jaldi chalo , Jaldi" I heard a voice. I never saw his face. From the back, he looked like those 19-20 year old tapori boys who do nothing but smoke at the corner of a road and stare at girls. He signaled me from behind to follow him. Relieved, I did. He maneuvered his way through the traffic, showed his hand for one or two vehicles to pause for a moment and led me to my bus.

"So, big deal!" you think. He would have to cross the road himself. Right? I thought the same thing and selfishly enough, did not thank him. But when I still looked back, he was walking back to the other end of the road with same expert gestures.

I should have thanked him.

But unless of course , you have not had your hand squeezed blue by me while crossing a road, you will not understand why the faceless stranger's favor seemed such an important gesture to me.

I have heard many such stories from people around me. One friend told me how he was an angel to some one else and gave some of his petrol to a guy who was dragging his scooter on the road.

Rahul (the husband of course) took a couple to the hospital who met with an accident in front of us. (Already driving in a speed of above 80 kmph, this couple went flying past us when they hit a speed breaker they obviously didn't slow down at) He stayed with them for a very long time till at least the guy was back in his senses and was awake enough to take care of his girl and it was late in the night. (I am such a proud wife!!) They sent him a heartfelt thank you message the next day.

I remember another friend telling me how a cab driver helped her to reach from Gurgaon to Noida and did not take a penny in return! He must be God re incarnated because you don't find such people in Delhi. Talking of Delhi, I overheard the following dialogue taking place behind me in IBM's Okhla office over the phone. For heads up, one of the girls had left her phone in the bus.

"Yes, she is my friend! Yes!Its her phone." I heard another girl say with a slight rise in her volume out of excitement. She handed her phone to girl A.

"Yes, that's my phone! I am in Okhla. Are you coming here? Thank you so much sir!!"

Not only did that person return the phone, he personally came to give it back. A perfect example of angels around us.

Goodness has not completely abandoned milky way as yet. Hopefully, it will never.

Now I slightly change my question and ask you, "Do you believe in angels?"

May there be lots of love in this world!

Farewell!!



Good Byes -- They give you a pain
right in your heart
Holding on to the memories
While reality falls apart

Hold the tears back,
not just yet
Today you smile and laugh
talk about stories when you first met

One more moves ahead in life
You stop and think
its not the same still
it all changes in a blink

five and six and now five again
Story of the Army, of Us
But an Empty desk still sits there
without the noise and all the fuss

Now that its tommorow
I let myself cry
Although its not yet over
Its still a goodbye!!

Monday, June 10, 2013

Love is not life!!




I read Jiah Khan's suicide note today, not able to decide whether or not all of it was true. She spoke about how much she loved someone and how the someone decided to look the other way. She just wanted to be loved. She wanted a future wih a man, which she was denied. So she opted for an option where she would not have to face him , or anyone , ever again. Reading it made me think, is it really worth it? The answer was an obvious no. No! No one is worth going to the length of giving it all up.

Think about it step by step and logically. You meet a person. You start liking him. He also shows interest in you. First you meet in a group, then slowly you start meeting up without friends. You enjoy his company, his jokes so much so that you prefer to ignore many of his displeasing facets. He is a flirt! That is ok you say. He spends a lot of money! Who does not? You say again. He does not talk to me as much as I want him to . He is probably the silent brooding type. You probably smile to yourself thinking you have met someone like Mr.Darcy! Wake up girls! Mr. Darcy does not exist and your life is not a Jane Austen novel. We are talking about people we foolishly fall in love with. Ignore every shortcoming they have and accept them with all out hearts. Because if not this then what is love? Accepting a person the way he is ... right? Wrong!! Completely wrong!

Because we do not realise that in the process of accepting him unaltered we change ourselves completely! Our day starts and ends with his thoughts. The first thing we do is check our phone for a sweet good night message. We find none. We call them up only to hear their sweet voice and instead get to hear just the shrill ring from the other side. Life takes a backseat! Why didnt he call me? Is he mad at me? Did I do something? Say something wrong? Will he like this dress ? I think I should get him a t shirt or maybe that lame ass game CD or that costly fossil watch! We submit ourselves and then even when we get to see the real faces of our "beloved", we can do nothing but cry. Have you ever wondered why you cannot have male friends but on the other hand you would not even know how many female friends your guy would have? All you can do is speculate. "Must be just a friend!" "I am acting too possesive. Should give him some space" All you, my dear friend, would do is swallow up that doubt with a big pinch of salt. But he would choose to act possesive or not at his own will. I can go on and on about such "boyfriends" here. As of now, I have not even started to scratch the surface. But I stop. Because I have more important things to tell you.

I sometimes want to get hold of such girls and shake them till they come to their senses. What do you see in such a guy? I want to ask them. Good looks? Are they not temporary? Is it not the the heart that matters at the end? Why do you want to go through the suffering? What do you exactly enjoy in the tears, the curling up and crying all night? Why cant you not think of times when you had not met him and were happier than ever? Why cant you pick up your life again? What could be so wrong? He is just another guy not giving you enough attention! Why does he still have to be in your thoughts? He at the end of the day was just a human being and not even a good one at that! Allow yourself to hatred girls! Allow yourself to go on and show them that you have a life much better than theirs. Stop feeling like "suffering in silence damsels in distress" and saying "I am incapable of hating him." Instead go out with your head and middle finger held high and show off your abuse word bank to the fuck head!

Do yourself and your family a favor girls. Enjoy some more. Even if firstly you don't feel like it. It is any day better than sitting at home all alone and either googling about sleeping pills or strength testing your dupattats and fans. Nobody and I say this with all my Oprah Winfrey heart (because right now I am feeling like her!) nobody is worth your tears.Nobody is worth obsessively thinking about 24X7! Nobody is even worth a frown on that pretty forehead. You HAVE a life lady and please don't forget that. Live it and love it. Someday , you will look back and laugh at your Devdasini phase. Just don't give up hope until then.

May there be lots of love in this world.

Friday, June 7, 2013

Never fall in love with a poet...



Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again

---A Thomas Hawkins

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Where would you rather be?




Would you be at home, cuddled with your Mom
fighting over a remote with your Father
throwing a pillow at your sister and laughing about it?
Or would you rather be sitting alone?

Where would you rather be?
on a lonely bench in between a green park?
or a beach with nothing but calming waves and cool air
Would you rather be running around
Living life on the edge?
not knowing what is to happen the next moment?

Or would you seek assurance in familiarity?
the same blanket of relief, the sanctury of home?
would you not rather be with friends, laughing, joking
remember old days?

I? I would love to be where the heart is
where passion follows and love leaps
where smiles are easy and hugs are free
I would love to be where ever you are with me.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Rant!!

There was this team I used to work with. A part of it, I was handling single handed. I was moved out of that team. Part of it was my insistence and part circumstances. Gist being, as I write this now, I am no longer a part of that team. People still come to me with issues from the previous team and I oblige, again, partly out of good will and partly to have the satisfaction of solving a problem. When I was moved from this team to another, there was a FORMAL meeting to plan how things will work. Even after all this, I still get mails keeping everyone in loop, asking me to close defects.
My first reaction was that of anger. "How many times does he need to be told that I don't work in this team anymore" I muttered under my breath! Next , I wanted to do a "reply all" to that mail, stating the same , but worded a tad bit decently. I obviously didn't do that which got me thinking ... "What if we could live in a world where all that a person speaks is the truth and says it with all honesty? Even though it sounded humongously rude?"

Of course, it would be a bad place to live in! But I sometimes really want to do that. Somehow I am not very diplomatic. If I don't like a person, it comes in my behavior and if it is a very bad day for me and the other party, I say something super rude. The best and only solution I have is to shut myself up -- in every way. So I don't show up and even if I do, I don't really talk. And seriously, its better that way .. isn't it? I mean, I will definitely hurt someone if I say something really wrong ..Won't I? And all this may be only because of certain misunderstandings and prejudices I am harboring within me. I might not want to clear those misunderstandings, for whatever reasons, but its better that the other party "assumes" something is wrong in my behavior and bids me a mental adieu. Intelligent people get my clue and side themselves from me and I go on living my life with people I know, love and like.

Honestly, I am not here to get myself loved and liked by every Tom/Dick and Harry and their female versions. All that matters is that I don't hurt anyone in my social filtering process, even if that is the person I hate -- because however bad I can be, I can never smile at someone's tears, especially when I have given them. Thus .. seclusion seems to be the best way out.

Of course I am saying this knowing fully well that such a kind of behavior can render me friendless. But, Is it not better to be alone than be surrounded by people who you don't find worth hanging around with? And as I have always maintained, being alone does not being lonely.

This post is probably the most negative one I have written in days. Something is very very wrong with me!!

Friday, May 10, 2013

Gippi -- We are like this only!!!



Gippi -- The reviews will tell you that it is a very hollywood movie. You would want to agree on that --beacuse it is. The reviews will tell you that the movie is about teenagers who act like grown ups and this might not go very well with the audience. They will also tell you that not every teen is like what has been portrayed in the movie. You would want to agree on that as well. But there are somethings the reviews will not tell you, which is, if you were not the prettiest topper in your class in school, then Gippi is your story. Gippi is any ordinary girl. She is me! She is no achiever, she does not dress perfectly , she prefers munching on a chocolate cake rather than going to the gym and has her fair share of embarrassing moments. She laughs, gets irritated, falls all over, gets insulted and yet shows up to school the next day!

Gippi reminded me of three things I had completely forgotten. First -- School elections. I actually had to rack my brains to remember how were elections conducted in my school. Second, the doodlings at the back pages of my copies. ( I will still call it a copy, because that's what I have grown up calling it and not notebook , unlike most of you) Since I had no name to make hearts around in my school days (Thank God!!) , I used to do calculations, write funny things, scribble my name and forge Tiwari ji's signature (No, please don't take me wrong. I used to feel proud because I was able to write like him) and last but not the least, the magical, mad feeling of developing a crush. The part where Gippi comes back after meeting Arjun was, in my opinion, the best part of the movie. The foolish smile, that stupid happy feeling for no real reason and that disturbance you feel when someone else talks to you, disrupting your beautiful chain of thoughts -- it all came rushing back to me. The background track for this part, halke se yoon beh raha has become my new favorite song.

The mother daughter moments were extremely believable and beautiful. That, at the age of 14, a daughter tells her mother, "Mom , you can always talk to me", or when she holds her hand when her mother is going through a tough time, goes on to show how wonderful daughters are when they grow up to be the right people. The dialogues, as already pointed out by many reviews are very hollywood-ish, but probably the reviewers forget that this is the way teenagers of 2013 speak. I never ever said "He is so HOT!!" at the age of 14 and had I heard it somewhere, I would have thought that "He" is down with fever! Had I been a 14 year old and met a boy from my school from the XIIth Standard, I would have called him Bhaiyya and would have never ever even attempted to have thought of him in any other way. But that was me growing up in the 90's in a small town of Bhopal and this is Gippi in the 2013, growing up in a hep school of Shimla.

The best part of Gippi is that it reminds you to be yourself. Maybe improve , but never to be someone else. And you know what they say, "When you are happy with yourself, only then can you be happy with others." You may be too fat or too thin, you, like me , might have pined for that "first in class" badge and never got it. You may not be the most talented person around, but you being you makes you the most special!

This movie might not be the best release in sometime,but it is definitely worth a watch, especially if you are a chick flick lover like me!!

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Motherhood



I may be the worst mother in the world. No, I don't hate my kids. But sometimes, just sometimes, I wish them away. Sometimes, I want peace ..maybe just for a few moments. I want to read a book without having to attend to two wailing , crying children. I want to sleep peacefully ...not catch up with a quick nap and wake up with a start to find out that one has probably pushed another and the other is now nursing a bleeding knee -- a situation when it is difficult to decide whom to whack, if that was an option at all!

Unlike many other women, I was scared to death when I realized I was pregnant. My fear knew no bounds when I realized I was expecting twins. Suddenly, my husband and I were not the cool couple who could go out anywhere and anytime they wanted to. My children did bring a lot of joy in my life. For a fraction of second when someone asks a silly question (Mom, Why do you and dad live together, Mom, why is the moon following me, Can I color the leaves blue mama? ) or when I have small hands wrapped around me for a hug. It seems beautiful like a dream. But then it all crashes down and hits the floor with a thud!! After sometime one has spilled milk on the new table cloth and the other is barfing away all his food to glory.

Maybe, my kids are special -- special in creating a ruckus everywhere they go. Despite many lessons, in every way a lesson can be given, the son ends up getting a note from his teacher, talking about how hyperactive he is. The daughter is a tad bit behaved , at least when it comes to behaving in public. Thankfully! At home however, she is brash and rowdy. Once she came to me with the weirdest statement I was to hear in my 30 years of life. "Mom, there is cake in my ear! " She said. "You have a what, where"? I asked, baffled!

"A cake in my ear."

Just to be sure, I checked. And sure enough, my little girl was right. There it was, a tiny piece of chocolate cake in her ear.

"Baby?", I turned her towards me and sat to her level. " Why is there cake in your ear?" I asked her, half amused, half angry and shocked.

"I gave my ear a little piece of my friend's birthday cake." She said.

"The birthday you went in yesterday?"

"Yes", she said , completely nonchalant.

"So this piece of cake was in your ear since last evening?"

"Hmm Hmm"

I took a deep breath. "Why did you 'give a little piece' of cake to your ear, sweety?" I asked, with the most honest curiosity and concern.

"We give our mouths food to eat. But we never give anything to our ears. They must feel hungry too, won't they?" She asked.

I was not sure if I should be shocked anymore.


It's difficult to bring up children, specially when you realize that you are not only raising children. You are dealing with two individuals, of minds and personalities of their own and every little decision you take, concerning them or even yourself, will shape their course and make the adults that they will be. Parent hood has its own ups and downs.But this is not a job where you can slack ...even for a moment, because obviously you responsible for an entire human life. Or as in my case, two.

That's the pressure that sometimes I just cannot take. and maybe that's why I am the worst mother in the world. I think I must go ... I hear screeching and wailing noises ... why do they sound so familiar?


Addendum : Ok .. This is seriously funny!! I have had TWO of my really good friends asking me if that is me in the "I" of that post !! S here is the real deal -- this incident is something which I discussed me with my sister and the cake incident is a dialouge between her and her daughter Lona. Only, in reality there was a samosa in her ear! I hope things are clear now :)

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Where are the Heroes?



Vijender Singh apparently took drugs some 12 odd times, Oscar Pistorius has been accused of murdering his girlfriend and Lance Armstrong for sure had been fooling the world for all these years. He even had the audacity of writing "Its not about the bike" projecting himself as the survivor who won or the winner who survived. Unfortunately, in this very blog, I had expressed a desire to have a cup of tea with Armstrong , so that I can know exactly how a winner prepares. I still want to have that cup of tea with him and ask him ... Why?


Why was winning so important that you had to sell your soul for it? And how exactly did you manage to look at your own self in the mirror and meet the eye? Does it not pinch? Did you really celebrate all those 17 victories? Did you ever ask yourself, "Do I really deserve this -- the accolades, the hero worship, the fan following, all the youth who look up to me.. Am I really up there? Or am I down below, having stooped to the level of losing the last figment of conscience and shame, supposed to be present in a decent human being?"

I am angry and disappointed. I am no sport person. But I really look up to these people, in awe of their strength, both mental and physical, sometimes the former being a tad bit more than the latter. Then, out of nowhere news like these about sports persons shatters their image in my head. Although nothing has been proven about Vijender Singh, yet I think, "There is no smoke without fire".

The youth today needs a hero in India. We all need heroes in India. More specifically, we need heroes who live with an untarnished image all their lives. How difficult is it to live an honest life? To not dope, kill, not cheat your spouse? Or even if it is difficult to remain chaste, why project the wrong image? Is it not always good to come clean? I admire Arvind Kejriwal -- but now I am scared he will come out with his set of controversies. I am also in awe of Sachin Tendulkar, but again, who knows what goes inside the dressing room?

Every time a similar controversy crops up, it shakes my faith in the rest of the ‘heroes’. They are the people who with perseverance and grit achieve something that most of us only dream about. They have hoards of youngsters following them on the sports field, wanting to grow up and be like them. Every lane in India has kids playing cricket to the likes of Dravid or Sachin. They have fans who spend days and hours sitting at the edge of their seats to just watch them make that one century or score that goal or win that race. Thanks to Vijender Singh, many like him could dream of another sport being given more if not equal respect than cricket in India. Now, the same person stands with head hung in shame and so does the name of an entire sport.

And then there are the other set of people like Raghu and Ranvijay, who for some unknown reason are the self-proclaimed judges of youth today and all I can see them teaching the younger generation is anger, aggression and lots and lots and lots of swear words. I am left with actors like SRK who carry arrogance as their halo. Actors anyway are better left with their fictional characters. I am left with politicians who love mudslinging on each other as opposed to competitors like Obama and Romney who, with all their dignity, respect their opposition -- at least in media. Leaders who instead of guiding the nation towards prosperity are too busy filling their own bank accounts.

There is far too much of negativity surrounding us than probably needed. The news papers are full of scams, rapes, violence and bitterness. All the tv soaps air some manipulative crooks or family feuds or betrayed relationships. Sports was one place people would play fair or with ‘sportsman spirit’ as it was called. But I guess, they too have sold their spirits now and joined the bandwagon. In this scenario, where does one look for goodness, where do you seek something more stimulating and encouraging.

We deserve to be happy, we deserve to listen to good news, and we deserve a more constructive environment that motivates us to improve our lives. Maybe for all this we have to stop looking outside. Maybe we have to stop searching for heroes. Maybe we have to stop waiting for others to inspire us. Maybe it’s time we enthuse ourselves to do something bigger and better. Maybe it’s time to look within and see how each and everyone of us can be a role model, without being swayed by debauchery.

PS: Ambika!! Thank you for the corrections/additions!! :)

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Life is too short to watch bad movies!!




The weekend went off watching some really good movies. There are so many good movies out there, waiting to be watched, to be loved ,thought about lazily and probably even to get inspired.
It started with The Scent of a woman. Al Pacino won his only best actor Academy Award for this movie and trust me, he deserved every bit of it. He played a blind retired army officer who had issues of his own but was an amazing individual. It was, while looking at this legend of an actor performing , that I understood the meaning of the statement, "A man being an institution in himself". The scene where he leads the lady in an effortless Tango is nothing when compared to the scene where he is being insulted by his nephew during a family dinner only to be surpassed by the last scene where he comes to defend Chris O'Donell. Its a shame that I have not watched The Godfather trilogy as yet. I will reserve it for the coming weekends probably, but The scent of a woman is a must must must movie to be watched.
Another awesome movie, which I had missed for years was "The Rainman". Now honestly I started watching Rain man because I thought it had Pacino in the role of the autistic brother. But as it turned out, it was Dustin Hoffman. Still going ahead with my decision, I was never happier or more engrossed. The beginning was a little irritating with the annoying Spanish female playing Tom Cruise's girl friend, but then there is that one magical scene where the camera starts to pan from the bottom of Cruise's car and you hear. "I am an excellent driver". Something tells you, this is the beginning of an epic role and you are not wrong. People who have not seen Rain-man should see it and like me kick themselves for having ignored it for all these years. When you look at Dustin Hoffman as Raymond, you actually want to go take care of him. You actually want to take him to K Mart and get him his underwear, because he would wear no other and because Tom Cruise wont take him there. You would want to make sure that his bed is by the window, just the way he likes it. You fall in love with Raymond. There is one better than the best scene in the movie, where Hoffman gets scared by hot running water from the tap. This scene reveals what had happened in their childhood. He is so natural that you forget that you are watching a movie. The second is a way adorable scene where Raymond laughs. "He He. Charlie Babbit cracked a joke!" You cannot miss this movie for anything in the world. Incidentally, Dustin Hoffman very deservingly won an Oscar for this role.
Also you will find the source of SRK's dancing in MNIK (and much more) and the forehead meeting "hug" from Burfi (Which has been overdone in Burfi, whereas in Rainman it is just the last scene!!) . In addition to this, you will find out why SRK is below than zero in MNIK when compared to Dustin Hoffman.
So that was Hollywood. Coming back to India, I was so hung up on watching "performance oriented" movies that the next natural choice had to be Paa!! Thank God for Amitabh Bachchan. Thank God for Balki and Thank God for Vidya Balan. Also, Thank God that all of them came together. Amitabh Bachchan is not him in the movie. He is such a natural 12 year old, that you forget its the legend unless of course the credits starts to roll. The dialogues are very easy on you and the best part in the movie is the lack of Hindi movie melodrama. Thank Balki for it. I mean probably for the first time in the history of Indian movies, an unwed daughter announces to her mother that she is pregers and all the mother asks is, "Do you want this baby?" Respect!!!
I then moved ahead to watch Grudge which was a much talked about scary movie, but honestly it was a huge disappointment. Although it was a long pending movie and I have finally crossed it off my list, I did not find it super scary (Ok , I was watching it in broad day light with Rahul by the side doing his own work :D ) but the biggest let down was the story. There was no connect at all!
I want to start a controversial discussion here. You don't really require a masterpiece story to make a good movie. I mean look at the above movies. The scent of a woman was basically not a great story. one blind officer, one student with problems of his own come together for the weekend. What made the movie was the moments, the execution and of course Al Pacino. What was Rainman? One guy, being denied of his Father's wealth discovers that he has an autistic brother who has inherited everything. He "kidnaps" him and finally falls in love with him. Paa is just a 12 year old boy who is suffering from Progeria. So maybe an epic movie does not need a mind boggling story! Maybe, its just how you put together some wonderful moments from the lives of your character on the screen and how the actors make them so believable that the audience becomes a part of their lives. Smiling, crying, and living their lives. Probably, like life, we tend to over complicate our movies also.

See you at the movies!!

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Happy Women's Day!!





This probably is not the best time to be a woman in India. With rapes and molestation almost becoming a trend, it is surprisingly sad that although we boast of technological advances, we are almost no where when it comes to respect for a woman. Every one will agree with me that we still have a long long way to go to give woman a safe and secure environment. I don't think we ask for a lot. We only ask for a worry free environment.

I want to go out , enjoy myself and comeback without having to worry about how late is it going to be and how will I come back home, again without having to trouble a male friend to drop me back. I want to wear a dress without having to worry if I will be gawked upon and ogled at. I don't want my parents to worry when I live away from them in a stranger city. I want to climb the career ladder without being trampled upon, without being questioned about my credibility. I want to be accepted for who I am. Not much, really !!

Having said that, I realize that I am living a life which is far far better than many unfortunate women in our country. I have been given the freedom to make my own career, have my own identity. Fortunately, I was not stopped for anything just because I am a girl. For this, I say a heartfelt thank you. Especially to all the men around who thankfully do know how to respect and support the women around them. A part of my dad still lives in the 1800s. Thankfully he never showed it on his 2 daughters. He let us be. I was sent to Hyderabad, Delhi, Bangalore without any questions. Infact I remember, dad refused an alliance in my fourth year of engineering. His reason? "Let her atleast make a career for herself" he said. "The guy is settled in the US". Came an argument from the other side. "My daughter will go to the US on her own, Thank you". I have never been proud of him so much ever before!! I still have not made it to US yet, but I was given wings to fly.

I am also thankful to all my male friends. Only today in the morning Amber and I were discussing ( The discussion germinated the seed of this blog, btw) of how, luckily, all out male friends are thorough gentlemen. They may be mad, but they are good boys. Thank you boys. Thank you for the drops home late night, thank you for shielding us in a disc, thank you for not being jerks. Yes you really make fun of us, you irritate us, but without gentlemen like you, India would have been doomed.

Lastly, I have to THANK God a gazillion times for getting me married to the most chivalrous guy! Yes, I am one of those few exceptionally lucky females, who has her chair pulled for her in restaurants, who was given a wonderful cup of tea this morning and who sometimes go home to find utensils washed or milk boiled without having to say it!! The best part about Rahul is that he is a gentleman for every girl around him. He is that guy who will get up to give you a seat, who will pick up a fight with goons, even if you are not his girl friend/wife. Also, how many girls can claim to have a husband and a fashion consultant rolled in one? Ahem!! I can! :) Just a few added advantage!

Wishing every woman a very very happy women's day. Here is to the juggling and balancing we do with so much panache! Here is to the artificial smiles for a broken heart and to the real tears for a broken nail. Here is to managing our bank accounts and yet forgetting where we kept our scrunchies! Here is to the tastiest meals for the family and the disastrous cup of tea for ourselves, which we still gulp down! Here is to knowing that we are being judged and still not giving a shit!! Here is to the sarees and the LBDs, to the flats and the stilettos! I love being a girl and I am sure, despite everything, every girl does!!

Oh and one more thing. All mood swings of a woman is not PMS. Trust me!! Sometimes, We are genuinely pissed off! Cheers!!