Titles are overrated. Cant think of one.

What if you were told you had only 3-4 healthy years ahead? What would you do? Would you be in the same relationship you are in? Would you stay in the same job? Would you live in the same house? Are there people you would call on more often or are there people you would avoid? Would you be more thankful of the time you have or would you turn cynical with each passing day? What choices would you make? Ask yourself - what would you do differently and then do it.

Anyway, I thought to pen down a few of life's lessons and many do's and don'ts (some from my experience, some from experiences of those around me).

1. The best people for you are the ones who bring out the best in you. Don't let them go.
2. We need atleast one person in our lives who thinks we are superman! :)
3. If you can still smile when thinking about it - it was worth it.
4. Never love too well.
5. Trust your instinct- always.
6. Drink lots of water.
7. Nobody worth possessing can be quite possessed. (borrowed from some famous dudette)
8. Dress up. Everyday.
9. Money doesnt buy happiness but it rents it well. :)
10. Exercise.
11. Sleep under the open skies once.
12. Give a baby a bath.
13. Go swim in the sea once.
14. Get yourself a dog, love it dearly.
15. Do something uncharacterstic of your own self some time.
16. Buy yourself a gift- celebrate your own success.
17. Watch a movie alone. Its liberating- in a weird way.
18. Get soaked in the rain. Enjoy it and dont run for shelter.
19. Go on a long drive with someone you enjoy a conversation with.
20. Laugh loudly.
21. Text friends- lots.
22. Confess your love.
23. Admit your follies to yourself and then forgive.
24. Tell someone they are your hero!
25. Listen to mummy.
26. Confide in someone.
27. Write your thoughts and revisit them months later. Its fun to get reintroduced to your own self of a decade back.
28. Play the fool sometime.
29. Dance with abandon.
30. Buy me a teddy bear.
31. Go picnicing.
32. Leave your worries by the pillowside.
33. Listen to someone else's collection of music.
34. Explore. Travel. Learn. And yes, try the local cuisine.
35. Play sports. esp. basket ball (and avoid cricket).
36. Forgive and don't carry a grudge.
37. Fight the establishment.
38. Be true to your own self.
39. At a party make conversation with the one who looks the most lost/lonely.
40. Never make anyone feel small.
41. Read comic books.
42. Never drag a dead relationship. Or hold on to someone who isnt there.
43. Tried and tested by almost all I know : If you love someone let them go. if they come back, they are yours, if not they never will be.
44. Never trust a man fully who lies to his own mother.
45. Keep the faith.
46. Cultivate the art of writing and reading
47. If someone gives you a compliment- donot contradict. Accept it. Graciously.
48. Read a holy book.
49. Spend a day without looking at the watch. Just keep your own time.
50. Learn some jokes.
51. Sing.
52. Be the life of the party.
53. Never apologise for your tears or your feelings.
54. Study hard.
55. Get up early in the morning.
56. Watch the sun rise once with someone you love.
57. Once, just once, love lavishly someone more than they love you.
58. Succeed graciously and lose admirably. Hate losing.
59. Give compliments.
60. Never let a few rupees keep you from doing what you want to do.
61. Dare I say- splurge once in a while :)
62. Write letters.
63. Be organised.
64. Stand up for what you believe in. Never compromise on what you believe in.
65. Find yourself a passion.
66. Take a break from it all.
67. Smile and let it reach your eyes.
68. Say good morning cheerfully. Mean it.

Give title, win reward

Right now, I don't have anything to say. But since when has that stopped me from talking to you.

Okay so got the first para down. First paragraph kahan hai?- you ask. Sir jii, upar hai. Two lines do a para make (err or some thing like that.) Still the question remains what should I talk about? Mature topics like Union Budget (papa paise bhejo, stock market mein nuksaan ho gaya), global recession (and how long will we have to wait before asking for a raise) etc. come to mind. But then who am I kidding! For a person whose sole source of daily news is the facebook status updates of overzealous high-IQ friends such topics can safely be ignored.

I mean I am sure loads can (and will) be written on Federer beating u-know-who and winning u-know-what and breaking u-know-'em records; but let’s leave it to those who care. I am as much interested in Federer's win as you would be in estimating the length of Kareena Kapoor's hemline in Kambhakt Ishq or evaluating the sociological psychological impact of legalised lesbian weddings on young teen age boys in Bihar and South Delhi.

Did you see Khambhakt Ishq by the way? Awesome movie. A definite must watch. It is sooo shweeet. Akshay keeps making cute crass jokes and Kareena keeps pretending she can act. Between the two, they display all prominent fashion labels and make you realize good fashion is not to wear anything too much - make up, clothes - sab kam se kam hone chaiye. Barely-there types. The songs are any music lover's delight and you would want to fast forward err rewind each and every one of them. So make sure you catch it today- even if it means bunking a client call, leaving the office before your boss or ignoring your girl friends' calls.

Btw have you ever done that? Leaving the office before your boss, that is. That brings me to another question: Have you ever worked in a 'La-la' company? These days, post placements at ISB, we are all busy exchanging notes on who got the cooler laptop, stupider boss and grosser coworkers. Sometimes we also talk about our roles as well and how much strategic impact will we be making to the company, its bottomline, its clients, its customers, the Indian economy and the world at large. (We are all not that petty all the time you know.)

Anyhoo (I like this word. Anyhoo. Say it aloud in your mind. Stress on the hoo part. Hold the ‘oo’ longer than 2 seconds. Doesn't it make you smile? No. Well okay it must be just me then. I find ‘anyhoo’ cute.) Any hoo, while making these comparisons and comparing notes sometimes a phrase crops up. 'Meri toh Lala company hai yaar, damn it'. The speaker with a pained look etched on his face looks around for support and comfort – much like I did while watching Kambhakt Ishq (mast movie hai, dekhna zaroor). Immediately concerned voices come up with stuff like:

Stuff 1:(confessional 'me-too same-boat-sailing' counseling) "Yarr meri bhi" and both start comparing the lala-ness of their respective companies and we watch waiting for the bigger lala to emerge victorious.

Stuff 2:(motivational 'recession-going soon, resume banai-ing, job badal-ing, yaar’ counseling) Economist is quoted and so is Wall Street Journal (Well, not really. Simply because we assume whatever our analysis is, it must match the experts. And if it doesn't, we are positive they will correct their misjudgements soon.) The discussion then veers to resume rebuilding tips, cursing placement season, are there news jobs in the market, cursing placement season, how we should renetwork again, cursing placement season, debating when recession will get over, cursing placement season. Incase you haven’t figured out my contribution in all such discussions is - yes you got it- cursing placement season.

Stuff 3: (mocking 'Really!-how unfortunate-my company is great-check my latest blackberry-company ne diya hai' counseling) Yes, sometimes someone comes up with that and it is always greeted by cold stone silence, awkward glances, shaking of heads, an occasional disapproval cough, clandestine abusive smses aimed at the speaker and few ‘oh-hmmms’. We all 'hmmm' to this monologue and then move on to topics that are slightly less apealing than KK's hemlines. But yes, the damage is done. Mental notes are made and exchanged that this guy shouldn’t be invited to the next meet. People try to recollect who got the bozo here in the first place. Silently the group stares at the unfortunate dude and he squirms, avoids eye contact for the rest of the evening. Typical in-group/outgroup thing this is.*

But ain’t I digressing. My original question was: Have you worked for a ‘lala company’? ‘La-la’ here is not the truncated ‘tra –la-la’ of the Buffalo Soldier song. The'Lala' here is…

Shh …cant talk now. Zoom TV (‘isko dekho’ tagline wala ) is playing suuperhit Kambhakt Ishq’s most melodious song of 2009 – Bebo Main Bebo. Have to watch this. Will continue the ‘lala’ post later.

Bebo main bebo..dil mera le lo.. la-la-la-lala..la-la-la lala

*will explain the ‘ingroup-outgroup’ phenomena later.**

** Bebo ki song aa rahi hai yaar abhi. Dekhne de.

GCS and 10 cents philosophy- Part 2

Refer part 1.

I have decided to hex up (ahemm) the tag. If you don't do it soon, you will be spammed silly by zealous co workers, your mother will get on your case about your sleeping habits, soccer will be dominated by a single club, Yuvraj will drop all sitters in the next 10 matches and you will fall in love. The last one trust me is one of the worst things that can happen to you. Dont ask me why, ask Chaos who said so.

To make things easier here is my list of 50 things I am thankful for.

Below stuff + moi life = Thank you thank you thank you

Incase you missed going to world's top 15 bschool (showcasing ISB!) and didnt get the above equation, let me simplify.

The stuff mentioned below plus my life equals to 3 thank yous. There hope you get it now.

Oh you did go to my ISB! Let me further simplify the equation given above. The list that is given below contains things mentioned in a point wise linear manner. These things individually or in group or both are present or were present in my life at some point in time. The period of time of their existence is irrelevant information and can be ignored for the purpose of today's dicussions. The time factor is like sunk cost. Remember first term, Accounting 101, Prof. Mohan's class. Anyway these things ( present individually or in group or both ) err me am thankful for. If the explanation doesn't make much sense remember I am from ISB too.

Stuff:

1. google
2. plastic money
3. high heels
4. lip gloss
5. missed calls dena
6. P. G. Wodehouse
7. My masseuse
8. hot chicken tikkas served with onion salad, lemon wedges and chilled coke
9. a fully loaded big pricey car
10. transparent/white nail paint
11. my favourable first impressions
12. Elizabeth Arden’s Splendor (she doesnt make it anymore :( )
13. cartoons - calvin and hobbes/tom and jerry/ he man
14. combo offer: evening time + breeze + long aimless drives with him
15. combo offer: rainy evenings + chai + friends
16. friends that forgive me for forgetting their birthdays
17. Plain naans (what I order everytime I go out to eat)
18. people who let me crib and those who encourage it
19. dev anand + kishore kumar jodi
20. My rationalization skills
21. texting + smileys
22. pocket money
23. to do lists
24. happy endings
25.being snooty
26. vacationing
27. Masala Omelette + Buttered Toast + Mixed fruit jam on the side + Tea
28. 40s, 50s and 60s hindi film music
29. winning the ‘ovarian lottery’
30. the book on my night stand
31. Sinefeld and similar comedies
32. fast elevators
33. Ctrl C + Ctrl V and ofcourse ctrl Z
34. opposable thumbs :P
35.chocolates + choco chip icecreams
36. fluffy pillows, softy mattresses, my blankie and sweet dreams
37. people who love me for who I am and the ones who tried their best to
38. for the truth in the dictum : Time heals
39. tissue papers
40.Hope

I know the list stops at 40. the next 10 will be published after collating all your responses. So people "write"!!! and please be quick about it.

A late reply

I am a troubled soul. You possibly can't tell that looking at me- all chirpy and vivacious every time we run into each other but deep down inside today I am a troubled soul. My soul, dear friends, is troubled.

Before you start wondering what is wrong and go through the entire drill of - "Is she okay? Do I call and check? How much does an STD cell to cell call cost? Maybe an sms is the right thing to do. No wait sms is Rs. 2 per national sms. Maybe I will just ping her next time I see her on Gtalk?" - I will just tell you what the matter is. Succinctly.

A friend of mine accused me yesterday of being a Congressi and a hypocrite. ‘You all are such HYPOcrites!’, he said. He stressed on the ‘hypo’ part for a little longer than necessary. Among the heated words exchanged which are now acknowledged as ‘deeply regretted’ were sprinklings of accusations that I have heard quite often –that I am apathetic, that it is because of people like me that the majority has to suffer and that how much longer was I willing to tolerate this unnecessary and uncalled for appeasement.

Now I didn't quite like that. I agree I am not the most active of political beings in the country. And if you are looking to give someone the ‘best citizen’ award I will not be on your list of nominations. You can also safely discount almost all I say about politics and politicians as clichéd yuppie responses. My knowledge about the Indian politic is abysmal and my inclination to changing this in near future is negligible.

But still this so called ‘Pilibhit brand of reasoning’ annoys me immensely. What is further infuriating is when people judge me for not sharing their prejudices. I mean, why should I share your prejudices when I have a truck load of my own! My friend said the C word (Congressi) as if it were a bad thing to be ; as if Congress was the genesis of all things bad happening to this country. I don’t buy that. For the record I am not a Congressi. I am not a clan obssessed follower of the party as most Congressis are made out to be. Nor am I enamoured with the Gandhi mystique. My appreciation of any political party is very limited. I am the person who in all political discussions comes out with the cliched "Chor hain sab" response and dismisses all politicians with a wave of hand. But yes, I do respect Sonia Gandhi for her grit, her ethical, standards and her resolve.

Generations of my family might probably swear by Congress party but I have not inherited their political enthusiasm. My views on politics reflect the same lackadaisical ambivalence that is characteristic of all my other views. But still if push comes to shove my leaning would be towards Congress than parties who favor communal polarization. What took a gentleman 16 years and Rs. 9 crores to prove was something I was already aware of. I had in fact visited Ayodhya many years back and had seen the make shift temple that exists there. I had then been proudly shown the preparations that were being undertaken for making the new temple.

But S. said his stuff with a lot of vehemence and a lot less sense. He gave me the usual - "toh tum kya Itlay jaa kar PM ban sakti thi. Hum log bahut tolerant hain." Now I never discuss politics with friends especially friends who don't share my political views. But if in a discussion, I would rather people stick with facts and rationality than mere rhetoric and unexplained bias.

But this isn’t the troublesome part. The issue troubling me since last night is that I did not have a befitting reply ready. All the things I wrote just now well I didn’t say any of that. I just let the other person speak his mind, made some feeble excuse and hung up. Somehow arguing then didn’t make much sense and escalating this discussion seemed a tad foolish. And this is troubling me. I wish I could go back and argue my facts. I cant now. Hence, this post. :)

Grilled chicken sandwich and 10 cents philosophy

I stood on the seventh floor balcony of a high rise today waiting for my grilled chicken sandwich (from here on acronymed as GCS) dinner. The city lights looked dazzling. There weren’t any high rises blocking my view and I could see numerous homes, small shops, busy roads all lit up bright. I stood facing the airport and I saw a plane land and another takeoff. Turning right at a distance, I had the Hussain Sagar with its necklace road and to my left was a good friend with misguided tastes in food. I mean watermelon juice with GCS! My stout refusal to drink that stuff didn't go down that well till I explained my eating mantra: always stick with stuff that fattens you up. Nothing that's healthy ever tastes nice. If you don’t believe me try sprouts, soya nuggets and goat milk. I have never tried the last one and I am quite positive it would be an enjoyable experience for you. Let me know how did it go.

Standing there looking at the city, I felt the standard cliched emotions that we feel sometimes while waiting for our GCS and wondering what drink our friends are ordering for us. I could spy a small section of a busy road and could see plethora of vehicles rushing through to wherever they were supposed to be. I focused on the same and wondered what the man on the scooter that just zipped by was thinking? Or why was that car in such a rush?

I wondered rather predictably - how each and every of the myriad lights in front of me denoted a human life as intricate and complex as mine. How each of those people would be so wrapped up in their daily struggle for survival that they would never take time to ponder on the irrelevance of it all. How maybe they had for a moment thought about the irrelevance but then chose to move on. How we carefully everyday nurture our illusion that we are in command of what happens to us. How we fret away the present for the future. How losing love is heart breaking because we simply assume that we will live forever and in that long life this person will be missed everyday. And how fooled are we by randomness. I contemplated my insignificance in the grand scheme of things and wondered how much more time will my GCS take to get ready?

Then fifteen minutes and half a GCS later I thought what makes all this brilliant is that I am experiencing it. It is the ‘I’ that makes it so. Maybe all my emotions are cliched and all my thoughts are trivial. But the fact that I experienced the world with them makes the world what it is. This is my story, my song and no matter how I chose to live it – the fact that I do makes all the difference.

Immediately following this thought was the realization that this is too cliched. I mean scare some one a little, make them face their mortality and everyone becomes a philosopher for 15 minutes. The transiency of these emotions made me decide to hold on to them for little longer. So then came the next round of expected affectations. “Lets be grateful for what we have”.

And this is what I want to blog about. :)

So please identify 10 things you are thankful for. I am tagging you. It is a tag so you gotta do it otherwise for/over the next 10 days - your land lord will evict you, you lover will dump you, you will be forced through sit for long boring meetings with no coffee or gtalk, you will never find an empty cab when you need one and whenever you switch on a music channel you will only catch music of Himesh bhai. And lets not make it standard stuff like mummy papa nana nani dada dadi bhaiya bhabhi pinky and phrens. Get creative, people!

Pray for me

I spent the morning today at a clinic amongst the not so healthy. I hate hospitals. It’s a place where they touch you, poke you, prick you, grope you, pinch you,– and none of it in a good way. They put things on your body, in your body, smear you with gooey stuff and scare you with big needles. The amount of blood that I have given today is sufficient to bring the roseate glow back on Kareena Kapoor’s emaciated face. And the amount of needless waiting I had to do – well Aadi story 4,5 and 6 could have been easily completed.

While waiting in the waiting room (ironical naa..what could be a better name for the waiting room?) I was thinking (in the order listed below):

Thought No. 1. I am glad I am not a doctor. Otherwise I would never have gotten to see anyone looking nice ever at work. Even pretty people make for ugly patients. Have you ever seen anyone look breathtaking in jaundice? Or heard someone say "that measles really does wonders for your skin."

Thought No. 2. How shallow is thought no. 1! I should work on my SQ (spirituality quotient - learn some basic acronymns, man.)

Thought No. 3. Isn’t beauty just skin deep? I mean look at me. My liver must be glowing and the natural pulchritude of my small intestine is sufficient to inspire the Ghalib hidden deep in you.

Thought No. 4. The person next to me is coughing non stop. I think I should move. But where to? There is a seat empty next to the poster boy of idiocy. (Why do I call him that? Look at what he is wearing. T shirt with a message. What irritates me more than people wearing t shirt with a message are people wearing t shirts with a message that is long, written in small font, and not even funny) But he looks apparently okay. And he is alone. Now I have the entire works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle donning my library. So I can do a Holmes and you can be my Watson. The guy is alone. So he must be the patient and not a tag-along. He is looking visibly okay. I mean with that face thats the best he can manage. (Shallow Surabhi, Bad Surabhi) So there are no apparent signs of diseases- big or small. But he is here. Laws of physics prove that. In a hospital. So ..do you see where I am going with this dear Watson..he must be suffering from some deadly contagious silent types disease that spreads if you sit next to him. I weigh the two sitting options and decide to stay put.

Thought No. 5. So in 5 minutes, I have realised I am not only shallow but also discriminatory against people with not so funny messages on their t-shirts and no apparent signs of sickness.

Thought No. 6. Crap its 11 am. I am hungry. Damn you idiots get this queue moving.

Break—go for my ECG--It is my first ever! Feels like an accomplishment!

Thoughts continue as now I am waiting for the radiology people to get (off their ass would be inappropriate for the under 18 readership of this blog. Hence I will not write that.) their act together.

Thought No. 7. I am hungry. Why aren’t there good breakfast places in this town?

Thought No. 8. My hand hurts. I think about the time that big, huge, gigantic, gargantuan, enormous (GMAT 750 = good vocabulary) needle pierced my skin. I had missed someone then. It is kinda lonesome when you have to sit thorugh a blood test alone. I mean koi toh hona chahiye who would tell you- “Sab theek hai. Its fine. Just a small prick. You are doing well.” I miss my family then. I have always been scared of needles and during all my needle piercing times mum or dad have been around me. And dad always says while patting my head “brave girl, brave girl”.

Thought No. 9: I miss my Ops teacher. (Thats not oops but Ops (with a capital O) i.e. Operations Management.) He could have fixed the bottlenecks of this place and we could have done a case study on the same.

Thought no. 10: Interrupted when the auntie sitting next to me suddenly turned and asked: So where do you stay? I want to say why, whats it to you. But instead give her my complete mailing address including the major landmark. Near Hotel Katriya. She listens intently and then expects me to return the favor. I decide not to. She moves away and accosts the uncle sitting at the extreme right row 2.

The radiology people get into action. After I yell at (in the order) the girl in the white coat (looks the assistant to assistant types), the technician who came to ask what the matter was, the front office executive who was passing by and made the mistake of stopping and two other patients who wouldn't shut up and were distracting the 'white coat wearing assistant to asst. looks wali' girl from listening to my litany of complaints. So ten minutes of yelling later, with my reputation as a patient patient (irony again) completely ruined I get ushered into the ultrasound chamber.

Now I must confess, through out this stupid health checkup so far I had kept telling myself - How needless this is. I mean waste of money really. These tests are all normal. I am not finding out anything new.

You see I am the person who if she is made to buy a fire extinguisher will comeback and yell at the salesman after 6 months saying the extinguisher was a waste of money as there was no fire at my house. So if I have a fire extinguisher, it must come with occasional fires so that I can feel that it was money well spent. Bangs per buck or some marketing funda this is.

But this theory was severely tested today.

"Oh Oh", said my doctor lady.

I have always hated Oh Ohs. I mean one oh is fine. It can show surprise or acknowledgement; it can precede words like thanks or muck; and it can sometimes even cover the 'wow thats great' emotion. But Oh Ohs are never nice. I dont like Oh ohs. They have so far denoted things like : hate email inadvertently sent to boss, the sinking moment when you realise that you have missed the deadline by a mile and your appraisal is next week, when you criticise your coworker's wife's food and he is standing right next to you; when India drops a catch, when you burn your fingers making roti and when ..Well you get the idea, don't you, dear Watson.

So imagine my consternation (another big word, time to brag about CBSE education) when the lady incharge said it looking at my glowing liver, wonderful intestines and what not.

'Whats wrong'
'Hmm'
'Whats wrong? Really tell me.' (I was about to add- 'I can take it'. But then thought it would be too melodramatic.)
'Well..' (interruption arrives in form of the girl in white lab coat (the asst. to asst. type look wali))

The two talk in Telgu and the lab girl gives me a reaasuring smile.

Friends, that positively freaked me. If you have been ever yelled by Surabhi K esp. when she is hungry, irritated and had a serious blood loss you know you are not in a position to smile for atleast the next 2 hours. Infact, even by the end of the day, all you will manage would be one of those 'small barely-there' smiles, that suggest- Oh another day got over. (See I used oh again. Not oh-oh), and which can be easily dismissed by not so astute an observer as nervous twitching of the lips.

But this girl right after 10 minutes of my giving her a piece of my mind - on how this muck all place should actually be run and how she should treat patients as human beings & not animals kept in the waiting zoo and how she should get the place clean and organised and contact my Ops professor- seems to be overflowing with milk of human kindness and smiling at me with eyes that say "Oh you are so young for this. Have faith. Whatever happens, happens for the best. Btw update your will."

I persist with 'whats wrong' line of questioning. But they decide to wait till I have some family members with me before they break the news. She didnt actually say that. She said, we will tell you in the report. But you know we Holmes types always get to the truth.

So with that freaky episode my day at ERTYU clinic ended. Well atleast the first part. But today has been a roller coaster day. And this was actually the good part. For the bad part, let me have some food, finish my V. and then we will talk.

Oye its friday! Psych

Okay okay so no more stories. Stop with the hate mail already! I had no idea so many people in my life were literary critics. To A, all I can say is "sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me." I say this while silently wiping the tears that are swelling up. So sadly my dear trusted reader I bid adieu to the magical world of story telling and move back to familiar grounds of commenting on life and the many (I wanted to type : morons. masti mein yaar. I will use mammals instead) mammals (Insider workplace joke hai. You had to be there.) who grace it.

But as my swan song, here is the last story telling post. Its more on the sublime genre and definitely nuttier than my other posts. So don't say I didn't warn you. I apologise in advance. Not that I really care:)

The story begins.

“Standing alone bare, broken, I longed for a dark crevice to hide my shame, to sink deep in some abyss, maybe a bottom less pit. To disappear from his presence. His wrath or disenchantment : I know not what I fear more. Long after my time has passed I stand there. Acknowledged are the squandered minutes and the unholy hours. The frittered time stung like a bee. The promises made at the onset came back as a long forgotten dream that was always there in my subconscience. Drunk on the necatar of life - the good I could do; how as eager as a child was I to start on my own solitude. And then somehow in the journey that lasted but a second in the temporal plane, I lost sight of you and my own self. Interspersed among fleeting pleasures, golden moments all leading to hell, the darkest days that were but a test; were a few precious seconds spent within my own self. I silently bow my head, naked as I stand. Forgiveness I seek nought as my tongue wont take my side. Shameful and sorrowful at all the oportunities lost, I repent and beg to be sent back – for a chance that I know I wont get. The dice has been cast.”

"Well, poorly said. I think you tried too hard. keep it simple next time. And I don't believe in God still. Please pass me my drink and take your religious mumbo jumbo and judgement day stories elsewhere"

The story ends.

Mashaallah (P.S. Title ka post se koi link nahin hai.)

Have you ever had one of those mornings where you get up and things suddenly feel fine? I mean you open your eyes, take a deep breath and sigh. You got the just the right amount of sleep. Not too little that makes you want to stay in bed just a little longer and not too much that always leaves a dull headache behind. Issues that had been gnawing at your soul (I have always wanted to use that phrase :) ) vanish. You can’t remember why the hell you were upset. I am such a kid. You chuckle to yourself.

You open your eyes and look around and spy your cell phone peeping from below the pillow. You check it and there it is- a missed call. To show that someone missed you while you were busy zzing away. You see the caller’s name and smile. The first item of the ‘To Do List for the Day’ is ready - 1. Return the call. Then you see your laptop and wonder if there is time to check your mail. You decide against it. Personal mails are best checked during office hours. You wonder still in bed what is it that you have to accomplish today. Any deadlines, any pressing issues? And your mind tells you –chill. Kuch nahin hai. The world is going to run just fine today without your help. You smile.

It’s a perfect day. You get up and open the windows. The cool breeze hits your face. Baarish ke chances hain. You smile. Birds are chirping at your window. You ignore the numerous pigeon droppings on the window sill and do not shoo them away. You feel kind and benevolent towards the whole world. Even your stupid maid who was absconding since yesterday. You had decided earlier that this time you are going to cut her pay. Maids should be more professional in their leave taking. Atleast 2 days advance notice toh dena chahiye. Such arguments vanish as you usher her in the house. She smiles back. And you swimming in the tide of human kindness ask her to make tea for two and help herself to the left over aloo parathas. The car cleaner has still not come today. But it is okay. You rationalize the poor man must have urgent issues that need more immediate handling and your car isn’t one of them. Don’t be too disappointed that he didn’t come. You tell yourself. I am certain he will come on pay day.

You read the newspaper i.e. the entertainment section. Having an MBA + a job means you can give the business section a miss. A nice picture of Akshay greets you. He is looking dapper in the black tux. One of the most good looking men in Bollywood now. You debate the merits of physique and face of some top Bolly stars and realize that Akshay’s claim to being one of the best is possibly true. You read about the lives of Kylie, Ashton, Aniston and MJ. Satisfied that all your friends are doing fine (as per The Hindu anyway and excluding MJ ofcourse ((may God bless his soul)) ) you keep the paper down. The maid is here with the tea. Amma main kal nahin aaongi. Gaon jaa rahi hoon. You appreciate her honesty and advance notice. Smile and take the cuppa. Tea is just right. It is an omen really. This has to be a perfect day.

You get ready for office. There is a tune in your head that doesn’t make much sense. Dum dum dum da da da dum dee da dum dum or was it da da dum dee da dadum de da da or something like that. Nice tune. I could have been a musician. You realize. But oh well that ship has sailed. You see the time: 9.45am. Can make it to office by 10. Excellent attendance record. You smile. Pick the keys up, pack your tiffin and lock your door. In the elevator you tell yourself that you must blog about this perfect morning. And you do.

Have a good day people!

Aadi- Story 3

Settled finally. Its been 2 years since I last travelled by 3rd A.C. And nothing it seems has changed. I have already lost my temper thrice - the autowala, coolie and the nameless passenger at the door who refused to move - in that order. Yes, you may call me a little hotheaded. I hate paying for some thing than what its actually worth. These coolies and autowals feel they can take me for a ride just because I look the type who travels by air. I know paying Rs. 50 more doesn't make me any poorer but then its the whole dishonesty of the affair that irritates me. And I also hate indecisiveness. Decide what you want to do. Get in the damn compartment or get out. But no! People persist in standing at the door looking for god knows what and coolly ignoring poeple who are trying to get in.

Anyway, now I am here. The luggage is secured and the laptop is out. Three presentations I have to check and also if possible catch up on Taleb's new book which is just out. You know, famous first lines have always fascinated me. Remember that one: of all the ginjoints in all the world she... Yes Casablanca. Thats what I thought when I saw her. That and also she still travels with too much luggage. Now where are we going to fit these 5 bags. Why can't women travel light? I see she is alone. She hasn't looked in my direction yet.

I straighten up. Prop up my legs so that the Coolie can put madam's bags everywhere. She is looking nice. Yellow churidar, white kurti and a duppatta thats covering her head. Big white bag. I see she's still into her pearl earrings. Slim and young. Infact younger than I remember her. Thank you Bhaiyaa she said. And hands over a hundred. Still used english with people who dont understand it. I smile to myself. Some things never change. While she is doing this I try figure where will she be seated. 7 is my seat no. Her's is...aah 11. In the middle. Dont think madam is going to like that.

"Excuse me can I please have the window seat." I chuckle. She still stresses on the please. Some people never grow up. Now what is that poor man going to do. I can see his dilemma. Noone wants to sit in the middle and yet he doesn't want to refuse a pretty lady. Hmm. He is getting up. I think the fact that she does'nt look married did the trick. That and the smile that followed the please. She still hasn't looked at my direction. What should I do? Should I first say hello? Seems like the decent thing to do. I mean I was the one who always told her to keep it normal.

Yeah, thats right. I should say hello first. Not sure when should I say it. She is sitting down. About to look up. Nows the time."Hello Sumi, How are you, fancy seeing you here." Damn the cell had to ring right now. Neha's call. Damn. I caught her reaction though. She looked up surprised. I guess the familarity with which I addressed her caught her unawares. Or was it me? She looked at me and smiled. Not the big smile you give a long lost friend but a rather quiet civil smile you reserve for an acquaintance. Is it my imagination or did the smile not reach her eyes? "hello, yea. Haan paunch gaya. Nahin koi problem nahin hui. Haan theek hai. hmm. Chalo phir phone karta hoon paunch kar. bye "

"Sorry sumi. Ghar se tha" (shit shouldn't have said that. I dont know why I felt guilty talking to my own wife right now.)
"Its okay. I am fine. How are you?"
"Oh good. i am working with HSBC now. (She doesn't look at all interested. So I refrain from giving details.) Where are you working these days? In touch with anyone? " (was about to say missed you at the last reunion but then decided against it.)
"Thats nice. I am with an NGO now. We are into healths services. I dont think I am in touch with anyone. Didn't go for the reunion too."
"Okay" (Shes started to look out the window. So I decide to give the conversation a rest.)

She looks a little sad or is it my imagination. Why does this woman always make me feel so guilty! I mean hundreds of people have broken relationships. But she just didn't take the breakup like a man. I mean leaving her was the hardest thing not because I loved her which I didn't but because she just was so heart broken about it. I never thought it was possible to love me so much and with such a single minded dedication.

Anyway what is done is done. We both have moved on. Or atleast I have. Relocated to a new metro. Have a wife and a family. I try not to compare the two Neha and Sumi. Both are two different people. Different backgrounds. But yes Neha doesn't worship the ground I walk on and that to be honest is how I prefer it.

I remember Sumi and her temper, her passion, her refusal to take no for an answer, the way she always waited for me for lunch, her tantrums, her habit of cupping my face with her hands and calling me baby. I hated that. I remember the times we shared. Good times. But I never held on to them. Did she? Is she happy now? Did she get over her childish childlike refusal to accept the inevitable? Then there were the 6 torturous months post breakup. I don't know why did I hang around for her? 6 months is a long time for counselling. in her defence she didnt call me often. but somehow I felt responsible and hence came the "Are you okay?" phone calls. Just that abandoning her didn't seem like the civil thing to do and also I never knew what she would have done if I wasn't there then.

Still 6 months and then one day I just lost my temper again. "Will you just get over this woman? Its not like we are Romeo and Juliet! I don't love you. I don't want a future together. Its not like this is forced. I want it to be like this." She had looked up from my shoulder where she was resting her head said nothing. Next day I knew I had lost her. Things weren't the same again. And its a testament to how bad things were with me that I liked it that way. We just stopped talking. And then she went away. 6 years back.

Now she sits in front of me pretending I dont exist. No its not even that. She isn't ignoring me. Thrice our eyes have met and shes given me a half smile. Come on Sumi. You couldn't have forgotten all those times. They meant too much to you. Or did you? Or is this reaction the proof that you are still not over the damn relationship? What is it?

At 9 people ate dinner. The train didnot have a pantry car. She was carrying her own tiffin. I hadn't anticipated the no pantry car scenario and so wondered what to do. There were no major stations coming till noon tomorrow. And street food has never gone down well with my stomach. I could share her tifffin. Just like old times. But then I decided to do the next best thing. Got my trusted packet out and went outside to have a smoke. She sat through the next 2 hours in front of me making small conversations with everyone. She didnt give way too much information about herself. Then everyone went to bed. I couldn't sleep well. It was around 4 that I finally managed to doze off. When I woke up at 7 she was gone. Just like that. No good byes. I kept lying down. If you have ever travelled by 3rd ac you would know why. You cant sit up in the bottom berth till the person above you decides to lower his berth. Finally the person in the middle berth decided it was time to wake up. As I got up and stretched I saw a polythene packet on my seat. I opened it. Inside was a tiffin and some tissues and a note that said - Breakfast.

TV suxx Part 2

Yea I am still on it - the rant that is. You would be to if..wait yeh AajTak par kya aa raha hai. Mahishasur ka atyachar. Religious photos ke peeche actual real images play ho rahi hain. Kya idea hai sirjee. Aur phir yeh music. Lagta hai Anu Malik saheb inspired mood mein compose kar rahe hain. Next headline: Kanha ke viruddh kanss ka shadyantra. Woh mathura etc ke real images ke saath abb koi TV serial ki images bhi aa gayi hain. Hey bhagwan. Now this dame in the studio is talking about Radha and now some female is singing some random song and we are told there is a kund which was made from radha ka kangan. All this time pictures are changing as if in a slide show with "whoosh" sound everytime.

((If I do something rash, and my body is found facing the TV and if AT is the channel playing please ensure that the case is filed under murder due to abject torture)) Where the muck is that remote!!! Oh under the chair. hehe wait..rather than entertain blasphemous thoughts (which I do a lot with amaazing regularity) let me just change the channel. Oye Fox History. Good. I let out a deep sigh and go back to writing about reality shows. That's where we had left remember.

Reality shows: Agar aapko pata karna hai kitne stars abb faltu hain..just check out the judges name of any reality shows. I mean its an easy way to make money when someone is not employing you. Just go, sit, smile and come back. You don't have to say anything intellligent. Really nothing. I mean Sonali Bendre on music. Thats like me judging Real Madrid and its player acquisition strategy. You dont have to look nice even. I dont mean the fat err no corpulently challenged Bendre babe I was actually thinking about Anu Malik and the entire judge's panel of Sa ra ga ma (they deleted the pa. Women domination bhaiyya! Ma hai pa nahin. Jai Ho.) I mean please mujhe koi reality show ka judge bana de. Wait don't I do that everyday. Isnt world a reality show. Deep. Hmm. Just that no one pays me though.

Anyhoo contestants of reality shows. The kids reality shows disturb me the most. You have to be total jackass of a parent to subject your child to that. I mean as if the humiliation of having you as a parent was not enough you put him on the stage to be judged by moronic judges and hundreds of idiots who are dumb enough to watch the shows. It is traumatic to be judged and to fail in front of others. Grown ups are not able to handle public failures. (eg Susan Boyle) Why the muck would you subject a child to it!

Then comes the hotties or the wannabe hotties. The splitsvilla-size 0-brain activity negative contestants. I dont mind Tanay doing anything with his life. But yes after watching splittsvilla I have instructed my lawyers to amend the will. Bebo, you wont be getting a penny if you ever feature on any reality show ever. This threat would work a lot more if I had some real money. But oh well. I will deny him my newly purchased sofa and Samsung ka chota TV. Also (it just occured to me) I will publish all your naked bachpan ki pics on facebook. (just have to call my lawyers and get this line added. BRB)

Kya ladkiyaan hain. Kya galiyan deti hain. Dare I confess that it was in college that I got to know what MC/BC meant. And the guys. Man, really are guys this dumb? And can someone please tell the HMTs that nothing is a bigger put off than hearing someone who cant say 3 sentences in English put on a American accent and then try to talk.

Limka ka advt aara ha hai. I like this one. Par let me tell you when I got my Limca nothing happened. The guy standing behind me didnot magically create water or look that good and nor was that song playing when I drank my magical potion. Nothing happened. I waited for 3 minutes after finishing my drink in the hope maybe thoda late reaction ho jaye. But nothing.

Aur haan contestants jo celebrity hain. Celebrity reality shows. Ek baar maine papa ke saath Big Boss ka episode dekha. He didnt know any contestant not even one. Arrey unko chodo jab woh Sambhavna aayi toh even i didnt know. I told my dad she is a big actress down south. he he. For those of you who do not know what I am talking about give your self a hug.

Btw let me confess I did catch 2 episodes of Jhalak Dikhla jaa and hoped Bhaichung would win. So not all reality shows are unwatchable.

Reality shows encourage begging. I mean haven't you noticed hum log kitni asaani se (besharmi se) sabse maangte rehte hai. Padosi's se sugar, professors se marks, friends se paise, bhagwan se secret wishes, girl friends se sorry, readers se comments (wink wink). I think this tendency is getting out of hand. And since most people know my response to such begging people have stopped it in front of me. Now they just take what they want without asking. That explains why the three apologies that I have been waiting for, for over a month haven't come. These reality shows make it okay to beg : Please please humein aapke votes ki bahut zaroorat hai. please vote kariye. please mobile phone utha kar mera code dial kariye. Please. Bhangwan ke naam pe dede baba. (okay last line mera improvization tha)

And finally, the last rant para on RS. Thats reality shows. (no other elaboration of RS ;) ) Kabhi results episode dekna. Kya setting hoti hai. Kya tension. Aaj kiska sapna khatam hone jaa raha hai. kiski kismet ka faisla aapne kara hai. Kaun abb hamare beech nahin hoga. Kaun hamse juda ho ke jaa raha hai. Kise abb producer's ka check nahin milega aur kiski biwi ghar par aaj pitai karegi. Batate hain. Break ke baad.

TV suxx

TV sucks. Its official now. For the past few months I have been telling my friends "TV par kuch acha nahin aata" And in all cases so far people have dissented (is that a verb I can use?). I had stopped watching TV for a long time. Maybe from March or so my TV viewing can be termed as negligible. So when my friends said there is always something interesting on these days, well I believed them. Yesterday I decided to check those claims. And I have reached certain conclusions.

Warning: Incase you haven't figured it out this post is going to be about the TV and how crappy the shows are. Let me also add that its going to be long and mean as I have a headache and there is still nothing good on TV. Compounded by the fact that my maid is absconding, my landlord is probably serving me notice in about a week's time, my friends are busssy, I have a headache (wait I think I already said that) and I haven't left my bedroom in the past 24 hours the chances of this post making reasonable reading are slim. Muck, I just caught the advt. for Rakhi Sawant ka swayambar - do yourself a favour and skip to the end.

So the conclusions are:
Conclusion no. 1: I am way too old and grey. Not only do I not understand the generation succeeding mine, I am also having trouble keeping up with the telly tastes of my own generation. I mean comeon guys. There is NOTHING good on. How can you spend the whole weekend on this damn thing!

Conclusion no. 2: Telly world is short of talent.

Conclusion no. 3: Telly world is short of talent and doesn't know it yet.

Conclusion no. 4: The new generation kids are such mind numbing morons with shallow self image, zero IQ and so low a moral grounding that its not even funny any more. Okay maybe I am too quick to judge but this conclusion was reached while watching 3 reality shows on MTV and Real involving teemagers and some young 20 year olds battle for stupid titles (Teen Diva)and yes love (Splitsvilla and somethg somethg).

Conclusion no. 5: People are becoming uglier by the day. This despite all the beauty creams, lotions and treatment that have come up. I mean I had no expectations from the soap opera people but atleast movie stars should look reasonably tolerable. Purane zamane mein kitne goodlooking actors hote the.

Conclusion no. 6: There is just too much sex on TV. I mean I am very liberal a person. I have no issues with short dresses, pre marital sex or post marital for that matter, gays and lesbians are welcome at my party and i firmly believe in the dictum: to each his own. But still I cant help be judgemental about these advts. and music videos and movies that just objectify women and men for that matter.

I still remember there were times long back when if something risque would come on TV one would be a little squeamish watching it with one's parents. delicately you would leave the room or change the channel or something. But now every damn thing is about just one thing.

(((There is more to talk about this. Next post mein par.)))

Now lets dig a little more deep. Let me review whats on these days.

Zee, Colors, Imagine, star plus par soaps aate hain. Lux, haman, lifebouy wale nahin.

Daily soap tells you its okay if you love someone and marry another and then sleep wit your brother in law and then cheat on him (your brother in law not the hubby) with your college sweet heart. Women wear tonnes of makeup and jewellery every day even night. And somehow manage to look butt ugly even with all that muck (this time its muck not F___) on their face. I have so far identified 2 types of women: The good one who has no brains or career aspirations and lives and dies and invariably marries for the family. Everything is about the family or her love or about looking demure and pretty. Did you catch that muckall show Dil Mil Gaye? Supposedly doctors hain sab. I prayed extra hard last night for good health after watching that show. And the other type of female characters: biatch who wants money, someone else's husband, revemge, or money. No greys in the telly world. All black or white. I wished the distinction could have more parameters : like the good ones are pretty and well dressed and the bad ones are not. But sadly I found all needed to be sent to a personal grooming seminar in jhumritalaiya and attend the art of wearing less makeup. And the men of the telly world : they are too much of a disappointment to even write about. Sometimes even good clothes, fake accents and body building sessions cant help you overcome nature's revenge - that is your face. By the way in a twisted sense, telly world is female dominated. It claims to see the world from the women's perspective. Last night I got the aha moment. Now I know why the guys think that women are brainless twits. Its the damn TV. If anyone things that "Ghar ki laxmi:betiyaan" is how the world really is, I would myself call them names much worse than brainless twits.

News Channel: Mere ko mili nahin abhi tak. Still looking. Incase I get one I will certainly review.
There are some channels Aaj tak types that some times show some national happenings in the break time they get from airing bollywood happenings, advertisements, talkshows on bollywood, breaking news like finding the road that pandavs took in Mahabharat to go to heaven (I swear i saw that program). Btw India is defined by Delhi, kolkata and Mumbai. East ki states ka kabhi mention nahin aata. Sikkim etc. mein ya toh issues hi nahin hain ya phir its not worth these channels time to talk about them. Aaj Tak bata raha ki KJo is working hard on his next film Khan is King. Chalo thats good to know. Kabhi remote South mein kya ho raha hai, farmer suicides ka kya update hai yeh bhi bata dena. "Greasepaint in the time of personal trauma" yeh aa raha hai on Headlines Today.

Reality shows: Rakhi ka swayamvar. Need I say more.

To be contd

Picasso ka dost kaun?

Picasso ka dost kaun? Batao. Batao. Ya phir Van Gogh ka? Nahin pata naa. Socho Mozart ka? Ya Beethoven ka? I now realise why these greats never have BFF (best friends forever, duh!).

Imagine Picasso as a budding painter. He would have his own personal space where he would put up his sketches/paintings (s/p) for everyone to see. Then just like an excited child who finally gets 9/10 in handwriting from grumpy Mrs Jones and runs home to show mommy the report card, he (Picasso not the child) would call his friend on the phone. Hey naya painting banaya hai. check karo and comment, he would say. I presume.

And then that so called friend in about an hour would call back and proceed to criticise every damn thing about Picasso's s/p. Brush strokes sahi nahin hain. Colours ache nahin hai. You should have used blue. And why are all your paintings about horses? (wait am I thinking of Picasso dada ya apne hussain miya) And finally the closing: Get a life yaar. Kya paintings banana roz roz.

And there in that one phone call, Picasso ka career shuru hone se pehle behrehmi se khatam kar diya jata hai. All in the name of constructive open feedback.

Isilliye Picasso ke koi friends nahin the. Aur isiliye Picasso became so great!

Samjhe!

The break up (Story)

Papa bought this cute new Barbie for me. I was thrilled. Delighted. Overjoyed. I didnot expect that doll. He never told me she is coming. And in those days everyone knew Barbie was rare. It meant your papa reallllly loved you. That you were the favourite. Mummy had also been err mum about it. Did she know? I am sure papa must have not told her. Otherwise she would have protested. I hadn't been making my bed or doing my homework or being good. Still he didn't know or more likely he didn't care about those things. He wanted me to be happy and he got me the doll. Sumi I named it. I loved her like how much a fat chick would love a bowl of chocolate icecream on a hot Delhi afternoon. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I was smitten. I never let anyone touch her. She was mine. Mine alone. Sharing her was out of the question. And for weeks I would finish my classes, do the essentials and then play with her. Sumi and I. Quite a couple were we. I was happy. All the time.

Then one day. Suddenly she left. Papa said he gave it to Choti as choti had gotten hurt and was crying and Sumi made her feel better. There was other stuff too that he said but I never listened. I was furious and heart broken and betrayed and confused all at the same time. If you have ever been in love you would know why.
1. How dare you give her away.
2. I miss her. Please come back. Please pretty please. Some how. Please God please.
3. How could you do this to me?
4. Why did this happen? How do I get her back?

I was hysterical. Upset for days. I cried like crazy, refused to eat food, threw tantrums and yes didnot speak to my dad for a month. I was sad for a longer time after that.

Anyway 10 years later Choti the witch (or something that rhymes with that) returned Sumi to me. I looked at Sumi. She looked old but well. Her eyes still had that twinkle. As Choti left, I picked up my cell to call papa. I am sorry for Sumi episode papa. He laughed arrey you were too young. Yes papa but I am sorry and I love you. Bye.

I took Sumi and locked her in the trunk. She had no effect on me now. I was over her.

Aadi - Story 2

He saw her for the first time when she was 10 years old. Fat and dull- he thought. The only thing that made him go to her house to play was the fact her mother was an excellent cook and a doting aunty who insisted on feeding him goodies every time he came. Two years later he moved to Kanpur and they expectantly lost touch.

An engineering degree, lots of daru-bazi, plenty of crushes, a short secret fling, and a large circle of friends later he found himself in Mumbai. This time when they met he was 26. He almost didn’t go for the first meeting.

“Hi Aadi, how are you? This is Neha ..neha agarwal..dilli se.. pehchana. I got your number from aunty. I have also just moved to Mumbai. Though it would be nice to meet once. Are you free this weekend?”

Neha Agrawal– arrey woh moti. Sheessh. Saala pehle toh koi ladki phone nahin karti aur agar phone aata hai to iss moti ka! But he realized that his roomie was listening so in his most cocky voice he drawled “Neeeeha. Kaisi ho! Offfcourse yaar I remember you. How is aunty? I still miss her cooking. (he he) Haan Haan lets meet up this weekend. How about Barista near….”

So thanks to Abhi and his habit of listening to every conversation Aadi had, Aadi found himself at Barista at the designated time. When she walked in – his heart skipped a beat. Well it couldn’t really otherwise he would have collapsed but to him it felt like it did. Secretly reading Barbara Cartland and M&B makes you acutely aware of these sensations.

They hit it off from the first moment. Actually she thought he was a okay types (as she later told her friend) and a loud talker. But as for him the first meeting was the sign from above - sign that she was ‘IT’. Bas, lets just say he was hooked from the word ‘Go’. They kept meeting regularly for the next two years and he never once mentioned his feelings to her. She was involved with some one else. And while she was falling out of love with the guy he would never meet, his feelings for her were reaching their crescendo.

To make things bearable he decided to write to her. A letter for every day. All the passion that you would never associate with someone so analytical in his work found its way into those letters. 365 letters later he was told that she had split with her guy. But this didn’t make things any easy for him. For post that tempestuous relationship she was (as she put it) “off men”. All her conversations were now dark and brooding.

One evening he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He confessed. He confessed his love, his feelings for her, the fact that he thought of her before going to sleep and that it was with her thought that he woke up. Of the letters he had written, the future plans he had made. Of how he thought they would be the happiest together and how this was what was the best thing that could happen to both of them. She listened silently to the long speech. A strange mix of emotions were present – he had started with passion and love; briefly he was angry at her silence; then came the pleading and the tears and finally desperation.

Why is it that two people in the same relationship sometimes can never view it with the same lens? She never understood his passion. His next one year was spent in thinking of ways to convince her, to make her realize that she was wrong, that they were meant to be. As firmer her Nos became, the more hopeless in love was he.

He became quiet, sullen and bad tempered. His friends noticed the change. His mother too. To make it worse the rishtas had started coming for the both of them. Both refused but for entirely different reasons. And one day she dropped the bombshell. “Im going2 US. Its 4 the bst. Sorry for all this mess Aadi. Plz b hppy.” read the sms.

He met her the day she was leaving. He gave her the half hug you can give a female friend in India and pressed a parcel into her hand. “Something to read on the flight”, he said. He waited for a month for her to reply.

Those letters. They were his last hope. If she didn’t get them, nothing would ever convince her. A week passed with no word. She must be settling in. Another passed. New job hai, she must be tied up. Another week went by. He grew impatient and finally a month later he called. They had their first international fight. He accused her of being insensitive and escapist, trapped in her past. She countered that he was cruel and hurtful. Many words later, he found out she had never finished reading the letters. His heart finally broke with that realization. And he hung up.

Lets be friends, she said in the end. “un huh” was all he could manage.

The next day he quit his job and a week later moved to Hyderabad, A change of air would do me good was the thought. At 30, he was now no longer the man he was before. She had changed him. But as they say the worst was yet to come. New place, new office, new people. Six months into the city, he met Sumi. She was his apprentice- mentee in the organizational parlance. She was funny and cute. Didn’t make his heart stop as Neha but time did fly by quickly when he was with her. Within an year they decided to marry.

Three years later Mr. and Mrs. Aadi Malhotra found themselves back in Delhi. Three years of marriage make you realise how overrated companionship is. Both of them were getting tired of each other. Sumi felt that Aadi never paid her enough attention. He was aloof at times. Watched way too much football and had loud gross friends. Aadi's defence always was: Its soccer not football first of all. Friends' loudness and grossity werenot for her to judge and will she please learn to cook something atleast.

Their bickering was growing worse day by day. And then one day, she arrived. A simple facebook message : Aadi, Its been a long time. Am in India for a week. Can we meet? Will understand if you say no.

To be accurate Aadi's first response was to say: NO. But as he was typing the 'O' he heard Sumi in the kitchen say: phir TV laga liya. Pata nahin kitna TV dekhte hain. office se aaye nahin ki match shuru. Iss football se toh main tang a agayi hoon. Aadi quickly pressed backspace and wrote: Sure. Am in delhi. Tell me when and where.

They met at the old Barista. Aadi and Neha. It was like she had never left. "I am sorry aadi. I never responded to those letters but I wanted to be sure of my feelings for you. Your love scared me Aadi and I felt I wasn't ready for it. I just wanted to tell you that.And yes also that I love you."

For once Aadi was dumbstuck. He had no idea what to say. She looked stunning and kissable. And after 2 minutes of not so pious thoughts, he remembered he had a wife at home. "I am married now Neha"

"I know Aadi. I know. For the past few months I have been replying to those letters you wrote all 365 of them. I just wanted you to have the replies. Here. Goodbye." She left. Aadi watched her go. His eyes followed her till she sat in the taxi and then he sat looking at the parcel.

He opened it. Her perfume hit him. He sat there for 3 hours going through her work. She wasn't a good writer. (Nobody writes as well as I do. He smiled.) But she did manage to put her point across. And that point was simple: She wanted him back.

He left her letters in the car. On returning home, he ate dinner quietly and then sat staring at his laptoop wondering what to do.

Aadi - Story 1

She stood in the court, head held high. She confessed to her love, their affair, admitted to knowing that he used the company funds to take her for her Egyptian holiday and acknowledged that she knew he was married. Twenty minutes into her speech - his job, reputation and the case was finished. He was as good as divorced.

As she walked out the courtroom, Aadi asked her to stop. "Oh gudia don't look so sad. I know they cornered you. You couldn't help it. No need to apologise. Wait in the car for me. Lets just get home." She said nothing.

On the drive back, both were silent. As they were reaching his home Aadi said "Gudia, it doesn't matter if they fire me. Which I know they will. I don't regret a thing. Four years in that shit marriage I never felt alive even for a moment. Sumi tried to make it work but I just didn't love her. I never loved anyone till I met you. I don't know what is it about you - the things you say, the way you move, your books everything is just so irresistable. I love you Aayesha. I love you so much. And don't you worry everything will be fine. I will make it okay. Did Anwar call? (She nodded.) So you know right? The registration is done. I have transferred the house in your name. Now let's see Sumi try to wriggle that from me now. Bitch has nearly cost me fortune to get rid off."

Aayesha didn't say anything. Just leaned on the right and pressed her body next to his. He kissed her hair and the rest of the drive was spent silently listening to 'November Rain.'

He rang the door bell- twice. Sumi answered it - looking radiant in her chiffons. Aayesha was hesitant for a moment stepping in but Aadi firmly held her hand.

Sumi spoke first. "Please let's not be melodramatic today. I have made drinks for everyone. Let us just have them."
"Aayesha doesn't drink. She has only...."
"Coke with lots of ice ( Sumi interrupted) I know Aadi"
"How do you know that? Let me guess. You hired a dick to track us. Typical of a bitch. And whose bags are these? Are you clearing out of my house?"

Sumi laughed. She always had a mirthful laugh. Unabashed and undulterated. "Oh Aadi, do you remember last year on our anniversary when you told me you rather #$%^ the maid than be with me. You always had a way with words. Anyway, I realised that day this marriage was not worth fighting for. In college, you know, someone was in love with me. Every day I got a little note saying how wonderful I was. When I found out the writer's identity I got scared and nothing ever happened between us. But those notes they made me feel alive then. She knew me so well. So the very next day after you had left for office I went through all my old contacts to find out where Aayesha was. And would you believe it - She was in Delhi all this time. We met the next week. And everyday after that. This was her idea. She was aways the brilliant one. Anyway, we just thought you should know what actually happened. Now please let's not be melodramatic today. I will ask the maid to put your bags in the car. Your shaving kit is in the red suitcase. My lawyer will get in touch with yours tomorrow. "

Aadi gulped down his drink without a word. As he closed the front door behind him his last vision was of the two women tenderly embracing each other. As they broke away from their kiss, his heart broke. He was never quite the same man again.

Inside Aayesha laughed loudly. "You are such a dramebaaz, Sumi."
S: Hey can't I have some fun sometime! (eyes twinkling with glee)
A: I wasn't prepared for the kiss (frowning)
S: Yes, err that was a spur of the moment improvisation. (smilling wickedly)
A:But why all this kahani, bebo?
S: You know Aadi hates to lose. And the one thing that he would hate more than losing is losing to a woman. That too someone like me. He never loved me. You know that. But he never respected me as well. And for months know I have wanted to slap him out of his smugness, out of this feeling of power that he knew had over me just because I loved him. So just getting the house was not enough. He can build one again. Although I would like to see which bank would hire him now? Still. I needed him to lose the thing he most needed. You.
A:Cool. Complicated enough. I think I would use it for my next novel
S:Go ahead. Pay me my loyalties before that. Speaking of payment, the broker said he has found a buyer already. Great price. Anwar called a while back. He is waiting for you at home. Have dinner with me first Aayesha. I hate eating alone.

Kodak Moments

I am as damn crazy about 'moments' as you can get. Let me explain. Kuch saal pehle TV par maine dekha woh Kodak moments wala advt. Voice over ne bataya ki Life is full of kodak moments. Abb aisa hai ji ki main mummy ki baat maanu ya na maanu advertisers ki sab baatein manti hoon. Toh agar add wale uncle ji keh rahe hai ki life is full of Kodak moments toh bhai life must be full of KM.

Bas tab se meri struggle shuru. Har samay KM ki fight. Aur saath mein shuru hui karibi logon ki shyamat. Kyunki KM banane ki zimmedari unki hai. Hamesha. Teen karibi log abhi tak psychiatrist ka bill bharne ke liye jo loan liya tha uski installment chukane ke liye naukri kar rahe hain. Two lapata hain. Aur ek ne aaj mujhe resignation bhej diya hai. Likha hai:

Yaar bahut fight hai tumhare saath. Bahut pressure rehta hai. Har cheez perfect karne ka. Agar jhagda bhi karo toh woh bhi tumko perfect chahiye.

Mera mann tha jawab doon: abbe kam se kam KM wala resignation toh karta. Kitna dramatic moment ho sakta tha. Main kehti: nahin Bhaiya nahin. Tum impromptu kuch deliver karte. Aur scene khatam hota mere closeup se.

Acha KM toh khair mashaallah kaafi aaye hain life mein. Pichle saal ke kuch pal (happy + sad):

Campus mein ghusna pehli baar. Mera pehla apna ghar. Tanay ka laptop thodna. Arora ki hasii. RK ka sweeetie namkaran. TB ki lapata belt par comments pass karna. RRS ka DMOP padana. RD ka "Hello madam ji" kehna. SP ke chakar mein Chachi naam padna. SI ke mails edit karna.(@#$% treat kahan hai meri) Pakode banana. Movie dekhna theatre style ghar par. Comp Strat mein A aana. Kale sir ki class. Bhagwan ji ki class. Moon sir ki jai. AB ko galli dena. (paper toh banaya karo yaar) Conjoint ka naa samajh mein aana. RJ se mulaqaat aur uske J-isms. AK ka ek saal. Diwalli ki mast photo meri. Grad mein sms karna phunny wale. Raat mein padna. Last 2 terms mein Ram bharose hona. Rona bahut sara. Nega mein dhoka khana. Prof DK ki counselling. Class mein advts dekhna- yaar subject hi wohi tha. VB ki bakar. Woh rooftop ki meeting. Gang ka fail hona. INFS mein B aana thx to dean listers and IIT passouts. Treats lena- dena. The Great kabab factory jana. Snooker seekhna. Squash raquet milna. TT mein nearly harana. Bday dunking. 3 cakes katna. Paise barbaad karna preterms mein. Seniors ka April fool banana. DBell ko dekhna. LDP mein time ka wastehona. ELP mein masti karna. Global Eco padhna. Nerkar ki class mein off the cuff brilliant cp karna. Goel ka khana. Mummy ko miss karna. Budget -rebudget karte rehna. Ric Charlesworth ko momento dena. C K Prahlad ka lecture attend karna. Nokia, Airtel, Biocon, Castrol etc. ke CEOs se milna. Pkakkar ka advt par funde dena. Naukri ka pehla interview. ISB ka pehla "Application shortlisted" sms. Consulting study group meetings bunk karna. Class ke break mein coffee peena. Chole Bhature cafe ke. Nimboo stall ko patronise karna. Relationship counselling karna. Aunty naam padna. :( Basanti banana. Dumb C jeetna.

bas yaar abhi ke liye itna hii..kaafi moments ho gaye.

Faisal - Story 1

The riots had torn the town apart. There was not a street that was not burning - not a family that was not touched. In seven days a petty dispute over a piece of land had evolved into one of the worst communal riots the town had ever witnessed over the last fifty years.

It was 2 am when Faisal heard a thud in the verandah. Sleep had eluded him today as well. Kaun ho sakta hai. The rioters had moved into the far end of the town. And the looters who were now following the rioters’ footprints wouldn't be expected to raid the house of a poor car mechanic.

Usne paas rakhi hockey uthayi aur ek torch bhi (the bulb in the verandah had been broken three days back) "Kaun hai," woh chillaya. "Kaun hai saala wahan pe. Samne aa."

In the silence of the night he heard a whimpering sound. The torch light discovered a silhouette crouching next to the empty oil drum. Ek ladki thi. Bees-baiees saal ki lagti hai.
"Kaun hai tu"
She moved closer to the broken drum as if trying to hide behind it.
"Abey kaun hai tu. Chhup mat. Kya naam hai tera? Yahan kaise aayi? Kyon aayi? Bata."

Still no answer. Zeba ki yaad aayi usse. Woh bhi aise hi chipakti thi darwaze se jab kuch galti karti thi.

"Acha chal idhar aa. Dekh mein hockey rakh raha hoon. Mera naam Faisal hai. Yeh mera ghar hai. Main yahan baju mein jo Sulaiman Motors garage mein kaam karta hoon..tha..shayad. Ab toh na Sulaiman bhai rahe naa unka garage; Allah unhe jannat naseeb kare. Chal ab tu bata kaun hai tu. Tere abbo-ammi kahan hain? Bol naa. Dekh darr mat. Mere ko apna bhai maan. Zeba, meri behen, teri jitni hi hogi. Chal bol ab."

"Main yahan ki nahin hoon."

"Yahan ki matlab - Ahmed Nagar ki nahin hai. Toh kahan rehti hai."

"Saket Housing Society. Main aaj Delhi se aayi thi. Bhaiya aaye the lene station par. Par wahan hamla ho gaya aur main kho gayi. Please mujhe ghar pauncha do."

"Naam kya hai tera."
"Sumi"

Faisal was quiet for the next few minutes. Sirf do khayal the uske paas - ek Zeba ka aur ek ki yeh ladki Hindu hai. Phir usse yaad aayi ammi jaan ki nasihantein. Ammi kehti thi har bar ki Quran sharif mein likha hai ki ek acha insaan har zarooratmand ki madad karta hai. Yeh Faisal teri khushkismati thi ke aaj kisiki madad karne ke layak hai.

“Faisal bhai! Faisal bhai darwaza kholo. Ek ladki aayi hai iss taraf. Hindu saali.”

“Chal andar jaa. Wahan Zeba ka burka rakha hai. Pehen le. Au khuda ke liye chupp rehna. Samjhi. Jaa ab. Bhag!”

He goes and opens the door.

“Kya hai? Kam se kam raat mein toh kuch sukoon mile. Kya hai?”
“Faisal bhai. Ek randi saali aayi hai iss taraf. Feroz ne dekha hai. Tumhari muder par chadi thi. Andar chhupi hogi.”
“Andar koi nahin hai. Main ne dekh liya hai. Feroz ko kuch galat faimi hogi.”
“Nahin Faisal bhai.” This time it was Feroz himself who chipped in. “Maine dekha. Allah tala jhoot na bulwaye. Yahin hai woh.”
“Main aakhri baar bol raha hoon yeh baat. Andar koi nahin hai. Jao tum log. Shaam se aise jaahiloon jaise ghoom rahe ho. Ghar jao. Subah hone wali hai. Fajr ka waqt ho raha hai.”
“Par Faisal bhai.”
“Jao”

Inside Sumi was shivering. She kept praying that the mob outside would listen to Faisal. “Oh God please help me. Please. Just let me go home. Please.”

She heard Faisal close the main door.
“Chale gaye sab”
“Thank you so much. Tumhare paas cell phone hai kya. Mera dead ho gaya hai. Mummy se baat karni hai."
“Nahin woh toh nahi hai. Ek kaam karo. Tum idhar andar so jao. Darwaza band kar lena. Main bahar sota hoon. Subah chod aaonga.”

Yeh keh ke who chala gaya. Sumi didn’t sleep the remaining night. At 5 ‘0 clock she heard Faisal get up. He completed his prayers and sharp at 6 knocked at her door. “Chalein” They left from the back ally. Crossed three mohallas. The damage of the riots was visible everywhere. Sumi covered from head to toe in Zeba’s burkha kept praying the whole time.

“Waise tumhari behen kahan hai.”
“Tum yahan kal hi aayi na Dilli se”
“Haan”
“Jhagda hamare mohalle se hi shuru hua tha. Pehle hi din ek toli aayi thi. Raat mein 3 baje. 2 ghante mein sab khatam kar diya.” Faisal rone laga. “Main nahin tha tab. Dost ke yahan gaya tha. Jab khabar mile tab bhaagte aaya. Kafan bhi nayi naseeb hua usse.”
“I am sorry.”
“Pata nahin kahan hai. Tumhari jaisi hi thi. Shayad tumse thodi moti. Inshallah milegi kabhi. Kahin. Dua karna.”
“Haan zaroor karoongi. Sab theek ho jayega. Tum mere bhaiya jaise hi ho.”
“Shukriya. Acha dekho yahan se tum logo ke ghar shuru hote hain. Zeba ke kapde de do mujhe.”
“Theek hai.”

After 15 minutes of walking, Sumi screams. “Woh raha mera ghar”
“Acha toh main chalta hoon”
“Suno”

“Abey dekho saale wahan jaa raha hai. Pakdo saale ko.”

The mob was upon them in a minute. Sumi screamed. “Main yahin ki hoon. Mera naam Sumi hai. Mera ghar hai samne. Please madd karo meri.”
“Aur tera naam kya hai”
“Faisal”
“Tum jaanti ho isko”
“Nahin”
“Chalo Faisal miyan tumse kuch baatein karni hain.”

Aaj tak Sumi ko nahi pata usne “nahin” kyon bola. Aaj tak Faisal ka bhi pata nain chala.

What the muck

I wrote the longest blog entry possible. It was a Booker prize winning story. Humour tha, emotion tha, ladki thi, ladka tha - and for good measure SUSPENSE bhi tha. It was a story jisko padkhe Julia Roberts bolti- "Ouii maa ! kya mast likha hai ! iss par ek movie banao. Mujhe act karna hai." And George Clooney ka agent would spend sleepless nights hunting for my number kyonki George wanted to have a private word with the author-ess who had written this magical stuff.

I was just a "Publish" button away from global stardom, limosine rides, award cheques, Oscar for best original story and my George Clooney when the battery of my fudging laptop died. And as the screen went blank and as my immortal soul loudly shouted Muck (or something that rhymes with it) and as the precariously balanced glass of lassi fell from the bed (bachcho dont eat on the bed. dining table par sulaoongi varna), my dreams of walking the red carpet with Johnny Depp as arm candy vanished in thin air. Because as all us great authors know- we only have one great masterpiece in us - and that untitled beautiful sheer poetry of reading delight was mine.

Anyway while I wallow in self pity for the next 6 hours, 'A' I hope this is funny enough for you to read in the morning.

Help sought

For weeks now a friend and I have talked about ways by which we can make a positive impact on society. To give back something to it. Unfortunately somehow things are not moving forward as quickly as we would like them to. The ideas we have will take time (and resources) to execute. Now patience as most of you might know is not one of my many virtues. Therefore, on an individual level I want to start doing something RIGHT NOW.

I am not aiming for a great impact, just looking at doing some thing atleast that involves looking beyond my petty problems and perennial blues. I haven’t done anything for society so far. Some of my friends have done so much work for their community that I am very ashamed of the lackadaisical attitude I have shown to life so far. So from here on I pledge to do something (howsoever miniscule) every week that will go beyond my regular trips to Shopper’s Stop and inane blog writing.

There are 2 very simple activities that I have picked for myself and I want you guys to carry out the same at your end.

1. Every Saturday I pledge to feed a family. I will get food packets prepared at home, go to a place of worship and distribute the same. For those of you who don’t have a maid, I recommend you contact any of the dozen small eateries that have sprung up everywhere you look and get basic food parcels made.

This is a doable exercise and doesn't involve much effort or money. I know some of you will think what's the big deal about it, it is too simple and regular. And that's precisely why I urge you to do the same at your end. I know making plans about removing world hunger seems more impactful and worthwhile but even this execise if carried out regularly can make a difference.

So all of you reading, promise me that this Saturday you will carry this out and if you are short of time (and in Hyd) I will help you with the same.

2. I plan to teach. English, Hindi and Basic Maths. Where? I have to figure that out. There is a masjid right in front of my home- maybe there..then again maybe not. Still haven’t worked out the logistics for this one. But yeah this is what I want to do. If you have any suggestions on how to carry out the same (in Hyderabad - near Raj Bhawan Road) leave a note.

So this is the plan for the weekend. Join me in executing action point no. 1 this Saturday. And yes let’s compare notes on Sunday then.

Blessings (Poem by me)

They came to bless thee
Each claiming you for his own
When they couldn’t decide
Who is to be your guide
They split your soul in two

I give thee independence
The powers to do as you please
All your life choose your path
Wherever it takes thee

"I will Give", He countered
"A chance to be truly free!
Have no one to walk beside you
Traverse alone your journey"

I give thee health and a steady hand
In frailing times post youth
"I match it with an ingrate child
Whose heart will be stone to you"

Take from me loving friends
Who will care for you deep
"How about I give you just one foe
But place him deep with-in "

I grant you the love for life
For pleasures it can bring
The knowledge of the joys it holds
The wisdom to know the right things

"I", said He, "will ensure
You chase your dreams through out
You never rest; You never breathe
You never completely re-form"

Oh my child I give thee heart
The chance to feel
The devil smiled as He walked away
"This makes it an even deal"

Then you whisper Dear lord
This somehow doesn’t sound right
Can I have just one more thing
to make my burden light

My lord then said:

Oh my child for all the lost times
And all your darkest days
I give you ME to help you see
The folly of your ways

And here I place an eternal cure
For every ill you may endure
Deep in heart you will always find
Hope will never be far behind

Baby steps (Poem by me)

Here at the crossroads
I wonder which way to go
Should I head straight
Or turn right
Or walk back the old road
Or take left-
to a distant land , unfamiliar and unknown
I ask myself
Unsure and silent
So what I do is this
I pitch my tent
There itself
Resting searching and wonderin'

Poems and H W Longfellow

A Psalm of Life

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act to each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
Learn to labor and to wait.

Domestic Violence (Story)

Disclaimers:

I don't like giving disclaimers about my blog. It's my own personal space after all. But somehow there are times I can't help feel apologetic about what I write. Maybe because I know it is trivial/lame or maybe because I don't want it to be misconstrued in anyway. Still here goes nothing. This lame ass story that I just wrote came to me because of an article I read sometime back on battered wives. No matter how educated/rich you are domestic violence in its many avtaars in a reality for most women in India. It is tragic I know. But undeniably true.

*********************************************************************************

3 a.m.: He staggered into the house. She couldn’t tell how late it was tough. Living below the poverty lines means you have to do without some luxuries-owning a watch is one of them. He was drunk. As he stood beating at the door she sat muttering “Main nahin jaaun toh..phir kya hoga” But years of being a wife make you mechanical. She got up opened the door. He didn’t quite cross the threshold completely and collapsed midway. Usually she would drag him inside and shut the door. This time, as if in silent rebellion, she let him be.

7.00a.m.: She came back into the house carrying two empty buckets. The municipal tap didn’t oblige today. He was awake rummaging through her trunk. She threw the buckets down and ran towards him. But she was late. He had found the 200 rupees she had hidden there. In one swift movement the money was in his pocket. She protested loudly, yelling. A slap later she was on the floor. She knew better than to resist. She closed her eyes bit her lip and waited. It would all get over in 5 minutes. Minutes later as he walked out the door all that remained of the incident was the bruise on her neck. "Phir der ho gayi aaj" she muttered to herself.

***

3 a.m.: Doorbell rang in quick succession. Sumi looked at the watch. "3 a.m.!" She sat muttering “Main nahin jaaun toh..phir kya hoga” But years of being a wife make you mechanical. She got up opened the door. He staggered into the house. He was drunk. He sat on the sofa trying to remove his shoes but collapsed midway. Usually she would put him to bed. This time, as if in silent rebellion, she let him be.

6.30 a.m.: She sat working on her presentation. "Aaj toh bas kisi tarah se neepat jaye yeh meeting" she muttered. From the adjoining room she heard him stirring. "Sumi" "Sumi" he called twice. He was awake. She went but tried to say no. "Early morning meeting hai aaj" A slap later she was on the carpeted floor. She knew better than to resist. She closed her eyes bit her lip and waited. It would all get over in 5 minutes. Minutes later as he walked out the door all that remained of the incident was the bruise on her neck. "Phir der ho gayi aaj" she muttered to herself.

****

7.30 a.m.: The door bell rang. She went to open it. She came in.

"Aaj phir late ho gayi tu"

"Kya karoon memsaab mera mard kal raat daru peekar aaya tha"

"Roz tera kuch bahana hota hai"

"Nahin memsaab, kasam se"

"Chal abb baat band kar aur pehle bartan kar"

Both the women went to the kitchen. Silently going over the happenings of the morning. Sumi looked up at Nimmo and her eyes fell on the bruise. Involuntarily her hand went up to her neck.

"Chal bartan baad mein kar lena. Pehle chai bana doo cup. Ek tu lelena. Fridge mein bread bhi rakhi hai."

So saying she turned back to the gas, stirring the vegetable pot. Nimmo surprised looked up and now noticed the mark on her memsaab's neck. Involuntarily her hand went to neck.

"Acha memsaab banati hoon"

They stood there knowing they were sharing more than just tea. Two worlds, two women - married to the same man.

Poems and Emily D

I wish I were a poet. No, wait. I wish I were a good poet. You know the kinds that can communicate volumes in a single sentence. I like lines that carry a different meaning every time you read them. Unfortunately I haven't progressed much from the schoolish version of poem writing - where every line rhymed with the next one and had as much depth in it as what a 10 year old could comprehend. :(

Anyway Emily Dickinson is one of my fav. poets. Here is one of her piece that I just read some time back:

I measure every Grief I meet

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes
I wonder if It weighs like Mine
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long
Or did it just begin
I could not tell the Date of Mine
It feels so old a pain

I wonder if it hurts to live
And if They have to try
And whether – could They choose between
It would not be – to die

I note that Some – gone patient long
At length, renew their smile
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil

I wonder if when Years have piled
Some Thousands – on the Harm
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve
Enlightened to a larger Pain
In Contrast with the Love

The Grieved – are many – I am told
There is the various Cause
Death – is but one – and comes but once –
And only nails the eyes

There's Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –
A sort they call "Despair"
There's Banishment from native Eyes –
In Sight of Native Air

And though I may not guess the kind –
Correctly – yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary

To note the fashions – of the Cross –
And how they're mostly worn
Still fascinated to presume
That Some – are like My Own

My music

There are songs that speak volumes to me and music that I can listen to for hours together.

One such no. is Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen.

It can be just another regular song playing on your playlist or it can become a haunting piece of music that forces you to stop everything and just surrender to its melody. It can be religious and it can be erotic (depending on which version of the song you listen to). Its lyrics can be interpreted in multiple ways. It speaks to your heart - can touch your soul (listen to the K D Lang version) - a pensive melancholy overwhelming you everytime you hear it.

So when you are alone/lonely; draw the shades, close your eyes and Hallelujah!

Try the simple version:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kB67HO8tkQs

Or whats regarded as the best rendition of the song
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYiMJ2bC65A

Lyrics:

I heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music, do you?

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,

the minor fall, the major lift,

the baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu----jah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof,

You saw her bathing on the roof,

Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you

She tied you to a kitchen chair,

She broke your throne, she cut your hair,

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu----jah

Maybe I have been here before,

I know this room; I have walked this floor,

I used to live alone before I knew you

I've seen your flag on the marble arch,

Love is not a victory march,

It's a cold and its a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu----jah

There was a time you let me know whats really going on below,

But now you never show it to me, do you? (and)

Remember when I moved in you;

The holy dark was moving too,

And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu----jah

Maybe there's a God above,

and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you

And its not a cry you can hear at night,

Its not somebody who's seen the light,

Its a cold and its a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu--jah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelu---u---jah

Plagiarized

The words borrowed
and 3 people alone could understand the irony behind this COL

How easy it would be to direct people to the indexed location in our memory and avoid going through the same dialogs, arguments, depression, insanity, levity again. You just say, "...Kindly refer to location {labels: love, despair, joke; circa: 2000/01/15; place: unknown} for what I intend to say, feel, emote, and interact at this point in time," and we all just move on.

Heartbreak advices

Oyes! For the heart broken/ loveless/ ditched/ woebegone people here is some revenge advice that helps. I haven't tried any but others swear by it.

1. If you can't get her to love you, try her best friend.
There is nothing that pricks a girl more than to have her ex romance her best friend. And while you are at it, do all the stuff she (ur ex) wanted you to do (but you never did) like listen for hours, pay for shopping, cut your nails, watch Oprah, be nice etc.

2. Go on a world tour.
Two advantages: One, you get to see the world. (Rise above this revenge shit sometime.) Two, your ex now realizes you were actually loaded and no one likes to feel they let the 'hen that had the potential to lay the golden egg' get away.
Problem: Well, what if she was the 'hen that had the potential to lay the golden egg' of the relatinship. Simply put, what if you are broke. Hmm.

3. Marry
You avoided commiting to her for days/months/ years. But when she dumped you within 2 weeks you were all hooked up and looking for a 2bhk (with airy balcony) love nest. Trust me, she will go mad trying to figure out the answers to the age old questions "Was it my fault all along? What's wrong with me?"
Problem: Getting someone to agree to marry you. hmmm.

4. Go hit the clubs with 'happening' 'hep' people
As a gujju aunty I know says: very hape people go to my club. Find these hape people. Hang around with them. Go to clubs. Act as if you are having the time of your life. Get clicked. And then somehow figure out a way for your ex to see these snaps. Nothing irritates more than to have the person you hurt act as if nothing happened.

5. Date a super model or a hotter girl
If you need explanation for this point, I am going to side with your ex, you dumbo.

More such pearls coming up soon.

For the really heart broken ones, here's stuff I recommend:

1. Talk it out with your BFF.

2. Pick a hobby.

3. Rationalise.
Example:
a) I am so nearly perfect. I can't obviously be wrong. So the problem must be with him. What a loser.
b) In the end everything happens for the best. This is good for me. Something great is about to happen. I can feel it.
c) If he were that great why was he with me. umm wait something is not right. If he were that great whats he doing with HER!
d) I hated his mother/ his style (He didn't even have any!)/ his moronic sense of humour/ his friends/ etc. good riddance.
e) He is dating her! That settles it. He is got to be a pervert.
f) I anyway found his friend cuter. Wonder what's that guy is doing this weekend.

4. Have a good cry. And if you are like my friend A, make that have a good MANY MANY cries.

5. Realise that "The best revenge is to LIVE WELL."

More later.