The anticipation

Will the flight land on time?

Will I hear some violins?

Or there will be some last minute chaos for the luggage lost…

Should I wear a red shirt? Oh, but what if we turn out color co-ordinated?

Should I go with some flowers?

Or a cursory hug would do?

Should I first take her to the carousel?

Or ask her to make some plans?

Will there be too many awkward pauses?

Or will we triumph with tales over a drink or two?

Will the conversation never end and lead to a spark or two?

What is your idea of togetherness?

Is it merely being with someone? Or probably talking a lot - meaningful conversations of course! Or is merely finding solace with yourself? Does company really matter? Can one ever be alone and yet not feel lonely?

Random thoughts such as this hit my mind whenever I go to a secluded place to read my book. Generally, it happens at a time when I have reached at such a stage of the book that I can't wait to find - what next? 

I mean I am so happy at that time - orgasmic level kinds. I do not care what is around me. What engulfs me is a feeling that I cannot probably describe in words. At times when I turn around and see the world around me, I probably realize I am the only who is sitting alone and having a smile on my face...there will be families/couples/friends all around me, and looking glee...do I also need this companionship? I cannot live with a book, right? But what if the book is providing me the words and the worlds that I yearn to hear and see? Do I still need anything else?

This of course becomes a question of retrospection. We can't be with books all the time, I am somehow able to squeeze time to read books in my fast life - that's an accomplishment. I will not be (hopefully not) able to have time to read books all the time. What then? Where will I find companionship...where will I look to see a different world? Where will I find the different sunrise and the promised sunset?

And then comes people. Do they belong to the idea of togetherness? I doubt if anything can replace a hearty and healthy laugh that I have over a stupid joke! This can happen with people. The physical distance that is necessary to make you feel warm and comfortable. People who make you smile...people who make you believe in yourself. People who make you , you. The ones with the positive vibes, infectious enthusiasm, and the endless comfort around them....how can one not feel together with them? People you love, the slight touch, the tight hug, and the joyful banter...they also fit the idea of togetherness. 

But then there are also people with whom you spend more number of hours than anybody...and yet feel so lonely? The 1 + 1 never becomes 2 with them. You laugh. you smile. you hug. you cry. But there is a void. All emotions and feelings lack the meaning of being those. You are not true to them or the world. The void revolves around you; like death to a comatose. How can one replace that feeling? Will that be like - being together and not yet so? Can that be called togetherness?  

Will togetherness be all about - you and someone. or is something more. The loved feeling that pets give...people do not feel lonely with them in spite of them being mute. Because they can show emotions - warmth and love. Is this what humans want? The emotions and feelings more than words and conversations. 

I need my words....I need my conversations. And may be I need that someone to complete that togetherness...

And if I do not receive those, Would books come in handy at those times? Would some good music to my ears help?

Life - Quo vadis?

When the sky is overcast and the mood somber.

Life is running past me. Rather, life is escaping. I might sit back and ponder my location on life's GPS. But time? Where is it?

There are several things that have changed over the past few months. Most of them are likable, some not so. There is a part of me that wishes to sit back and enjoy the unpredictable rain, and then there is other that just wishes to curse the downpour.

It is a mood of confusion. Stemming from the changes, from the good things and some bad. Bad may be a superlative; but what do you call something that thing that sits at the tip of your tongue each day waiting to be screamed, that sits on your shoulder whispering in your ears, and then that greets you with a devilish smile each time you stare....yeah, the bad thing. The confusing thing.

This state of mind -  is not a part of the routine. It, however, may, enter and be a part of the routine. Do you want it to be a  part of your routine? Does it matter what I want?

Oh, monsoon. What do you do to my mood!

A new job.

Better and brighter prospects.

Promise of a good career ahead.

Yet, there are times when I wonder where am I heading? Is being 'set' in all ways of life that essential?

Do not tie your emotions to someone's reactions...

When you look like that - I feel am more beautiful.

When you compliment - I feel successful.

When you hug - I feel secure.

When you kiss - I feel wanted.

A vast range of emotions are tied up with the your reactions. Hence, be careful with them. In rage and in sanity.

A friend complains of physical abuse. And I wonder how does one get away with that. Shall she just walk out or tell him how his reactions matter to her, and at times break the very being of her. Being so attached so someone and then let that someone ruin your being - I think loving someone is like a double-edged sword. You get all the happiness from the same person who will hurt you the most too!

Colorful!

Knock knock?


“Who’s that?”

Neither envious as green nor shy as pink. I am not angry as red or sad as blue. Am I at peace as much as white is with herself or am I trying to fight off the black devil on the back? Is the Sun shining less brighter than usual, or have I robbed some of its hue? Melancholy might have too hard with its dull grey, or am I orange since I am shining in the hay?

“Duh, Did you just play Holi!!”

What has Mumbai turned us into?

The city that never sleeps. 
I am so proud at times to call myself a Mumbaikar! And then there are times that I am so ashamed to be a part of this city. As much as I wish to run and hide and take shelter in a far-flung lesser developed city that might just not provide me the lifestyle of Mumbai, but the city will at least have a heart. 
A heart that moves. A heart that sees the pain in people's eyes. A heart that reacts. 


I travel daily by the lifeline of the city; the Mumbai locals. I get off at one of the busiest stations of the city; Dadar. Here, apart from dirt and narrow lanes, you will find crowd. Crowd that walks/runs and does not even stop for a second if they brush you, squeeze you, or even push you down to the ground. At times I think they are clueless of where they are going and are merely running to be a part of the race. Be a part of the pace of the city. Oh yes, I love fast pace. I always, always, maintain that. 
But what if this fast pace is eluding me from noticing and observing the finer nuances of life? 
Oh no, I never stop to smell the rose petals at the Dadar Flower market; I do not get time to bargain with the lemon seller who is standing with a beautiful display of that sweet yellow-colored produce; I do not get time to buy the fresh green leafy vegetables that are available at every corner of the road and on the entire road. Yes, that is how much fast paced my life is. Or has become. True that for every Mumbaikar on the road. 


Today was one of those days. During the morning rush hour one does not find non-regular travellers in the train. And yet I saw a lady and her son of around 9 years travelling. It has to be something urgent, I thought. It turned out that the son was mentally challenged; she was taking him to see a doctor at Bombay Central, and basically they were from Delhi. She boarded the first class compartment, which is never empty during the rush hour. Oh, it is empty only for those ladies who are ready to put their lives on stake, or rather bones and bruises, to manage to get that coveted seat. You see how important it is to go to work comfortably. They would do anything that will get them that seat. Push you, pull your hair, drag you behind; yes, just about anything. And after they have got that priced possession; they enter their la-la land and forget that people exist. So these very group of ladies; who travel till Churchgate and were seated so comfortably did not even bother to ask the mother of that child a seat. The kid kept on troubling her; he was mute - so all he had to show off his anger or uncomfortable feeling were angry shrieks or wails. Poor mother was trying her best to keep him under control, but he was really acting weird. Then she told people around that he is generally well behaving; probably the crowd is scaring him off. Yes, some ladies tried making that kid quiet. I offered him a choclate, which he threw away at a dozing lady - that was actually funny. But mark my words, there was no one in that compartment who was ready to get up and offer that lady a god damn SEAT!! Nah, I do not get seats; I always reach the train at the last minute, and manage to get in somehow. I wish I had got a seat. Some ladies offered to take the boy in their lap for a while, or provided him an inch of space by shifting their huge asses and spread to a minimum bit, but no, that was not enough. Why could not someone just get up and take care of that poor mother? She was being totally harrassed by the crowd. She was being pushed by the crowd. She was carrying so much of luggage. And yet, no one cared! Yes, Welcome to Mumbai!!! The city that never sleeps!


Two days ago while returning from work, I spotted a weak and frail man lying on the road. His clothes were dirty black, torn, his hair were all messed up; flies were running around his body. He gave an immediate picture of a homeless drunk guy. A dog was sniffing him and almost licking him. Was he dead? Or was he hurt? Or had he fallen down due to weakness? Did I care? Did I do a thing? Did the thousands of people noticing him do a thing? Did anyone do a thing? He was very near to where my office is...so I saw the scene twice. An hour or so had passed and yet no one cared to do anything. I inquired the shopkeeper nearby so as to what has happened to him. He replied, "Madam, kya pata? Idar koi dekhta nahin hain. Police ka chakkar ho jayega." (No one cares. No one sees all this. It will lead to police trouble). He further adviced me not to care and rather keep moving on. Yes, I moved on. Cos you see a minute of delay would have made me miss my train; the train that I try to catch everyday. Oh yes, that train is very important to me. It makes me reach home on time; I get a seat if I am lucky; and might as well meet a good friend in that train. Yes, Welcome to Mumbai!!


The city that has stolen my humanity out of me. The city that does not sleep, does not care, does not cry, does not try. All are here just to be a part of this developed, living hand-to-mouth existence. No one wishes to stop. And stare at the beautiful sky above. Or smell the wonderful grass beneath. Even if they wish to, time kidar hain ? Where is the time? We are like robots, moving on with everything and anything that bears upon us. 

In Shantaram, there is a line that says, "I dont know what frightens me more, the power that crushes us, or our endless ability to endure it." Yes, this is how Mumbaikars have become. No terrorist attack or bomb blasts stops us from going to work the other day; not cos we are strong, but because we have been there done that so many times, that now nothing can make us what we were. A normal human being. In no rush. 


Thank you Mumbai! 

The cursive writings seemed so familiar, how could she not remember who he was? Those three words that she saw daily on the refrigerator slate, how could she forget them? The red colored ink and the slightly slanted slate, were they not memory-evoking enough? Why was it that when he saw her receiving this faint hint of memories, they were always marred by chaos and voices from the ward? Was this how things were supposed to be, or is he too supposed to forget and move on?

Jus wondering....

Will tomorrow be a good day?
Will it usher in oodles of joy and laughter?
Will the clock strike 12 with the sweetest of the melodies known?
Will the rays of sun shine brighter than everyday?
Will tomorrow fulfill the promises of today?
Oh yeah, tell me, will tomorrow be a good day?

Ho hum!

She has a dream. A dream which is not too elusive nor too easy to interpret or get done with.
All the songs on the playlist titled "Bheege din" "Tanha raat" "Romantic numbers" "Goood moood"
bring some meaning in life, finally.
Not exactly, the word to word, verabtim, meaning....but the songs do come to life.
Not real life, but life that she knows, she understands.
These songs will hold true. They will hold meaning much more than she thought they will.
A tune which has been in mind, the words that have been plasted to her lips and mind, she knows how it feels...and then finally, one day, she will know what they mean.

Oh, the feeling!
At least then, she will stop nagging people with questions like "Who was the first person you thought about when you heard that song?" "Do you really think about him/her when you hear this particular song?"
And the likes.

All that she wished for came knocking at her door.
Either she did not hear the knock or she did not know how to open the doors.
The former and not the latter however seems plausible.
Either which ways, whichever which ways, the loss is hers.
Totally.

:|

One of those days, when you feel like crying, for god knows what reason...and tears elude your eyes and self.
You feel sucked out and dry.


:| Damn you, hormones!!

Just in...

Her: You are an eco maniac with all your smoking
Him: You are the inspiration behind twin beds!!

ROFL!!!

I decided not to tell the world. I succeeded.
Since I made my words swear to secrecy.

Do not!

Come to me for advice.

You already are a loser since you are reaching out to people for advice.
More so, I find myself a loser at times, and what if you approach me at that very moment?

What I did with my life, my career may not mean anything to you. I have not treaded a conventional career path, and you will not have enough balls to do the same. Yes, I did work my ass off to give those bloody entrance exams and write those SOPs, and then hurray over the admission, and curse those foreigners for being so cruel to international students...but then, I have moved on. And its way too much to remember so much about the past. Its been like, what, 5 years! And, I don wanna think about it anymore.

My luck, life, and brains have followed different routes and exits, it has been difficult for me to travel with all of them together. But, you my dear friend, may not be the same.

Remember, Fountainhead? Howard Roark aptly says this..."If you want my advice, Peter, you've made a mistake already. By asking me. By asking anyone. Never ask people. Not about your work. Don't you know what you want? How can you stand it, not to know?"

So, there you go, you high school naive students. Go somewhere else. I am not giving you fokat ka advice, I am not any Karan Gupta (remember the guy, with a goatee, who hoarded study abroad columns, he was some Australian return I believe).

Dear God,

I am not shallow. I am not perfect, nor do I want perfect. But this, I am not too keen. Forgive me, if its a sin.

Life is so simple for an ugly male!

Before you huff and puff regarding the title, I will like to tell you to read the entire story. And then, agree or disagree, or whatever stand you may wanna take.

Yes, life is so simple for an ugly male. This thought came to me yesterday evening when I saw Pranab Mukherjee attending this press conference. All of a sudden it struck me, how he might be unprepared for it, how he might would have changed to his symbolic white kurtas and pyjamas, (he also had a tricolor scarf hanging around) and come to this conference. Chances are high, that he did not get time to look into the mirror or comb his sparse hair.
No, I am not saying PM is ugly. Definitely not ugly.
But you get what set the thinking process running? Yes, how easy it is to not worry about how you look, or dress, or care! All you need to do is dress up and show up.
Agreed, the male today grooms and cares as much as a lady. The salon that I go to for hair cut is bisexual. And there are more men than women who are looking forward to hair spas and head massages, and cleanups, and facials. Yes, the modern men care how he looks. He shaves off his smelly armpits, he shaves off his thick curly calf hair, he shaves off his chest to show off his packs, howmanyever they may be. He does it all, to be that model for the men "fair and handsome"!
It does matter that today he cares. He uses deo, perfumes, gels, and all things possible to give and get that smart crispy, fresh, look.
You get the point. I cant think of more things the men today might be doing, cos I might just drool at the thought. :D
How different it is for a lady?
Well, for starters the beauty parlour routine is much strict. You do not wanna have your eye brows not threaded incase of an emergency meeting. Or your arms not waxed incase you have to wear some short sleeved blouse. Girls, ladies, women, all have to be on their toes all the while, and groomed to face the situation or occupation. Imagine the terror when one rolls the pant cos it rained, and some gross hair standing out. You definitely do not want that. Men, can may be, do that. But women, I am sorry. It is definitely gross.
So, the urban women does all this. Attends office, college, chores. She is always up for the occasion. Not to mention, at her very best.
She comes in at 9 am, neatly made hair, no dripping sweat, threaded brows, bleached facial hair, waxed arms and legs, toned face, moisturized lips. Now whether or not she is beautiful or ugly does not matter much. She gotta do all this. I do not know many women who wouldn't care. All of us belonging to this species, ugly or beautiful, care how they look. We see the mirror whenever we pass one. We stand and stare the figure in front of us. We are choosy for what we wear. Aware of what we accessorize it with. We know the shoes that will fit us, we know the latest style. And incase we had to go for a press conference at the last minute, omigosh, we would be making some very rapid trip to the parlour or the restroom to dab the compact and lip gloss. Without that, am sorry, I cannot face the camera. Let's say the female politicians that are coming to my mind may not be too religious of doing what all I have mentioned, but how many of us have seen Sushama Swaraj or Sonia Gandhi with a strand of hair outta place??
Now, why do I say it is easy for an ugly men. Or may be for men who doesn't care. Very few females doesn't care. May be we are made to care about our looks. Beauty is a term restricted just to us.
The cover photo of this weekly magazine had the pic of this head honcho of an IT company. I would not name him or the magazine, but believe me, the picture was eeww...I could count the number of blackheads on his nose! I could see the bad job of shaving that was done. And his uncombed hair. Okay, so he does not to the parlour or salon to get himself groomed, but come on, you cannot have such a pic on the cover page. A lady head would have never approved the publication of such a pic. But then, this man, my dear man, doesn't care.
Fair enough. This another head honcho of an IT company is definitely the below-average looking man. I do not even remember him changing the frame of his spectacles in all these years. Humble, yes. Simple, yes. He doesn't care. And its so easy to be him. Get up, wear your tie and suit. And there you are. Ready to go and face the world.
Ever wondered in a pub, how all girls are so neatly dressed and accesorized. And all some males have to do is put on a tee and jeans. So easy, I tell you. We spend hours thinking what to wear, what not to wear. And there they are, putting on a cartoon oversized tee, and some torn jeans!! So easy!!
Ugly males, or males who do not care how they look, are one lucky herd. I will specifically mention males, since I do not know many females who wouldn't care. Its tough to be out there, and not care or wonder about my hues and shoes.
I wish I were a male. I would buy the best of the shirts and trousers. And that's all that is to there. May be I wouldn't shave off my body hair, and probably I will go the parlour for a facial once in two months.
I will use deo and perfume everyday.
For all I care, this would suffice !!

I smirk everytime in the morning at around 9 am.
Because, I never wait for the elevator that my dear office mates wait for. I proudly pass by, with head held high and with a spring in my steps.
Yes, I take the stairs :)


PS: I sit on the first floor :D. But, heck, they wouldn't know, rite? I love the guilty pangs I might be giving them :P

At times. She doesn't try. For she knows. She will fail. Miserably.

At times...

Speaking out loud helps...

It makes you realize what kind of thoughts are running through your mind, and what you may actually really think~~

Today, I spoke out loud. And that too without being drunk.

It was just a series of thoughts that must have triggered this emotion, or rather stupid talks or rather charade...but I realized may be, I am not that good a person I am thinking that I am!

You know the feeling??

So, I had been bothered about my equation with my friend off late. And I just couldn't fathom the reason why?

Why could I just accept the fact that things , lives, have changed and it is the time to make our relationship a back seat...and run the car in 1st gear!!

But hell no? I just could not fathom it!

When I spoke it out aloud today with A, I realized I might actually be jealous of my friend.

Jealous, I say. Of what, you may ask?

Jealousy is defined as the killing feeling that grips your heart when you see something good or something that your heart yearns and the other gets.

So what does this friend in question have that I do not. And that would make me so jealous??

I reason and question with A, and finally realize, as a matter of fact rather, that may be it is just me. You know, just me who's thinking that "this is happy" "this is sad" "this is more" "this is less"

So when I see and believe that I am having "less" and she is having "more", I rather astonishinigly become jealous of FRiend!!

And how I reflect it, is from the tons of fights that I have with her. From the rude expectations that I have, ok not that rude, but wrong to a point.

But then, when I see her adapting to all the roles that she has played so gracefully in life, I realize I do not do that. I crib. I cry. If I have to act like a mouldable clay, I may, I rather will, but not without showing some support, some restrain. I am like that.
She adapted, she adapts. She sees how to make the best of the situation in front of her, and makes hay outta it.

Is this adapatibility that I am jealous of? or is the factors surrounding her that I am jeaolous of??

Am I really actually jealous?

I still remember the smile and joy I get when I used to see her cherish and achieve things that she had always dreamt of. The high marks that she secured, the amazing talents that she has ...and the way she displayed them all. They made me feel proud that she is my friend. The smile that I used to get when I used to see fight for the minutest of the mark, and get it. If there was a triumph involved, I used to be happy with her. For her. And always have been. I do not ever remember being fake.

Then why today these thoughts?

Has life come to such a crossroad where I cannot see anything other than others, and their lives?? Have I grown that timid and tiny that I need a limitless tall ladder to overlook the crowd and see my world?

Or has the world broken into so many pieces or rather just misplaced some pieces of the jigsaw puzzle, that I am completely lost looking for it?

Well, answers I do not have. Not for the moment.

All I can say, is , If I am actually thinking what I have been thinking, that makes me a bad person at heart.

And I would rather not be one!