Thursday, 12 October 2017

The Jessica Parker moment

i was about to close my laptop lid when it stuck me. i wanted to write a blog post! So here is a quick post, more of a memoir of a moment this evening.

Life is busy. Sometimes busier. The same has been happening in my share of world. i even skipped my lunch today. Good plans back fire, new plans take a new's all a part of life when you are a writer. You can never say what's going to work and what's not. But that should not demotivate you to keep working hard. Keep working, leave the rest to the time.

So new things have been taking shape these days and i am frantically busy. Today also was no exception. Work is sure a good thing in disguise. Anyway, in the evening i decided to watch TV, something i hardly do. 

i switched it on, got on my swing and started watching in lovely silence. America's Got Talent was airing a good episode. When it was spent, i switched it to The Big Bang Theory. There are some tele shows that you can keep watching knowing you'd never get bored and happiness is guaranteed. TBBT is one of them.

The moment happened somewhere in first 10 mins of TBBT and i suddenly laughed! And when i did wholeheartedly, it hit me. It has been days since i have laughed unintentionally, with full curve going all the way up. And it felt so good! 

i remember a scene from Sex and The City 2. The Jessica Parker character was sad because her to-be groom grew cold feet at the day of their wedding. She was very much humiliated. Her girl friends anyway take her to the place pre-booked for their honeymoon. Theere they go but the Parker character did nothing but slept for i guess 2 days. Hardly ate, no outings. Her friends totally understood. Then on the 3rd day when Parker character finally came out and they were having a dinner, her girl friends were laughing whereas she was largely helpless doing this particualr sct - Smiling. Smiling can be so hurtful sometimes, you know. 

Tuesday, 10 October 2017

रात की दरख़्त

ज़िन्दगी की हर एक शाम खूबसूरत है

नए चेहरे पुराने दोस्त पहला प्यार आखरी ख़त

रोज़ एक किस्सा नया सा सुनाते हैं ;

ज़रुरत है तो एक नए नज़र की

पुराने चश्मे पर नयी चमक की

जाने कहाँ चले गए हैं वो बीते पल ?

जो आज भी बहुत याद आते हैं ;

रात की दरख़्त पर पैर पर पैर चढ़ाये

आदत सी हो गयी है

वक़्त के समंदर में पैर छपछपाने की,

मोती ना सही एक टुकड़ा शीशा ही हाथ आ जाए

तो शायद खुद से भी मुलाक़ात हो जाए ;

कागज़ों में जाने कितने भी लफ्ज़ लिख जाएँ

कुछ बातें अनकही रह ही जाती हैं

मगर जब कहनी हो दिल की बात

याद हमेशा लफ़्ज़ों की ही आती है ;

Thursday, 5 October 2017

Monday, 25 September 2017

The tiny blabbering

at ten at night
the heart falls for the bygone;
was it a wind that blew away?
Or was it a firefly used to be 
illuminating the whole day?
whatever it was, it is not here anymore,
and i sit with sad eyes, curved down lips
sinking heart, like a heavy ship;
you may as well roll your eyes at
some of the things i say;
i apologize for this tiny blabbering
because that's about it for today!

Monday, 18 September 2017

The naivety of routine happiness

Morning comes turns into mid day, quickly slips into dusk and soon it becomes night time. How each day passes away, it needs some observation. The whole routine is changed and has thrown off-track. Although it is a necessity albeit it brings about a silent stirring that demands to be done something about it.

First there is not much time and when there is some, the absence of concentration gobbles it down. You can't just sit and start focusing on writing. Writing! yes. That's what i have been missing these days so immensely, so deeply. Have a long way to go, have to write so many books and achieve the dream i dream about everyday. The journey has started off on a good note but somehow there are potholes barring ways. i don't mind struggling with them; i don't stop when they try to haunt. i just keep up with the pace, slow or fast, depends upon the state of mind and the circumstances but i prefer to keep going. For some, the journey to their dream destination starts off with jet speed. For some, it is slow. Either way, there is a journey to travel and there is a path to unravel.

When it is slow, sometimes it brings a certain type of silent stirring. You just wish to drop everything and do what's required, what's needed to silence it. But it is not possible. So you keep waiting, until you are back in your routine, into yourself and then pull the string to re-start the routine. Often, re-starting is tougher than the start. The former needs a big one-time push and then the rest sets into place automatically. And that's when the silent chaos churning you from inside sees the face of settlement. Your hunger is satisfied, the thirst is quenched and you no longer stay a nomad in a lost island.

i am, by the way, writing this post to satisfy that silent stirring, to get away from the recognition of a nomad. i am on a lost island but there is a purpose. Once it is fulfilled, i'll be back in my sanctuary and will be able to worship the routine. There will hopefully be plethora of time to sit and write and sit and read. The mere thought is exhilarating but let's not divulge much into it. Let the time come and i'll enjoy the naivety of routine happiness.

Saturday, 16 September 2017

The wailing baby

How long it has been for you to hold a month old crying baby girl and make her asleep by gentle talking, crooning and tiptoed walking?

The experience is really sweet and heart warming.

These days, i am at my native taking care of my sick mother and sleeping with my sister at nights and helping her nurse her one month old baby girl. The little one is cute beyond expressions. Though she has names yet i call her pomegranate. Her little soft cheeks are plump and she literally resembles a round red pomegranate. i enjoy being with my sister and her little baby. 

i am writing this post in very odd hours because i have just made the baby asleep. First, she drank milk like she was never fed earlier and this bottle was her last chance at survival. Yeah, babies make you look like a worst parent. Anyway, she drank the milk with Buddha sort of expressions on face but did not hesitate to spill some out during the process of burping. Another sign of being a bad caretaker. It's their fault they have over-fed themselves but the blame always goes to the parent/caretaker for not matching the amount of milk and the baby's age. Finally she took a gentle burp. Now that i am awake, why not to bother everyone around me? This thought must have caught her so she started crying despite of full tummy and no issues. i am certainly a bad baby caretaker. 

i held her in my arms and started walking. Tried to show her how good we look together in the mirror but she refused. i started walking and then added a gentle whiff of crooning her favorite lullaby. Yes. She has a liking to a particular song. Slowly she started to settle, in my arms. She was looking at me and the surroundings through big eyes. i felt i could talk to her whole night but since it'd largely be a monologue, the idea was not worth taking in. 

She looked here and there and everywhere and when she thought she had finally covered the little world around with suspicion and silent interrogation, she decided to yawn. A baby's yawn is so pretty! With my sweet singing plus gentle cradling in arms, she slowly drifted to sleep. See! i am not that bad in taking care of babies. i can score some brownie points.

i sat down on the bed with her in my lap now. Thankfully, she was still sleeping. Watching her with great affection prone eyes, i adjusted the oiled hair on her forehead, her head position, wrapped her well in the blanket, caressed her soft cheeks...all the while continuing to croon her fav. lullaby. The transformation from a wailing baby to a sleepy one was so warm that it melted my heart. i have been doing it since i am here but for the first time tonight, i decided to blog post about it. Babies are wonders and the way my little pomegranate slept peacefully in my arms, it made me happy.

You'd think that i'd have kept her down on her tiny bed where she must have continued sleeping in bliss but alas! Babies are really unpredictable (and devilish). The moment i tried to keep her on bed, she squirmed first and then her face contorted and finally, an agonized screech from her slender throat started off. She finally proved. i am not as good as her mother. Thankfully, my sister pitched in and took her from me. i said sorry because i was the one who had awaken the baby in the first place. Probably the motherhood has made my sister kinder and softer. She did not yell at me as she would have done before the baby. 

Now i am sitting on a chair in the corner of the dimly lit room and can see both of them sleeping silently. This moment is simple and happens regularly but i choose to cherish it. Being able to help my sister with her new motherhood makes me happy. i am anyway a terrible big sister. Okay! That was a lie. i can't afford to ruin my image in a single blog post at length. i am a good sister and prefer to tend to my siblings whenever they need.

So this was the little story from my side of world. Which piece you have lived in your corner today?

Wednesday, 13 September 2017

Should you change in relationships?


And why would you change? To please the other person? To turn an unfavorable situation in favor? Just because what you think is anti to what the society thinks? What others would say? How would you be treated afterwards for speaking the truth, for being you? Just because ten people are doing this thing and you are the only one following the less trodden path so you should abide by it too?

If you are not causing harm, please do not change. 

You know, being original is the best gift you can give yourself? This has been repeated for millionth of times but let it be for once more. Good thoughts always have an audience. When you don't change and stay who you are, you learn to identify your own personality. You learn a few traits, a few ups and downs of your nature, you focus on how did you overcome the last failure and how not to overwhelm the recent success. When you try to mock others, the process of understanding yourself gets complicated. i guess compromised is the better word. When originality gets compromised, the result gets too. You must have faced it somewhere in life so i don't need to preach over it.

However, you can improve. Life keeps changing. What you had in breakfast today will be different tomorrow. What you are wearing today will get replaced tomorrow. Whom you have laughed with today may have his phone switched off tomorrow. These are very basic and simple examples of day to day life where you can observe changes in routine. In between these transformations, there are spaces for self-improvement, possibilities of salvation, opportunities to build something better. 

Monday, 11 September 2017

Forget and forgive

"i want to ask you one thing, pitaji. Given the fact that life is full of challenges, specially considering the present situation that's going on, how can you manage to stay practical and not get swayed away by the wrong doings of others'? How do you stay so calm and talk only what's needed and not hurl accusations like them?"

My father looked up at me from his dinner plate and started talking. 

"If i have learnt anything in my life then it'd be to forget and forgive. It is very much required for the peace of mind. i'll give you an example of Nelson Mandela. Nelson Mandela was South Africa's first black president and was a highly influential leader. He too had fought for his country's freedom. 

When he was in jail, the appointed jailer had tortured him in every possible way. Be it mentally or physically, Mandela was tortured on a high degree but when he became the president, he summoned the same jailer and honored him. When his friends asked him, he said, 'i want to live my life in peace. For this, i need to forgive this man. i want to create some good memories so that the tortured memories won't stay with me for lifetime.'". 

My father was, of course, paraphrasing Mandela's reply. i was touched! How can a person forget the inhumane amount of torture and forgive the person who had called them upon him? Sensing my surprise, he continued.

"You can only imagine the kind of bad time Mandela must have endured as freedom fighter but since he wanted to live life peacefully, he had forgiven the torturer. This is the biggest lesson of life. Things that are disturbing and odd today will simmer only for some time. And after that, they will become normal once again. So it is utmost important to learn the habit of forgetting and forgiving what unfair things people have done to you."

Saturday, 2 September 2017

Learn to cherish little things

i sat down 30 minutes ago to paint my nails so that when i wake up tomorrow, i can find some morning happiness upon seeing my beautiful hands. It's the one little thing that i did today to feel like a princess tomorrow. 

The colors adorning my nails are orange gel nail lacquer and glazed green painted asymmetrically. The combo is quite pleasing. How much little things matter, you see. You don't need a big car or fat salary to please yourself. The real happiness lies in looking for and doing little things such as eating ice-cream at night, reading book while brewing tea, a 2 minute chat with the bestie, looking fondly at one photograph, standing in the balcony gazing out at the night sky, sipping filter coffee in Bangalore's chilly weather, or painting nails. These little things happen so secretly that you often fail to even realize that they are happening and that you are pleased. You forget to be thankful too. This evening when my husband suggested to go out and have tea there, i said, 'No. i want my handmade cup. i like my own brewed tea'. i also like holding my Kindle and read Grisham or Cecelia or Coelho. There is a magic in reading. You no longer stay a human being. You turn into a superhero, ready to plunge into a world unknown with powers undefined. 

In the same manner, there is a splash of freshness when you look fondly at a framed picture. A picture is a moment captured in time. You move on leaning onto future but pictures and videos make you stick around the happy past. You not only like the way you are dressed in it but many things line up instantly to cheer you up. Like the greenery or how the photographer had told you to stand and pose; your attempt to throw a smile that should look genuine as if you were just told you are Princess Diana or Edward Cullen; you also contemplate on the footwear and the frame within which the picture is standing proudly. One tiny frame and so many lush memories. 

Realize these little things. Be thankful for them. Learn to cherish what each moment says to you. Fly with open eyes but don't forget to kiss the reality. Reality restricts unnecessary which allows freedom. And when you are free, the mind and heart become receptive to each form of happiness however minute it may be. 

A beauty unparalleled

The lust for seclusion is luscious 
the allure is irresistible
but let's not get lost in its depth
for there is more to this world;
the beauty of this nature and the beautiful sky
look at them with fresh eyes
let the coin flip and smile for once
the world can't move on until it's done;
withdraw to your surroundings 
allow the stubbornness to melt away
close your eyes, think of a bird
assume it is you, a beauty unparalleled; 
stop worrying and start flying
take the world say a big Hi
for it is yours, to win, to lose
to embrace, to refuse;
get up from the chair and feel the wind
caressing your face, kissing your lips
eyes may look beyond the horizon
but let's not give the latter a competition
come back! to your body, to your self
breathe! if not for someone else;
life is gonna hand over a platter 69 of challenges
eat'em all while cherishing your whisky pegs;
if everything around goes crazy, makes no sense
show'em all that you are crazier, the one with lot of sense.

Wednesday, 30 August 2017

We are One - skit by Kids

This Ganesha Chaturthi, i had designed a skit with eight kids titled as - We are One. The theme is to remind us once again of the fact that despite of all the differences when it comes to protect our nation, we unite, we become one. My kid in white kurta pajama has played the role of a stone that gets carved by various religions. He did splendid by holding his position so well through out the skit. Other kids who have represented other religions and the little girl who has enacted as Bharat Mata have done amazing! We received so many compliments and encouragements once the skit was over. i am glad the effort and hard work paid off so generously. 

It was the first time that i was onto design something. i have been part of various shows in my school time but never had the opportunity to direct one. This was my chance and no sooner did i start practicing with kids than i realized it was a humongous task. i mean, kids are so full of energy even though being awake since early morning for schools. They'd have their snacks and energetically would knock at my door, all set to practice. We would then run to our practice area. For first two days, kids were just running off the entire place and i could not understand how to work with them. They were just so content in playing that i literally had to shout multiple times to take their positions. In fact, once i had to threaten them by saying i am going to cancel it. i thought it'd work. It did but only for a short span of time and then they were themselves again, cheeky and naughty and stubborn. i could laugh it off but we had very little time to perfect the skit (we had started late). 

You know what worked the magic? One day out of desperation, i told if everyone does the practice right, i'll get each one of you a delicious glassful of Chocolate horlicks and if a single person strays away, no one would get. Hard to believe but it worked like a charm. All kids were suddenly attentive What nothing else could do, a glass of chocolate horlicks did. Then i realized the power of chocolate horlicks. And then it became a ritual. For three consecutive days, we'd practice and then settle at my house for snacks. i'd offer variety. They loved it. Probably that inculcated some respect for me in their kiddie hearts. Whatever worked the magic, i was content the skit practice was not a tough job anymore.Kids listened. They obeyed and followed and practiced hard. It was so wonderful to watch them working together regardless of occasional complaints with each other. Now today when i sit on my couch and relive those moments, i smile and in fact, can afford to laugh at some memories.

Monday, 21 August 2017

The special magic.

i was reading Coelho's book a few months ago. i guess it was Brida. There is a sentence in it that had caught my attention and still lingers in my thoughts till to this date. i don't remember the exact words but i can paraphrase it for sure.

The special magic is not in considering yourself special. It lies in when you think you are as ordinary as others.

So true, so genuine, such a clean mirror of human tendency.

The purpose of mentioning it here is, that i felt connected to it and yesterday i happened to convey it to one of my apartment friends (and also because, you can't finish Coelho without being impressed and certain oohs and aahs at many points. His writing is simply brilliant!).

Ganesha Chaturthi is falling this weekend and our society is celebrating it for three days. Needless to say, it is going to be grand. Talented people have been pitched in, rituals, food, water, cutlery etc. are being take care of, decoration team is fervently going back and through ideas (i am one of them by the way), meetings are happening till past midnight, there is a storm of ideas taking us all short, we are celebrating it as it should be celebrated. So last night, there is another meeting. i had not planned to go due to certain commitments but thought to join in later. As i went into the meeting and sat with my friend in focus here, she told me that she had read some of my posts on our society portal. i told her, yes. i am a writer and an author.

She was surprised, yes but looked happy, thankfully. People usually don't get what does it mean being a writer. Anyway, in the on going conversation, i gave her my detailed profile in short. She was amused listening and said that she was happy talking to a writer. That made me happy and now two happy women were talking about me and my work. Don't think we were not paying attention to the meeting. The rest were discussing the aspect of the celebration that didn't need our attention much. Regardless we tried to focus on the meeting. Then it happened.

She said, "i feel like a dumb hat here. Everyone is so talented and i feel like a dumb hat."

Yes. She repeated the word Dumb hat. i smiled and said, "No! You are not. In fact, you are honest. It takes courage to say that. Everyone thinks they are smarter than the others but the real magic lies in considering yourself simple and not special. So no. You are not dumb. You are honest and courageous. and that's an inspiration to me." She rolled her eyes at me.

True, right? Have you ever called yourself Dumb hat in front of anyone? Willingly, i mean. Anyone can say it at gun point. It's hard to accept your flaws and others' superiority but when you do, you become honest not only to others but more to yourself. After all, we are not walking Einsteins. Even Einstein had a great memory problem. He was a great forgetful person. i have read incidents about it. But that did not stop him from being a genius. He did best his nonetheless.

i admire when i see someone has the courage to accept their flaws or they think it is a flaw. It can also be a great virtue in disguise. At the end, i think i managed to impress my friend with Coelho's words.

Wednesday, 9 August 2017

What a perfect life would be like?

Perfection - that's what our goal is. If you think for a minute, you will realize that every task we do, it is done basically in order to achieve perfection. Despite of being aware of the fact that human being will always remain flawed, the chase for perfection never ends.

But what if life becomes perfect? What will happen if every single wish of yours turns in reality? It'd be great, that'll probably be your first reaction. And why not? Life will certainly be great.

But for how long? Everything comes with an expiry date, isn't it? So perfection too will be no exception (and that rhymes). What i think if life becomes perfect, it'll be wonderful, yes for sometime but gradually the perfection will begin to garner boredom and monotony. i will stay happy all the time and that'd make me forget what sadness is and thus, i'll gradually lose out on the value of happiness; i will not do any work because i'll be rich (who doesn't want to travel?). It'll result in taking money for granted and thus, ignoring morals such as compassion and care. 

i don't feel like stressing over what a perfect life would look like much but i feel it will certainly be a chaos. And if something can lead to chaos, that could not be called perfection. So the final verdict here is, that perfection is a mythical concept, a mirage built only to keep us all working day and night.

Now it is like coming back to where we had started - imperfection. Now this is real, this is what required. Imperfection leads to discipline and order and efforts; it asks for emotions; it offers us our originality while keeps demanding to work on dreams and goals. Largely and squarely, imperfection is essential to be. Imperfection is alright to achieve. It brings people together. It knits relationship in a close bonding. It also develops understanding between different races, religions, and castes. 

Monday, 7 August 2017

The way i am.

Wish i could be pollen grains
embraced by soft petals,
wish i could be those tiny stars
tucked in the womb of nights,
wish i could be the heat
originating from the sun,
wish i could be anything
but just not the way i am;

Wish i could be the warmth
borne within curled fingers,
wish i could be the beautiful sight
which eyes see and lips smile at,
wish i could be the innocent laughter
of the little girl that i like so much,
wish i could be anything
but just not the way i am;

Wish i were a meteor
with a life span of two seconds,
wish i could be a sneeze
gone as soon as it comes,
wish i could be a lazy yawn
the ending of a peaceful sleep,
wish i could be anything
but just not the way i am;

Wish i could be the smile
making a sad heart alive,
wish i could be the silence
when words fail to make a sentence,
wish i could be the eraser
restructuring the destroyed,
wish i could be anything
but just not the way i am;

Sunday, 6 August 2017

Chaos on the blank

i need to fix myself some milk first. So let me get a warm glass. Will be back in a jiffy.

So where was i? O yes. On the same portion of my sofa, reclining over the same big cushion. The only difference is, the need of a glass of warm milk is now satiated. You know, milk actually helps with cravings. Not that i am having one but it's just a fact nudging me gently to be put forward. Not only milk but banana and eggs also do the same thing. If you are over-stressed or craving for something unhealthy, have either of the three. The craving will noticeably go down and you get some time before the next binge.

Now is the time to have some spiritual talk, if you aren't feeling sleepy already. Have you ever thought about The Purpose of Living? Why we live when death is inevitable? Why struggle with everything? When did we stop living and start surviving? How do we differentiate maturity or silliness? Because what's silly for me can be maturity for you. And vice versa. We all have the similar material called 'skin' but still we differ, right? Why nights are assigned for the act of sleep and days are dedicated to the task of jaywalking? 

But moreover, is there a purpose of all this? The struggle, the sleep, jaywalking, laughing, loving, fighting with each other...what lies beyond all this? 

The whole concept of life sounds like a chaos. You get up early, the morning goes through in a blink, comes the noon with lazy strides, evenings with warm cup of tea and homework and other tasks, then shows up the night...ta da! Your day has come to an end. i am here once again. The chaos comes to a pause.

The perpetual process of day and night actually seems like eternity is jogging away its routine. It too looks like it has no purpose. The big brainy people have coined the timeless zone Eternity and now we all try and search some meaning into it. You keep going on and on and on with a magnifying glass in one hand and the other hand clearing away the hurdles. We live the whole chaos but if you sit and think, this whole chaos will be found mingled with the blank. Like oil and water. They stay together with oil particles trying to occupy as much space as possible but no matter how hard it tries, it can never become the part of water. Water stays as blank, denying the mingling, refusing the chaos. It just wants to stay true to its nature - calm, clear and balance. 

Oil has the ability to corrupt its clarity though and thus, water appears now something different but it struggles to keep its other virtues in place, tightening its molecules, knitting them together to protest against oil. Although water has a legitimate fight going on, oil will never de-tangle itself. It will stay there. The chaos do not leave however pure the blank's defense against it is.

So what's the point of oil and water staying together? What's the point of living and not knowing the purpose of life? What's the point of chaos when blank can never get rid of it? 

Friday, 4 August 2017

'i love my pilot frindle'

If you have read Andrew Clements then you know what i am talkin' about with the title. But if you haven't, fret not. i will do the charity at will and spread the awareness.

Frindle - that's the name of the book written by Andrew Clements. It's a wonderful book. After a long time, i chose a kiddie read and Clements delivered a light-hearted but a thoughtfully stretched idea. Nick alias Nicholas Allan is a fifth grader and of course, a trouble-maker of the class. His bulb of ideas hardly ever dims. In order to irritate his Arts teacher, Mrs. Granger, Nick starts to fiddle with words and that's how he created the word - Frindle - as in pen. He starts using Frindle instead of Pen and slowly he worked it out enough in alliance with friends and other school mates to first scandalize it and then popularize it. And then how things roll forward, that's an interesting read. 

My parents had given us a visit last year January. My father had bought a pilot pen with him. Now pilot pen is an object attached with my childhood memories. i used to be a big fan of pilot pen. Back then, it was not only just a pen. Instead, it used to be a sophisticated object to carry; a privilege to write from it. Not that i could not afford it. My stationary box usually had the most number of pens. Say, 5-6 or sometimes more. i was very fond of having different pens but pilot pen stood tall in the herd. So when my father brought it to my home, i was instantly taken back to my little innocent years so much so that i demanded it from him. Being a father, he gave it to me at the same moment. Now i maintain my club diary with this pen only and never ever allow anyone else to even touch it. It is The pilot pen, you see.

Now coming back to the book, it is creative. Idea, i mean. How the author has picked up on the words' origin and woven a story, it is worth time spending. Through Nick and Mrs. Granger, we get to have the glimpse of the origin of few words such as Pen and QuizQuiz is actually the only word in English that has been created without a purpose. Pen is derived from the Greek word (if i remember it correctly from the book) - Pinna. We learn a few more things, yes but moreover, we learn about determination. Nick's determination brought the world to finally refer a pen as frindle

Now you know what i mean with the blog title here. i love my pilot ____ . Exactly! 

Thursday, 3 August 2017

The kid's secret

People say, parents should spend some time with kids. In my case, it's reverse though. i keep askin' my kid to spend time with me but he gently refuses to do so. Reason? i could tell you if there was one. There are plenty! Clash of clans, friends, Shin Chan, Pokemon, newly bought iron man toy, board games...list is a little more longer but let's give the jury rest here.

So this evening when i went to the kitchen for some oats and cheese sandwich, i asked him to help me. After all, it was our dinner. He was supposed to help me, right? So i made him shut down his Clash of Clan and gently coaxed to not to switch to TV as well. i simply wanted to sit and talk to him, to know about his day. So this officer finally got successful in getting the kid down on the table. As we ate, i asked him about his day, routine, any new thing happened...anything that could tie him up on the table for as long as it was possible. Food should not always be the prime reason to sniff around parents.

He indeed was settled and told me about his day. i asked about his group in the school. The tiny version of what unfolded next is narrated below. Let's call his friend in the focus here 'N', okay?

Son: Today N shared one of his secrets with me.

i (munching, amused, thinking): Okay. That's good.

Boys and girls around this age are primarily pretty secretive about their secrets. i didn't bother to ask knowing he wouldn't tell me.

Son: Do you want to know?

Do you want a pot of gold? Yes, please.

i (smiling): Sure.

Son: N has a crush on a girl.

Trust me! i wanted to laugh louder than you just did but i did not dare fearing that might trigger my son to drop the details. Gold with gems are always welcome.

Son: The girl too has a crush on him.

i: How do you know she too has a crush on N?

Son: Because one of my friends act as a messenger between them. What N says, he passes that along to the girl and what she has to say in return, he passes that along too to N.

Boy! i wanted to guffaw at this but refrained. Let's not allow the kid to think whether it was the right move to tell his friend's secret to his mother. Then the conversation rolled onto other interesting things but i mentioned here the most fun part.

As i write this narrative, i am smiling thinking about N and his crush. It reminds me of mine. It had happened when i was in 6th std. Hey! My kid too is in the same grade right now but i can chill. He does not have any crush. How do i know? After N's story, this happened:

i: So? You too have got any girl to crush on?

Son: Nah! Never!

Happy mother!

Saturday, 22 July 2017

Something is wrong here!

i don't know what's wrong with my blog link. i am not able to reach it on my laptop. It's such a worrying issue. Every time i click, the below message is coming up.

It has never happened before and i don't know what to do? 

Friday, 21 July 2017

The need of introduction - writing nuances

There are several nuances about writing that often make the narration crisp and gripping. Like skipping too much details of a particular character unless it's deemed necessary. Also, the mention of festivals, colleges, certain countries and their tourist spots is usually expected to come and go as guest appearances. People really would prefer visiting to Paris and sit by its river Seine than reading about it between the pages for too long. The right usage of characters, little routine things that are easily relatable, imperfect characters, the unanticipated but apt twist, nagging neighbors...these and many more make the story free flowing. Reader should not feel he is being kept from divulging into the main plot. 

In short, writing is supposed to be more suggestive than descriptive. 

Prolonged formal introduction of characters too is being frowned upon. It gives more of a feeling of being told a story than feel the story. So it would be an added charm if you just put the characters on work and choose to introduce their life style, likes and dislikes, past experiences and future expectations, thought process and the rest as the story progresses on. This is actually a likable trait. It makes the story run on more efficient fuel. 

i am reading this novel written by a Canadian female writer. The book is quite fat but that did not stop me from borrowing it. It's crime thriller. So as i am divulging into the plot, i find too many characters ambling its corridors. A fat book cannot run on three or four characters, certainly. But there has to be a smooth transition between characters. The reader should not feel who's this and how come she came into the picture while the other lady was cleaning in the kitchen? sort of thing. Sometimes, introductions are needed. Once they are made even as a quick glance, that actually helps the story line. i am still reading my pick by the way and the more i am getting on further pages, the picture seems to get more entangled. It's a struggle to juggle between too many names too. Some of them are confusing. The one you thought is Erik turns out after two sentences is Erica. However, the story is now picking the pace. The mystery of letters and its sender is getting intense. So i have to make all the characters to sit around a big round table and then label them with their names to attain a better grip on the story. i have read fat books earlier but this one needs more attention. And probably brain nerves too.

If the writer had chosen to introduce the characters just in the beginning of their mornings, that'd have made the act of reading more pleasant. Sometimes, we need to have basics to be able to build a well grounded spiral staircase, to get around the story without any map or fuss.

Tuesday, 18 July 2017

The power of acceptance.

After thinking for ten consecutive minutes, i don't know how to start today. So let's just begin with me saying - i am a dreamer. i believe in dreams. And with dreams this time, i mean the ones that come during sleep time.

So last night i dreamed i have dandruff in my hair. i was combing and appalled to see the heap of dust continued to gather on the floor. i was worried, of course as i don't have dandruff. i was thinking how much dandruff do i have? It's horrible! 

Then i woke up. The dream continued to haunt me. i don't have dandruff but since i believe that certain dreams choose a way to tell the dreamer a specific something, to indicate a meaning in particular, i tapped on my favorite dream app that i have been using since a long time and had it downloaded on my mobile a couple of days back. And i was right. The dream did symbolize something that i could relate so damn well. And no. It did not say i may have dandruff. So i am a dreamer and a believer. 

Stress, load, worries...these actually say that your life is going well. After all, what it would be like if none of these were there? You can not possibly stay happy and positive all the time, can you? You have to have the gravity pulling you down at times. That's only fair being human (and) wise. But when one of these gets too much, you just fail to think or start over-thinking and don't know what to do, what possibly can be done to change what's gone and what's done. Things can be so confusing and the mixed bag of emotions can be too consuming at the moment. The load wasn't too much initially but somehow you got successful turning it into an over-load.

Saturday, 15 July 2017

The best seller day

i am supposed to be fast asleep at this time, you know. This whole week has been cruel on me, never sparing a minute extra of morning time. Every damn single morning my alarm had gone off either at 5.00 or 5.45 however i am perfectly okay to abide by responsibilities though i feel one lazy morning could have been a blessing. An extra hour or two of rejuvenation or mind spa or the state of both k/as Nirvana would be highly appreciated.

Today too was spent as if it was a best seller book and the reader was trying to finish it earnestly. Sometimes it comes as a wonder. You didn't get the chance to sit and write a single word (except this post), didn't pick the Guitar (except for in the class) and it was not even the book club day and lie down at the end of the day and think - Where did all the time go? i had thought of reading the newspaper, start a new book on Kindle, had decided to learn a few new tough songs on Guitar, have a stress free walk but... What an amazing day it had been because none of it came close to touch even the hemline of the possibility. i stared at the ceiling and could not find the answer. Not that i was looking for it there. But the saving grace is, that a few other important tasks got to see the light of completion. So i will snooze on it for the sake of my peace of mind.

Today i ran a bit late into my Guitar class. It was almost half n hour late. Though i was speeding yet could not put a pin on time. As i got out of my car, a little girl greeted me with 'Hi, Priyanka Aunty!' i turned and although i was late already, i decided to have a 2 minutes chit chat with her. Truly speaking, i was surprised she remembered me. i can be such horrible experience to people to be remembered, you see. i asked about her Bharatnatyam class and she said she left it. i asked Why and she said, she did not like it. She had now joined Music class i.e. Sa Re Ga Ma Pa one. Co-incidentally, her name is also Priyanka. So we are basically namesake. i talked to her for 2-3 minutes and i could feel the genuine connection made out of, if i recall correctly, some time spent together in my Guitar class the previous year. i remember reaching to my Guitar class one day only to find myself the first one of the group to arrive. there were a few little girls sitting there. They were looking more curiously at my red and black Guitar than at me. i had allowed them to touch it. They were hesitant but took the full benefit of the opportunity. They had touched the strings, strummed it naively. One of them had even asked to hold it. How could i deny a kid holding my Guitar? i told them to handle it nicely though. And they had found such delight in touching the instrument and getting a hold on it. It's hard to forget.

Priyanka, the little girl of today's 2 min conversation, was one of those girls. May be because of my kindness (??) and generosity (????), she remembers me still. i felt glad and then i said sorry and rushed to my class.

Now that i am writing all of it, it feels great to tell you. Those 2 minutes are the example of how an instrument, the music can bring people together; how you can be remembered fondly for doing a trivial thing that could possibly not possess much importance to you.

It's 11:08 now and with the absolute fascinating silence ambling around, i can hear the ticking of not one but two clocks, ticking individually at regular intervals, in a rhythmic pattern. Sometimes i stop and listen to them intently. Because i know, after some ticks, their ticking will find a sync and they will tick together. And when they do, i smile. It's a little but cute experience.

Two clocks finding sync with each other and then breaking the rhythm on their own. Time did not change its pace, batteries did not die, neither did the listener stopped paying attention yet those two different clocks ticked for one tiny fraction and then moved on. Rhythm between the two gets lost so easily, so quickly, as if they are not destined to face even a single sliver of agreement together.

Thursday, 13 July 2017

रात की क़ब्रगाह

यह स्याह सी काली रात 
किसी कब्र से कम नहीं 
साँसों का ही फरक है, दोस्त 
वरना मृत्यु से मुलाक़ात हर रोज़ होती। 

दिन भर चलते रहते पांवों की थकान 
कर्त्तव्यों की अनगिनत फेहरिस्त 
दूर हो जाती है, ग़ुम सी कहीं चली जाती है 
बिस्तर की कब्रगाह में जब आँखें मूंद सी जाती हैं। 

बंद आखों के पीछे कौन जाने क्या देखता है 
कौन सी सुनहरी दुनिया छिपी है,
मुर्दों से कभी बयां ना हो सका  
और इंसानों को भला नींद ही कहाँ आती है!

दुश्चिंताओं का भंवर, आने वाले कल की फ़िकर 
लिपटे हुए से हैं ये साये बदन पे, 
मोती सी सफ़ेद हो या रात सी काली घनी 
बीते वक़्त की अग्नि में सांसें यूँ ही जलती रहीं। 

फिर भी, कहीं तो दीवार है कफ़न की गहराई 
और जीवन की सच्चाई में,
कुछ तो पर्दा है राख़ की रोशनाई,
और नयी सुबह की दस्तक़ में 
जाने क्यों लगता है जाने वाला ही खुशनसीब है 
आँखें जो नहीं खुलतीं फिर से इसी दुनिया 
की दहलीज़ पे। 

- प्रियंका बरनवाल 

Wednesday, 12 July 2017

The guy at the till

So this evening i finally stopped working everything else and started my car. The grocery shopping had turned from a necessity to a big urgency. Fridge was gone all empty. When i reached to my usual grocery store which houses everything, starting from fruits and veggies to cosmetics and biscuits, i found some of the things i needed was out of stock. Finally when i made it to the till, i found there was a guy about 5.8" tall, fair complexion, dressed as a corporate. He looked exhausted but still manageable in public. While my trolley was filled with fruits, veggies, milk and egg cartons etc., his' was empty. In fact, he didn't have any trolley with him. He just placed four packets of ready made parathas (Indian breads) on the till and took it away once the billing was done. It wasn't hard to guess he either lives alone or his wife is out of station and he does not know how to cook, if he is married at all.

i usually don't pay this much attention to the people before me standing and waiting by the tills. i just focus on my trolley and that's pretty much i do while waiting for my turn but this guy today actually had my fleeting attention. Somewhere i felt bad for him for he can't afford home made food and has to rely on preservatives infused market based items. You could totally feel he was hungry and the moment he'd reach to his apartment, he would tear open the packet, take out parathas and heat it on the tava for a minute (as per the directions written on the pack) and then have it with probably market based just-heat-it-in-the-oven sabjis (MTR range types) while watching television or something on mobile. i'd rather prefer while reading a book. The latter is better and makes me happier. Anyone with a book looks good, after all. i felt bad for him, and also thought, it;d be so great if men learned cooking. This way, they would not have to rely on Maggi or such ready made staples. My father and brother both do not know how to cook but since we have been living in a joint family since the beginning, there is always someone who knows how to turn on the stove knob and make tea. Neither of them had to bother about cooking even for a single meal at any day. They get lucky in the department.

i think men should cook, or at least, learn to cook. It makes life so much easier. i am not judging that guy on the till but the moment has just evoked a sentiment, an understanding towards men species. If they know how to cook, 4 things will happen:

Sunday, 9 July 2017

Going back to the roots/my latest Guitar performance

In this era of fast developing technology and the desperation of creating ways for better communication, human kind has sure come a long way. i hold my new phone with these amazing features and solid infra structure built within, it feels like i have taken a big leap. Talking about its 6 GB RAM and 64 GB memory, it simply sweeps me off my feet. i know. There are much bigger inventions being done these days but i am sticking to a simple example. Because humans may have evolved drastically but it only understands simple things said in a simple language.

Having said that, my friend with that frown on your face, i intend to share a very simple thought. Often i feel like going to places alone and sit there and write, just write, and play my Guitar. When i see those beautiful HD wallpapers of nature's beauty, i tempt to enter directly into the screen, in those stunning landscapes and stay there. Here i am talking as a writer and a musician. As an artist. To live your art, you have to stay aloof in order to find more of yourself, to discover more of your abilities, to unchain inhibitions. i often hear people saying how much they could just use a sight of their old home or grand mother. Some even say they'd give anything to be a child once again and play with marbles and wooden sticks with friends. i often wish to lie under the sheet of a perfectly starlit sky and gaze at it for as long as it is possible. A cup of chai, old books and photo albums, clear blue sky, music, the sound of ocean waves making way through the hotel room, the creaking of shoes made when embarking a boat, homemade food, ink pens, handwritten letters, fancy lanterns, trips to village, dairy farm, and places with the abundance of nature beauty, mutkas (earthen pots used to store water), planetariums, gardens...all these say that no matter where we go, we will always come to our roots, the place from where we started.

During the recent trip to Yercaud, a place laden heavily with nature and its serene beauty, i told my husband that despite of the length and magnitude of latest technology and discoveries, we human will always go back to our roots. In fact, we are creating new inventions just so that we can go back where we belong. He asked and i explained. And it's true! i have never ever heard anyone wishing to lie down under a sky made of tweets and FB posts. No one has ever committed that they'd like to have gadgets and new cars as their family and friends. i'd never prefer drones and satellites over fireflies and butterflies. i would never want to keep staring at the highest building (Burj Khalifa it is, as far as my knowledge takes me) forever. Would you like to? 

Friday, 7 July 2017

Ghost Knowledge

Kids can be teachers too, if you stay with them long enough. i run a book club at my home where kids read, have some snack, and where each session ends with the amalgamation of some cool activities such as learning new words, talking about the various aspects of the monthly theme (club has a theme to run on every month), kids get to hold the dais and speak on the given Q.. discussions and so on. It's a wonderful alliance, me with kids. 

This month's theme is - Hindi hain hum... (हिंदी हैं हम...). This encapsulates a comprehensive knowledge of the language. Kids can be well verse in speaking Hindi but not so much when it comes to read or teach the same. Kids at my club today picked up a Hindi book and started reading. To ensure maximum and real learning, i asked them to help each other whenever a Hindi world troubled them. This way, they can easily work on their vocabulary as well as know how to lean on peers for help. i was also there but i allowed kids to help one another. That was an interesting watch. 

When i started asking word meanings from their chosen books, i saw how kids could be so confident even about the wrong knowledge. i asked my kid the meaning of हाज़िर and he said - सलामती - meaning - well being. i said no but he was so sure of his vocabulary. हाज़िर means to come upfront, to come as demand, or- पेश होना/सामने आना. i told my kid the real meaning and he accepted it but the confident in him was impressive! i choose to call such knowledge 'Ghost Knowledge', where you think you are absolutely correct about something while you can be so stunningly wrong! 

If you look at the larger picture, we as well live in with ghost knowledge. What you think is clear becomes a confusion later on; what you take as a big achievement may turn into the size of a grain in front of a bigger goal; what you think is failure can be the door to a new opportunity. White is exactly not a single color but a rationale mixture of many. Tomato is a fruit but many think it as a vegetable. Neil Armstrong is the first human ever to set foot on the moon but facts can betray your knowledge totally. Conspiracy theories are good example to bust ghost knowledge. But not always we have a mentor sitting in front of us doing the meticulous corrections. Sometimes we have to live with our share of ghost knowledge, with or without knowing. 

Thursday, 6 July 2017

The day with no past and future/13 minutes

Me: i am happy!!

Life: Lol! One sec.

Sounds familiar? Well, i hope not.

What else to write? i have just begun and i am clueless. i peer out, at the dark night, the glowing lights of the houses; i hear the water purifier running its course, i hear running fans, meant to comfort; except for all these muffled noises, the house is so utterly damn silent. i accidentally watched a second long clip of a horror video today on FB and now i am scared! Even though i did stop the video and turned off the sound immediately yet One Second was enough! i wonder. One Second. How it can have such huge effect on someone. Now i am not sure whether i'd be able to sleep tonight. i simply don't wish the horror lady shouting from above the wardrobe be welcomed in my dream.

On more serious note, no one knows the future. No one understands the past. What remains to juggle with is - the present. i was on my swing this morning, analyzing all three together. Would it be not cool if there was no past? Or, no future? Just the present to cherish and remember? We could die everyday, we could born everyday and live that One Day to its optimum potential? Imagine what it'd be like to be just a day old! The transformation from a baby to an old person would be quick, that's for sure. We could have the innocence of childhood as well as naivety of teenage. We could enjoy falling in love. There would be no time for heart-break.  Adulthood would not look too terrible as there would be no future to look at and hence, no worries for career or studies. Just hangin' out with friends and delicious dishes from Mom. Quickly, maturity would hit and we would want to go back to childhood. And guess what? The wish could be completed just the next day! That'd be incredible! And then would come the old age - bent backbone, weak knees, poor eye sight, no teeth - but then again, death would soon come and i hope it to be smooth and quick like other stages. Crack of dawn and bingo! We are born once again! 

i don't know about you but i am sort of enjoyin' this weird imagination. It has actually put on a smile on my face; something that i had forgotten today. Now i think i shouldn't have said happy. i should have stayed mute or better, should have said the opposite. What do you think life would have to say if i had uttered the opposite? Let's find out.

Me: i am not happy!!

Wednesday, 5 July 2017

Have a walk, have an idea.

You no need a KitKat to have a break. You no need a specific sim card to have an idea. Have a walk and you can have both of them.

This evening i thought to have a break (i sound as if i am the busiest person on earth, eh!) and go downstairs with my Kindle. Usually there are people strolling, talking, spending some quality evening time with neighborhood friends. It's not that i don't have a friend. i have. Many. But today i preferred the best one to be with. As i settled on the side pavement, i found it's actually tricky to read in public, when people are around. i needed some fresh air and a different ambiance. Walls of my home, i feel, have started to stare me back. A perfect revenge in exchange of doing the same with them. Anyway, i pulled the dose of my concentration high and once the world around was put on snooze, reading became better.

After about 45 mins of deep-Kindle diving, i took another break from the humming environment and went upstairs, on the terrace where peace was guaranteed. i read a few pages but stopped just at the beginning of the next chapter. i looked up, at the sky, those smoky clouds, the illuminating know the description of a cloudy evening. i got up and strolled for sometime and it was only somewhere between these steps, ruffled in the sheets of wind, carried along with invisible pollen grains that something struck me almost gently. It was the end for one of my stories. You really expected an author to stick to just one story at any given time? Authors are all the time on feet (in their head), on the constant hunt for more. When The End, the kind i wanted, was figured out, i actually smiled. i wasn't even thinking about that future story! It's basically in its first quarter stage. And then i had stopped thinking more about it. Somehow finding the perfect end was growing as elusive for me as finding Nemo for his parents. But now i have. My End. The End. And i am happy. Much like Nemo's parents when they found him.

i kept strolling nonetheless, processing just out of a brief walking, i got such nice idea. So wonderful! Nature is so inspiring sometimes! It gives you gifts out of nowhere, when you least expect it. Now i have a good reason to not to stare at my walls. Settlement of a peace treaty it is! 

Tuesday, 4 July 2017

The process called writing.

Assuming you too like to write, what'd be your answer if i ask - Why do you write? For me, i'll say - Because i don't know how to survive otherwise. 

That's not exaggeration and certainly not a lie. Not even an effort to rhyme the Q. and Ans. i really don't know how'd i manage living if i didn't know how to be expressive through words and symbols. It's just not my novels only where i write. There are several other platforms where i get the golden chance to express the desired. For example - my blogs, FB pages, poetry, occasional doodling, creating lay outs for each month for my book club, preparing speeches and award functions' content for my father (the ex-president of Rotary club). i prefer my WA statuses too to be creative. It's actually more of a boon than a curse being a writer. The natural ability makes you feel different, do things differently, think differently. That is why people often say - writers belong to a different world. 

There is also one more thing. Writers are basically the same, more or less. If you are a writer and interacting with one, it'll be like facing a mirror. A few virtues here a few loopholes's all the same. Writing actually works as an equalizer. It exists regardless of age, gender, religion, color, species and even planets. If you belong to, say Jupiter or Neptune, you will still be a bit similar to the one existing on Earth. If you love to write, you just have to write. There is no other option, no other way out, no substitute. Sit and write. That's all it takes.

Writing is healing. How? i'll give you a literal example. Few days ago, in the newspaper there was a mention of one significant research in some different country. Research done on Cancer patients. In the first group, they allowed the patients to pen down their feelings and thoughts before the treatment while the second group was given no such chance. Later on, the first group responded better to the treatment and their healing sped up too! The second group? Well, i don't need to say much. They showed no such improvement in terms of faster response.

Monday, 3 July 2017

The night of passionate debate

There was a pleasant nip in the night air. In fact, it wasn't air at all! It was wind...chilly and crisp - typical Yercaud seasonal weather. We - me with my husband and a family of three (mother, father and the son) - were enjoying  the lit fire pit after sumptuous dinner at the hotel. They kept talking while i sat warming my hands around the fire, listening to them talking about data analysis, Bangalore in favor of analysts, doctors and their lives (both the parents were doctors) and many things. Since it was my first official fire pit experience in a traditional way, i chose silence and listened to others, rarely offering my comments. Such as when my husband said during some explanation that human beings are the most intelligent species on the earth. i interrupted and said, no. It's not true. We are not the most intelligent. A light discussion crackled on this and after searching, i found it's Dolphins. They are the most intelligent species. it was nice to have the complete knowledge. i fell silent again as the conversation picked up from where it was interrupted. 

Once again, somewhere in the discussion, my husband said (in order to explain a point) that, we are all leading to destruction. The online data getting collected on the daily basis is massive! And we humans are lagging way behind to tackle the number of problems. Our speed to finding solutions is way too low. This way, it can easily be said we are heading to destruction. (He said it in a harmless way and if you think data wise, he is right!)

Now when i am at home writing this blog post, i am thinking whether should i have shut up at that point and allowed the conversation to go on, because my interruption caused a diversion and a well dug one, i must tell you and continued until the night wore on, the fire in the pit was put off naturally. But since freedom of speech breaths in the air, i believe it was right to voice out my opinion and it was probably because of that we all five got interestingly engaged in a much stronger conversation.

Sunday, 2 July 2017

Willy the Whale

Image result for free willy
It's Sunday, the holiday but i thought to settle down for work. Kid went out to play after watchin' his cartoon but before i could know, the remote was in my hand and there were channels getting flipped on the big black paneled screen called television. i was hopin' to catch on a good English movie. Adding to my luck, there was one - Free Willy. Never heard of it but goin' by the info, i decided to continue.

Free Willy is about a killer whale named as Willy (the hero for me) and a little boy named Jesse. Since i had missed out on the first 55 minutes, i could gather Jesse is a street kid and somehow got a hold on the captive Willy under his special boyish training. Willy follows his instructions. The Greedy People of the show tries to put a show of Willy with Jesse to earn fancy money but Willy couldn't perform. Jesse gets disappointed and is about to leave for some city when he realizes Greedy People have turned Wicked and are now planning to kill Willy. Jesse also learns that Willy wants to return to his family that lives on the other side of the ocean. Jesse, the boy now turned savior, with the help of Good People, finally manages the tough task despite of Greedy now turned Wicked People's tricks. Their crazy fight in the water gets worth if you see the last strike of Willy in order to get to the other side of the ocean, where his family awaits. It's worth a watch. My mouth fell open in a big O and these words slipped out on their own - That's just awesome! So you have to watch it to have my awesome enriched moment.

Do you know you tend to eat less during movies that present you The Thrill generously? Yeah, because you get busy in biting nails. You just can't move away from the screen or lose the sensation somewhere in the munching noise. Free Willy (a 1993 movie) is a thrilling watch.

Friday, 23 June 2017

Giving up to the unknown

When it comes to future, Curiosity is the concept we humans lean at the most. Be it the next hour, tomorrow or the week after, we just can't stop looking, digging into the uncertainties and deciding the possible course of actions. Sometimes the concept of curiosity gets so strong that we literally stop living in the present and thrust ourselves forward in the bubble of future. We roll inside it and do our best to find the balance all the while keeping an eye on the probable. But something clicks at some point and pop! The bubble bursts out and we finally come back to reality. The dear feeling of not knowing what's gonna happen next gets kind of unsettling, slips underneath your nerves. You sit with head down thinking deep...finally giving up to the unknown.

This, my friend, the act of giving up to the unknown should have taken place at the first place. If it had, a lot of time and energy could have been saved. And yes, a few more wrinkles off the face too. Who needs those fine lines anyway?! 

In an urge to catch the the butterfly of future, we are probably getting distracted from collecting fragrance of the present. At some point, we have to learn to stop. Not every step taken forward can really take you forward. Standing still and let the world around move can also be the next step. We just have to stop and give up - to the future, to the unknown, to the forbidden. Then only we can truly learn to grow, to move forward, to be deserving of the knowledge of beyond. We just need to flow according to the flow and allow things to happen. 'Cause they will happen even if you don't. So just sit and put the head on the head rest and be the part of the present. Who knows what's going to happen next, so why bothering all the time? When it comes, it will be braved and faced. When it finally reveals, it will be served with the response it deserves. Until then, breathe. It'll keep you in the kingdom of reality - the present - with you as the anonymous king perched on the magnificent throne of permitted. And who wouldn't want to be fancied by such?

Thursday, 22 June 2017

The Suffering of Ocean.

the suffering that never ends
the rise of pain keeps flowing
head back, eyes lookin' up
thinking when will this end?

in the ocean of unexpected
stumbled upon an oyster 
the most beautiful pearl in it
wish i could keep it here;

lips fear to pray, dreadful to make a wish
it'd be a regretful waste nevertheless
with that beautiful  pearl lost somewhere else
now the ocean is left to burn alive everywhere.

Pen writing or type writing?

A few days back, i was thumbing through the news paper, reading various articles. One of them was about a pen pal. The writer has reminisced the journey of her pen friend - Richardis - from Germany. The writing style was crisp and devoid of usual mundane explanations which was refreshing and welcoming. i learned a bit too! Anyway, the writer - Meher Pastonji - reminded me of the times when pens were in fashion, the era where hand written letters used to be a particular craze and of course, when making pen pals across the country or the globe used to be a big deal. Ink doesn't really know its boundaries, does it?

In my childhood, i too had written several letters to my favorite cousins and relatives. Whenever i was at my naani's house, i would pick a pen and paper and write letters to my parents. Pen writing is actually a very fascinating experience despite of being a lengthy and now-a-days, a fussy process. That time, it used to be beautiful, without fuss and yes, infused with the amount of love and affection that's now impossible to find in type writing. So, as i went through the article reading on the journey of the writer and her German friend and how they managed to talk on phone after 40 years of pen friendship, i too traveled back in time. The moment when those two friends finally listened to each other's voices, i too reveled in that. 40 years!! Big time until you get to talk to a friend. In today's date, telephonic conversations happen without even thinking. Time has become so easy, so convenient. 

But can mails, texts and other forms of e-media really take away the charm of writing a letter? Can the effervescence of text books handwriting match the annoying monotonous clicks of typing? The latter sure makes the job a lot easier and feels more eco-friendly but still, the fascination of writing your feelings and experiences and getting it to share with someone is unparalleled. And oh, how can you forget the wicked role of Waiting for a letter? A letter usually took 4-5 days to arrive at its destination and then you'd sit and wait for the response which would take at least a week or two, depending upon the availability of the person at destination. It may take months and even years to get a response but the allure of waiting was matchless. You feel as if the world can not end. Yet. Because the response letter has not arrived! The anticipation, the excitement, fights with the younger brother to post it asap, jogs to the shop for the answer mail has arrived, the ability to get to caress each word on the response letter, feeling the happiness and the agony hidden in it, trying to guess whether the content was written in a hurry or with patience, the envy of a beautiful handwriting, little drawings here and there but above all, the smile which'd still continue to glow on your face even after finishing the last word at the end...the originality of these are somehow lost in the time of technology and impatience.

Monday, 19 June 2017

Little discoveries and experiences

Experiences, sometimes, can surprise us. You think you know yourself better than time but no. Again and again, the latter will prove you wrong. No matter how many years you have spent with yourself, there will always be a room in the dark hidden somewhere within you. It does not get enlightened with self-awareness and knowledge until time allows it to. And when it happens, when the dark room comes into a limelight, you realize there is still an aspect of yourself you did not know. How convenient! It can be amusing as well as surprising. Good or bad, depends really upon how do you take the latest discovery.

But i think, these experiences are good in a way. Because it lets you have a closer look at what you want to be or how you want to be. In the series of fleeting moments, you emerge as the purest form. You be what and how you are but when those moments finally end, you get to evaluate the recent experience. And then you may stumble upon a discovery about yourself. Even if you feel bad or not-so-impressed with yourself, it's still a learning! You get the glimpse of the construction in process (not progress, mind you!). Am i talkin' in codes or you understand what i am saying? No. i am not talkin in codes neither i am overwhelmed by any experience. You can understand my POV here only if you have gone through such discoveries about yourself. If you get the chance to sit and sip the latest breaking news about yourself, you find you can sit for longer and think even deeper. Every pros and cons get noticed. The experience might be over but you can avail the benefit by reliving it over and over and picturing scenarios of  several what ifs. It can be helpful or meaningless, again depends totally upon how do you take it. 

But truth to be told, discoveries about yourself, no matter how sweet or how harsh they can be, are good. In fact, anything that can bring you closer to your soul, that can make you a thinker, that can free you to sit and stare at the beautiful naught, that allows to be you despite the rest of world masquerading in different forms, that connects the dots and completes the picture, is good, and healthy. Whether you take it in with positivism or not, trust me it is good have little precious discoveries about the personal universe you are living in.

Sunday, 18 June 2017

Wishing you a Happy Father's Day, Mummy.

You are the ears to my words  
eyes for my suffering and happiness
you are a mate whenever my soul ache
you are the friend whenever i need one
you are my best critique for my betterment
you are not only an earth to me
Mother! in you, there is also a father i see;

The longing to sit next to you
feeling your presence glowing in me
i smile when you laugh at nothing
i look at you even when you are not looking at me;

You'll never know how much i love you
you will never see what you instill in me
it's just not only the chapters of life 
but also the will to thrive and survive;

You may think i am out of your womb, mother
you may think there is no longer a cord connecting us
but the way you take us in your protective shelter
there can never be another womb so better!

So allow me to wish you in my way
with love sweeping your heart away
Father sure will get jealous after reading this
but he needs to know that he is not alone
in the road of loving and protecting his own 
he has got a soldier, a resilient ally 
here is to wish you
A Happy Father's Day, Mummy. 

Friday, 16 June 2017

Eyes say it all.

"We can stay only for a short while." He said

"Okay." She said, smiling all the way.

"Do not tell this to anyone." He said.

"I won't." She assured.

He opened the door and there her friend Jennifer was, doing something by the table. Jennifer saw them smile shining her face. By this time, i already had an uneasy feeling, like something bad is going to happen any second. Jennifer saw her friend and the moment she stepped forward with smile still glowing her face, a bullet meets the left of her stomach and then another right in between her eyes, on the forehead. The next moment, she was dead by the same table. The man, who had brought the girl with him, was stunned. He turned back and saw the girl he loved deeply, immensely probably trying to figure out what the hell she just did. The girl looked back at him, not a single trace of remorse on her face and before the man could utter any sort of response, she fired the gun at him. Three or four bullets may be. The man was now on the floor, bleeding to death.  

It's this serial that i watch in weekdays. In fact, this is the only serial i watch. The scene i just narrated to you, it belongs to tonight's episode. The girl who fired the gun and appears to be so cruel here actually looked so innocent, delicate and harmless. The man loved her so much! He had brought the girl to meet her friend, Jennifer. It was a secret meeting and he trusted his love so much, so blindly. But the girl did her mission. And killed two people - one her friend and another her lover ( she didn't love him really, did she?).

But what usually gets under my skin during such scenes is - the eyes of the victim faced with betrayal. The amount of pain all wrapped up meticulously in the agony of shock. The thought that the person you trusted your heart so much with can actually commit a kill on your trust breaks you. Only one sense becomes the prominent - the eyes. Other senses just stop working. Those eyes opened wide struggling to drink in the incredulity of the moment, still forcing the mind to figure out what went wrong or is it for real? You just stop sensing the pain caused by the bullet, the external killing resource. You get killed by the the moment you chose to consider a particular person your own. You get killed by all those happy memories that do not fail to flash in a second across your eyes before you fall to the ground and turn into a dead body. You get killed because of your decision to hand over the complete power to someone. You get killed by your own choice, those good happy memories, that decision you thought made sense. Bullet just makes the job easier. Your mind gives up, the heart has no desire to keep drumming in your chest, blood spews because there is no use. You reel on the floor, you keep seething until it's all over. Not because The End was destined but because you wanted it to be over.

i won't blame you if you judge my post inspired by an episode. At some extent, it is but not entirely. There are many more moves and ideas in that serial but i never choose to write about any of'em. What i have written here, what i have told you here actually happens in real life. When someone betrays your trust, your integrity gets compromised. You start testing your G.K. about people and relationships and probably start thinking to re-write it. Because everything stops making sense. Where you thought this is the one who will always understand me, who will always wipe your tears away, that same person can suddenly and magically becomes immune to the core of your emotions. No matter the size of vortex, the ultimate damage finally comes down on you, on your relationship. Where you thought you can trust your judgment and choose to go against this world, suddenly it becomes not You v/s The world. It becomes You v/s Yourself. And then you stop and think 'how to outplay my own self'? Then again, nothing makes sense. You become numb and your eyes speak the story on your behalf. 

Somehow i am beginning to feel i am delivering a very depressing blog post once again. You seem to agree too! This week, it has been hard to feel something good, something positive. Anyway, let's end all of it with just one sentence - If someone loves you deeply, do not cause hurt. You wouldn't like what those eyes might have to say in return. 

Okay! Now that's two sentences.

Thursday, 15 June 2017

Read 50 pages to decide

It was my book club this eve. After all the reading and healthy snacks, i talked to kids about Books and their benefits - about how books can be a good conversation starter when being in a strange group as well as about how book reading makes the person friendlier than the others. These benefits are good. i also shared the result of a specific research. It says that - read 50 pages of book to decide whether you want to continue with it. It is called - Rule of fifty.

A nice rule, i'd say. However, since kids' books are often thinner than adults' novels, i told my club kids to try reading for 20 pages if not more. Those 20 pages will help you in knowing whether you'd like to continue. Along with this, i also emphasized on - whether you like the book or not, once you have started, make it a point to finish it. Because Finishing is as important as Starting a book. They agreed with me. It was not the first time i was mentoring them over the significance of finishing a book but reminding one thing over and over actually gets settled in the head. Then the person hardly ever forgets it.

Last week i had given them a little assignment in their club copies - Who is your favorite teacher and why? Today we talked about it. It was good and fascinating listening them. Even Ashmit spoke fondly about his Rupa ma'am. Jyoti likes Seema ma'am while Abhay finds his ____ ma'am ( i seem to forget the teacher's name). i am trying to not to focus much on the fact that women have been tutoring their children in schools very well. They are becoming favorite. Then i also told them about two of my favorite teachers - 1. Harjeet miss when i was in 7th and 8th std. she was our Punjabi teacher. Yes. i do know a little of this language as well; 2. Late Mittal sir. During my medical preparation, it was because of Mittal sir that Physics became an interesting subject to me. i told my kids that if it wasn't for Harjeet miss and Mittal sir, i'd never be able to enjoy Punjabi and Physics. It was nice to see kids paying attention.

Wednesday, 14 June 2017

The fall of love and trust.

Just this morning i talked about there is something beautiful in today in the poem - The Gift of Today and what my sheer luck is! Can't seem to fathom at the turn of events. If there is one thing that's huge next to love is - trust. Every relationship is based on trust. We move on with it, live with it and literally sleep with it. Trust is something that makes us sensitive and thus, human. 

But what if the same trust is broken by someone you love? Or, you thought you did. i don't believe in the notion that only blood relations are trustworthy. People who happen to be called your relatives can be trustworthy too. They too can make up for the empty spaces of a few precious relationships that you crave for, long for. You open up your heart and welcome the person thinking s/he is right for you and certainly understands your emotions and reciprocates them. The person appears to be trustworthy. Family. Friend. Big sister. Big brother. Cousin. The person seems everything that you have always craved for and you are just happy to adjust some space in your life to accommodate those sudden sprouted warm feelings. And for a long time you continue, no, you choose to live in a daze that your decision is right. That the person you have chosen to trust is worth your time and energy and those laughter bouts and personal thing sharing. Everything just seems good and perfect! Nothing was supposed to go wrong. But at the end, it did. The gift or the present can be so full of surprises.