STRANGE SOMETHING OF THE NIGHT

I am a self-confessed believer in God and also in ghosts. No, I haven't seen either but I'm sure both exists like the sun and the moon does. I have often been assured of my belief in God's existence by answered prayers. But the ghost factor still remains an illusion. After watching scary movies, I'm often scared to the extent of not being able to sleep on my own in my room and end up seeking refuge at my landlord's, but thats another story for another day.

Yesterday night even though I slept with a happy state of mind, yet towards the early hours of the morning, I felt I was fighting with some strong external force which was trying to throw me off the bed to the ground. I could also feel some pulling of my hair by that external force and some wind-like noise just next to my ears. I tried to open my eyes and throw the blanket off my face, but I could not. I was gripped... with sleep and fear. I didn't know what to do, but in an instant second, without even trying any further to open my eyes, I chanted the Gayatri Mantra over and over again in my mind and I felt the 'evil' force perish into nothingness slowly. When I felt assured that there was nothing around me that could harm me in any way as I was protected with the strong power of the Mantra, I opened my eyes and threw the blanket off. I was perspiring and was soaked with sweat all over. But I could see or feel nothing out of the ordinary. Out of the window on the left of my bed, I could see the bright moon-lit sky trying to mix colours with the breaking of dawn. I looked at the wall space near the window where I hung the sketch of shiv-shakti with 3 rudraksh beads tied around it. On the right side of my bed, there on my book-shelf stood the small statue of Ganesh-ji in bronze (a gift from my friend Safal).

And then I asked myself, would I have dared to come in here and mess around if I were a ghost? Never! So obviously I must have had a nightmare. And then I drifted off to sleep again still chanting the Gayatri Mantra in my mind till the last few winks of my wakey moments....

In the name of THE HUSBAND, THE CHILD...

WOMANHOOD... what is the first image which comes to your mind when you hear this word? For me its symbolizes a very strong power of a woman, who would do anything for the love and well being of her husband, her children.... A person so vulnerable to look at, yet so strong from within, so full of love and warmth.... She's a power almost at par with divinity I think...
The hindu religion followers however have always been very insecure of the power bestowed in women by mother nature, even in a male-dominated country like ours. The religious leaders from times immemorial have always prohibited women from chanting mantras (powerful religious slokas from the holy books), performing yajnas (also known as Yagya) and homas (also called havana) and have bestowed a great number of vrats (religious fasts) most or all of them which are observed for the good health and long life of their family, not for themselves. To mention a couple-Sankat Chauth and Aahoyee Ashtami, are vrats observed by mothers and grandmothers, devoted to the good health and welfare of their children and grandchildren. Karva Chauth vrats observed by wives, is devoted to husbands (it was yesterday-the 29th of October, this year). But I really don't understand why all these fasts are incumbent only on women! Is this their ‘gift’ from pseudo-religious-pandits of our society for being a woman? Is there any such vrat which is dedicated for wives or mothers, observed by the husbands or children? It is understandable that vrats for children might be non-reciprocal as they are too young to observe fasts or maybe too weak to cope up with their daily routine while on fast, but what happens after the children grow up? Do they observe atleast 1 day of fast for their mothers in their entire lifetime? No sir! There is no such ritual. Or what explanation do we have for the Karva Chauth vrat? Isn't it surely reciprocal as husbands can well observe this vrat for the health and happiness of their wives? If the working husband is in service, trade, media, industry or agriculture, the domesticated housewife also has to manage the household... a 24X7 job that is more arduous than the husband’s. Today, most modern women earn their share to contribute into the household economy or for their own financial independence and rural women infact, work even harder with their men in agricultural fields. But at the end of the day, we always see the women folk coming back to their kitchens and doing their only share of household chores. Whether she is a part-time domestic help, a doctor, a teacher, an actor or a labour, the woman of the house has to take up the laddle in the kitchen, help her children with homework and maintain a beautiful love-filled 'home'. Isn't it simply amazing the way she manages it all and keep fasts as well?
After being around a few married female colleagues at work who observes the Karva Chauth vrat for the health and longeivity of their husbands, year after year, without even a single drop of water or a morsel of food right from dawn, throughout the day till the moon comes out in the night sky, yet managing to meet up with their 'call targets' of about 200 calls, like everyday(because the UK clients are oblivious to a ritual like this celebrated only by us Indians and hence no downtime) I believe this ritual is almost inhumane, especially for the women who work in a BPO. When I asked a few of them yesterday, like I enquire around every year, most of the women were shocked and scandalised at my question. When I asked them with utter curiosity if their husbands have also kept the fast for their good-health and longeivity, they answered back with double shock and defense that on this day only the women fast for their men and not any otherwise. I mean, c'mmon, don't the husbands need their wives as much as wives need their husbands? Won't doing so not only strengthen the tie of love between them?? Would the husbands actually be able to enjoy their long, healthy lives with their sickly wives who would be long dead before them???

FRIENDS IN NEED

Not very long ago, just around mid-september I fell seriously ill. It started off with me feeling the blues a little more than usual. I thought it was just 'those days' of the month. Then it was followed by a slight stomach ache towards the right lower abdomen. I ignored it again. Periodic cramps had never been a reason for me to stop and hault my day-to-day super-active routine. But the pain did not subside even after my curse-days ended. As the pain increased to an unbearable level, with shivers and temperature shooting up at regular intervals, I realised there was trouble. So, I took a day off on the 20th of September and went downstairs to visit the lady doc who stays in the same building as mine, on the 1st floor. After the initial testing of the eyes and the tongue and a few presses on either side of my abdomen, front & back, she told me that she suspected jaundice and immediately scribbled down a blood and urine test from the neighbourhood lab. But she would rather I visited a good hospital and get a proper check-up. I was feeling so unwell that I knew I won't be able to make it on my own to any of the hospitals or labs. So I called up my cousin asking him if he could come to my rescue. He did, ofcourse... being the darling he is. I suggested we go to MAX Hospital (considered one of Delhi's best). There I got the initial treatment from the emergency doctor who gave me a couple of injections to bring my fever, shivering & nausea under control and then I had to give my blood and urine samples for the various tests. The next day, still with no improvement in my condition, when I went to collect the samples, the doc referred me to a lady doctor who immediately asked me to get admitted in the hospital's 'Saket' branch where they had an inhouse hospitalisation facility. From that day, the 21st of September, it was a slow curing process which had begun for the infection they had detected in my kidney which had spread onto my blood and urinary track.
The hospital stay, though long and boring, was quite a memorable one. And the few close friends I have here in Delhi, did their best for me which has made me even more closer to them than ever before. Here goes the list-

NIP (as I call him... short for Nabajit)-We are related in some way and have known each other since childhood, but more than relatives/cousins, we are very close friends and he always somehow gets a vibe if I am not well. He was the first one I called up on to take me to the doctor. Though he was not well himself, and had to take care of his 1001 things which he is always caught up with, he still came and took me to the doctor, waited there while I was getting treated. Then picked me up and took me to their place to stay over for the night just in case I feel worse in the night all by myself at my own place. Next day again he brought me to the doc to collect my reports, then drove me to get me admitted in the hospital, filled in all the forms and dealt with the formalities while I waited for the admission. He visited me at intervals during my stay in the hospital too. I can never forget this ever. Love u, Nip. I owe you a big one.
(P.S.- Please forgive me for texting you those stinky messages when you could not visit me for some days at the hospital. I was really sick of looking at the nurses' and doctors' faces and needed friends like you to be around more often. Guess I was asking for a little too much, but then I know I can demand of you whatever I want and be myself without any pretence, isn't it?)

JEENA (my-Xena-the-warrior-princess-of-a-buddy)-She broadcasted all around to all our common friends that I was sick and admitted in the hospital and urged them to visit me positively, almost to a bully-ing extent. And if that was not enough, the ones who did not turn up were not spared of her sarcasm and bitter remarks about their negligence and shameful attitude. Jeena baby, I know you care, but I think you overdid it with both the Sumits and Samrat...(those poor guys!). But she is the one person who visited me almost daily and called me up regularly to ask if I needed anything.
(P.S.-Girl, I want you to know that I used to wait for that time-slot when you'd come and visit me before leaving for your work. You really did a lot to cheer up my mood with your presence around. Thanks dear. Shall never forget this, ever. Also, couldn't have expected any less from you as you are my closest. )

NARO-My naga-friend who has a hectic 9-5 job in the Korean embassy. But once she heard I was in the hospital, she came all the way to see me from the other part of the city. I understand the distance and the nature of her hectic job did not allow her to visit me every day, but she was there on the day I needed someone the most (when the doctors were all on their weekly off on a sunday and the nurses were enjoying their own sweet high-tea while I was shivering with high-fever and extreme pain due to not receiving the injections on time). She went out all the way to find a nurse or a doctor for me and took control of the situation with much calm which had gone very much out of control with me shouting at the nurse and the assistant who had to be brought at my disposal. Thanks, girl. You were an angel for me that day, as always.

AKUM-Naro's boyfriend and my sweet buddy. He was there to see me everytime with Naro and also did his best that sunday to help. His jokes are hilarious which brought a smile on my face in the midst of my sick gloomy mood.

SHIVANI-Nip's gf... my would-be sis-in-law. She really needn't have bothered but she too did her best. She cooked for me while I was at their place. Also visited me in the hospital inspite of all her work. Thanks Shiv-ji.

VISHAK-Nip & Shivani's room-mate. We're friends and he didn't initially realise how sick I was when he saw me in the morning at their place with a swollen grumpy face due to the unbearable pain. He couldn't help laughing and making some nasty remarks, but I forgive him (yet once again...I hope u r keeping a count too, Vishak) as I know he didn't know how sick I was. Also yes, he visited me at the hospital and tried his best to cheer me up, failing miserably. But atleast he tried. Good try, Vishak. Really appreciate your effort. And hey, thanks a ton buddy.

DIPANKAR-My assamese friend in the office. He is my man-friday. I make full use of his being in the transport department of our organisation. Whenever I need to sneak out of office (unofficially), he is the one I need to call and ask for a cab to take me home. And voila! within seconds my work is done. He talks a lot, though... most of the times to a yawningly boring extent. But inspite of everything, he visited me in the hospital twice or thrice, each time staying for a long duration, chatting up constantly, telling me non-stop stories of his forgotten past hospital experiences. But for the first time I realised I was not all that bored of his non-stop gibberish which he's so good with. It helped to hear a human voice talking to me to kill the emptyness and boredom of my hospital stay. Thank you, my friend.
(P.S.- And now that I'm fit and fine, you can stop talking so much. (just joking!))

ANJULA-the baby in our group of four at work, who sits just next to my work station. She's more like a younger sister than a colleague or a friend. She kept abreast with the latest progress happening with my recovery and what the doctors have said, even while attending office, meeting her daily targets while also dealing with the various formalities she needed to cater to before getting into Jet Airways as an airhostess. She juggled through everything quite efficiently and visited me often, especially during the weekends. She's now in Mumbai going through her training for the airlines. But the help she offered to me while I was in the hospital will always be in my heart and mind. Thank you, little one.
(P.S.-I missed you all the same while I was in the hospital and more than ever, now... when you are not there sitting next to me at work, reminding me constantly to do my work while I am busy on the orkut or blogging during my work hours.)

GAURAV-The hunk of my friends from office.... good-looking, well-behaved and fiercely protective about me and Anjula. But he is a little immature, moody and short-tempered. Doesn't speak much and is shit-scared of my temper. On a Monday evening, knowing they would be visiting me the next day, I asked him if he can get me a print-out of the 'Hanuman-Chalisa' from work (I try to chant the 'hanuman chalisa' every tuesday evening, but do not know it by heart yet). He said he could. Later he must have realised that he had taken out the print-out in 'hindi' which I don't know to read fluently. But by that time he must've already reached home around mid-night and the cyber-cafes might have closed. So, he called up all possible people at odd hours of the night and the morning before they were to reach the hospital asking if anybody had access to the internet and a printer at their vicinity. I don't know how or from where he got it, but he produced a printout of the required Hanuman Chalisa for me (yes, in English) when they visited me the next morning before leaving for work. When Anjula narrated the whole story behind 'the print-out' I felt extremely guilty. But that's just Gaurav. 'Thanks' seems to be a very little word for whatever you have done for me, buddy.
(P.S.-After I was released from the hospital and joinned work, I was advised to have home-food for sometime. Gaurav's mom made it a point to send delicious home-made food for all of us (especially because she knows I stay alone and might not manage to cook proper meals during the week-days). Thanks to aunty too. What does one do to deserve such a royal treatment?!)

SAFAL-The cool-dude, Anjula's guy. He is level-headed and really defines the word 'kewl'. I have never seen him lose his temper and no matter what we say or do or to whatever extent he is provoked, he is always smiling. He can just let go off things till they cool down and the situation gets under control. He's our group's pacifier in our small tiffs and manages to make everyone laugh even under the most difficult of situations. But God save you if he has downed 2 bottles of beer. He will go on talking about anything and everything under the sun (or the moon) till we go off to sleep. Anjula & Gaurav used to drag him along with them when they came to visit me. My wildest guess says Safal would have generally just woken up, put on his clothes and shoes, brushed his teeth and come along, 'cause whenever he came to visit me, he was either eating at the hospital cafeteria downstairs or smoking or watching cricket matches (with Gaurav) at the hospital lounge, before coming upto my room to show his face, giving Anjula and me enough time to catch up with our 'girlie-talks' if there was any.

SHELTON-my friend from Goa who had stopped by in Delhi for his visa work, while on his way to New York City for a concert, with high hopes of me showing him around Delhi while he was around, was really upset with the whole thing. And he did drop in to see me in the hospital. He had also managed to smuggle in some local Goan pork sausages (my favourite) into my room and handed the parcel to me only after strictly warning me to eat them after I recover fully. He is another PJ-r(poor-joke-r) who has a tremendous stock of never ending PJs. And he used them to the full on me while he was around.
P.S.-That was really sweet, Shelton. I promise I'll show you around the next time you are in Delhi, provided I am not in the hospital. And hey, you can parcel me the port-wine bottles from Goa very soon as I have recovered now.)

And then there was GEETA and NIDHI from the office who visited me in the hospital. Though they are not close friends, I really appreciate their taking out time to come and visit. And CHOW (the kiddo) who called me up often, promising to turn up in a couple of days (but never did). His calls were very refreshing in themselves, though, full of vibrance and positive energies, urging me to get well soon. Of course, SUMIT VIRDI and SUMIT CHUG called up too with 'get-well-soon' wishes mainly because (you guessed it!) Jeena bullying them into it, but they did.

So, after my never-ending 8-10 days stay in the hospital I was finally released to go home and advised bed-rest for atleast 2-weeks till I recovered. So I went back home to the comforts of my ma & dad's pampering and care and stayed back for about a week before returning to Delhi to join work. NANDINI my friend in Guwahati came to visit me while I was there and it was nice to see her glowing with pregnancy.

Now I am fit and fine and back to work, but this long gap in between has made me a lazy bum and I still haven't been able to restore back my interest at work. Needed a break, got a break (minus the pain and suffering that came with the illness) !

THE LOST CHARM

What is it about committed men that I can never bring myself to be attracted to them? Doesn't matter if he's the best looking man on earth. Doesn't matter if he is George Clooney. It is something about the 'attached' factor which takes away all the charm off men. And it is supposed to be that way too. Attached men are supposed to be with their partners, not woo-ing other single women to get attracted to them. But the only problem here is that all the 'good-looking men' are either always 'taken' or gay.

I was very happy being in love with George Clooney with his pics in my wallet in that special place reserved for a 'someone special'. Reading his interviews where he'd comment that he is NOT attached and doesn't plan to marry...ever, I'd beam with joy. Just the perfect man for me. And he's good-looking too, just in case you didn't notice. But a couple of weeks back my heart shattered with the accident he was caught in, not because he was suffering from a broken rib and some scrapes, but because he was with a girlfriend Sarah Larson, who was also injured. Hey wait a minute, did I just say 'a girlfriend'? Now where on earth did she come from? And barely did they recover from their injuries when the Clooney guy declared of a prospective engagement with Sarah. So much for my luck! Now I'm no longer attracted to him anymore. I don't have anything left for Georgey boy. No love, no lust. The 'committed' factor, remember?

The story of my life. Sigh!

YET ANOTHER MR. WRONG

I noticed him sometime back.
He noticed me long before that.
I liked what I saw.
He could read my mind.
I wished he would talk to me.
He came and talked to me.
I thought he liked me.
He knew I liked him.
I fell in love with his behaviour and the attention he showered.
He wooed and followed me around like a puppy love.
I never hid anything.
He had secrets and issues.
I'm clean.
He's often stoned.
I became a little unsure.
He became defensive.
I began to expect.
He began to detach.
I was on.
He was on and off.
I fell ill.
He stopped communicating for a while.
I prayed to God he comes back to me.
He came back to me.
But now I'm disillusioned.
He's just one of the numerous other MR. WRONGs I've bumped across...

NY RESOLUTION STATUS

I must admit, I have broken one of my New Year resolutions and have not been able to keep up with many of them. I was going through some very blue moments of late and started smoking from the 15th of August (incidently, on the independence day I succumbed to the 'butt' again). I smoked the whole day that day till my throat was sore and burning and tears ran down my cheeks with the smoke, mixed with my inner grief. I thought it was okay to take a break for 1 day and smoke... but it led to me smoking the next day again. The 3rd day my friend at work warned me about me getting trapped into it again. I convinced her and myself that I'd smoke for the whole week and then stop. The week elongated to become 2 weeks, precisely 16 days. So I smoked as much as I could till the month-end and then finally quit for good on the 31st of August. But I am not happy about it myself. I don't know why I couldn't be strong enough to not have done as I did. Perhaps there was a lack of reason or maybe that itself was a reason. Just for my health did not seem reason enough for me to have not smoked.

Sometimes I wonder why my senses go for a walk. Why I stop thinking rationally. Why I feel so snappy. Why I just want to let go of everything or everyone who matters to me so much. Why I have no zeal left for the ever new and happening thing called LIFE. I feel I have stopped 'living' for sometime now. I am just breathing, so I am 'existing'. Perhaps its a hint I should take seriously about a short break again....soon. The sun and the sea beckons...

The SALT-N-PEPPER appeal

I still drool over Richard Gere's poster in his 'salt-n-pepper' do from AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN... the military hunk with the face of a 14-year old and the hair of a 50-year old. This fantasy often embarrasses as well as makes me smile. And quite honestly, I was more than surprised when Shilpa Shetty pretended she had no clue of what was coming when Richard swung her not very long ago, into a clinch which is the stuff female fantasies are made of.

I had always had a strong liking for men with 'distinguished' hair. Most men don't get it, but the 'salt-n-pepper' on guys drives a lot of women wild. Well, call it the 'salt-and-pepper' or the newfound 'gravitas', but losing color doesn't make you an old man... if you don't wear it like Phil Donahue, that is. And if you'd keep it short, please. Thank you!

Most men refuse to admit they're 'gray'. 'Salt-and-pepper' is about all they'll cop to. Of course, they may be just about out of pepper, is another matter. But we all cling to delusions, don't we? Some men may not like the way their gra... I mean, salt-and-pepper looks, and with the Grecian Formula in vogue, they want to go in for a jet-black shade than a cool gray. But if you ask me, they should not colour their hair for a lark, 'coz very soon, they'd have to do it as a monthly chore. And isn't there something sad about habitually locking oneself in the bathroom and doling out dye into your aching hands, adjusting the mirror or your head angles (or both) like some aging junkie? Or worse still, roam around the house with a head-full of mehndi-paste for hours?

Today, in just about any line of work being 'prematurely gray' is an advantage. In fact, in any business, gray equals gravitas. And then again, there are millions of follicle-fetishists out there, and at the first hint of tint they find you and ogle your albino tresses like a hot pair of buns....( the same way I check out and secretly drool over men with short 'salt-n-pepper' hair). This is because, gray hair on a guy says he's mature, stable and sexy, but at the same time he can be relied on.
Think Big B as 'Sexy Sam'... he's swarmed with all those hot babes. Think Tom Cruise in 'the Collateral'.. He might have been the bad guy, but if you talk about his looks, ah! simply irresistible. Think Sean Penn. His fan base doesn't seem to mind his salt-n-pepper one bit. Think George Clooney in Ocean's Thirteen. He seems to be getting more and more drool-able with every passing year... I can't help falling in love with him over and over again..

My advice to all those guys with 'distinguished' hair? Give in to the salt-n-pepper look and make the most of it while you're still young. Better to be 'happily gray' than to be a 'serial dyer'. Remember, there will come a time in the not too distant future when you'd no longer be 'prematurely' gray. People will stop using the word 'distinguished'. By then, you'll have a paunch, a wattle, baggy eyes and sagging skin, and pretty young things won't even take notice of your hair. Only other guys will... the bald ones...

So, if you still think you cannot carry off the 'salt-n-pepper' on your crown, because your name is not George Clooney, just give it a second thought. Trust me, it looks damn hot....

RESOLUTIONS 007

Hello everyone and hello 2007. I hope you all had a grand celebration to welcome the New Year. But unfortunately, I was bed-ridden with severe stomach infection and a sun-stroke. Not a very pleasant way to start the New Year, I'd say. But then life goes on. And inspite of all the viruses, bad weather, a poor appraisal at work and nothing so exciting to look forward to, I still hope its a good year ahead. Its been quite a few years now that I hadn't made any New Year resolutions because I used to forget and break all my promises after a couple of months. But this year I believe it'll be different and I hope to have more control over myself. I've kept these 7 resolutions. Wish you all a very happy and prosperous 2007.

#001: Will never kiss the butt again...I said goodbye to ciggies.
#002:Will try to make my life more organic... more fruits, veggies, herbal-teas, juices...will curb on booze and meat.
#003:Will try to get onto the other side of the lenses...after modelling, now I want to get behind the camera and capture all things of beauty through my lenses.
#004:Will travel more...but off the beaten tracks...I'll try to cover more exotic destinations within the country.
#005:Will indulge more...and get myself gadgets to ease my work...a microwave oven, an ipod, a digicam and a laptop are on the priority list in that order.
#006:Will paint my life RED...and BLUE and GREEN and YELLOW and ORANGE...I'll paint so much that I can put up an exhibition by Diwali.
#007:Will talk to God more often...does not mean I'll be worshipping all the time, but I'll be super regular with my daily prayers.

And U R TAGGED. Post in your NY resolutions and lets see if we can all keep them till the end of the year.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN SANTA CLAUS?

Though Christmas is NOT one of the main festivals that I celebrate according to my religion, yet for being in a catholic school I was made to understand that Christmas represents gifts from Santa Claus who comes down our chimneys at midnight of Christmas eve with promises of rewards, and this used to ensure a good behavior from all us kids round the year. But today when I've grown up, I wonder how many other grown ups still believe there is really a Santa Claus? Well, Santa Claus is not merely a wishful thinking for me, but he exists… as certainly as love, generosity and devotion exist. Alas! How dreary it would be if there was no Santa Claus?! Without 'him' there would be no child-like faith, no poetry, no presents and no romance to even make tolerable this season of warmth, love and merriment.

Some of us grown-ups might ask, “Do we need that old fat man with the big white beard to celebrate Christmas?” And there are those who would say we do not need an icon whose most popular depiction arises out of the early color-coding principles of a soft drink manufacturer (for the red and white that we associate with Santa, were designed by the Coca Cola Company in an attempt to link Christmas with the drinking of their flagship product). There are those again who would argue that gift-giving has become an arena of conflict in which families struggling to maintain a decent economic foothold in a cut-throat world are put to the test by the manipulative strategies of advertising & marketing gimmicks. Perhaps it’s time for such grown-ups to re-look at Santa Claus and re-contextualize why we do really need him…
…because we need to give. Our genes may be selfish, our basic and more primal instincts may be aimed at ensuring the survival of our own self and our genetically linked family, but there’s much to be said for giving too. And we are not talking about gifts alone here... we’re talking about giving of our time and effort and of helping others. Let us try to redefine Santa Claus as the spirit of giving and we would see why we need him more than ever.

Our world is one of closed spaces and closed minds. It is one that allows the individual very little control over the way things are. This works in the area of personal relationships too. The more we give, the more connected we become, the better our emotional health and the emotional temperament of the relationship becomes. And it really holds true that whatever we give, comes around. But we should not equate this 'giving' with ‘the parcel with the red-ribbon’ and the little card with a quickie message… because if we agree that Santa is a human necessity, that he is only an embodiment of the spirit of putting others before one-self, that he is a convenient and time-honored icon to represent all that is generous and giving in human nature, WE HAVE TO BE SANTA ourselves.

Yes, Santa still lives. Commerce won’t let the fat man in the funny red suit with white fur trimmings and the three-pillow-paunch, who is a mere 1700 years old, die because he’s too valuable a property. And his this act of giving without asking for anything in return repeated again and again, year after year, spreads joy and happiness all over, making everyone jolly and happy too.

Merry Christmas to all and also to the man who says HO! HO!! HO!!!

MA...

Once upon a time she was a bubbly pampered sister of three elder brothers, who loved handiwork, going to movies, dressing up, painting, playing pranks and her cats. And then she got married to become a wife at 18. Then one day she had ME and became a mother at 20. A few years later, she eventually had my two younger sisters and added to the list of things she previously was. She became a cook, a dresser, a wiper of our dirty faces, a cleaner of our soiled diapers, a nurse when we were ill, a retriever of thrown socks and uniforms, a finder of our lost shoes, a doer of our homework we couldn’t complete, an insomniac. She was a referee in our toy-wars, a slayer of dragons in our nightmares, the face of angels in all those fairy-tale bed-time stories that she’d read out to us every night before tucking us in bed to sleep. She was the expert innovative chef who had to come up with 1001 tiffin-recipes which could not be repeated very often, a duty-bound guard who would walk us to school and bring us back home, holding the umbrellas to protect us from the sun or the rains and sometimes even carry one of my sisters who would get tired walking. She was a soother of nervous school jitters, a coach to prepare us for our tests and exams, a strict (hate-able) character when we scored poor marks, an adorable rewarder when we passed with flying colors and a sporty leader of girl-scouts.

With each passing day, her talents grew: she became a baker of delicious cakes and cookies, a hygienic competitor of the dirty roadside chaat-wala, an ice-cream vendor who distributed popsicles and ‘milkmaid-kulfis’ not only to us but to all our neighborhood playmates absolutely free-of-cost. She learnt to sew prize-winning costumes for our fancy-dress competitions, compose the best school essays which would score us maximum marks in the whole class, come up with the best ideas for our science exhibition projects and embroider the most beautiful motifs for our hand-work assignments. She would be my transporter, guide and motivator for all those numerous art-competitions that I participated in as a child.

Her body, once which was her own to do with it as she pleased, now belonged to us—she ate for ‘us’ when she was carrying us in her womb, her breasts were the only source of food or life we recognized as infants, her shoulders were used by us to cry upon, her arms to be hugged by whenever we needed her warmth and security, and her lap for us to sit and cuddle upon. Her lips became the kissers and soothers for all our unstoppable boo-hoos and tears, her hips were the carrier of our small, squirmy bundles and her hands our cradle.
She could braid or tie-up our hair in the time most people could only manage to wash their faces. She could bathe, dress, feed and get all the three of us ready for school in half-an-hour flat. And she could smile for us even when she didn’t actually feel like. Her feet were used to walk the house with us in her arms at any hour of the night, if either one of us had a difficult time sleeping due to illness or nightmares. And as we were growing up, she even grew eyes in the back of her head and her hearing became supersonic--lest we should fall into wrong things or wrong people at a wrong age.

Her parents had named her ‘Mina’. Then as she became a mother she had as many aliases as a conman. She became—at various times—Mm, Ma, Ma-ma, Mom, Mommy, Mummy, Mum, Mina-ma (I used to call her that, as if to distinguish her as the special one of the various other moms in the neighborhood, she recalls) and for a brief period of her mental vexation, ‘Mins’ (when we called her that teasingly).

Her free time which might have once been occupied to do things of her interest, were now used to tidy the disorderly jumble of our toys, books, empty chips packets, used plates, empty cans of cold-drinks, a carpet of clutter and chaos and a dwelling of disarray.

Her mind which might have once flourished with egocentric thoughts, were sometimes filled with irrational ideations: “What if they fall out of the bed while I’m in the kitchen?” “What if they choke on their food?” “How safe would they be to get back home after dark from their friends’ birthday party?” “What if they choose the wrong guys as their boyfriends or to get married to?” “Did I say anything to hurt my darlings?” “Am I a good mother?” “How will I know if I’m falling short of anything in bringing them up?” etc… These were some of her insecurities I would overhear her sharing with Dad, once in a while when he was home (my dad had to travel a lot due to the nature of his job and he was hardly home till we grew up).

But for us three sisters, my Ma has been and always will be our ideal icon… even more important and loveable than God himself, coz she’d done something nobody else had ever done for us… accomplished a feat so death-defying and magical that many wouldn’t even attempt doing. She’s the one and only form, face, smell and name of pure and unselfish love I’d ever known. She’s my Ma….

A FEW PASSING THOUGHTS....

Sometimes I wonder... how to define a few terms...like 'love'...'happiness'...
how to define a 'color'..... Bottle Green.....Virgin White...
to define an ice-cube finding its way down your back
or how to define a 'heavy heart'....

Can we put everything within the constraints of 26 letters ?
What about the word 'ma'?
There are things in life that escape 'definition'.
Life itself, for instance...

How do we define bitter... tangy... sour...
How to define a mistake... wrong... right...
Ever wonder how it changes with every experience??
For that matter, how do we define 'experience'?

Is a 'kiss' the mere brush of lips?
How long should it last? And how long does it actually last??
Is a 'smile' the mere upturn of the corners of the lips?
Does a sunset actually end when the sun sets?
Does 'pregnancy' last only for 9 months?
How long should our birthdays be?

How much would you pay to adopt a child if you can’t have one of your own?
How much would you pay to be a child again?
How much would you pay to get back your native home which is still under dispute?
What about that '80s studio picture of dad, ma and you?
Do you have a clear conscience?
How much would you pay to have one?
...and how much would you sell ‘that’ conscience for?

Does a 3day 2night vacation last for only 3days and 2nights?
Does a 'kodak moment' last for only 1/500th of a second?
Is 'Love Story' only a 2-hour story book?

How much time is too much time?
Sometimes, a half-hour bubble-bath can seem like an entire evening...
a 3-hour happy dream like a whole year....
a warm hug like a lifetime...
The first morning cuppa tea...perfect bliss...

Does life's most precious moments come with bar-codes?
Or fluctuate on a daily basis??

It might be the red balloon for your child priced at Rs 10,
a wedding cake for your best friend priced at Rs 10,000,
Or a 2-carat solitaire ring priced at Rs 5,00,000...
but considering it's on your left ring-finger, how much would you sell it for ?

MY LI'L SIS

Whether we shared this 'special connection' through genetics or the heart, only my sister and nobody else can understand the complex, deep and dynamic relationship that we both shared with each other as we journeyed together through the various stages of our lives.

The first time when I remember visiting the hospital to see my newly born sister, I pestered my dad to buy me some clips, ribbons and 'kajal' for her. I remember being quite dissapointed on seeing her so small and the thought of waiting for her to grow up to be able to play with me. My younger sister would usually look upto me when we were very young and growing up, following my every step and every act. She was my little doll, my playmate and my baby, who I used to make sit on my lap while I rode my tri-cycle all around the house. Sometimes I used to drop her down from my lap while overspeeding and then get very scared when she cried turning crimson and blue. As she was three years younger to me, she was just around a year old when I started going to school and I remember my parents buying her a same school-bag, crayons, pencil-box, tiffin-box and a water-bottle, as mine. When I used to do my homework, she would sit by me scribbling some weird nothings onto the blank pages of her notebook, pretending to be doing her homework as well and she picked up all my nursery-rhymes and multiple-tables by heart, long before she even went to school. While I used to tolerate her tagging along after my footsteps, I remember getting very annoyed when she used to wear the same clothes as me when we got ready to go out. (I don't know why, but my parents always got us both similar dresses with a little change in the colours sometimes). Now when I think of it, I imagine we might have looked very cute actually in the same kind of clothes, but that time it was utmostly annoying to see that tiny exact replica of mine in the same get-up and all. I was the shy, dumb one and she was smarter and naughtier. Whenever we used to get chocolates from our parents or guests or relatives, I used to save mine in the refrigerator to take it to school the next day, while she used to devour hers immediately and finish mine as well without my knowledge, leaving the cover intact in the fridge. Sometimes she would beat me up when we fought and fearing of the punishment that she would have to face, before I could react, she would start crying and the scenerio got portrayed reversely infront of the parents.

But I used to be overtly protective about her and kept a strict eye over her at school and anywhere else around the neighbourhood. I would usually help her face the schoolyard bully, do her homework and meet up with her teachers for any mischief or prank she would play at school. I would help her show the neighbourhood boys that girls can wrestle or ride the bicycle as well as any boy can. She helped me learn how to ride the bicycle holding it from behind and running along with me as I learnt to paddle and balance and I helped her recover the cycle when she hit an old lady on the street and ran back home scared, leaving the cycle there. When we were very little, ma used to walk us to school and fetch us back, but as we grew up, we both used to go and come back from school together. We would make greeting cards secretly during our study-time and sell them to our friends at school for pocket money to buy those dirty road-side chaat or ice-candies near our school, which we were not allowed. Of-course these intimate little secrets of ours were never revealed to anyone, not even to our parents... This, and our walks to the neighbourhood veterinary-centre every weekend to buy eggs, bonded us together and we got our first lessons in dealing with money, shop-keepers, purchase, profits and losses.

There were times when we both had our childhood crushes on the same 'heroes' and as we grew up, I provided 'wise counsel' during her first real crush and a subsequent comfort after a so called 'break-up'. We used to share everything.... from our first love-letters to the day-to-day happenings of our school days, year after year and the time I first joinned college, she had a fair idea of what college life was all about with all its intricate details. I tried to provide the best tips when she applied her first make-up and played an expert consultant for her first sports-bra. Now maybe I'll be playing the main designer for her wedding trousseaus. She on the other hand, is the expert counsellor I would turn to whenever I needed an opinion more sane, matured and wiser than my own. And we would both give-and-take, go hand-in-hand and see each other through in most of our growing up period.

Of-course the picture was not always rosy and there were fights... those dreadfully bitter cat-and-dog fights we had in the middle of the night over the switching 'on' or 'off' of the light, or over whose turn it was to make the bed, or over who had worn whose clothes how many times.. These fights sometimes got so bad that our parents had to wake up and intervene in the middle of the night or they would get so worse that we would not talk to each other for days. We would fight for so many silly things that I can't even imagine now why we did. But when you share the same room, the same bed, the same study-table, the same bathroom and so many other things, how long can you not speak to each other? Then we used to patch up and start talking as long-lost friends, only to pick up yet another fight for some other silly reason. But no matter how much we fought or said hateable things to each other, we would stand by each other and do everything in our possibilities to protect each other from any external person or a difficult situation. We would see each other through our good-days, not-so-good-days and those bad-hair-days.

With time, we separated and started living in different places far away from each other due to our educational and career requirements. But we still keep abreast of the latest everyday happenings in each of our lives through calls, texts and visits. While we may not live under the same roof any more, act in the same manner or even get along without an occasional spat when I go home for a vacation, but I also can't think of nothing else which creates a more wild, wacky, poignant, special and lasting bond than our sisterhood.

Yes, she is my little sister who is all grown up now... my friend, my confidante and the life-saviour who helped me buoy through some of the toughest times of my life....

CODENAME : JEANS 13

I had met her some five years back in my previous organisation through a common friend and we clicked from the moment we had met. She too was from my native place and her birthday was just a couple of days before mine. Being of the same age and star-sign, we had lots of things common in our natures and in our likes and dislikes. And we used to hang around together most of the times, especially to all our nocturnal parties after work, our three common guy-friends in tow.

She was just like me--impulsive, headstrong and very bluntly to the point. She feeded my number on her mobile as 'MY ASSAMESE FRIEND' and I feeded hers as 'JEANS 13', though I strongly believe now that feeding her name as 'XENA-The Warrior Princess' would have been more appropriate, her real name being JEENA.

She's a totally BINDAAS person and literally a human-rash of a friend to me, who wants to keep abreast of every latest thing happening in my life. She would need every painstaking detail about every single one of my boyfriends or dates--where we went, what we ate, what we talked about, how many times he blinked, EVERYTHING! (But I don't mind it, because it's sometimes nice to share these kind of stuff with your close friends and have them involved in your life's happenings.) After I'm done choking out every grudging detail, she'll proceed to tell me what I said right, what I did wrong, what she thought I should have done and what I must absolutely do the next time. Most of the times there would be grains of truth and genuine concern in what she says. But sometimes when I'm not feeling my polite self, I would go, "Sod off B**CH, Puhleeez. That's a load of crap" and hang up. Of course she is more likely to return me the favour twice as much at every possible opportunity after that. Very seldom but there are times when she asks for my advice but more often than not, she would tell me the gory details of her ventures. But if I don't completely agree with what she's saying or tell her like I truely feel like it is, she would absolutely lose her cool and she'll go on a rant about how wrong I am and that I don't know anything and that I'm always trying to take someone else's side. She sometimes even goes to the extent of accusing me of being judgemental or being jealous of her. But most of the times I take it in a good spirit.

Incidentally, such an incident happened just a few months back before our birthdays. She was very annoyed at a certain situation, and when I tried to show her the picture as it seemed to me, she could not take it and slammed the phone down on me. Next morning she sms-ed but somehow things got very ugly and obviously, I couldn't stop myself from adding some of my own venom. We had a bitter cat-fight through sms-s as I was about to sit for an examination and we ended up showing each other our bitchi-est sides. My relationship with her suddenly seemed to be a real chore if I had to mind what I am saying to her, all because of her fragile ego and her incredible self-absorbance and annoying sensitivity. So we stopped talking to each other. We did not even call each other up on our birthdays, we were both so mad at each other then. Her birthday comes first, so I wished her through an e-card. She did exactly the same thing. This got me more annoyed because she did not even come up with anything original. She was still copying my act. Then nobody said anything and we both went to a deep freezing zone.

This Diwali, she made the first move. By then, I was missing her-- being with her and sharing our spicy life-stories, and I tried to figure out why we had gone to such a bitter extent with such a simple difference of opinion. On the eve of Diwali however, she wished me through an sms to which I replied back on a light note which I'm sure must have brought a smile on her face (or atleast that was what I intended). I sms-ed trying to initiate conversations and how to broach the topic and also prepared myself for a brush-off. But with re-inforced positive feelings that I still had about our friendship, she must have found it difficult to resist my overtures. Neither of us apologised or said sorry till we met last weekend, but I did encourage her to mouth the string of her favourite abuses to me when we first spoke over the phone and returned the favour with pleasure.

Thus, the good cheer thawed the differences that had cropped up between the two of us, and it seemed like the festive time was the best time to get my buddy back in my life again...

AN UNFINISHED LOVE-STORY...

Living in the city where she lived, far away from home was a way to get away from the pressure of a forced marriage. She had always dreamt that if she were to get married ever, it would always be for love and not for security. She had always dreamt of her knight in shining armour who would sweep her off her feet and the wimps who proposed to her didn’t hold a candle to the image of her Prince Charming. However, life had other plans in store and had been cruel to her again and again. And she was under the impression that her Prince Charming would always remain a dream. She thought she would never find even the least interesting person in the place where she actually did, coz life is truly unpredictable. She realised that her Prince Charming truly did exist in flesh and blood but were never to be hers for keeps.

She still remembered the day when she first set her eyes on him. It had been almost two years after she had broken off with her ex, when she had seen him first. He was quite tall, a thing she found a must in guys. And he was with one of the other guys she knew. From that second onwards life became very interesting for her. Days passed where she would just wait for one glimpse of him or an action from his end, just an acknowledgement that she existed. However, it never came. He hardly took any notice of her. She had become used to the ignorance since by then, all the interesting guys being 'already taken' was a part of life for her. She would see him talk to many other girls, but never to her. She was totally bewildered. What is it in her that a person (read 'he') does not even like the sight of? Then one fine day, he suddenly vanished.

Days went by and turned into months, maybe even years and she became used to the idea that 'he' was another dream which was never meant to be. And then one fine day, just like he had vanished, he returned again to the same ground. It was like a revival of an old forgotten dream... a deja-vu. And they stared talking to each other. On one hand it was great getting this guy for full view all the time, but that he didn’t like her or showed any interest, was another matter. Even during their interactive sessions, they hardly talked about anything except for general topics of life.. all they would ever talk about was the strange philosophies of life, while all the other women had no hassles expressing their likeness for him. He would tell her about his past relationships or about some other woman who he liked, who she knew wasn't even worth him. She couldn’t express her feelings, maybe because she was old fashioned and believed that the man should be the one to come forward or do the chasing, instead of the woman doing the same. She didn't know how she managed to listen to all that gory details of his past relationships or his new-found interests without breaking down, coz she realised then that she had competition and he would never be hers. Most of the time she would be on the verge of crying. Here she had met her dream guy and he could not even see how much she loved him and wanted him. She was constantly crying to god why this had happened... why she had fallen for the 'wrong guy' AGAIN. But she never did keep her hopes high for fear of getting dashed.

One day, late in the night, she received a call from him and for the first time they were actually talking more like friends. She was not her usual self yapping constantly about topics she would never remember later as she had downed a couple of drinks that evening. All she could remember was his voice... a voice to die for, deep and authoritative, asking her if she wanted to take a drive in the middle of the night. She agreed, but the drive never happened. Instead they decided to have some wine, sitting in her balcony, talking about relationships late into the night. She felt God had answered her prayers. There was no looking back after that. He asked her to sit on his lap and she asked him to pinch her so as to make her feel it was happening for real and she wasn't dreaming. Suddenly the need for words were gone... Her Knight in Shining Armour lifted her petite body in his strong arms and loved her in the most passionate way... like a caveman... raw, wild and unsatiable... She had never experienced such joy before. But there were no words of love... no promises... no committments and no future plans... And then he left.

After he left, she broke down unconsolably. She felt used. She felt her emotions were (mis)taken for sexual attraction and that was what was given to her. She couldn’t express her emotions to anyone. She never discussed her feelings. And she felt he was drawn further away from her after then....

HAPPY DIWALI everyone!!

A wish to all, that the bright lights of DIWALI abound every moment of your lives with HAPPINESS, JOY, WARMTH, PEACE, LOVE and WELLBEING. HAPPY DIWALI!!

A very HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my BEST-est Friend !!

I had heard of HER much before I had actually seen or met her, and when I saw her for the first time, SHE exactly fitted into the picture I had of her in my mind. She was one of the 'three musketeers' of the PATHFINDER process of our organisation in the pilot phase when it had just come in, way back in February 2003. Monica-the girl with the most voluptious figure that I've had ever seen, was the proud owner of a scooty and she was more than happy to accomodate Radha-the cute, tiny one and 'OUR GIRL'-the tall, slender one with a beautiful oriental face, and nice straight long hair. SHE was one of the most elegant girls in the whole process.

WE had never interacted so much with each other till about the first six months or more of my being in the organisation, as 'we' were both in different teams and had never been formally introduced to each other. But we did exchange 'hello's and smiles when sometimes my ex-BF (who used to work in the same organisation) talked to her for a super-short duration during our tea-breaks or dinner-breaks. They had both joinned the organisation at almost the same time and I had joinned in a batch later. During those short-stop hellos, one thing that I always noticed about THIS GIRL was her bright, genuine smile that came in straight from her heart, lighting up her face, shining right through her 'spectacled' small twinkling eyes.... a smile that was so contagious, it could lift up any damned soul... and I often wondered if she ever had any problems in her life, or for that matter, if she ever took life seriously at all. I would imagine that she might have been the only child of very rich parents, never having to think twice about anything she wanted in life. Otherwise, how else can anyone be so happy all the time?! Sometimes, when I'd be brooding, complaining, sulking or engaged in an argument with my BF in the office and she happened to pass by us, he would ask me teasingly why I could not be like HER... so simple, ever smiling, no complaints or worries in life whatsoever! to which I would think, believe and curtly reply, "Maybe she doesn't have a boyfriend... like you!"

Time passed by and after about six-months in 'Pathfinder', I was put into a new process- WTS SELECT in the pilot batch, with another 20 odd colleagues, all thrown in from different teams of PF. And after a few more weeks, some more people came in to join us in WTS, 'our girl' included. Those days, I never used to interact much with any of my colleagues in the new process, as we had all come in from different teams and did not know each other much. I preferred to stick around with the BF in all my breaks. But slowly with time, I started bonding well with two girls in the team (Priya and Kalpana) and 'she' too developed a strong friendship with one of the other girls (Divya), who had been her batchmate from their initial days in Pathfinder.With some more time, we had a change of team-leaders, seating arrangements and our friends too. The BF changed his job and left the organisation, shifting base to another city. Both of my two fast-friends got married one after the other and seemed to bond better sans me, with their 'post-marriage' conversations. HER friend too got married and left the country. And destiny made 'both of us' sit next to each other at adjacent work-stations and have our lunch and dinner breaks together. In day to day casual conversations between our work, we discovered our common interests in books, fashion, cosmetics and some other philosohies in life and slowly we started taking all our breaks together at office. We even started meeting up on weekends for shopping and then started staying back at each other's places overnight, depending on which markets we were covering that weekend. I don't exactly remember when or how, but we 'clicked'. And from that time onwards, started a journey of our friendship that was never to end... and we became almost inseperable.

Beneath her ever-smiling face, I discovered her serious side. She was not at all the frivolous girl that I had imagined her to be. Although she was a few months younger to me in age, she was wiser and more matured. I would often turn to her for advice as I had full trust in all her decisions. I realised that she too have had her share of difficulties in life, that too at a very tender age, which had helped her be the person that she is today. Unlike her looks, she was very strong from within, and she was the ONE PERSON who stood by me in the darkest period of my life, helping me nurse a broken heart and recover faster than I would have otherwise had. She was the one person who you could trust to be at her coolest even at the most crucial of situations, and I grew habituated to her calming me down with her wise soothing words whenever I was stuck up in any kind of mess. She would tell me how she had once been of an impulsive headstrong nature and would react to situations just like ME (I was infamous for my hot-headedness). But with time and experience, she had learnt to deal with situations better in a calmer manner without losing her head over it. THIS GIRL with the wisdom of the sages also had the simplicity, straightforwardness and innocence of a child. She had the dreams of a little girl, no different than those of yours or mine. She loved to be pampered and spoilt and could be quite a brat at times. But you could never hate her for that. Infact, you could never hate her for anything at all. She is wise, smart, tactful, honest, polite and innocent all at the same time and can easily get away calling a spade A SPADE, sealed with her sweetest smile.

Somewhere down the line, we discovered that my mother-tongue (assamese) and her native-dialect (nagamese) were quite similar to each other. So, we would often communicate in either assamese or nagamese, especially in cases when we would want to close in from the rest of the world. I remember the many occasions when she would show her freakier side... We would sit at the 'smoking-zone' of our office building for hours, ME being the active-smoker and SHE being the passive one... scrutinising, commenting and forming an opinion on every passing being, thereby. We would gossip, bitch, discuss and practically 'live' in the smoking-zone area, especially on those sunny winter afternoons, as there was not much work in the process, leaving us with ample idle time. But once in a while, SHE would really get annoyed about every smoker's cigarette-smoke passing in right through her sparkling-clean fragrant hair, making it smell of cigarettes, which she would happily forget in even less than a minute's time, if you knew how to indulge her in one of her favourite topics of conversation... it was just THAT SIMPLE. (...and no prizes for guessing WHO had developed the expertise in that kind of creative conversations). We would 'share' both our lunches and dinners at the office cafeteria, shelling out only ONE single coupon for each meal between the two of us. This 'sharing of meals' is NOT ALLOWED, but we would still do it on the sly, justifying the case for the little amount of food we would both eat combined. It was too rib-tickling funny to watch her bargain with a sarojini-nagar-market (one of our favourite street-shopping-haunts) shop-hawker or with an auto-rickshaw driver. She has an even crazier hold in HINDI, much worse than that of mine, and I am actually better off to recognise and correct the mistakes in her hindi-grammar and accent. Another thing which made her absolutely lose her cool was when her credit-card-company people called her up, addressing her with a MR. before her name. If present at the scene, you could actually see those flames and fumes coming out of her red-ears and that little shiny nose. She always dressed on her own terms, as she did everything else. Once, we were asked to follow a tri-color ethnic dress-code theme to the work-place on some special-occasion day. Any guesses what she might have turned up in? What else than her 'maroon' codroy-pants and an equally contrast shirt?! But one thing about her dressing is that no matter what she wore, she could carry it off with an absolute grace, being the hard-core libran that she is...

She is the ONE GIRL I know, who is utterly stylish and has a great sense of fashion... and nothing fascinates her more than shopping, and reading fashion magazines... and/or the combination of both. She can actually go on shopping till she zeros her bank balance and then start on with her credit-cards one after the other or finally drops down dead out of tiredness. Before that, she wouldn't just stop. On so many instances of our shopping together, I literally have had to drag her away from buying something horrendously expensive which I knew she wouldn't even bother wearing once, after it reaches home. There were so many times when we would go shopping and come back dead-tired, only to glug down bottles of chilled-beer and just talk silly, covering everything from job-dissatisfaction, work-politics, ex-bfs, failed relationships, future plans, more shopping plans and everything else under the sun... oops! under the moon, actually... We would not know when in the midst of those senseless conversations (which made the most sense to both of us then), we would both fall asleep next to each other, with tear-filled eyes and beer-filled guts...

On the bullier side, you would want to think twice before taking her too lightly, by the looks of her lean, fragile frame. She was once being bullied by the two (well-built) sisters who shared a room next to hers in the same building. She took it all silently for over two months, and the day she left that place to move into a new place, well! ASK THOSE SISTERS !!

In due course of time, our process WTS went back and we were both sent to different processes, with obvious changes in our weekly offs and shift-timings. But we still managed to keep in constant touch and would visit each other at every possible opportunity, keeping alive our age-old tradition of shopping, beer-glugging, pork/pizza treats and more importantly, exchanging our latest novels, girlie-gossips and beauty-tips.

We have never ever been pretentious with each other. With us, what you see is what you get. We both know each other in and out and have accepted each other inspite of our individual faults and short-comings. Its not that we always think alike and never have differences. We do. But we have never had any of our differences come in the way of our friendship. I shamelessly invite myself to her place for those innumerable treats of naga-style pork-curry-rice and the ad-on side dishes which I relish so much, and she would watch me hog those sinful mouth-watering, fat-filled, calorie-filled pork dishes, reminding me of my modelling-diet-regime. On her part, she would shamelessly remind me every year, of her (upcoming) birthday long before its even due, dropping obvious hints at the much awaited 'gift' that would bring an instant sparkle to those already twinkling eyes...

Well, this friend of mine-WATINARO AIER (NARO-as everyone lovingly calls her) would be leaving for her hometown (nagaland) for good, in a couple of weeks from now and as she was going through her 'full and final' formalities on her last day in the organisation, I couldn't help but think over our 'past' times together in the organisation and how we had become such good friends in due course of time. I somehow felt very lost and alone (as if a part of me was going to be lost forever), as we spent the day reliving most of our break-times in the old 'smoking-zone-area' and at the cafeteria 'illegally' sharing our last meal at the office, together...

TODAY is special because its her BIRTHDAY. And on this day, if I were to make a wish, it would surely be to continue being HER FRIEND all throughout OUR lives and getting HER as my friend in all the future lives, if WE were to be born again. This write-up is not an adieu-note but only a 'thank-you' to YOU my friend, for being the best-est person I have ever had as a friend and just to let you know that I'll miss you a lot when you'd be gone.

Many happy returns of the day, girl!

OH, WHAT A WEEKEND !

What do you do when you reach a saturation point? When everything happening to you or around you fails to interest you anymore? When you feel you just can't take in anymore of the daily routine? You are mentally tired... so much that your brain has finally stopped taking sane decisions...You are bored of everything- the same work... the same faces... and you don't enjoy living any more... Then, maybe this is a good hint that you badly need a vacation. Maybe this is the time you need to pick up a few essentials in your duffel bag and just GO...

That's what happened to me. After great restlessness and sleeplessness on Thursday night and Friday, I finally decided that I HAD TO take off for somewhere to spend the weekend in total solitude, away from the mad-rush of the city. A quick net-surf strongly hinted that no other place could be better than RISHIKESH--not so far off and just an ideal getaway for the weekend, a land which promised ultimate peace and nirvana...

The travel-guides said that it would take around 51/2 hours by road, so I took a rough estimate of around 7 hours, taking a buffer-time of 1 and a 1/2 hours, considering the flexibilty of Indian Standard Time. I stayed awake on Friday night, packing (I had a very light luggage this time for a change), chatting up on the phone and watching TV, as I feared that if I fall asleep no alarm clock would be able to wake me up on time. I showered, got ready, said a little prayer and waited for the dawn to break. Finally, I caught an auto to the ISBT bus terminal and boarded a bus for Rishikesh at around 6am. As the bus took off, I fell into a deep sleep covering up my loss of the last two-nights sleep, waking up only at a couple of intervals when the bus halted for short breaks. Finally, we were at Rishikesh a little after 12 noon.

I took a share-based auto-rickshaw to 'Laxman Jhula', as I had read that this was a more 'happening' part of the town for weekenders not wanting just a totally 'spiritual-break'. After paying the fare of Rs.8 (mind you, that's the maximum fare within the farthest ends of the town), I noticed a 'Rooms are available' board in one of the guest-houses, very near to the main-market area of Laxman Jhula. I checked in to one of the basic but clean rooms which costed me a measly Rs.150 till 12 noon of the next day, which was the strict check-out time. After freshening up, I set out to see around the place. I walked down towards the Laxman-Jhula--a point where Lord Ram's brother Laxman is believed to have crossed the river Ganga on a jute rope, but today, it is just another suspension bridge with devotees on foot, motorbikes and scooters affording an easier crossing. On the way to the 'jhula' at the northern end, the area is quite noisy with hawkers vieing with each other, attracting customers to their individual stalls. You can find anything from religious goods (like religious books, comics, audio-cassettes, incense and sandalwood sticks and small deity-idols, etc), imitation jewellery(including mangal-sutras, rudraksh and other stone malas,etc), clothing (kulu-topis, nehru-jackets, kurtas, salwar-kameezes, etc), fruits, eatables and even small packets of sugar-dough-balls (to feed the fish) and packs of dry-chickpeas(to feed the monkeys, while crossing the 'jhula'. In those narrow lanes, I bought a few packs of the fish and the monkey feed, and a few packets of 'prasaad' to be offered to the Gods. Just on crossing the Laxman-Jhula, there are two-colourful 13-storey temples--'Swarg Niwas' on the right and 'Shri Tryambakeshwar' on the left. And an ancient 'Hanuman Temple' in between the two. There were several other temples all around in a row, but after visiting these three, I felt the need to put an end to any more temple-visits, and discover more of the place, instead. I crossed back the 'jhula' to reach the starting-point and walked down to the clean sandy beach lining the river. Sitting there by the beach, I dwelved into the cacophony of the temple-bells-chimes, the faint strains of classical music from the nearby stalls and of the noises of the people around, mixed with a heady smell of the fresh river-water and the incense-sticks from the nearby stalls and temples. Sitting on the banks for sometime, watching the peaceful 'Ganga' flow her way down slowly but steadily, I walked up to the 'German Bakery Cafe' just a few steps away, for a quick snack and some tea. The view from there was even better, and still better than that was the amazingly tasty eats the cafe provided at such moderate prices.

Rishikesh is strictly vegetarian and you cannot carry or expect to find any non-veg or alcohol in the whole town, but being a strict vegan on saturdays, it suited me fine. Due to the constant rush of foreign-tourists, the restaurateurs have learnt to be innovative with their dishes. I ordered for a glass of 'ayurvedic-tea' with honey, alongwith a delicious grilled 'vegetable' sandwich filled heartily with their universally acclaimed homemade goat-cheese.

Once satisfied with my meal, I started off for the 'Ram Jhula' again on a shared-based auto, which costed me Rs. 3 this time. On getting down there near the 'jhula', I took a longer route, walking my way through the closely-strewn huts and ashrams and reached the impressive 'Ram-Jhula', swaying a little with the strong wind above the swirling Ganga. It was a very 'moving' experience to just stand in the centre of this 'jhula', feeding the dough-balls to the fishes in the river below. The 'Ram-Jhula' connects 'Shivanand Ashram' on the east bank with 'Swargashram' on the west. I kept walking further on after crossing the 'jhula' and reached a narrow-lane full of stalls very similar to those near the 'Laxman Jhula' area. Here, I spent some time picking up small Ganesh-ji idols, Shivlings, sandalwood pieces, dried amla and ginger packs and a few fruits that I had never seen before. As I moved my way ahead, I came across a place called the 'Parmaarth Niketan'-an ashram trust, which organises 'Gangaji-ki-arti' every evening around sunset, hymns sung in unison by adolescent sanskrit students, dressed in saffron-coloured robes. I walked in following the sweet musical hymn and just within a few minutes the place was swarming with devotees-both Indian and foreigners. The group of students were seated at the stairs of the ashram, overlooking the huge image of Lord Shiva in spotless white marble, seated in padmasan in a deep meditation poise, right in the middle of the flowing Ganga, the deep orange sun setting behind Him. Just on the banks was a 'yagya' (an oblation) going on and the melodious sanskrit hymns by the students and the devotees, singing and swaying in unison to the prayer, made it an experience of the most beautiful form of (mass) prayer I had ever witnessed. This 'aarti' lasted for around 2 1/2 hours, after which most of the devotees offered beautiful flowers, incense-sticks and lighted-diyas in leaf-caskets to the river Ganga as their offerings to Her. Those few hours at the 'Parmaarth Niketan' ganga-aarti brought such peace and tranquility to my mind that I felt 'purified' right upto my soul. My mind was totally blank and at peace, an absolute high without the influence of even a single bit of nicotine. At the end of the 'aarti' and the offerings to the Ganges, a few lighted diyas in stands were passed around and most of the devotees took the warmth of these lighted lamps as a form of the God's blessings.

After the 'aarti' most of the devotees were found rushing to the 'Chotiwala' restaurant at the eastern end, to grab some dinner. Here they serve both north and south indian and also chinese food, but their 'thali' is the most famous of all. By the time I reached 'Chotiwala', both the restaurants (run by the two brothers) were full and had a long queue of customers in waiting. And as all the nearby food-stalls selling 'indian' food were also occupied, I found the 'Green Italian Food' restaurant near 'Swargashram', fairly vacant and quickly grabbed a seat. I was a little doubtful of the kind of 'italian-food' they'd come up with, looking at the so-affordable price menu, but the delicious spinach-cheese lasagna along with the huge slice of tiramisu which left my taste-buds craving for more even after I was full to the brim, at just Rs.125, could have put any great Italian restaurants in Delhi to shame both cost-wise and taste-wise.

After dinner, I hopped into a shared-autorickshaw again back to my hotel-room and as the rickshaw driver dropped me right infront of the hotel, instead of the usual auto-stand nearby in the market, he shyly asked me for 10 bucks for the 'special' service and applicable night-fare-cahrges. I got back to my room and fell into a deep slumber, quite early to my normal sleep-time standards. The night was cold as it had rained, and the blanket provided by the hotel was put to full use.

I was woken up at around 6am on the 'divine' sunday morning, to the chaos of the vibrant Rishikesh atmosphere--the constant chime of the temple bells, the smell of incense-induced air and the rays of the lazy sun creeping in through the hotel-room windows, the faint hymns of the Gayatri-mantra and other religious slokas, foreigners walking down the road in saffron 'hare rama-hare krishna' kurtas, everything was utterly purifying and woke me up fresh after a good night's sleep. I took a shower and went down to the bathing ghats of the Laxman-jhula, only to find the 'sandhus' bathing in the river and the prayer-flags fluttering on the river-banks. As it was not a very pleasant view, I trekked a few kilometres uphill on the straight road and in through the lanes and was amazed to feel so much at peace and one with nature even in the midst of a town bustling with people. I walked back to my hotel room and checked out at about 12 noon and went down to the 'German-Bakery' Cafe for a lazy sunday brunch. I occupied my favourite seat overlooking the 'laxman-jhula' with its temples and the bathing ghats, and as I was basking in the view, enjoying my delicious brunch, I was joinned in by a gentleman in his late 40s-David, from NY city-a professor in religious teachings, who is a follower of Swami Paramahansa, and he visits India every year with his troops of 'firang-students'. As we shared a few general whereabouts over our brunch at the same table in the cafe, David gave me an overall idea of the 'Glasshouse on the Ganges' where he and his troop had put up. Though he said it is a little expensive, but the huge volume discounts that they get due to their regular visits, it works out to be pretty reasonable for them. This place is a heritage property from the 'Neemrana' stable, set in a lychee orchard, with tropical gardens full of rare birds and butterflies, on the Rishikesh-Badrinath road. From David's naration, it seemed to be a totally different world secluded from the main Rishikesh town and I promised myself to visit it the next time I landed up there again. In the midst of our conversation, we were joined in by an Italian lady and an Englishman and our conversation got rather varied yet interesting, exchanging meditation-techniques, places to visit in India, local food, weather and the approaching festival-of-lights.

At around 2 pm, I bade farewell to my new-found friends and came down to the 'Triveni-ghats' at Rishikesh, very near to the bus-terminal from where I was to board a bus back. It is believed that if you took a dip in the Ganga at this ghat, it purifies you in and out as the waters here have soul-purifying powers. There were proper changing facilities after you took a dip and it was a really great feeling to let the chilly flowing waters of the Ganga, wash you clean under the hot afternoon sun.

I sat there on the banks for some more time after the 'holy' dip and change, and then took a bus which brought me back to the city where I live... back to my routine life, but with a fresh mind, a relaxed body, a clean soul and a weekend of pure 'Nirvana'...

RANDOM FEELINGS...!!!

Sometimes its a strange relationship very difficult to have a name for or to describe it.. You may just talk to 'someone' with whom you have nothing in common, just sit along with that person and still feel so secure and fascinated by his/her presence... as if you have known that person forever... Thats the ultimate test of a relationship... to be in the mystery yet feel that you belong... to disagree but still hold hands... to not say anything but still know you are loved...

KINGFISHER STRONG....

The effect that 'strong beer' has on my thought-process, is truely amazing. It brings such strange thoughts and feelings that take over my sensibility that it really surprises me. Like yesterday night, when I was struggling hard to catch on some sleep, my tired eyes heavy with hours of television-watching and two bottles of strong beer were shut and ready, but my mind just wouldn't allow me to sleep. It was super-active and set working faster than usual along with my heart.. I could almost hear the ticking of their work-pace...

Out of the blue, I remembered some people and started missing them... people who used to be my very good friends at one point of time, but who I have lost touch with or chose out of my life because of some difference or the other... people who have wronged me... people who I mis-understood... people who have just been out of touch all these years... people who couldn't take in an honest feedback about themselves... people who had fallen in love with me but I didn't... people who I had been in love with, but could never tell them... people who had been there for the moment without any benefit or harm and just vanished out of my life's chapter... people who I just couldn't fit into my life any longer... people who meant so much at one point of time that I thought I couldn't just live without them but I'm still living... people who I had lost to time, space or death... people who meant so much... people who meant so little... and people who made no difference at all... people who I lost and found and lost again... people who taught me to live... people who gave me pain... people who showed me how to laugh and be happy... people who taught me some simple pleasures and truths of life... people who I have fought with like a bitch... people I have played with as a child... people who played a great role in moulding me into the person I am today... people who were just being their own...

Suddenly I felt all alone and wanted to reach out to all of them with a heartful of love and arms full of hugs. I felt that if I died in my sleep, I would never ever be able to tell them that its alright... maybe I was wrong at times too... that, I would want to say 'sorry' for any wrong I have done or said or if I hurt them without knowing... that, it would be so much more beautiful to be friends again rather than being enemies or to have negative vibes with each other...

... and in the midst of such heavy thinking, the 'beer' took over and put me into a deep dreamless sleep....

CHECK THIS OUT....

Recently got this from a friend of mine and its so good that I just cudn't resist putting it up here

FEMALE POEM
I want a man who's handsome, smart and strong
One who loves to listen long
One who thinks before he speaks
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I want him gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, he's not annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
I want this man to love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.

MALE POEM
I want a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with a good figure
who owns a liquor store and a flashy car.
I know this doesn't rhyme but I don't give a shit.