Beginning and End and Everything in the Middle

This year is full of lasts. Last Durga Puja before my marriage, last birthday before marriage, last Diwali. Last visit to Delhi before my wedding. Tonight, on the eve of my departure, I am all the more imprinting the hugs and sights and sounds of my house.

Next year will be the firsts. First Durga Puja, first birthday, first Diwali, first anniversary. I'll have to carve out the traditions of my family. Taking flavors from my parents life, I will add to my own life's curry.

I wish changes would be more gradual. Let's see how. :D

Initially, you start wearing, say, just the wedding bangles. Then after some months, you begin wearing sindoor. You get used to that, so you graduate to spending some hours everyday with you husband. Then, you call his parents Mummy-Daddy-part2. Once you get the hang of two sets of parents, you gradually include all his relatives, one by one. Meanwhile, you teach your husband to call your relatives in the right way.

So, after a year, you are set with all that. Now, you begin, maybe cooking for him, one meal at a time. First, dabble with only the salad, then, prepare rice, then cook one sabji. Then, after a few months, prepare a full meal, just for him. Slowly, introduce your cooking to his family members, one-by-one. This way, you have to fulfill only one persons expectation at a time. Later, you prepare meal for all the members, when you are comfortable and the muhurt is right.

By now, start putting your husbands name in next-to-kin. Write marital status-married. Go slow and easy, one form at a time. No hurry, no stress. Maybe, by now, you have learned how to look like a coy bride, all shy and sweet.

Then, slowly, you start coordinating your office timings, so that you can leave and return together. Yo are still living in you father's house, mind you! Weeks later, you begin buying some small groceries together. Don't frighten you husband by buying a months supplies in one go. After groceries, start buying gifts for you friends birthdays, Diwali etc. Chalk out your common friends, common fave aunts and uncles and cousins. Begin making rudimentary budgets.

By now, you are comfy yelling and arguing, once in a while. You also know that you can disagree occasionally. You know each others likes and dislikes. You know what bugs you about him. You know what bothers him.

Now you can perhaps call yourself Mrs So-n-So. Find an attractive signature carrying your husbands surname. Send some mails and sign your new name.

Now, you are all set! After all this, you can live with him.

See, how easy life would be, if only we were given time to get used to being a couple. Just some mantras and one grand puja to turn your life 180 degree is too abrupt, dont you think?

Prattle of a Fluttering Heart

This evening is my second last evening in Delhi before I embark on yet another journey. Not to a new place neither to a new organization. I am re-joining Infosys, Mysore, the very place I left two years back. In another five months I will marry someone who has been my friend for the last four years. Just like the realization I had that Infosys is a great company, the realization that Tapa, my fiancé is such an integral part of my life has been very recent. A 360 degree turn, don't you think :)

I am full of mixed feelings now. On one hand I am about to start afresh in a new role both professionally and personally. On the other hand my old life calls me back, reluctant to give up the old order. Although I know that the changes will bring forth joys which I have not experienced yet the old order reminds me that it has nurtured me till date.

I will lose so many permanent fixtures of my life. My current location, job description, organization, marital status, permanent address, next to kin, surname. And the subtle, unseen losses. No longer will I just be just a daughter, sister, friend. I will also be someones wife, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, perhaps a mother too someday.So my entire behavior pattern will alter as well. New responsibilities, expectations, adjustments... words I heard but never implemented.

On Saturday when I leave Delhi, it will be with full awareness that the next time I put my foot on the threshold of this house, where I spent my girlhood, it will be to leave this house permanently.

Will the people around me remember me as a little girl that I was? Will these walls remember the tiny hands which scribbled on them, the voice which filled the rooms with its merry chatter? Will I always remain the daughter of this family, forever?

It fills me with a feeling I can't quite name. Have I really grown up?

Karnataka Express-Delhi to Bangalore

A lot of Delhiites dont believe me when i say that I love Bangalore. But the fact is, I do! I feel that I belong in that South Indian city more than I do in the city where I was born. Delhi has a psuedo-cosmopolitan atmosphere. Which means that although a Punjabi may rub shoulders with Mizo while entering his office, he still looks at the Mizo as if he is an alien. A Bengali may have lived in Delhi since he was born, he still continues to hear "Machhi khaataa Bangali", albeit in a more sophisticated tone now.

What I find all the more difficult to adjust is the fake bhakti people seem to have in abundance here. Late night jagran, fasting and what have you. Yet its just to bribe God to shower them with money (Delhiites will get money, by hook or by crook). They may hate their Muslim neighbors yet think they are Oh So Pious! They confuse astrology with dharma. Just to hear their Shani and Rahu ki antardasha. I forgot to mention Vashikaran, Its crazy thing which Delhiites are obsessed about.

N there is this strange notion of how girls should behave, what they can say in front of men, what is right and what is wrong.

I feel more at home in Bangalore may be because I dont know kannada well enough to understand their own version of pseudo-equality. But I am sure that people there are more genuine than they are in Delhi.

I am glad I am moving back to Karnataka soon. I miss Bangalore very much.

Dream

Silver strands on crystal air. My dreams of molten gold. The caress of a feather. Fury of a volcano with the gentleness of a mother.

My dreams which can translate the mundane into spectacular. Like a plain bread sprinkled with glittering sparkles. Ruby rose petals in bathwater. An ancient sculpture found while digging a foundation of a house.

Dreams and ambition. Furious lava, splashing radiance, a blaze of spirit. Air, with capability to cause a mad tornado and the relief of the easterly breeze.

My dreams of silken threads, unwinding my way forward. Thrusting me ahead with the power of an internal combustion engine. The fuel? my imagination and my will. My courage feeding this insatiable thirst of driving ahead.

Dreams of phenomenal beauty. With the fluidity of a dancer, changing from one expression to the other. Each step filled with joy.

My dreams know no force. They cannot be captured. Like mercury, they slither away. The only way to catch them is by spreading a dusting of gold. That is when they are tamed, to be caught. The only thing which attracts them is the pure.

I know that dreams are intangible. Like the notes of music, they reverberate before dissolving into ether. Yet, I dream on. Blasting the barriers of time and space. My life support in my bleakest hours. My guide at times of crisis.

I dream therefore I will survive.

Tum, Main, Aur Do Cup Chai

Watching Wake Up Sid was like replaying my life. Three years compressed into three hours. And at the end, just like Aisha, I found my life, my soul, my best friend, comfort food, exasperating spoilt brat all wrapped up into one guy called Tapa.

And just like those last fifteen minutes of emotional moments in that movie, I realised that the only reason the world changed into rosy hues from its otherwise drab existence, was because you are besides me. The only difference was that I took over a year.

You were so anti-my-type. You smoke, talk incessantly, dont exercise. You even drink that impossible liquid called rum. I wanted a total focussed guy, ambitious, lean, athletic, professional. And I met so many of that type. But either they bored me or else I bored them. Just like that Editor in Chief and Aisha's case, I often found myself feeling like a big square on a room full of circles.

Yet, I tried to fit in. Futile attempts, I assure you. It was always a strain talking to them. Like I had to watch what I say or do. And that strain never ceased. Whereas with you....you were like a comfortable pair socks. Socks! some weird simile! But that is exactly how it was. Just like my eccentric, colourful socks, which fit my snuggly toes and keep me warm. Tapa, u know how crazy I am about socks, dont you. I keep pestering you to gift me some instead of those expensive perfume bottles which you end up giving.

Everything has a reason. And the reason I realized that which was staring at my face for the last three years was a comment by a stranger. Till now, all my blog posts seemed general, fantasy-like writing. But underneath my layer of sharp wits and bright smile and cleverly chosen words, I must have been describing you. Somewhere, somehow, that You was always you. When this stranger read my blog, he said simply, I hope you meet this 'You' and marry him. What you figured out three years ago was what I realized after meeting so many 'Mr Rights'.

I know that you know what I am saying. That the only reason shopping gave me so much joy was because you were there. The way Sid captured Aisha in those frames, you were the only one who found me beautiful every time, in all ways.

I am not afraid Tapa...... not any more......

Truth and Lies

Lies!

We lie to save ourselves from nasty situations. Some sort of a defense mechanism. To deny reality and to steal from someone the right to information. Lying starts from an early age. Although we are taught to tell the truth, somehow, lying is something we learn from birth. Like pulling back our hands from a hot object. Or running away when we sense danger. Maybe this is why so much emphasis is given to truth. Because to be truthful takes a lot of courage.

Some lies are small. Momentary bluff, they save us from those trivial troubles. And sometimes we lie to please others. We dont want to embarrass the other person or hurt them. So we just lie a little to comfort them as we go our way.

But have you noticed the times we lie to ourselves. For instance, when we do not succeed in something, we console ourselves, and others, by providing an excuse. An excuse based upon stretching the truth to accommodate our failure. The first time we give the excuse, we know in our hearts, that we are lying. As we continue telling the story, each time we get convinced a little more, until finally, the story becomes the reality. The story we had concocted is what we start believing in.

Speaking about myself, I have found that somehow truth does not work with me. Everytime I have mustered up courage to tell the bare truth, I have somehow landed up in trouble. Whereas, when I dress up the truth in a fine garb of lilting words and half lies, people believe me more. This idea seemed so absurd to be that for a long time, I continued experimenting with different sets of people, exposing them to stark naked truths. Believing that the great saints who spoke volumes on the importance of truth, I continued. I met with very strange reactions. Most people continued to disbelieve my version. When I switched to my sweet affected mode, people seemed to find me so right, so correct.

I honestly dont know why his happens. The only possible conclusion I could come up with was that people dont like reality. Because reality is stubborn, unyielding, unbending. It does not depend upon the version or the narrator. It knows no nuances. Whereas fantasy can be changed at our will. If we want to stretch truth, it can be stretched in any way we want. Fantasy is in our control, reality knows no master.

The Big, The Bad and The Best

You bully me! You bully me into writing my silly prattle into a blog post. Flattering me needlessly, you convince me to keep writing. And boy! Are you vain! Practically forcing me to write about you. Your absolutely stunning reasons, on just why you are the best topic for me to write on, make me laugh.

You are spoiled rotten. It's time someone scolded you and made you stand in the corner. Denied you the sweets which you so often prey upon. Saved all the millions of chickens which you plan to devour. Protected the weighing machine which groans every time you stand on it. I dont even want to know the sorry story of your chair.

It's high time someone put a giant-sized silencer to keep you from talking non-stop. You talk like there is no tomorrow. You talk so much, I have seen ears fall off people's head. There are better ways of advertising the effectiveness of Fevicol. And the worst part is, no one minds you talking. They even encourage you. Just how decadent is our current generation?!

Most importantly, I want you to know just how wonderful you are. As a person, as a friend, a man. A true gentleman. Someone who, despite him having a severe back pain, lifted my friend on his shoulders during her wedding. A man with the strength to face any challenge. A man worth loving and trusting.

All the best Tapa! Have a wonderful life ahead!!

Stranger I Never Met

Hello! Can you hear me?

I have heard you across a thousand miles, your voice swimming on the tides of air. And with that, came the many words, and emotions, and hopes.

I heard your intelligence. You charmed me with your wit and trivia. But I also heard a jarring pain. A wound which has not healed. An old sorrow which you try hard to hide. So, in your quest to shield yourself from greater pain, you have built this impenetrable cocoon. And through a tiny slit there, you watch the world. The vibrant and colorful world looks convoluted, twisted and narrow. Harmless words seem to be filled with jibes. Straight ideas look sinister.

I have not seen you, never met you but your voice echoes in my head. I wish I could help you escape those thick, prison-like walls which you have built around yourself. But I know you won't permit me.

We will remain strangers, you and I. Forever, you will remain a voice without a face. Yet, I hope you find the happiness you desire and deserve. The rest....That doesn't matter much.

A Letter to My Daughter

Dear Daughter,

I have not met you yet but I know you exist. Somewhere, in this universe, you laugh and sleep and spread your golden sunshine. I imagine you holding a lovely sparkler in your tiny fists, a garland of flowers around your neck. I wish I could hold you, talk to you, never let you go.

I suppose you and I will meet each other. And you will grow up, my little angel! You will see the best and the worst that the world has to offer you. Try as I might, I cannot shield you from all the pain. In those dark hours, remember that this sorrow is just a phase. I wish to give you freedom-- to choose, to think, to do what you want, in whichever way, to make mistakes. Yes! You read right, freedom to make mistakes, even colossal, unforgivable mistakes. For, no matter what everyone says, life is a series of choices and decisions; some right, some wrong. The thing that matters is that you take responsibility of whatever you choose. You may change your mind, abandon a project midway, make hasty choices, but be sure that you own your decisions.

You will encounter all sorts of people, good bad, men, women, and everything in between. Some will be your friends, some may not be. Most of us are essentially similar; we all want love and security and kindness. So much like those tiny puppies we see which miraculously dodge cars and trucks which are driven by men. Vehicles which can kill them. Yet, these puppies respond to the tiniest affection. A slight pat, a cookie, and they will lick your face and follow you all around. In a life full of hurry, dont forget to show kindness to people. Yet, there are people who deserve nothing noble. You must learn to identify such people and stay away from them. They rot everyone they touch.

We have emotions locked within us in hidden vaults. Unlock them. Don't be afraid to express them. Dont worry about what others think. People and machines are under no obligation to behave the way you want them to. That is no excuse to be bitter and complain.

Take care, my darling. Take good care of yourself. I am waiting for you.

Yours lovingly,

Mummy

Invitation to Dance

I am a woman, you are a man. Let's Dance!!

Dance like two people have never danced before. Dance as if no one is watching us. Feel the music and the rhythm in the bone, in your lungs and heart, down to every cell. Dance till you sweat out all your problems. Cast aside the cloaks and masks. Pour out your soul on the dance floor. Dance so that time stops to watch our fluid movements

Forget about the world which will always watch and criticize. Forget the disappointments which make your frown. Forget the hollow advice from brainless tongues.

My dearest, I wish I could tell you that to live you need not control every moment. That we may be imperfect, you and I, yet we can make a perfect Us. That differences need not mean conflict. Instead, they are just gaps which we fill when we embrace each other. Although the world is cruel it is also full of infinite possibilities. That happiness is our birthright. And the greatest thing we learn is to love and be loved.

Mistakes can be forgiven if the apology is heartfelt. That an honest fight is far better than a sullen grudge.

We both carry weights of our existences on our shoulders. But can you let go of the burden for some time while we dance in abandon? You don't have to justify the reason for being who you are, ever.

In this temporary world of make-belief, this merry music may stop anytime. Come, let us enjoy while it lasts.

Victims of Injustice

Recently, I watched a movie called Goodbye Children. It is based on true incidents during World War II. A French movie with its principal characters being two pre-teen boys in a boarding school, it speaks loudly of the persecution of innocent, in this case a Jewish boy.

Two scenes are poignant. One is when the Gustapo officer stands in front of Jean, looking at him hard. Without any words being exchanged, you can almost hear the whisper of 'Game is Up'. And another is when Quinten meets Jean for the last time. Jean is packing his suitcase as the officer waits to take him away. Jean assures Quinten that it's not his fault...."It was inevitable" he says.

Perhaps, it is inevitable. That the innocent is punished, always. That the people who suffer the most are the weak and defenceless. For what sin could an eleven year boy have committed to be taken to a concentration camp and be killed. The only fault was that he belonged to a group which was weak.
So when bombs blast in a busy marketplace, people who die are not armed. They are people like you and me, just a bit unfortunate to be caught in the wrong time and place.

For every wrong policy, the people who have paid the heaviest price are the ones who were least involved in the wrong decision. When millions perished in USSR because of Stalin's collectivisation, the policy makers continued to enjoy a life of luxury.

I dont know what motives drive people to kill one another. I only know that the victims have nothing to do with it. And that is so unfair!!

Happy New Year

Another new year, this time a new decade.

2010! I have big hopes with this 2010. Lots to do, lots to achieve.

What does my 2009 balance sheet look like?
a) I can teach a class of 60 odd, miserably disinterested kids...n I teach well.
b) learned how a television works
c) handled diverse guys...in varied stages of being-in-love-with-Anindita and sometimes not-in-love-with-Anindita-just-find-her-interesting syndrome.
d) almost got married.... stopped myself at the right time and saved myself.
e) began preparing for CAT. Took it...waiting for results.
f) lost some 2-3 kg wt. Not Baaahhhd!
g) didnt fall sick too many times.

Hmm... considering how hard destiny tried to depress me, I came out pretty fine, I say!

So, my resolutions:
a) lose weight
b) get a driving license and DRIVE....zip zap....
c) decide what I will do in life... stick to this profession or move to better, greener pastures?
d) decide whom I'll marry. This one is the trickiest.

These are.... tough... but achievable.

But, i am going to celebrate my life this year. Hell! I am 25.... I am not going to waste time moping around.

Here is Myself, wishing Myself...A very Happy New year! Yip! Yip! Hurray!!!