“Travelling is all about adventure”, someone said!
Those were my thoughts as I stared awe struck at the pine wood forest slowly engulfing the hills. It was quite mesmerizing as the clouds weaved a pattern around the pine and the cold wind stung my face. I rubbed my hands gleefully and sighed.
It was a crazy beginning. I had planned this outing for days. I was to kidnap my husband and take him on this surprise trip for his birthday. The plan was evolved with meticulous detailing including how we were to go, the things to be taken, packing, speaking with my husband’s boss for his leave of absence, the bookings everything. The car was already stocked up and by late evening, I gave an Oscar winning performance on waning to go for a drive to get ice creams. After a lot of cajoling my husband gave in and off we went. With fingers crossed and my seams bursting with keeping the secret we started the drive. After almost an hour with me looking out for the “right” ice cream parlor, I broke the news. I can never forget his face when I revealed the secret, I so wished I had a picture of that moment. The surprise , the disbelief, the happiness and the finally the excitement all flashed on his face.
We were off to a place called Rampur, in the hills of the Uttaranchal, north of New Delhi, India. After the excitement subsided and the overnight journey in the car, the first sight of the hills was just awesome. It felt like the hills were beckoning us and the cool wind was a respite from the sizzling summers of New Delhi. We were to stay in a rented cottage for 3 nights. It was a cute little cottage perched on top of a hill with a breathtaking view. There really was no agenda but for cooking, eating, sleeping, going for walks and enjoying nature.
I am a restless sort always wondering what to do next so the first day went in a furry of just settling down. The moment which defined the trip and for which I write of occurred the next evening. We had eaten a quiet dinner in a restaurant and were back to our cosy cottage. My husband had settled in with a book and his I pod. I decided to go to the terrace for a walk. The cottage had a terrace which was open to the sky. It had two comfortable seats and was filled with potted plants and flowers. I climbed up and sat on one of the seats wondering many things. As I sat and looked around, I realized it was pitch dark, the light on the terrace was not working. It was so silent that I could actually hear my own breath. After a while, I stared at the sky.
“Blue blistering barnacles………” Never had I seen such a sight. The dark night was lit up with gazillion stars sparkling, glistening and shining like glitter. It was remarkable and very unreal. It looked like someone had sprinkled glitter on the sky or a dark gown with sparkles stuck on them. It was breathtaking. I drew in a sharp breath and closed my eyes. It was an indescribable moment. A moment of solace and peace. The many things which were constantly on my mind, like most of us kind of eased away. My mind maybe for the first time in many years was blank. I just sat there for I don’t know how long enjoying the moment of solace. In this world of constant run against time, for money, for a living that moment redefined me. The simplicity of the moment, the brilliance of the stars, the pitch darkness of the sky, the eerie silence felt like it was there just for me. It wasn’t like seeing some wonder of the world or a monument or undertaking an adventure like what I believed all travel to be, it was just a simple moment which nature bestowed on me. I never knew that darkness could be so powerful and strong. That day evoked lot of feelings in me and made me realize the value of slowing down and of just time with myself. The moment really was a journey of self discovery and realization. Nature in its very simplest forms was breathtaking. It was my moment of discovery, my moment of truth and for that instant it was just about nature and me.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The Tia Series - the other side or the blind side?
“Hum mm hum mm” hummed Tia, standing next to the window, glancing outside.
The window reached up to the floor, it had steel bars and the panes were folded to one side to let the fresh air in. The panes at the bottom of the window were replaced with a wooden panel which also folded to a side, useful especially in the warm summer afternoons when load shedding (power cut) would happen. Tia loved looking up at the stained glass pattern crowning the window- the red, blue, green colors each told their own story, a story of a free spirit, of variety and of constant excitement. The sun streaming in through the stained glass would make a beautiful pattern on the bed and the pattern would constantly change as the day progressed.
“Was her life like the colorful pattern?”, she wondered.
Could she think of a life outside the pakmara lane, a life full of variety, excitement and with no one telling her what to do. She smiled as she thought glancing at the scroll of paper lying before her which had the following words scribbled on it:
“ shaboi jethai hoj boj
Shekhane keno amar khoj
Amae je achi shobar majhe
Shob kichurir shokol kaje”
Translation
“Where everyone is only a mess
Why are you looking for me there
I am in the middle of every one
Everything and all the work”
The wind hustled through the window and almost rhythmically swayed her curls. It was a cooling sensation as the wet hair felt drier with the breeze. The wind was such a respite in the infamous hot and humid weather of Kolkata. Tia took out the wooden stick holding her hair in a bun and gently let her hair loose. She looked like maa durga in her bordered saree, a round sindoor bindi and her dark curly hair reaching up to her waist.
It was a mundane Monday. Tia yawned and thought to herself that all the chores of the house were done. Her husband was in office and Maa had gone to her village (a couple of hours from Kolkata) and would be gone for a week. She smiled at the thought of having the entire house to herself. She had planned to finish writing the poem she had started yesterday.
The sound of shrieking horn rudely woke her. She rushed back to the window only to see a large truck pulling up the lane. It was full of things- furniture, trunks, plants and cartons.
“Someone seems to be shifting” she thought to herself.
Almost instantly, the truck stopped in front of her house and the driver got down. He inquired about a house number to which the guard pointed out to a house across hers.
“Oh! Someone must be moving to the first floor of the house across. It had been empty for some time now. Hope it is a friendly family with kids so that there is some life in the lane.”, Tia thought
Tia strained her neck to see who her new neighbors were. She could see no one. A flashy red car zoomed in, Tia was surprised, there were only few cars in the lane. One of them was an old white premier padmini, which was owned by her father in law and was never used after his death. It now had rusted and lay in the corner of the courtyard. It could be sold as an antique and fetch good money, she thought. The other cars owned by the ghosh family next door was an ambassador and the latest entrant owned by a non Bengali family was a white car called some marutheeee. She had never seen such a color of a car in the pakmara lane. The flashy car came to a halt (maybe a maruthee again). The door opened and someone stepped out.
Tia’s jaw dropped at the sight. She was expecting a respectable middle aged man but to her surprise … she saw a girl or maybe a woman and lo behold- heels, tight pants (jeans pants!!!), tucked in orange shirt and mighty big sun goggles (shades).
“Oh ma, eyei ki”.. (oh ma, what is this?), she said aloud.
The fancy girl, opened her goggles and looked up at the house across and then towards her house. Tia had no time to run and she stood fixed. This girl smiled at her. Tia quickly moved away from the window and sat on her bed.
“She must be with her parents. But where is the rest of the family”, she thought
Curiosity took the better of her as slowly moved back to the window. The belongings were being moved up to the first floor. Tia saw a wrought iron bed, a very fancy dressing table and a lot of plants being taken up the stairs. The balcony door on the first floor across her house opened and there she was. Fancy girl was back and this time right across from Tia. This time Tia ducked down before she could see her. Soon after, Tia shut the window and opened the wooden panel below the window. She lay down on the bed and replayed the event she witnessed in her head.
Someone was banging the door wearing an orange tee shirt and waving the goggles at her. She woke up startled with the dream.
It was almost 4’o clock and Tia opened the door to see Bhola with her evening tea. Tia took the cup of tea and placed it on the bed side table, as she stretched her arms and looked around. She must have dozed off as soon as she lay down. She sat up and tied her hair in a knot.
Tia’s curiosity took the better of her and she got up and slowly opened the window. She found herself face to face with the girl. Tia felt as if her feet were glued to the ground and though she tried to move she could not and she continued to stare wide eyed at the girl. The girl was leaning forward from the balcony, wearing a long bright red skirt and a sleeveless short top. Even before Tia could digest such a sight, the girl’s face caught her attention and she saw her blowing smoke from her mouth while holding a cigarette with her hand. Tia was shocked beyond words and just stood as if she had frozen.
Almost at the same instant, the girl looked up, gave Tia a broad smile and waved to her. Tia stared blankly and after about an instant managed to smile back. Immediately after that, Tia closed her window and sat on her bed. After a while she started to write about today, the events, about the girl. She wondered where her family was and why she wasn’t married still.
“How could she smoke like that openly?” she thought to herself.
The rest of the evening was usual. Tia supervised the preparation of dinner and sat dutifully with her husband as he ate.
The next day, around 11 am after the morning chores were done, Tia opened the window again and saw that the potted plants were neatly lined up in the balcony, bright yellow curtains hung and all the empty cartons were neatly piled up in a corner. Just as she was witnessing all that, the girl came out with a bundle of empty cartons and dumped it on the pile. Wiping her forehead she looked up and gave a broad smile. Tia was about to turn around when she heard her saying
“Hello… Kemon acho? Aama kalke shift korechi” (Hi, how are you? I have just shifted here yesterday)
Tia managed a smile and nodded.
The girl continued speaking
“Come over for a cup of tea!”, she said.
Tia shook her head a couple of times but the girl insisted and spoke loudly. Tia looked around wondering if the whole lane could hear the conversation.
Unable to stop the girl from yelling, she nodded and agreed to go over.
Turning around and looking at herself in the mirror, she fixed her crisp cotton sari, re-tied her hair in a bun and adjusted her bindi. It was a feeling of uneasiness as Tia rang the bell of the house opposite. It felt like she was doing something which was forbidden.
The door opened and the girl smiled at Tia brightly.
“esho esho” she said (come, come)
The drawing room looked nice and spacious. Big bright cushions were kept on the floor, a low diwan bed filled a corner, few potted plants, bright water color paintings and a floor rug made the room feel unreal. Tia sat on the diwan and consciously fixed her sari.
The girl sat across and said in a string of Bengali,
“Good to see you, I saw you yesterday when I was shifting. I am Meena. I don’t know anyone in this locality so I am glad we could meet up. I have just shifted from Delhi and I am glad I found this place to live in. I am a journalist you see.”
Tia smiled and nodded.
“ Good to see you all settled in. You have done it up really well. Where is your family?”
Meena just said that she lived alone and rose to show Tia her house.
It was three hours hence and Tia suddenly realized the time when she saw that it was almost 2:45 pm. “Time just flew”, thought Tia, as she walked back to her house. It felt so good talking to Meena. She had spoken about her work, her life, she seemed so free and full of life. Tia did most of the hearing and spoke about the locality, where she could go buy vegetables and fish. Tia also mentioned that she lived with her family and was married for about a year now.
A lot of things stuck to Tia’s mind today, the colorful drawing room, the yellow curtains which flew with the breeze mirrored Meena and her life which to Tia, seemed wonderful and fiercely independent. Initially she was appalled to see her living alone and being so outrageous but as Meena spoke, Tia felt that she was a warm person and even though she was so independent, she never once looked down upon Tia’s life. In fact she was curious and inquired about recipes and her life. They laughed together and rather loudly. After a very long time, Tia laughed so much, it felt like going home when one was carefree with no worries. It was a while since Tia felt this alive.
The evening came and Tia hustled around the kitchen organizing dinner yet wondering what Meena would be doing or eating. At dinner, Tia served her husband obediently and rudely awoke with her husband screaming
“This has too much of salt and this is not cooked. What is wrong with you? Where are you lost?”
Tia stared blankly and realized what was happening. She wanted to tell her husband about Meena but something stopped her. It was her secret and something told her that her husband would never understand how someone like Tia could meet someone like Meena. She somehow salvaged the dinner by giving some other cooked vegetables instead of the ones served.
She could not wait for the next day to see Meena and maybe meet her again. Never had she thought that in her mundane life, something as exciting as this would happen, she would meet someone so very different and yet enjoy being friends. Maybe she can show Meena how to cook something as she remembered Meena saying that she can hardly cook. She could barely sleep with the excitement of the next day. The Grihini was no longer simply content cooking and taking care of the household. The yellow curtains blew with the wind and the red, blue and green colors of the stained glass sparkled when the sun shone through it, in Tia’s dreams. It was just a coincidence, Tia thought. They could mean nothing.
To be continued in part 3 of the Tia Series....
The window reached up to the floor, it had steel bars and the panes were folded to one side to let the fresh air in. The panes at the bottom of the window were replaced with a wooden panel which also folded to a side, useful especially in the warm summer afternoons when load shedding (power cut) would happen. Tia loved looking up at the stained glass pattern crowning the window- the red, blue, green colors each told their own story, a story of a free spirit, of variety and of constant excitement. The sun streaming in through the stained glass would make a beautiful pattern on the bed and the pattern would constantly change as the day progressed.
“Was her life like the colorful pattern?”, she wondered.
Could she think of a life outside the pakmara lane, a life full of variety, excitement and with no one telling her what to do. She smiled as she thought glancing at the scroll of paper lying before her which had the following words scribbled on it:
“ shaboi jethai hoj boj
Shekhane keno amar khoj
Amae je achi shobar majhe
Shob kichurir shokol kaje”
Translation
“Where everyone is only a mess
Why are you looking for me there
I am in the middle of every one
Everything and all the work”
The wind hustled through the window and almost rhythmically swayed her curls. It was a cooling sensation as the wet hair felt drier with the breeze. The wind was such a respite in the infamous hot and humid weather of Kolkata. Tia took out the wooden stick holding her hair in a bun and gently let her hair loose. She looked like maa durga in her bordered saree, a round sindoor bindi and her dark curly hair reaching up to her waist.
It was a mundane Monday. Tia yawned and thought to herself that all the chores of the house were done. Her husband was in office and Maa had gone to her village (a couple of hours from Kolkata) and would be gone for a week. She smiled at the thought of having the entire house to herself. She had planned to finish writing the poem she had started yesterday.
The sound of shrieking horn rudely woke her. She rushed back to the window only to see a large truck pulling up the lane. It was full of things- furniture, trunks, plants and cartons.
“Someone seems to be shifting” she thought to herself.
Almost instantly, the truck stopped in front of her house and the driver got down. He inquired about a house number to which the guard pointed out to a house across hers.
“Oh! Someone must be moving to the first floor of the house across. It had been empty for some time now. Hope it is a friendly family with kids so that there is some life in the lane.”, Tia thought
Tia strained her neck to see who her new neighbors were. She could see no one. A flashy red car zoomed in, Tia was surprised, there were only few cars in the lane. One of them was an old white premier padmini, which was owned by her father in law and was never used after his death. It now had rusted and lay in the corner of the courtyard. It could be sold as an antique and fetch good money, she thought. The other cars owned by the ghosh family next door was an ambassador and the latest entrant owned by a non Bengali family was a white car called some marutheeee. She had never seen such a color of a car in the pakmara lane. The flashy car came to a halt (maybe a maruthee again). The door opened and someone stepped out.
Tia’s jaw dropped at the sight. She was expecting a respectable middle aged man but to her surprise … she saw a girl or maybe a woman and lo behold- heels, tight pants (jeans pants!!!), tucked in orange shirt and mighty big sun goggles (shades).
“Oh ma, eyei ki”.. (oh ma, what is this?), she said aloud.
The fancy girl, opened her goggles and looked up at the house across and then towards her house. Tia had no time to run and she stood fixed. This girl smiled at her. Tia quickly moved away from the window and sat on her bed.
“She must be with her parents. But where is the rest of the family”, she thought
Curiosity took the better of her as slowly moved back to the window. The belongings were being moved up to the first floor. Tia saw a wrought iron bed, a very fancy dressing table and a lot of plants being taken up the stairs. The balcony door on the first floor across her house opened and there she was. Fancy girl was back and this time right across from Tia. This time Tia ducked down before she could see her. Soon after, Tia shut the window and opened the wooden panel below the window. She lay down on the bed and replayed the event she witnessed in her head.
Someone was banging the door wearing an orange tee shirt and waving the goggles at her. She woke up startled with the dream.
It was almost 4’o clock and Tia opened the door to see Bhola with her evening tea. Tia took the cup of tea and placed it on the bed side table, as she stretched her arms and looked around. She must have dozed off as soon as she lay down. She sat up and tied her hair in a knot.
Tia’s curiosity took the better of her and she got up and slowly opened the window. She found herself face to face with the girl. Tia felt as if her feet were glued to the ground and though she tried to move she could not and she continued to stare wide eyed at the girl. The girl was leaning forward from the balcony, wearing a long bright red skirt and a sleeveless short top. Even before Tia could digest such a sight, the girl’s face caught her attention and she saw her blowing smoke from her mouth while holding a cigarette with her hand. Tia was shocked beyond words and just stood as if she had frozen.
Almost at the same instant, the girl looked up, gave Tia a broad smile and waved to her. Tia stared blankly and after about an instant managed to smile back. Immediately after that, Tia closed her window and sat on her bed. After a while she started to write about today, the events, about the girl. She wondered where her family was and why she wasn’t married still.
“How could she smoke like that openly?” she thought to herself.
The rest of the evening was usual. Tia supervised the preparation of dinner and sat dutifully with her husband as he ate.
The next day, around 11 am after the morning chores were done, Tia opened the window again and saw that the potted plants were neatly lined up in the balcony, bright yellow curtains hung and all the empty cartons were neatly piled up in a corner. Just as she was witnessing all that, the girl came out with a bundle of empty cartons and dumped it on the pile. Wiping her forehead she looked up and gave a broad smile. Tia was about to turn around when she heard her saying
“Hello… Kemon acho? Aama kalke shift korechi” (Hi, how are you? I have just shifted here yesterday)
Tia managed a smile and nodded.
The girl continued speaking
“Come over for a cup of tea!”, she said.
Tia shook her head a couple of times but the girl insisted and spoke loudly. Tia looked around wondering if the whole lane could hear the conversation.
Unable to stop the girl from yelling, she nodded and agreed to go over.
Turning around and looking at herself in the mirror, she fixed her crisp cotton sari, re-tied her hair in a bun and adjusted her bindi. It was a feeling of uneasiness as Tia rang the bell of the house opposite. It felt like she was doing something which was forbidden.
The door opened and the girl smiled at Tia brightly.
“esho esho” she said (come, come)
The drawing room looked nice and spacious. Big bright cushions were kept on the floor, a low diwan bed filled a corner, few potted plants, bright water color paintings and a floor rug made the room feel unreal. Tia sat on the diwan and consciously fixed her sari.
The girl sat across and said in a string of Bengali,
“Good to see you, I saw you yesterday when I was shifting. I am Meena. I don’t know anyone in this locality so I am glad we could meet up. I have just shifted from Delhi and I am glad I found this place to live in. I am a journalist you see.”
Tia smiled and nodded.
“ Good to see you all settled in. You have done it up really well. Where is your family?”
Meena just said that she lived alone and rose to show Tia her house.
It was three hours hence and Tia suddenly realized the time when she saw that it was almost 2:45 pm. “Time just flew”, thought Tia, as she walked back to her house. It felt so good talking to Meena. She had spoken about her work, her life, she seemed so free and full of life. Tia did most of the hearing and spoke about the locality, where she could go buy vegetables and fish. Tia also mentioned that she lived with her family and was married for about a year now.
A lot of things stuck to Tia’s mind today, the colorful drawing room, the yellow curtains which flew with the breeze mirrored Meena and her life which to Tia, seemed wonderful and fiercely independent. Initially she was appalled to see her living alone and being so outrageous but as Meena spoke, Tia felt that she was a warm person and even though she was so independent, she never once looked down upon Tia’s life. In fact she was curious and inquired about recipes and her life. They laughed together and rather loudly. After a very long time, Tia laughed so much, it felt like going home when one was carefree with no worries. It was a while since Tia felt this alive.
The evening came and Tia hustled around the kitchen organizing dinner yet wondering what Meena would be doing or eating. At dinner, Tia served her husband obediently and rudely awoke with her husband screaming
“This has too much of salt and this is not cooked. What is wrong with you? Where are you lost?”
Tia stared blankly and realized what was happening. She wanted to tell her husband about Meena but something stopped her. It was her secret and something told her that her husband would never understand how someone like Tia could meet someone like Meena. She somehow salvaged the dinner by giving some other cooked vegetables instead of the ones served.
She could not wait for the next day to see Meena and maybe meet her again. Never had she thought that in her mundane life, something as exciting as this would happen, she would meet someone so very different and yet enjoy being friends. Maybe she can show Meena how to cook something as she remembered Meena saying that she can hardly cook. She could barely sleep with the excitement of the next day. The Grihini was no longer simply content cooking and taking care of the household. The yellow curtains blew with the wind and the red, blue and green colors of the stained glass sparkled when the sun shone through it, in Tia’s dreams. It was just a coincidence, Tia thought. They could mean nothing.
To be continued in part 3 of the Tia Series....
Friday, July 2, 2010
Mistaken Identity
-Front-of-Card.jpg)
They were never always this poor. She did study when she was young and her father wanted her to study more and earn for herself but things changed one fine day. Her father a railway guard died in a train accident. The whole family was shattered. The pension was meager and the mouths to feed were many. Anvita took it on her to earn for them, she would do odd jobs, try teaching some school kids and give whatever she could earn to her mother and her 4 brothers and sisters. To ease the burden, her mother did what most families in that situation would. She got Anvita married off to the village boy who had a job in the city. Things happened in a flurry since. The marriage, the dowry paid by her mother, the pleadings, bickering followed. Anvita knew that her escape lay in this disastrous marriage, she would go to the city, start a life and earn for herself.
The dream shattered very soon. On reaching the city she faced reality which appeared much severe than the village. The husband had lost his job a year back, he was living off some savings, the house was a rat hole- a one room behind the Kanpur station. There was hardly electricity ever, water had to be drawn and got everyday and the neighbours were noisy and jobless. Her husband sat at home the whole day and told her categorically that she needed to earn for them. This seemed ages ago now. She had toiled everyday, took up maid’ jobs in the quarters nearby, she did some stitching in her spare time and sometimes taught in the night school. Her family had now grown, she had managed to save up some money and they now lived in a cleaner two room premises. Her children went to school. Over time her husband started working for 10 odd days in month as a labourer and earned some money. Their lives were much better comparatively.
She felt the happiest pinning her saree and going to work at Mrs Tewari’s house. She was so nice, she always asked about her, gave her to eat and always encouraged her. She would keep her money with her and save up for the future.
It was one such day when Anvita had just entered Mrs.Tewari’s house. I will be back soon said Mrs Tewari and left the house. Anvita was in the kitchen and decided to finish the fries before shutting the door. Ji madame she said and continued with her task at hand. Glancing up she saw the apron hung in the kitchen wall. The oil was still simmering and she wandered towards the apron. She had always seen Mrs. Tewari wearing this while in the kitchen and curiously Anvita took it out and put it round her neck. Useful thing she thought, now no oil stains on her neatly starched saree as she continued frying the potatoes.
Hello is anyone there.. hello…….. came a voice. Anvita quickly ran out to see a young lady at the door. She opened the door ajar and started talking. Anivita started blurting that madame was out but this young lady was so excited, she started saying oh my what a beautiful house you have Mrs. Tewari, its so beautiful, I hope I did not disturb you, I am Alpana. She plonked on the sofa and smiled at Anvita saying that she and her family have just moved on the first floor and she has just come to meet the neighbors. Anvita again opened her mouth to clarify but Alpana started her story of her move, her family, the locality urging Anvita to join her. Anivita tried several times to interrupt her but gave up after a while. She sat down on the leather sofa, smiled back inquired about her, told her about her family and her neighborhood.
The afternoon went by and as Anvita lay in her bed at night. She wondered and smiled. She actually lived a different identity this afternoon and for the brief twenty minutes she forgot who she was, she forgot the tiredness, the problems and she was Mrs. Tewari at the railway quarters in Kanpur. It felt amazing to be able to converse with someone and not worry about a thing. Maybe she will never have this in life and maybe she will always be Anvita, the maid but for this brief time she lived the mistaken identity. If it was not for her circumstances she could be there, she could be her but she won’t , she can’t. She had come to terms with her reality ages ago but this one time in this make believe world made her feel very alive. The unlikely moment became possible at least once.. Maybe she would live her life on the surreal hope which the mistaken identity gave her…
Unchained
Glistening and glimmering
Hurling forward in laziness
Stories forgotten
Mysteries untold
Moments lost
Gliding in splendor
Pausing gloriously
And then moving on
Unspoken words are heard
Unheard voices surround
Hurt and anguish beckon
Saying so much yet nothing
Wanting to be heard
The tears against the stained glass.
Etched in time
It was a relationship of sorts. It had been a long journey and we have never been apart. So many memories, moments glorious moments caught in time or just mundane glimpses rushed through my mind.
I glanced clutching thy hand with all my might. You muttered under your breath asking me to lift you up. I shook my head as my eyes were stung with my efforts to keep the tears at bay. You forced yourself up and stared at my moist eyes. We both knew it was time to bid farewell. It had been a memorable journey, we had shared, cried, learnt, unlearnt, lived, laughed and embraced life. You had taught me that at times it had to be about me, it had to be about oneself – things which were inexplicable. You had taught me to listen and march forward, you had taught me to be brave and often let me walk alone. I misjudged you and called you names. Often, I followed suit of where the masses took me but you always were my shadow- lurking behind and coaxing me to take the less trodden path.
There have been times I have hated your guts, they way you would make me listen to you. They way I would never listen to others and just trust your instinct. You know that by following your word, I have been hurt, bruised and so often broken. Those moments were the worst when I promised myself to close you out of my life, never letting anyone hurt me and never being so vulnerable but you always crept back in. You always showed me the softer facet to a circumstance and helped me re-believe. With time you ensured that there was no hurt and I could trust again.
And there were conflicts between you and the others where I tried to listen elsewhere. Each time I would try, you would be hurt, it was hardly ever simultaneous. I tried to walk the middle path at times listening to both but it never worked and you eventually succeeded in having your way.
I do not want to let you go. I do not want to walk alone. I need your comfort and I need you to guide me. You breathe even worse and the beats are less frequent. I can feel you walk away as I have to turn and face life all alone. .. seconds pass and the heart stops beating.
… I lie open eyed now. The doctor says the operation was successful, the heart transplant happened. He smiled and encouraged me. I wiped the lurking tear in my eye as only I knew that I had bid farewell to my companion- my heart. I was another person now, I had a new heart beating in me. Will it show me the way as before? Will I be guided by my heart and will I be my emotional self or will this heart be too weak for my strong mind?
An undying relationship etched in time- my heart and me!
I glanced clutching thy hand with all my might. You muttered under your breath asking me to lift you up. I shook my head as my eyes were stung with my efforts to keep the tears at bay. You forced yourself up and stared at my moist eyes. We both knew it was time to bid farewell. It had been a memorable journey, we had shared, cried, learnt, unlearnt, lived, laughed and embraced life. You had taught me that at times it had to be about me, it had to be about oneself – things which were inexplicable. You had taught me to listen and march forward, you had taught me to be brave and often let me walk alone. I misjudged you and called you names. Often, I followed suit of where the masses took me but you always were my shadow- lurking behind and coaxing me to take the less trodden path.
There have been times I have hated your guts, they way you would make me listen to you. They way I would never listen to others and just trust your instinct. You know that by following your word, I have been hurt, bruised and so often broken. Those moments were the worst when I promised myself to close you out of my life, never letting anyone hurt me and never being so vulnerable but you always crept back in. You always showed me the softer facet to a circumstance and helped me re-believe. With time you ensured that there was no hurt and I could trust again.
And there were conflicts between you and the others where I tried to listen elsewhere. Each time I would try, you would be hurt, it was hardly ever simultaneous. I tried to walk the middle path at times listening to both but it never worked and you eventually succeeded in having your way.
I do not want to let you go. I do not want to walk alone. I need your comfort and I need you to guide me. You breathe even worse and the beats are less frequent. I can feel you walk away as I have to turn and face life all alone. .. seconds pass and the heart stops beating.
… I lie open eyed now. The doctor says the operation was successful, the heart transplant happened. He smiled and encouraged me. I wiped the lurking tear in my eye as only I knew that I had bid farewell to my companion- my heart. I was another person now, I had a new heart beating in me. Will it show me the way as before? Will I be guided by my heart and will I be my emotional self or will this heart be too weak for my strong mind?
An undying relationship etched in time- my heart and me!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
taanth ghar
It was always an uncanny feeling when I climbed those long winding stairs. I would always turn back to call for Deeksha. She was the timid one but very curious. Deeksha would always show disinterest but I knew her curiosity would get the better of her. I paused for a minute on the last flight of stairs and turned around. I could see her slowly climbing the stairs and grumbling how futile our adventure would be. I giggled and urged her to run up the stairs. Slowly, we would open the taanth ghar and peep through the cobwebs, dust and blur. This was true adventure I told Deeksha just like famous five and secret seven- we could be the troublesome two! She merely grunted and stood quietly. But I could see the gleam in her eyes. Her desire to discover, to explore and to unravel the mysteries of the past was shining right through. We stepped inside the room filled with old vessels, bronze boxes, marble table tops, steel trunks piled on top of each other. We had so much to explore so much to see and we had the key.. the key to the taanth ghar.
The house was a treasure trove. Built in 1750’s it was an epic in itself, every corner had some memory, some story of its own. The house of my great- great grandfather where multitude of families, lived and grew together. We came each summer and we would be thrilled with all the games we could play and each time we would discover something new. Our grandparents would pamper us with all the special dishes, sweets and chocolates. We could watch our favourite cartoons and we were also allowed to sleep late. Deekhsa always loved to hear dadu telling us the stories of the era gone by when the house was bustling with activities- stories where the family would go hunting into the sunderban or where the house had its own poultry, cows and even peacocks. We would always gape for more stories and ask him many questions which dadu would patiently answer. I would love to peep at didu cooking our favourite fish in mustard and fry our crispy aloo bhaja while we nibbled on the food. She would shoo us away saying we would fill our stomach before lunch. The summer holidays were such a treasure, Deeksha would play house and line up all the dolls and toys which have been played with by generations. She would arrange the tiny wooden furniture which dadu had crafted for us. I would be prancing around in the little wooden toy horse which stood in the corner of the long corridor. I would be curious to try and hold the air gun which was kept to scare the monkeys. I would ask dadu to tell me if there were any secret passages in the house, any treasure hidden, stories of deceit, anger and hate while Deeksha would calmly listen to the happy stories of brides coming into the house at the age of seventeen and learning to cook and take charge of the house. We were poles apart and yet together. We would argue and disagree and I would always win over Deeksha. I could yell louder, jump higher and cry myself hoarse. I got heard and I made sure I always did. Deeksha let me have my way, she loved me too much.
I still remember that fateful summer. The summer of 1988, where we had our 10th birthday celebration. I remember the cake was specially ordered from Fluris it was a large cake in the shape of a sun flower for us. Ma said it symbolized us Deeksha and Disha and she sang for us … “as the sunflower that follows every movement of the sun… so I turn towards you.. to follow you my lord……”. She said our names symbolized the path of the future and we were like sun flowers always bright and sunny like the sun. I for one loved the colour of my cake and Deeksha was too busy adjusting the yellow bow on her head. I could not wait to open my presents and play. It was perfect, everyone sang and hugged us. We got so many presents. I just loved birthdays. I kept hunting for Dadu’s gift to us but there was none. I did not show my disappointment but I was hurt. After everyone was gone and we were put to bed, there was a knock on the door. Deeksha opened the door and there was dadu. He came and sat by our bed side and smiled his peaceful smile. He asked whether we were wondering about his gift. I said –of course not, we had enough gifts. Deeksha remained silent as she often did. He held our hands in his and gave us a wrapped packet. I was smiling- trust dadu to be all adventurous. He was super. I jumped to open it and saw an old diary… almost tattered with handwritten pages. He smiled and said – girls, this is your great grand father’s diary- here he wrote everything about the house, the daily activities and the untold secrets. He said here are all your questions and here are all your answers. Keep it safe. I hugged him and Deeksha glanced at him and muttered a thanks. I knew what she would be thinking – more adventure, more secrets and I would drag her in this journey of discovery.
I was gleeful with excitement. Here I had the treasure map, the key to answers- wow! I woke up early and jumped on Deeksha telling her the plan for the day. I had already read a few pages and there was one part of the house we had to see.. the taanth ghar. I told her the dairy described it as the place where sarees were woven but it was later on used for storing various things. It had a cupboard full of goodies which people had used over the years. The diary said I read out to her …….
“…. It’s a room where you will either discover yourself or loose yourself … but you will meet your true self…”
I told her our great grand father must be wanting to sound mysterious but we must find all the treasures. Deeksha paused, I have never seen her like this.. She asked me to repeat those lines and she closed her eyes and breathed heavily. She glanced at me after a long pause and said don’t you see Disha he wants us to find us. I looked at her with a perplexed expression. My weird sister. I told her just come and we will strike gold………
The taanth ghar ‘s door was old and rusty. It creaked when we opened it and we stopped to see the historical mess of decades of things piled together. The reluctance which Deeksha had shown on the stairs vanished, it was like she was someone else as she floated around the room, browsing through the shelves, touching the vessels. I found an exciting looking old hunter and I was testing it around. Deeksha had opened the huge cupboard and though covered with dust she looked around as if hunting for something. I was bending over to pull out the pile of toys hidden underneath the bed when I heard a shriek. I jumped and turned.. It was Deeksha- she was holding a dagger and there was a gleam in her eyes. She was chanting and saying something. I rushed to her for the first time feeling scared. My timid sister was not herself. Deeksha looked at me, there was a peace in her eyes and I will never forget that moment where she glanced at me and smiled. She said…
“Disha- in this room we find ourselves, but to find you I loose me and to find me I loose you.. We are together yet apart, we are separate yet one.. find yourself Disha.. find your disha.. find me.. find me in you……”
I told her Deeksha stop it you are scaring me. I yelled for ma, dadu and didu..Noone heard me as she plunged the dagger into her heart, as she fell , as she silently lay there.. I stood struck … I stood pale.. It was like time had stopped for me.. I faced death..
I wake up abruptly as the matron pushes my chair to the courtyard.. I had fallen asleep again. It must be dinner time now and then I have to finish the sweater I was knitting. Rishi and Neena were to visit me tomorrow. The matron said I was looking better and healthier. I smiled at her. She inquired whether I got any nightmares again. I answered silently that I have dreams. I glance at the setting sun and I still see the gleam of the dagger, the words still echo in my ears. Fifty years and I can still feel her. They say there was no Deeksha, they say it was me and my mind, they say my alter ego created a dual personality. But, it can’t be.. she was there, she was my blood, my other half, my sister.. she was Deeksha.. In loosing her I lost myself.. Whatever they say I know.. She was there and she was mine as I dose off, the book falls on the ground and the page reads…..
“It’s a room where you will either discover yourself or loose yourself … but you will meet your true self’………
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
New blog
Do also visit my latest blog at http://worldofadz.blogspot.com/. Following is a brief summary:
There are advertising websites/blogs compiling ads which are country specific or just ads around the world, ad reviews, critique from authorities or from ad men (or women, if I May call them so) but never have I seen a consumer's perspective, an amateur's perspective on advertising and advertisments. So here, I present to you the most fresh, most unadulterated, interactive, adventerous perspective on the ad world. What works from a consumer's perspective and most importantly what doesn't
There are advertising websites/blogs compiling ads which are country specific or just ads around the world, ad reviews, critique from authorities or from ad men (or women, if I May call them so) but never have I seen a consumer's perspective, an amateur's perspective on advertising and advertisments. So here, I present to you the most fresh, most unadulterated, interactive, adventerous perspective on the ad world. What works from a consumer's perspective and most importantly what doesn't
Friday, February 5, 2010
words
Who said it is all about grand words
And thought provoking visions
Who said it is about life changing ideas
Or challenging a societal norm
It need not always be verbose
May not be difficult
It shall never be similar
And need not be incomprehensible
It will have a few things
Will always have meaning
It will be a culmination of thoughts
A repository of notions
The more I see the more I believe
That it is always an experience
It is always an expression
And it shall always speak
Turning through pages of poetry
I see notions, ideas and often hurt
But I always see a soul
which makes every word so alive
And thought provoking visions
Who said it is about life changing ideas
Or challenging a societal norm
It need not always be verbose
May not be difficult
It shall never be similar
And need not be incomprehensible
It will have a few things
Will always have meaning
It will be a culmination of thoughts
A repository of notions
The more I see the more I believe
That it is always an experience
It is always an expression
And it shall always speak
Turning through pages of poetry
I see notions, ideas and often hurt
But I always see a soul
which makes every word so alive
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)