The Unspoken Connection

 

Bright sun, scotching heat, pollution, noise of umpteen vehicles on road and amidst all was Divya, waiting to board her bus to office. Everything in the vicinity was same as any regular day. The rising temperature of the day, the chaos caused due to heavy traffic, people rushing and pushing each other to board the bus, nothing could affect her today. She stood quietly in a corner lost in her own thoughts.

 

Her face was heated up and appeared red every time she thought about the pain she was undergoing. And then was a rush of uncontrolled emotions which came out in form of tears which she wiped off cleverly so that no one could see.  

 

Her bus came and she boarded it without looking anywhere else.

 

In the bus, she realized that she had forgotten to give food to baba. He must have been there at the bus stand, like every morning, waiting for her, but she didn't notice him today. 

 

Baba, an old man in his late 60's, cobbler by profession and presumably abandoned by his family, he had a small shop near to bus stand from where she boarded her bus. Her bond with baba developed three years back when she had come to Mumbai in search of job.

 

Mumbai, a new city, a new life altogether. She knew no one there. Her zeal to prove herself brought her to this territory which was completed unexplored for her. It wasn’t easy for her initially because she hailed from Panchgani, which is a municipal council, situated in Satara district in Maharashtra, situated at a distance of about 240 kilometers from Mumbai and Mumbai on the contrary appeared a very robust city with a completely different approach and lifestyle to her. But she had to take a chance in life, after all she had put in a lot of hard work during in her studies and finally scored a good percentage in her graduation. And now was the time to put in all her learning's so far, into a real life scenario. Life in a new city made her struggle a lot in the early days. Multiple rejections at job place and yet she tried to keep the vigor on. She had no one to discuss her issues with. She could not even share with her family back home because if she did so, they would call her back. Almost six months passed after which she finally got a job as a consultant in multinational firm.

 

During this course of time, one fine day she met Baba. She was waiting for her bus when she noticed that the strap of her footwear was broken. She saw a cobbler sitting nearby and went to his shop, got her shoes mended and gave him little more money than he asked for, thinking that he was old and might be needy. He nodded his head and said something to her. She hardly understood anything as he spoke in a pure Marathi accent and she on the contrary did not know Marathi, till a passerby translated to her. He said that if she wants to give something extra, she can give him food. Since that day, every morning without fail she handed him breakfast, which he took without any hesitation.

 

This became a daily affair. While going to office she handed him breakfast. They could not communicate as language was a barrier but that one smile every morning from an old man, motivated Divya to keep her hunt for job on. If he, in this old age, can work for his survival, she should certainly make a way out for her was her new outlook to her issues.

 

But today, she had missed her daily custom of giving breakfast to him due to her personal tension and so decided to handover food to him this evening if his shop was still open when she returned back home. While returning back from office, she packed food and when she was back, to her surprise, his shop was still open. He was sitting there, like every morning although it was quiet late.

 

She gave him food. He kept it aside and was looking straight into her eyes as if he knew that something was wrong. He held her hand. And then there was runoff of sentiments. An uncontrollable Divya narrated the tale of how she was being cheated by Mihir for past few months.

 

Mihir, the guy she liked and considered to marry in future. They were into a relation for a year and a half. She had met him at her workplace. They hardly interacted initially as both of them belonged to different departments until one day when he had to shift to the workstation near to her as his system was having technical issues. His nature was totally opposite to hers. A very cheerful, happy go lucky guy who lived his life to the fullest. Everyone in the office seemed to like him for his friendly nature.

 

And one fine day, he asked Divya out for coffee. Divya was hesitant because she hardly knew him and moreover she was a very reserved person and hardly interacted with anyone in office, but just for the sake of being polite she said yes. And then started their journey, umpteen coffee followed by light conversations. She started to discover lovely hangouts in Mumbai along with Mihir, which was an unexplored land for her till now. Suddenly she had developed a liking for this place. Street food, beachside, local markets everything added a new spark to her not so pleasing daily routine. These things were there before but maybe it was Mihir’s company that she enjoyed. She started to view life from a different angle altogether. This time it was more positive and more fun. She discovered that even she was a fun person from inside and like everyone around even she liked to live life to fullest, just the fact that her childhood years were so tangled in the social stigmas that she barely knew anything else apart from being responsible and becoming an ideal child.

 

It was almost six months of knowing each other when Mihir proposed to her. She obviously had a liking towards him. After all he was the guy who helped her discover a new Divya who was within her. By now she knew that he was the guy who could keep her happy all through life and she said yes to him. Next followed a series of family meetings of their parents. Initially Divya’s parents were a little unwilling to approve their relation as Mihir was born and brought up in Mumbai and his family was also very open minded, unlike them who were conservative but after a few gatherings, Divya’s father was convinced that Mihir was the right guy for her and even though their families were different, Divya and Mihir gelled up well and ultimately they would be happy together. Mihir asked for a span of two years to settle his career completely before he could get into married life and Divya’s father approved of it.

 

It was a fairy tale going on for Divya. What better she could have expected from life. Life could not have been more beautiful for her.

 

Everything was perfect until Mihir was chosen to go to Europe for a business trip. All this time, Divya was so used to being with Mihir that spending a month without him even sounded very tough for her. But keeping in mind his career aspirations and his love towards his profession, she was ready to forsake this time for his betterment. Mihir on the other hand was very excited cause this trip could have certainly added a new dimension to his professional life as it would not only help him get a better exposure but also build good contacts for the business he was planning for life ahead. Rashmi, legal advisor from the same firm, was to accompany him for the same.

 

This one month time seemed very long for Divya. She was always lost in his thoughts. She missed everything. The way he talked, the way he treated her, the way he took small efforts to make her smile, each and everything. As he was super busy in his trip, he called her once every two or three days and all this while she did nothing but think about him. Days seemed longer than usual. All she prayed was that he should be successful in getting the business deal for their firm and come back as soon as possible.

 

Finally came the day when he was supposed to return back. She was super excited. She dressed in the best possible and when to receive him at the airport. Her heart was beating fast as she saw him coming along with Rashmi. She hugged him and he hugged her back. But she felt that something was wrong. Maybe he was stressed out after this trip. All this while he was away from his near and dear ones plus work pressure was at its maximum so maybe he was tired is all that she could conclude and thus she ignored the negative vibes she got. She hugged Rashmi next and asked her about the trip. She informed Divya that they had got the contact for their firm and this trip was a success. The success of getting the contract was evident on Rashmi’s face but Mihir was lost somewhere. Divya anyways did not wanted to discuss anything at that moment as she felt that he might have been super tired and needed rest and thus left for home.

 

Almost a week had passed ever since Mihir had come back. But still he was not back to normal. Everyone in office praised his skills for making this trip a success but Mihir looked tensed somehow. He did not look like the same old person who used to enjoy life besides work. Work was a priority to him always but his attitude towards life seemed different. Divya could clearly figure out that there is something which is bothering him. She asked him about the same and he said that it was work pressure and the expectations from him are even higher now and he should become a little more responsible and serious in order to fulfill them. She was not convinced with his replies but has no option but to believe him.

 

Nearly two months had passed. Life had changed. She was not liking the way Mihir was behaving. Every time she asked him regarding the same he said work pressure and ignored the conversation that could have led to a dispute. After a while even she stopped asking the reason for his strange behavior and adjusted with whatever was going on. They went out to the same places like they did before but that spark was missing. Everything was so formal. The warmth in their relationship was fading away.

 

One thing which Divya noticed was that after his Europe trip, his interaction with Rashmi has increased. She was getting a feeling that might be there is something between the two them which is bothering Mihir, but she was ignoring her gut feeling because she loved him and did not want to have any doubts about him. But she could not ignore her feeling for long and did something which finally gave answered all her questions. She checked his phone.

 

He was involved with Rashmi. They were having an affair for the past three months that is even a month before they went for the trip. Divya was devastated. The messages she saw in his phone and all his call logs clearly showed why he was behaving strangely with her. She didn’t know what to do at that moment. She had a hint before that this could be the matter but she kept ignoring because she could not doubt the guy she loved. Everything seemed to have ended for her. She went to Mihir and handed his phone to him. Mihir looked at her eyes. It was completely red. He understood that she has come to know about what was going on. She left without saying anything and today he could not stop her.

 

Her trust was broken and as she narrated these details to baba, she kept crying and repeating that she could still not believe that all this happened yesterday and all her dreams were shattered.

He listened to her peacefully. After about an hour she realized that he would have hardly understood anything as he was a pure Marathi guy and she spoke Hindi but still all this while he listened to her. She felt that she acted dumb but she had no choice maybe. So much was going inside her and perhaps this is why she forgot the fact that the guy she was narrating her story to barely even understood her. She wiped her tears. He put his hand on her head and said something which she did not understand. She could have asked someone to explain but today she had no patience and thus she went home.

 

Next morning when she went to bus stand, she noticed that Baba's shop was closed. She thought that maybe we was up late last night and maybe would open up late. Same thing continued for next couple of days.

 

Meanwhile Mihir had talk to Divya. He confessed that he was having an affair and this was the reason for his changed behavior. He could not tell this to Divya for obvious reasons but even he was confused from inside. Next, told her everything as how he got attracted towards Rashmi and thus when this trip was panned, he was excited not only about the contract but also about the fact that he would get time to spend with Rashmi. But after he came back, he could clearly make out that he was was moving in a wrong direction. It was his mistake and he did owe it completely. He was even ready to confess the same in front of his and Divya’s parents and if they permitted only then he would continue his relationship with her. He left it on her completely as to how she wanted to take things ahead. All he said to her at last was that he was sorry for what he did and if possible she should give him another chance.

 

Yes he had made a mistake. A very serious one. She was deeply hurt. But the ultimate fact was that both of them loved each other. And sometimes things do go wrong in a relationship. But what matters is strength of love between the duo. Mihir had opened his heart to her. She had an option to go back and let his and her parents know about it and end everything. But somewhere within there was some hope left for her.

 

His mistake was not something which could be considered. But he was the guy who had made Divya what she was today. He supported her when she all alone. He helped her discover the person she was. He made all efforts to convince her family for their relationship. Maybe he deserved a chance. She was not sure if this would work but yes she decided to give him a chance.

 

They planned a vacation to Kerala. Change is what both of them needed. Time can heal all wounds and time did help to get things on track for them. This short trip did sought out the tussle between them and things were better.

 

She came back to Mumbai after 15 days. Excited to meet baba and tell him that things were better, she packed breakfast and went to bus stop. To her surprise his shop was still closed. Little anxious, she went to a nearby shop and enquired about him. And what followed next stunned her totally. 

 

He was no more. The shopkeeper told that he had promised his daughter that he would go to a nearby pilgrimage to seek blessings for her as she was in distress. No one in this locality knew about his daughter though. There was a stampede and he succumbed injuries while returning back. He survived for 10 days and breathe his last 2 days ago. The shopkeeper took out some holy offerings which baba handed over to him and told him that his daughter would come and collect the same.

 

Divya could now understand what he was telling her the day she narrated her story to Baba. He had told her his plans, which she didn’t understand.

 

Tears rolled down her face as she replied “I am his daughter ". 

दादी

सुबह की पहली किरण की तरफ मुख करके धीमी धीमी आवाज़ में , 
ओम का जाप करती थी मेरी दादी..
सर पर पल्लू लिए , मन में सच्ची भावना कि साथ, भगवान को स्मरण करती थी मेरी दादी ... 
आज बहुत याद आ रही है दादी 
आज भी एक सुबह है , पर वो कही नहीं है ना उनकी वो अवाज़ हैं , ना घर मेँ गूंजती उनकी प्राथना है ... 

आज भी हर सुबह जैसे अख़बार आया है पर चस्मा लगकर उसे नहीं पढ़ पाएगी मेरी दादी
ध्वनि का एहसास तो भगवान ने कबका छीन लिया था
पर फिर भी अखबार के शब्दों से दुनिया की हर छोटे बड़ी बात को समझ लेती थी मेरी दादी... 

कभी सोचूं तो नहीं समझ पाती मैं की कैसा होता होगा ,
इस दुनिया को देख तो पाना, पर किसी भी अवाज़ को ना सुन पाना ..
ऐक इंसान जिसने सब कुछ सुना है , उसके लिए दुनिया का ऐक दिन शांत हो जाना .., 
पर दादी को देखकर ऐसा लगता था की अपनी सूझ बूझ से इंसान अपनी कमी पर भी विजय पा सकता है , दुनिया से कटकर भी दुनिया मेँ रूचि जागा सकता है .. 
एहसास से सबकुछ भाप लेती थी ऐसी थी मेरी दादी ... आज बहुत याद आ रही है दादी 

शाम को मम्मी के साथ बैठकर टीवी का मज़ा लेती थी.. 
बंगला हिंदी सुन तो नही पाती थी , पर हर कुछ समझ जाती थी मेरी दादी
दादी का टीवी दखकर ज़ोर जोर हसना बहुत याद आएगा... 
टीवी तो अब भी हर शाम गूजेंगा पर नही गुंजेगी अब से दादी की वो प्यारी हसीं ... 
कहाँ चली गयी दादी ... थोड़ा और रुक जाती दादी ... 

शाम को हर कमरे में प्रकाश कर दो, हर जगह लाइट जला दो , ऎसा कहती थी दादी
आज भी मैंने वही किया हैं पर ऎसा कर दो, ये कहने वाली दादी आस पास कही नहीं है
ये वही कमरा है जिसमेँ दादी रहती थी , 
कही दादी की दवाइया पड़ी हैं कहीं उनकै कपडे और कही उनकी किताबे ... 
उनके हर कपडे से उनकि खुशबू , उनका एहसास आता है ..
पर वो कही नही है रात को उसी बिछावन पर हमेशा जैसी सोयी थी मैं .. 
पर बीच रात में दादी की आवाज़ ने इस बार नही उठाया मुझे ,
इस शांति से तो अच्छी अवाज़ ही थी
ऎसे क्यों चली गई दादी ... थोडा और रुक जाती दादी.. 

हर बार जो मेरे घर आने का इंतज़ार करती थी
मेरे घर आने पर मुझे गले से लगाती थी
इस बार वो मेरे आने पर बिलकुल शांत थी
आराम से लेटी हुई थी चेहरे पर एक सा भाव बनाये 
दुनिया से आँख मूंद चुकी थी मेरी दादी
लगता है जैसे इस बार दादी को जल्दी थी 
शायद कही और जाने की प्रतिबद्धता थी
तभी नही रुकी इस बार मेरी दादी ... 

इसान शांत हो जाता है , 
अवाज़ चली जाती है पर लम्हें , यादें रह जातीं हैं , 
हस्ता हुआ चेहरा मन मेँ समां जता है 
इसलिए दूर होकर भी आप सबके बहुत पास हो दादी .. 
आपकी हर बात याद आएगी ,
आपका चहरा बहुत याद आएगा 
 सबके मन मेँ अमिट छाप छोड़ कर भगवान मेँ विलीन हो गयी मेरी दादी 
सबको बहुत याद आएंगी दादी ...

Bihari or a Bengali

I was 9 when our class teacher asked all students to get in writing from their parents as to which caste they belong to as it was to be maintained in official record books of school. There were 4 categories written on backboard. I didn’t know what it meant. So I copied the same in my diary and asked my mother and she said we belonged to General.

I was 12 and went to buy chart paper in a nearby stationary shop. The guy who owned the store asked me, which caste do you belong to, I said general because that I what I knew. He smiled and said there are subdivisions to it, better ask your mother. I did so and I was informed that I am a kayastha.

I was 16 and I went to my music class. My music teacher is a Bengali lady. She asked me your sister is a Bengali. Her family speaks Bangla. How come you speak Hindi. Moreover, my father uses a title das which is a Bengali title. So was I a Bengali? I was puzzled again. I asked my mother again and she said we are Bengali Kayastha.

Confusing J . It is, for me too.

And then one fine day, years after, I googled my so called existence. Where do we come from, who are we? And google is supposedly said to have answers to almost all questions in this world. It has, this time also J

It says we are basically Kayastha from Uttar Pradesh who settled down in Bengal when the rulers were trying to expand their kingdom towards east. As we lived in Bengal for more than 250 years this state had a deep influence in our language, style of dressing customs and cultures. We adopted Bengali traditions to its fullest. Baktiyar Khilaji invaded Bengal and defeated the then King Laxman Sen. In order to save life and property we started migrating towards Bhagalpur in Bihar. Vikramshila University in Bhagalpur was always supported by Laxman Sen and it grew with his support. So finally people of his kingdom choose to migrate to Bhagalpur due to their long connection with Vikramshila University. And this is how we moved to Bihar. I was born in Bihar and my prior generations are from Bihar, so let it put this way, I am a Bihari with a Bengali origin :).

I did not do this research because my existence bothers me in any way. In fact, I have lived with people of all castes all through my life. Right from school and here I would like to mention that I have changed five schools in my schooling career and so I met a lot of people in my school life. None were from “my caste” and it hardly made a difference to me. And then came college, a bigger circle altogether. I met even more people and became close to people who were not only from different caste but from different religion altogether. And today the same continues in my workplace too. So as long as there is a connection this caste factor does not bother me in any respect.

But yes, I should have answers to questions being put up to me. And so I choose to know my existence. It never was and it never will, matter to me in anyway but knowing things related to me does help to increase my knowledge. It did in this case J

 

 

 

Walking down the colony's lane in rain with the umbrella but making sure that tiny droplets of shower do touch my face, playing badminton in the evening with my landlady helper, watching kids of age group 2-8 riding bicycle, standing on the Terrance and simply feeing the swift wind that tickles me, eating the so called unhygienic yet the most yummy golgappas from the colony’s vendor, visiting the grocery store in my shorts at times without giving a damm to anyone who sees me and above all living a life of peace, this is what I had always dreamed for and I am living my dream!

When I joined hostel I was blank totally, no presumptions, nothing. And with an experience of 3 years in hand as of now, I can say it was more of learning lessons for life than just fun. Bitching, back biting, politics, unnecessary drama at times or rather most of the times, it sucked totally. I don’t want to escape from the adversities of life but yes these things I would rather avoid because there are certain harsh scenarios destined by nature that all of us willingly or non willing face but manmade superfluous problems, one can surely do without for sure! I somehow I don’t want to recall my hostel life cause even when there were moments of pleasure, the very next moment, situations were out of control. I sometimes wonder how a 20-22 year old person can complicate his/her life to such an extent and most importantly hamper the lives of everyone around.

I had dilemmas regarding my decision to take a PG this year. And almost a month has passed after I joined my new PG, and I am clear in my mind that I took the right decision. Bright faces of my PG friends, less calorie good food enriched with love and care prepared by aunty, uncle’s hilarious nature, chotu’s chit chat and rocky’s(doggy) barking one and all seem pleasurable cause behind each of these, there in genuinely which hostel life lacked.

I have never dreamed for the impossible or for something which is very lavish. But yes whatever little I wish of having must be authentic and provide me calm so that I can live not mere breathe. I wish that the days ahead are lovely and as of now I AM IN LOVE WITH MY LIFE TOTALLY!!!!!!

Is it me?

Staring at the mirror I thought “Oh god! Is it me?”

Clad in red shorts and white tee, all wet in sweat, sitting very comfortably on my friend’s couch waiting for her to get ready so that we could proceed towards the terrace and start with our game, I looked like a complete guy. I was 8 then. Biologically a girl but more of a tom boy! I had practically no qualities of a girl. My wardrobe gave an appearance that it was of some young boy and perhaps it was only at school or maybe when I visited some relative of mine that I was spotted in skirts! But that day something strange happened. For the first time I noticed that I looked like a boy, dressed like a boy and even had a haircut like a boy!

And then suddenly I started observing my friends who were girls. They were unlike me. Calm and composed, soft spoken away from fights! I was just the other way around, loud, ring leader of the group as quoted in my uncle’s word, always up with mischief’s and that too deadly one like playing with fire, experimenting with electrical sockets, involved in terrible fights with my cousins and other guys of my apartment which sometimes worsened because guys would not give up if punched by a girl and the same applied for me too. I was poles apart from other girls!

But then something struck me that day. It was not that I wanted to be like a guy but I had never realised that I acted like a guy! And after becoming conscious about this fact, I wanted to change myself. Changes were slow. In fact very slow!

The first change was that of my attire. I now had those frills and frocks which I once considered absolutely silly to wear! The next area of concern was to control my loud voice and moreover control my anger and stop hitting guys! And this was difficult. It took years. And by the time I was 11, I had, started developing girl instincts!

The major transformation took place when I was admitted to Notre Dame Academy in class 7^th. I had always been to a co-education school and it was my very first experience to join a girl’s school. Initially it was strange, 60 girls sitting in a room, all wearing same dresses looked the very same! I had a hard time memorising their names. But the most challenging job was still to come up, judging their natures, and poor I, till date i am very weak at it! I missed my friends from my previous school because I had no friends here. And it was difficult to make friends when everyone was so full of attitude and sense of letting the other one down. For a month I had my lunch with my cousin who was in the junior section until one day she suggested me to mingle with my class mates and develop a rapport. And once I tried, I was through! I made new friends.

And I learned a lot new things which I was poor at; a sense of creativity topped the list. Making bulletin boards on innovative topics with all sorts of craft paper, learning new art forms like pot painting, collage making, book binding, knitting, tie and dye, different stitches etc were all I developed an interest in. All this was so exciting and very new to me and I enjoyed doing it! Slowly and steadily I was more of a girl now.

Over the years things have changed. Now I like to wear a little bit of jewellery too but a lot of it still makes me crazy if it’s not something really trendy. I love wearing suits for some formal occasions. My interest in makeup had diversified. Nail paints of all funky shades, eyeliners and kohl of different colour, I totally love! Sophistication in voice and mannerism I can carry off well now. So progress is good. But I know I can never be like the pure girly stuff, and moreover I don’t want to become one after all individuality must be respected and one should be loved for it!

THIS IS THE 600 WORD SHORT STORY WHICH I HAD WRITTEN FOR COMMONWEALTH WRITING COMPETITION 2010.

The aroma of freshly prepared rotis had enveloped the miniature kitchen. Amongst a dim lighted lamp and some old utensils sat Kaveri Amma, as fondly called by the villagers. It was time for her dinner. Like an every day custom, she prayed to God before consuming the little she had prepared. Amma, in her late 60’s, mother of two sons, both well settled, was spending prime of her life in the ancestral house of her late husband.

As she lay quietly on the hand knitted rug, trying to figure out probable solution for her predicament, past reminiscences appeared before her. It felt as if it was just yesterday when she was married to Govind, who was nearly 15 years elder to her. A girl just 14, who played in streets, was suddenly the eldest daughter-in-law of Raghuvanshi Family. Along with Kaveri, 4 cows, a kilo of gold and silver utensils was send to the Raghuvanshi’s as a penalty of Kaveri’s dark complexion. But in spite of these offerings cum dowry, she was made to work continuously, without even attending to any of her genuine complains.

To muddle through the diverse responsibilities shouldered upon her was indeed a challenge. Right from getting up early at 4 for Morning Prayer, to sweeping the entire house, to cooking the varieties before the clock struck 12, to taking lunch to the farm for her husband and brother-in-law, to again cooking dinner and simultaneously managing other petite tasks like attending to frequent calls of her in-laws, to shopping out for households, was all she did on a daily basis. And amongst all this, she tried to figure out what an institution like marriage actually meant?

She got an acceptance into family after delivery of her first baby and that too not because her husband loved her as of now or her in-laws developed a sense of care for her but because she was on the threshold of continuing their generation. This period of 9 months was like a queen’s reign for her. She named it and it was at her service, the best of clothes, eatables and whatever she desired for.

Kuwar, a fair complexioned baby boy, liberated her from being a blotch on the pride of Raghuvanshis’.

And out of the blue, things transformed for her. She discovered new facets of life, motherhood marking the very start. With each step Kuwar took forth, a novel quandary was waiting for this inexperienced girl. And she, with all her efforts, was ready to combat them. Yes, there was someone to help her now, Govind. He was in love with her. Life changed its connotations; she became a wife genuinely after she became a mother.

And then life began. She felt like a bird that could spread its wings, fly high, and explore the vastness of existence. Marriage, love, commitment, she could now completely relate to. The perception of her in laws also revolutionized with elapse of time, she became more of a daughter than daughter-in-law.

This was the house where she was brought 54 years back. She acquired different roles that of a wife, a mother, a daughter-in-law, a mother-in-law and finally a grandmother, and this dwelling were evident of her being just to each of it. She could feel each of the brick reciting her past life, the air gently tickling her and reminding her of all those rejuvenating moments. A young girl as delicate as a petal transformed into an emotionally and physically stable woman here. She had made her decision, her heart and soul resides here, and she would breathe h er last here.

There are some places where we love to hang out with some of our best pals and yes I am all set to write about one such place. It’s about 15 feet above the ground, not very spacious but yes very airy and totally awesome place! It’s none other than tank top of Meharkunj apartment and the person who is my partner in crime is AKANKSHA PRIYAM. I call it a crime cause as a kid I had this mindset that everyone who went up there were weirdo’s and moreover girls never went up there, it was always the guys and I think we two are the one who started this trend.

An iron ladder which is fixed to the ground leads up there. Off course one needs to be careful cause we can fall while going up and coming down and that reminds me of the fact that I did fall once when I hurried after listening to my mum’s voice! But I am an accident prone person, and these things do not alter my determination much.

So talking about the place, it’s like it can accommodate 6-7 people, but I and Akanksha would actually dislike to take someone along with us up there. One can view a good range of vicinity which basically included lots of vegetation, some private houses and apartments. Especially after a little drizzle, the sky looks marvelously stunning and clear from there. I remember we sometimes try to figure out different patterns which are randomly created during cloudy weather. There are all sorts of birds that one can see. Some are the migrating ones which form very orderly pattern as they proceed and some totally random like crows and sparrows, but I guess each of it looks gorgeous. And sometimes there are unknown kids playing in the nearby apartments who wave to us and its lovely to wave back!

Now a list of things we do there. Actually there is no list it’s all random! We chat, we laugh,we recall some excellent memories of our childhood, sometimes I go mad and feel like yelling and that is the moment when Akanksha acts sensibly and stops me, we guess random cloud patterns, we see kids and sometimes we even see guys and that’s normal..and moreover that’s rare..very rare I guess…very very rare I guess..anyways..and the latest was our photo shoot..up above, random poses..lots of laughter..it was heaven!!!

And I guess all this ultimate fun was possible because I had you Akanksha Priyam! (Don’t fly! Come down) And now that you are all set to start your college life, I hope things would not change and every time we meet during our common holidays, we would do the same, ever and ever again!!!!

As I write this piece, I feel very heavy hearted. Mrs Rekha Srivastava, my history teacher, passed away this morning. She taught me when I was in class 8th. Long time….yet the memories are so fresh.

Mrs. Srivastava was indeed a fantastic person to know. Down to earth, loving and very caring she was. I remember once she told us that she must be very elder to our mothers and that we should be comfortable enough to share our problems with her.

History and Art Education was the two subjects that she taught us. As a teacher, she took utmost care that not only the students who were good in studies grasped things but also the weaker ones were with the class. Indian Freedom Movement was the course syllabus for us that year. And she taught us each and every lesson not with the purpose that we gained marks but because she wanted us to know about our country and the martyrs who laid down their lives with a vision of independent India. And yes, as each lesson progressed, we were into it. History had never seemed so interesting. And the day she finished with our syllabus, we all students stood up and sung the national anthem together as a mark of respect to our nation. We had developed the sense of patriotism within us and Mrs. Srivastava was the force behind all this.

Art education that year was about the basic arts. We started with pot painting, candle making, crafts made out of ice cream sticks. Girls made even more intricate crafts which I had never heard of even. And one fine day Mrs. Srivastava asked us as to which art we would like to learn next and there were suggestions like painting, clay art, etc. and I remember her reply in her exact words. She said “I know these art forms are interesting. But no one amongst you suggested cooking or knitting. As girls, you should all know this. I know cooking wouldn’t be possible in school buy yes, we can learn to knit.” We all agreed and then began the quest to learn this art. I call it a quest because maximum of us had never even thought that we would ever be learning to knit, that too in school. I tried my best to learn and whenever I went wrong, she called me up and taught me the correct way. We donated 60 scarfs along with the hard bound copies we had made earlier to Julie School kids.

More than the subject she taught us about life. How life is pleasant sometimes and very atrocious the very next moment! I remember her once narrating a tale about her driver who had burnt his only bed so that he could keep his room warm to protect his kids from the chilling weather outside.
She always wanted us to be good people along with being students. I remember once she had said that we would be growing up and along with being a daughter, someday we would be a wife, a daughter-in-law, a mother and with each of these relations coming our way life would be very challenging yet very beautiful.

And then one fine day one of my friend Sneha Jha was sobbing in class. It was Mrs. Srivastava’s class and she asked Sneha the reason behind it. Sneha kept mum. Mrs Srivastava guessed all the possibilities from her being ill to fights between friends but she declined all. And then someone from the class itself informed Mrs.Srivastava that Sneha was crying because Mrs.Srivastava would be leaving us very soon. She was shifting to Mumbai. That was the time I got to know that she was leaving. All that all she said was “girls, don’t make it difficult for me to go.” And after a few days, she left. I remember her last session with us. She had worn an orange and green saree with whit bangles. She had a talk for about half an hour and basically told us to become good humans. We all cried and even she did.

When I think of all this today, I feel puzzled because I am a person with a very bad memory. I forget birthdays, phone numbers and some times even the names of people I was once very close to and yet I remember Mrs. Srivastava and every detail associated with her so minutely as though it all happened just yesterday. Perhaps because I respected her loved her from within! And today when she is no more with us, I feel very upset. I pray to god to give strength to her family and friends to bear this sorrow.

Mam, your teaching will always help us in walks of our life. It was a great opportunity to know a person like you who in herself is nothing less than a legend.
I will miss you.

“Hey which country do you belong to?” asked a man nearly 60.
“I am an Indian, from the state Bihar, the land where Gautam Buddha attained wisdom. I replied and you?”
“I am a chinese by religion, a malaysian by nationality and a follower of Buddhism. Call me Uncle Choo, I must be a little elder that your father! What’s your name young lady?”
“ I am Surabhi.”
“ Now, how do you pronounce it?”
“Its Surabhi, Su..Ra…Bhi. My name symbolizes fragrance.”
“Oh! Lovely! And you have come here for a holiday?” he asked.
“Yes, with my family. My parents and my younger brother!”

Papa had asked me and Saurabh (my younger brother) to wait at the Malaysian Railway Station by the time he completed with the formalities so that we could proceed to Genting, our next destination. Though we were instructed to be a bit reserved, as you cannot be sure whether a person is genuine or fake and that too when you are in a foreign land, I could not resist myself when Uncle Choo initiated a talk. A man nearly 60, short height about 5’2 or so in a casual T-shirt, big glasses and a cap, he was noticing me and Saurabh before we got into an actual conversation.

“So, what do you do?”
“We both are students. I am pursuing engineering and my brother is a school student.”
“ That’s good. And are you carrying, what do you call it? Which is tangy in taste, with lots of spices. I had it once when one of my friends came from India!
“You mean pickles! Oh I don’t have it right now.”

I giggled as it was now confirmed that foreigners have this notion that Indian carry stuffs like pickles and other home made eatables wherever they go!

He then talked about his culture, the way people greeted each other there, their traditional dress and their rituals. He even asked me about the same and listened to me with keen interest. He told me that one should always respect his customs cause they give us our identity.

He appeared much attached to his family. I could make out that his son didn’t take proper care of him. As a matter of fact he didn’t say anything which wasn’t in favour of his son but I could sense it. He told me to take good care of my parents when they grew old, to respect them and love them always.

He asked me as to when I would visit Malaysia for the nest time. I said I wasn’t sure; it all depends upon my dad and his schedule. And he joked that may be some years later, I could come with my husband for my honeymoon.

We chatted for about next 45 min or so before my parents came. He told my papa that both of us were fantastic kids! He helped papa with the required paper work to be performed before we could leave Malaysia. Papa also discussed about the markets in Singapore and Genting as a person local to the place could give authentic information.

This snap posted above was taken early next morning at an intermediate station where our routes parted. He wished us good luck for future and we parted.
This was my first and perhaps my last meeting with him. I had never imagined that I would meet with a person on a unfamiliar land, who had absolutely no connections with me, and who would give me valuable learning for life. In a overseas country where people from your own place, speaking same language as yours behave as if they have absolutely no connections with you, this man made me believe that it is not you nationality or language that makes you closer, all you need is love and a pure heart to bond.

Uncle Choo, I respect you from the bottom of my heart and will always cherish the time spent with you. May god bless you always!

1 file received….2 files received…gosh!!!

I was literally shivering. How can this happen? After all my mobile was in silent mode…how can my message tone ring! All eyes on me…students staring….. but thank god my teacher didn’t notice.

Bluetooth, an excellent technology for passing of videos, pictures and songs from one Bluetooth enabled device to other. But there are other usages too. Like for example for engineers, it serves an efficient tool for cheating in practical exams. Wondering! Let me explain. Engineers are a breed who prefers to study just before exams. Reasons to this may be varied, for exams lack of interest, lack of good faculty at times, too many assignments and other extra curricular activates to handle! But yes last minute studies actually work, and off lately I have started believing that it not only works but it rocks. It is essential to study for the main papers but practicals…..no way…after all they are practical application as the name suggest…why mug up pages of theory for it!

I had my practical paper today. Programs… too lengthy to memorize…and without even understanding the logic behind it and performing it even for once, mug it up….never!! Anyways I reached class and my friend assured me that there is no need to worry because he had snap of each page of the file and he would send me the required ones after I was allotted the program.

And this is why my cell rang in the middle of class! My god! I wonder if my teacher would have observed, what on earth could have had happened! I almost freezed..cause it rang not just once but twice. My hands trembled as I tried to put off the tone. Nervousness enveloped me and I switched off my cell. Surabhi….are you mad…how come you have entered the examination hall before putting your cell on silent mode…comments like this followed. But it was silent…and my message tone was off…even I don’t know how this happened. Maybe because I haven’t tried out cheating that often or maybe because I tried to deceive and was tricked by the so called reliable technology!
Today I pledge that the next time I try any of this activity, I would be extra careful for sure, cause it isn’t illegal until you get caught but to avert yourself from getting caught, you need to be extra cautious!

9th Feb.- Chocolate day

Did you get your share of chocolate? This is the question in most of minds round here. Well!! I must confess no chocolates for me (except that one of my friends’ offered me some candy).

Frankly speaking these days are not meant for singles. Or maybe, the entire valentine week isn’t. But it is really fascinating, I mean there is no need to show off in love, but yes, celebrations are appreciated once in a while. Rose day, propose day, kiss day, hug day, teddy day, promise day and finally valentine day, yes 7 great days to appreciate your love in a special way!

I gave a chocolate to a boy, aged 11, who handles a nearby grocery store. Actually that shop belongs to his father but he was out regarding his insurance work. This kid, who is barely, 3.6 feet tall (approx), was trying his best to deal with his customers. We had asked for a sachet of shampoo and this kid was finding it difficult to take it out cause it was kept at a greater height. But his determination, must say was splendid. He brought a chair, and in spite of me saying not to climb it, because I feared he would fall, he managed to bring down the sachets. There was a spark in him, to achieve, to work and to fulfil his ambitions even if they seemed tough at his age and his reach.

And then I realised that there was nothing to be demoralised about. If that kid, who at this age should be playing around with is friends or maybe going to school, is running his father’s grocery store so well, then we, who have all luxuries should not make commotion about silly things. Amidst the Huss and fuss, of college kids celebrating valentine week, I came across this kid, who had nothing to celebrate but yet was so composed.

Life is to live. Problems would arise but accept it, face it and get the best out of everything.

THIS WAS THE BEST CHOCOLATE DAY I EVER CELEBRATED…THANKS KIDDO…YOU INSPIRED ME REALLY!!!

Its 19th September, 12:18 am and here I am listening one of the tracks “ aaj din chadiya”, by Rahet Ali Khan. Yes, people may think that there isn’t anything great about it. But I guess; there is something definitely great about it. Right now I am sitting in the Ladies Waiting room at Lucknow station. Yups! It quite late. But I have to catch a train early morning at 6:20. As my hostel is a bit too far it would have been difficult for me to come that early. Though two of my friends volunteered to take the responsibility of bringing us to station early morning, I felt like trying out a night out at railway station.

My parents were a little angry about this night out at railway station stuff. But I had no options cause this trip to home was planned suddenly after a mass bunk declared in class. And arranging for tickets so soon isn’t really possible. That is why we had to opt for this morning train. By “we” I mean an other friend of mine. She also resides in Patna. We would be going along. Presently she is with two of my other classmates, who had come all along to enquire about our well being. Now, it might strike as to why I am not out with them. This is actually because I was hit by a bike today while coming to the station. We were travelling in a rickshaw when a bike from opposite direction came and hit my leg. I got hurt. It’s paining but the intensity of this injury measured tomorrow morning I guess! And as for the guy who hit me, I don’t know whether it was because of the dim light on road or his poor concentration or actually because he was looking at the rickshaw and not in front, he ended up doing this. I started to panic but seeing that the crowd could create a scene, I kept mum. And this is the reason that I am alone in this room, as my friends feel that I should take rest so that this injury gets better.

Too many new experiences as for today. I mean, a hit by a bike & a night out at the railway station. But itsn’t that bad as it sounds. This Waiting Room is kind of good. It’s a big hall consisting of attached bathrooms. There are two ceiling fans and two AC’s for maintaining cool environment. Apart from me there are two aunties, who are busy chatting as they have to catch a train at 2 am.

I have to spend about 5 and a half hour more here. I guess, I would be watching some movies. Actually, I just completed watching a movie a few minutes back. “LITTILE MANHATHON”, was a very cute movie. A movie about two kids. Gabe, 10 & Rosemary, 11. Gabe has a all boy’s group before he meets Rosemary in karate classes after which he starts liking her. The story has a good ending. A must watch because it is an innocent tale of two kids!

Two hours later:-

It’s getting kind of cold here. And to my horror I haven’t brought any bed sheets along. And I had to no option but to use my friend’s bed sheet. But it is also not helping cause it’s really cold. And I have done something stupid right now. But it feels better. I have actually taken out two more tops out of my bag and presently I am wearing three of them. I notice another girl has entered the waiting room and she is smiling cause I am looking funny. But who cares! As long as I don’t feel cold, it’s ok. And I am going for a nap again. Good night!

Its 5:30 a.m. I was woken by mummy’s call. She said that I should get ready. Well! I think I slept for two hours or so. But this injury has worsened. It has swelled up. I hope my bone hasn’t cracked but I can walk so it’s not a crack definitely. As about the whole episode of ‘night out on a waiting room’ is concerned, I am happy it’s over. It was a drastic one and I realised it during midnight when it was freezing cold and I was literally shivering. So no more night outs like this in future for sure. And as of now I should get ready for my train.

Whenever I fill a slam book, the one question I get stuck at is “the most embarrassing moment of my life”. But I got an answer to it now.

It all happened this noon. It is Friday today. We didn’t have a class and that is why I was in hostel from morning. My friend, who had gone to college, for some personal work, told me that very less people had turned up. Moreover I was not feeling well so I thought of going to the mess in the same Capri and top that I was wearing in hostel. Now let me mention that mess is a 5min way from hostel. So I thought that I would hardly matter as to what I wore and nobody would actually notice such an insignificant thing.

To my horror, mess was overcrowded today. But I was pretty cool about it! Cause even guys go to mess in their pyjamas and shorts during college hours if they don’t have a class.

On my way to mess, most of everyone who noticed stared as if I had committed a crime. As a matter of fact, I actually don’t care about these craps and I am used to people staring at me for varied other reasons too, so it was ok!

As I entered, a group of my classmates were sitting there. “Bullshit! What are they doing here?” this was the only question in my mind. “Look at her”, and then laughter. Man! I felt so awkward! I mean I am so particular when it comes to dressing and all, and how can this happen. But this was not it. It had to be worse. When I was taking food, someone commented “hey! What is she wearing?”
Damm! How can someone say like this? I have full rights to wear whatever I feel like. And moreover I wasn’t well. I was hungry, so I had taken the pains to turn up to mess.

Anyways I waited for my classmates to leave before I did because I was in no mood to hear any of it again. And why should I, I roam around in the same campus, with this same dress on, after college and nobody comments! But yes, maybe it was the wrong time to wear it or let’s say I finally had to figure out the most embarrassing moment of my life, so this happened!

LEARNING: NEVER GO TO THE MESS IN YOUR HOSTEL DRESS DURING COLLEGE HOURS. A STRICT NO, EVEN IF YOU ARE UNWELL!

Love is perhaps the most sought after topic that we college students discuss about. As folklore says “love sets in as we reach the threshold of leaving our teens”. Be it anyone or rather I should say everyone, experiences this mysterious feeling by this time. I say mysterious cause nobody actually knows as to what it is! Things unexpectedly change around us. The whole lot seems fresh and extraordinary. When love is in air “one forgets everything”. One doesn’t feel like eating, studying or doing anything apart from thinking and thinking. And if you ask thinking about what, the individual doesn’t know even that. Romantic songs and poetry follows next. Both our conscious and sub conscious mind is taken over.

The dictionary defines love as “to feel tender affection for somebody such as a close relative or friend” or “to like someone very much”. But is love just this? I think love is much more than this. Love isn’t just about roaming with your beloved all day long. It’s not just about exchanging cards or gift on Valentines Day. It’s not just talking on phone for nights. All this invoke a feeling of closeness, but true love not far to see at this stage.

True love sets in when two different people start liking each other because they are different. Forget about the merits even the shortcomings appear worth admiring. This admiration comes from within and even words fall short when trying to explain it. Perhaps this is why love is called a language of hearts. This feeling of love is pure and divine. Something which can just be sensed and not explicated. Dedication and selfless devotion to relationship is what love demands.

In my outlook the best phase of love is observed in old age. This is the time when all the glamour is gone and what stays behind is pure love. I remember some days back I had seen an old couple who were out for a walk. They were holding hands. The lady had some problem in her leg and wasn’t able to walk properly. And her counterpart was there for her, to hold her, at each step she took. This was the cutest pair I had ever seen.

There are no formalities. The lady doesn’t have to put up make up neither she has to dress in trendy clothes nor the man has to put up a cool hair style. She would see him as the best man on this planet even with his stupid hairstyle. He doesn’t have to bring expensive gifts for her; just words of appreciation would work wonders. Silence says many a things which is difficult for even words to explain.

If one of the two is ill, the other one takes good care. One forgets his own medicines, but keeps a track of every small necessity of hers. Even a sneeze of her would make him worried, and even in this pathetic condition she would get up and cook for him while he is busy buying medicines for her.

There are fights too. And these are the sweetest ones. They stop talking to each other. But the regular activities take place in usual flow. His breakfast is served before he even asks for it. And he switches the TV to her favourite serial which usually he never does. They both keep a mum. But even in this silence, they take care of each other so well. Both of them wait for just one initiation. And once initiated, there are unending talks.

They don’t even have to spend a lot like the youngsters do in their so called anniversaries. Just a card without even addressing it to your beloved would say all that is unsaid. And the best time would not be going out to some fancy restaurant but just sitting by each others side in a park and looking down upon all the beautiful times they have ever spent together.

This is true love and a stunning experience.

It is lovely to be in love. And it is even lovelier to grow old with someone.

23rd august 2005, I had my physics test that day. I and my brother returned home by 1:30 pm as usual. But there was something unusual that day. My maternal uncle’s staff was there to accompany us to home. I was a bit puzzled on seeing him there. But I thought may be because dadu was hospitalised, he was there to take us to the hospital. All through our way to home, he talked normally to me and asked which course, as in PCM or PCB I had opted for.

As soon as I reached home, I saw a number of slippers lying outside my residence. Mama was standing outside to receive us. I was blank for a moment. I was getting a feel as to what could have had happened but by no means I wanted to consider the thoughts that was creeping into my mind. He held my hand and told me to come inside. I clasped him firmly and took a few steps towards home and even before I entered, I saw something from the door that was open. There laid the dead body of the person I loved the most. My dadu was no more. I was dumbstruck. It appeared as if the whole world had come to a standstill at that very moment. My heartbeats were abnormally rapid, whole body shivered and I felt as if the blood inside me free zed. I strongly held mama’s stomach and tried my best not enter my own dwelling. Everything had ended. I knew that dadu wasn’t well, but I had never imagined in my wildest dream that something like this can ever happen. This was for the very first time I saw the ultimate phenomenon, “death”, so closely.

Both my brother and I somehow entered lobby. My brother who was then in class 7th, hugged mummy very tightly. He didn’t speak a word as tears continuously rolled down his cheek. And I lay down on the ground trying to still accept this grief. I was out crying and cursing the doctor who had treated him lastly. But all this was in vain because he has no more and this was the soul reality. I was not in a position to see his dead body again. I covered my face with my hands to make sure that I didn’t even get a sight of this appalling truth as everybody took me inside my room. For the next few hours I kept on crying and asking mummy as to how something like this can happen. Everybody was crying and still consoling each other. One of my aunts from neighbourhood asked me to be strong but how could I strong knowing the fact that I had lost the most precious thing of my life. Mummy took me to dadi. She was surrounded by my relatives. Her eyes had swelled and she held me very securely as I came towards her. I just lay on her lap crying. She said that I should act courageously and I wondered as to how someone who just lost her husband, her better half, could act strong. And then I realised that perhaps this is the bitter part of life, where we don’t die for the ones who leave us but live for the ones who are with us.

After that all the rituals followed. Panditji asked me to put gangajal and some other thing in his mouth. I had covered my face with one of my hands and performed all the rituals with the another. His whole body was decorated with flowers and something was written on his forehead with sandal paste. I didn’t want to see him like this. And not for a moment I felt that he was dead. I felt as if he was still breathing.

He was taken downstairs. Everyone followed and even I did. “Ram nam satya hai” was the slogan in air. I felt so helpless. The one I loved was leaving me like this and I could do nothing but cry. He was departing for ever. When his body was put in ambulance, I held his feet. It was very cold and this was my last touch. I knew that this was for the last time I was seeing him, touching him but I couldn’t do anything.

I cried and cried for that whole day. I didn’t know what to do. I was remembered of all the times we had spent together. All those moments of happiness, sorrow & fun was coming before my eyes. I had lost a very precious relationship of my life.

The next few days were even more difficult for me. Relatives from all over came at our place. Papa wore a cream coloured dhoti and had a chadar for the next few days. Everyday some or the other rituals were performed reminding us again and again that dadu was no more. There were phone calls from all over and everyone with the same questions as to how this happened. Each time dadi met with any of our relatives, she cried her heart out. There was an unbearable pain in the vicinity. I felt like running away from my own place.

But the most difficult time was yet to follow. After all my relatives had left, we faced a melancholic period. The entire house seemed so quiet. His daily use items, clothes, his books, his writings each and everything was scattered all over and everything reminded me of him. It was impossible for me to believe that he was no more. I always felt that it was due to the mistakes of doctor. I scrutinized the expiry dates of the medicines that were given to him on the last day. It was stupid of me to do this because he was taken to best heart hospital and the doctors must have had their level best to save his life but somehow I could not believe as to how he could die.


I knew that he had developed this heart problem an year back but he was perfectly fine as of now. I still remember the first time he was hospitalised, mummy said to me that he had hypertension and pumping rate of his heart had decreased to 15% and this was something which could not be cured but we could maintain it as the same through medication. Both I and my brother were given clear instruction that we should not fight or indulge in any activity in front of him that could lead to tension of any kind. He was given a strict diet that was free from cholesterol. But all of these didn’t help much. All this made him stable but not to a very great extent. Every now and then he suffered heart pain. Although it subsided after giving the prescribed medicine, but his condition was deteriorating day by day. In the mean time papa had bought a flat in
Ashiana and we shifted there. Perhaps papa very well knew that dadu would not live for long so he took this decision of shifting to our flat.


He was really excited about our new flat. And this started to reflect in his health too. His condition started to become better. After a few months papa even took him to Gangaram Hospital, New Delhi, to make sure that he was provided with the best possible medication. When he came back there was a remarkable improvement. He was given a new diet chart and a new set of medicines. His entire day’s water consumption was restricted to 1 lt. It was not that after this he didn’t suffer any problem, he did suffer but to a lesser extent. The reports showed that his pumping rate had decreased to 11%. This meant that his heart did not pump out entire blood that was pumped in. He was given injections to pump blood out of his heart.


I remember during my summer vacations I had gone to my cousin’s place to join some course and I had to return back the next day to collect some related document. I was out just for a day but on seeing me he started to cry. He said babu, please don’t go away, and don’t leave me alone. And I didn’t go. He was getting a feel from within that his life in moving towards an end but he had a desire to live. On my brother’s birthday, 16th may 2005, he again suffered acute chest pain. All our relatives had come to attend his birthday party and there he lay in pain. He was given injection after which his condition became stable. He came out of his room, saw saurabh cut the cake. I was taking snaps and then I noticed that he was crying. It seemed that he knew that this was for the last time he was attending his grandson’s birthday. He was craving to live but his body wasn’t supporting him.

But after 16th may, he didn’t have any serious problem. His conditions became much better. But perhaps this wasn’t the reality. His heart was growing feeble from within. On 22nd august, he had woken up very early. I was about to leave for school when he called me. He asked me to touch his for head and to ensure if he had fever. I did the same and told him that he would be fine soon. This was my last talk with him. When I returned back from school, he had already taken to hospital as he complained of severe chest pain. The next day I had a physics exam and so I couldn’t even go to meet him. And when I returned back from school on 23rd, everything had ended. He was no more.



Dadu was more than a grandfather to me. He was like a good friend, philosopher and guide. He always taught me to do good to others, respect others and love others. He had a story for every situation I guess. And by this way he made me understand the realities of life. He wrote vey well. At that time I was very small to understand his poems but now I can clearly sense the pain which lies behind them. He was a self made man. He had risen up from very adverse situation. His life is beyond doubt an inspiration for me.



Even today I dream of him. And whenever I see him, he is not dead. And this is possibly because he is still alive in my memory. The times spend with him was definitely the best time of my life where I got to learn so much.

I MISS U DADU AND I WILL ALWAYS DO.

Suddenly the world seems so new
Things have started changing
And the grey sky seems blue.


I feel like flying,
And may be reaching the top of the world.
I feel like discovering all those undiscovered,
And finding the expanses of this world.
I feel like walking on lonely streets,
And think about what I want from life.
I feel like questioning myself,
And then searching for the answers my questions.


I feel like appreciating each and every creation of god,
And see the beauty that lies within.
I feel like trusting people,
And believing in all their good.
I feel like exploring the various phases of every relation of my life,
And thanking god for all one of them.
I feel like accepting things as they are,
And realising that everything happens for a reason.

In the last behavioural science class, we were asked to identify one relationship of our life and write down at which stage of relationship development we were.
The five stages namely initiation, exploration, intensification, intimacy and relationship break up. And just after this I started to wonder as to which stage I am in.

As far as I can guess, be it any relation of mine, I am in second stage, exploration.
When I lived with my parents, I thought that I was clever enough to deal with this world. But as always I was proved wrong. My real journey began when I stepped out into this world almost two years back. Life has been tougher since then. Things now don’t seem as they appear to be.

In these two years I met with a variety of people. I say “variety” because I had never imagined that people can be so different in every respect. Be it language, sense of understanding, maturity level and other spheres of life, I perhaps met with one of all these kinds.

Since then I have been exploring. I say so because I don’t feel confident anymore. My trust seems shaken sometimes. The people I trust the most hurt me the most. People no more turn out to be the way I expect them to be. Its not that I expect too much but the little that I do is also not fulfilled.

I now feel lost in this world. I feel that I am like a child who had just begun to learn about the truths of life. I am not depressed but a bit astonished to see the other side of life which presently appears totally fake to me. My parents always made me aware of the adversities of life. I knew that life wasn’t undemanding as it appeared to be but I hadn’t expected it to be this way either.

Each day is a new journey for me. Each moment brings a new learning for me. Life is unfolding itself slowly with new surprises waiting for me at each step. I am completely black right now. I have so much still I feel empty. I have everybody but still I feel lonely. Perhaps I am not that smart to deal with smarter people around me. I am now exploring each relation of my life. And irony is that the deeper I try to explore the more confused I get. Everything seems so complicated. I encounter with a new aspect of truth everyday and by the time I try to accept it, another one is waiting for me. I sometimes feel that I think too much but the fact is that I am not able to accept this harsh face of life.

Some days back I had seen a dream,
A dream which comprised of you and me,
A dream where I cared for you, I lived for you,
Where I loved you because you were you.

A dream where your radiating smile made my day,
Where your gestures made me feel special,
Where you listened to my silly talks without complaints,
Where your love filled all voids of my life and made me complete.

This dream was like a fantasy to me,
And I was the princess of this fairyland.
I was joyful in my world,
But alas! I got to know that this was just a dream not reality.
A reality where you had your own world,
And most importantly your own “love”.

I cried and complained to god,
For not making my dream true,
God smiled and said to me:-
It’s true that he doesn’t love you,
But your love is a success,
Cause you love him with a true heart,
You love him knowing that he is just a dream not reality,
And thus you will be rewarded,
By a person who will love you more than you love yourself,
God said that my dream would always remain incomplete,
But I would be rewarded with a reality which would be more beautiful than my dream.