Conversations

Fishes Don't Cry

2012-01-26T07:22:00.003-08:00

There's something healing about water;
Something about it's seamless flow,
That takes all your restlessness away
And tells you to let go...

Deep underwater,
You can hear no voice;
There is no noise,
'Tis only...silence that flows

There's something peaceful about water
Something remedial in the deep blue world,
A sense of calm in its wave;
A lesson of merriment in its swirls

It must be therapy in itself
That soothes the mind and the eye,
And that must be why fishes don't cry.

Conversations with Nature

2011-12-05T08:17:00.001-08:00

Hey pretty one, do you know they call you fungus?

Complex, deep, mysterious -- what are you...A woman's mind?

Keep your feet firmly on the ground, spread your hands, dream high...and reach out to the infinite blue sky...

Roads and life often twist, turn and bend...sometimes to shock you...sometimes to surprise you with destination unknown and journeys unexpected

"They call it lonely, depression-inducing, barren tree; we call it home."

Texts n photographs by Purva!

Walk a mile to explore Amritsar’s heritage & history

2011-11-26T08:03:00.002-08:00

Amritsar hasn’t meant much more to me than the Golden Temple, Jallianwala Bagh and Wagah Border and Amritsari naan. However, in the last trip, I got a chance to acquaint myself with the 450-year-old heritage of Amritsar with The Heritage Walk started by Punjab Tourism Board.

Starting at 8 in the morning, an hour long walk, covering about 3 kms, can surprise you with little-known facets of the holy city. Our guide begins by telling us that Amritsar was established by Guru Ramdas and nurtured by Guru Arjan Dev and later by Maharaja Ranjit Singh.

Historical Sites

Saragarhi Gurudwara

The walk, starting from Town Hall, covers about 14 sites: the Saragarhi Gurdwara, Fort Ahluwalia, Chowk Jallebiyan Wala, Akhara Sangalwala, Akhara Chitta, the Darshani Deori, Baba Bohar, Thakurdwara Dariana Mal, Chaurasti Attari Chowk, Taksal of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, Radha Krishan Mandir and Akhara Brahm Buta.

The Saragarhi Gurdwara is a proof of the Sikh martyrdom. A marble stone fixed on the wall of the Gurdwara has names engraved of the Sikh soldiers who died in the defense of the frontier Fort of Saragarhi in 1897, fighting against the Pathans.

You then move to walking in the narrow streets of the old city that are abuzz with activities during the peak hours. But early in the morning, history comes alive and you travel back in time. It’s hair-raising to imagine the gruesome bloodbath when you think of it in this serene environment. And while you are lost on those thoughts, the 'Crawling Street' gives you goose bumps. It is the street where Indians were made to crawl after the infamous General Dyer got to know that a British missionary was beaten by residents, irked by the arrest of their leaders Dr Saifudeen Kitchlu and Dr Satpal by the British.

Another spot that catches one’s attention is Thakurdwara of Rai Kishan Chand. The marvelous architecture on its walls, the frescos and paintings leave you awestruck. Descendents of Rai Kishan Chand Sapra still own the building. The unfortunate part is that no efforts have been made by the government to restore its glory. An old caretaker tells us how several pleas have just fallen flat.

Another glorious site included in the walk is the Taksal where Sikh regime coins were minted during the reign of Maharaja Ranjit Singh. Today, it lies as a deserted house with a torn banner hanging outside the building.

While you take so much of history in, stop by at the famous Jalebiwala Chowk to enjoy delicious jalebis.

Golden Temple & Jallianwala Bagh

The walk would be incomplete with a visit to the Harmandir Sahab better known as the Golden Temple. The temple has four gates as if welcoming people from all sides, representing the liberal character of Sikhism. The large lake of water, the Sarovar, surrounding it is said to be consisting of amrit, which means holy nectar. This explains the city's name.

A short walk from the Golden Temple leads you to the site that is reminiscent of the monstrous massacre years ago – Jallianwala Bagh. The narrow path between the houses may not give a hint of the legacy stored inside. There are remnants of walls preserved to show the bullet holes and you can peep into the Martyrs' Well, where several people jumped in while trying to escape from bullets.

Little Disappointments

The initiative taken by the tourism board is undoubtedly appreciable but there are certain blanks to be filled. For starters, the streets so rich in heritage and history have been poorly maintained. It’s sad to see dilapidated state of most of the buildings. Thakurdwara, for instance, is in dire need of restoration. Further, there are loose wires hanging all over. Poor quality roads and dirt on the street make it more unattractive. The entire area demands good maintenance if not restoration.

While the guides do a good job of informing you about the heritage, it would be a good idea to get a historian to give a context to some of the information provided. However, it is still worth an experience.

When it hurts...

2011-10-15T12:34:00.001-07:00

For pain from broken trusts and tarnished relationships...

Of dear ones lost to death,

(Source: Jessica Bell's blog)

And those lost in life
Of old flames hurting as they burn bright...
They don't make painkillers for heartaches.

It ended even before it began...

2011-10-15T12:27:00.000-07:00

Wondering what it was
Wondering what it is
There's a lot of doubt
May be this is something
You'd just laugh about

Wondering what's happening
Wondering what happened
Who is to be blamed
Perhaps for you,
It was all just a game.

Wondering why it started
Wondering why did it end
May be it was all for a season
Or it ended for a reason...

Wondering if you ever wonder
Wondering if you even bother...
About all the broken ties.
I'm certain you don't
How would you?
You...who're so full of lies.

May be that's why it doesn't hurt
I could forget it as a blunder
But I shall call it all an accident
This verse shall be the funeral
And be the last time I'd wonder.

RIP Dear Friend

2011-09-08T04:02:00.000-07:00

Dear Krishna,

There was something about your aura that had caught my attention when I met you for the first time. A new chapter was to begin for you, me and Sakshi. How enthusiastic and sanguine we all were for the new beginning. Though things were bright initially, we soon realized they did not match our dreams and expectations. But those times brought all of us together. How much ever we cribbed you stood like a wall of positivity for all of us.

You hated things more than any of us did but no one could ever say so. Your vigour for things above those trivial matters overshadowed all the pessimism. I admired that quality in you the most.

What I also admired was your go-getter spirit. You did what you had to do no matter what the world felt about that. I remember you cycling to work just because you felt like cycling those days. It was fun riding that cycle of yours. I thank you for those little moments of joy.

I also thank you for always encouraging me… Your words of appreciation for some posts in this very blog motivated me a lot. Thank you also for partnering my travel dreams. My Karnataka trip was unforgettable a lot because of your planning. I shared with you my long list of dream destinations. You did so too. But hey you never told me a trip to heaven was on your list…so soon. It’s unfair!

It’s unfair that you who never wished ill for anyone had to go so soon. Even as I write this, I can hear your idiosyncratic tone and see that warm smile declaring that you are so content. I hope you are…I hope you are as lively wherever you are now as you were here.

It will take me time to accept this painful truth. You may not exist physically anymore but your attitude towards life is a lesson. I shall try to live by your rules – crib less, dream more; follow your heart, travel and most importantly live…every day…every moment.

I wish I could post this letter to you to let you know how much I have admired your zeal for life. I have always valued your words of encouragement whether for writing or for traveling. You will be remembered always… RIP

Love,

Purva

Bring down the walls

2011-07-14T05:18:00.000-07:00

Open the closed doors,

Break the locks.

Set your egos free

Forget the past.

Let some light in &

Let go the darkness

Of minds and hearts.

Find the love

That we've lost.

Live for today and

Give each other a chance

Don't you remember?

This house was home once.

Letter From McLeodganj

2011-05-03T03:58:00.001-07:00

Dear L,

The rest of the gang is sleeping... physically tired of exploring Mcleodganj the entire day. I am sitting outside my hotel room from where I can see the silhouettes of mountains and lights suggesting life running through them. However, I cannot see the white mountain. The one covered with snow...that was till this evening standing tall behind the dark mountain. I call it the mountain of peace.

It’s amusing how we look for peace and happiness in the Mcleodganjs of the world. Settled far away from the hustle & bustle of the big cities we live in, we assume life is peaceful, happy and simple here. The cab driver we met today smirked when he heard this and told us his story. Equally complex, equally hard…perhaps more painful than our stories that suffocate us in the big city.

We at least have the hills to run to. What are we crying about? What are we cribbing for? Only for the White Mountain we all can't see because of the darkness in our minds. It’s within and hence most difficult to find.

Wish you happiness n peace always.

Good Times Bad Times

2011-03-12T11:23:00.000-08:00

Just cleaned a lot of dust and cobwebs that gathered on this webpage...as I open the doors after a long time. 3 months is a long time. Not that I wrote here very regularly before but this time I kept away from it for long. Why, these 3 months have been 'the best of times and the worst of times'.

It's funny how when we look back at things...the bad times somehow amuse us while the good ones make us emotional and perhaps bring a tear or two...as we crave for more. The bad ones certainly make us stronger; good ones keep us going...and it's cocktail of the two that gives us the high and we learn to celebrate life. Or do we?

It takes double disaster to wash away several lives in Japan...for us to tell ourselves that life is indeed short. That the world might actually end in 2012! That we should start implementing 'live for today' philosophy. Yet, the very next day we sleep grumpy cause India lost to South Africa (It was indeed a very disappointing.)...or because your boss gave you a hard time or because you couldn't write what you initially intended to.

Good times will keep flowing as will the bad. The party depends on how well you mix the cocktail.

Musings of a traveler: Karnataka (Part 1)

2010-12-16T09:34:00.000-08:00

Acquainting the unknown is an adventure a traveler lives for. You embark upon a journey to a new place and are sure of bringing back unforgettable memories, unearthing mysteries of the unfamiliar land. But sometimes… you are not prepared to experience something so beautiful. You’ve heard or read enough yet the experience is so striking that you want to bottle it up in a jar and take out little proportions…to take in one at a time. This is about one such journey. Perhaps, it sounds too quixotic. Perhaps it was.

There couldn’t be a better morning than waiting for dawn to break at a beach. It’s a little over 4:30 a.m. “I have always wanted to wake up on a beach,” exclaims L. ‘This is the best morning ever,” I say settling my backpack on the dirty Gokarna beach. Two gorgeous days lie behind us and in front of us is the spectacle of night gently breaking into day and playful waves welcoming it. And it does the magic.

The night was at its darkest best when we got off from the bus we took from Hospet (Hampi). All we knew was the place is called Ankola. May be it was, may be it wasn’t. It was too dark to confirm. A bunch of foreign women travelers gave us company. We unanimously decided to hire a cab to Gokarna. We did not have any option but to take the only one standing in front of us. So here we are. While rest of the group thought it appropriate to look for a place to stay, we chose sipping a cuppa listening to the sound of water. It has to be the best dawn ever.

Daylight has just intervened. We move towards the town to look for a place to dump our bags and get familiar with Gokarna. It is a cozy little town…rain-washed last night. The damp roads lead us nowhere…when we smell food. It is little early for that but ‘foodie’ instincts seldom take note of timings. Idli sambhar and Upma taste better when you are headed nowhere.

We’re now heading to the ‘popular’ Om Beach which is a little far away…about Rs 100 to be precise. And a friend had suggested that Namaste Café is the best place to stay in Gokarna.

Unimpressive budget room

It is impressive, without doubt. But the Rs 700 rooms aren’t that attractive; Rs 200 ones are certainly not but work very well for budget travelers’ pockets. The common bathroom’s a mess. But you can always work these things out right? There are better washrooms in the ‘expensive’ rooms’ arena. Secret trips there are obviously possible. And this is hardly an issue compared to the attitude of the receptionist at the front gate. L and I have a quick discussion on how friendly Hampi was and how this place also is…but only if you throw in the moolah. Foreign travelers can expect a royal treatment. Desi ones can too if you aren’t on a ‘budget’ trip. The room isn’t flattering but the ambience of the place is. It’s like living in a cottage in the middle of a jungle on a beach!

Our abode @ Namaste

Namaste Café isn’t exactly how fabulous it is described to be. But I don’t think L and I want too much at this point of time. We have our cups of coffee sitting almost at the seashore. There are moments of silence and we both know that this isn’t even half of what we have already lived in Hampi. Hampi was surreal. (I’d do a flashback but after a while). For now, after two rounds of coffee, a plate of omelette and scrambled eggs each and engaging conversations, we decide it’s time to explore the other 3 beaches in the vicinity.

What’s the way of seeing the rest of the shores – Kudle, Paradise and Half Moon? Climb uphill, come down and voila…there’s a beach. Again climb another hill, go down and yet another. Determined to see all of them, we begin the trek. Since it is rainy, we borrow an umbrella from the unfriendly receptionist. The big black umbrella breaks just as we start. Serves her right, I think.

Kudle Beach

It is a tiring one. But L and I are having a good time…wondering often if we are lost. We cannot, obviously, ask for directions. Because there are no people around. We work our way out and meet the Kudle Beach. This one’s quite pristine. We are walking, letting the water touch us, posing to click and just being ourselves. L moves deeper in, as though answering the call of the sea. She comes back in time, while I am still lost in my chain of thoughts… And it has started pouring. Wow, it is raining heavily. We’ve rushed into a shed which calls itself a restaurant. It’s a perfect romantic setting. The food is nice…the guy sitting across is nicer. Much older, attractive but an unflattering taste of books…so we shift focus.

Honestly, Hampi-experience has been so intense that everything else seems dull. We decide to give rest of the beaches a miss. So, a climb up and down and we are back at Namaste. We are here with a slight problem. We have one day with us. In a bid to make sure we spend it in the best way possible, we have spent hours and hours and rest of our money to book tickets to Karwar. This was not one of the best decisions we took, for more reasons than one. But there is nothing to regret really. It made for one hell of an experience.

Aspirations

2010-11-28T10:52:00.000-08:00

I was waiting for my car when I saw her staring at me. Envious, she looked...guess she wished she was me. Suddenly rain came unannounced...and I fidgeted to take care of my clothes, mobile, laptop...when I saw her dancing in the rain...Envious, I stared at her. Guess I wished I was her.

First

2010-08-17T06:11:00.001-07:00

An interesting initiative by a friend on FB caught my attention... 'Write on the theme 'First' with a maximum word limit of 25 words! The story/article/poem could talk about anything related to the idea of 'first' like your first bike, your first crush etc'

Here's what I could think of...

1. Was God thinking that he was being witty or it was his way of showing some serious creativity when he sculptured the first man?
2. Her heart sinks deep and tears fill her eyes… Even as there is a visible smile on her face…when she first hears her child say…‘Ma’
3. Recently heart broken, she was cursing the first drops of rain…While somewhere a farmer smiled as thought of summer without hunger & pain.

In Between...

2010-07-16T07:26:00.000-07:00

The night ain't beautiful
There is no moon in the sky
No sour things to grumble about
It's a 'just' thought...a 'just' entry

It's not about a sudden moment of joy
Nor about a sudden tear in the eye
But about something in between

It's not about how wonderful the day was
Or how it was without a cause
It is about something that was in between

I write not to tell you about how much I love someone
Nor to share certain disgust within
But about the feeling that lies in between

I have no stories about the battle I won
And no elegies of the ones I couldn't
But about something lost in between

And as I write I realise...
It's best to leave certain things unsaid
for a pleasant today and a peaceful tomorrow
....and all the moments that sleep in between...

Goodbye June Moon

2010-07-01T00:55:00.006-07:00

It's half-past 2010. Did half the year pass too soon? Or is the second half coming a little slow? I am not sure. There were days, in this year, that I wouldn't want to remember; there are days I would never forget. I managed traveling as per my plans. Scotland happened this very year. But I am still far away from most of the resolutions I made at the twilight of 2009...and I'd say it's the afternoon of 2010 now.

The morning of this year was fine -- promising and fresh. Would say it's been a chirpy morning. I am not an afternoon person. Little wonder then, this phase of the year, doesn't seem very bright to me. But I am hopeful of a pleasant evening for 2010.

The summer of '10 seems to be knowing no end. It's been awefully hot this year...and doesn't look like rain gods are in a mood for mercy anytime soon. Although, we were blessed with the sight of some grey clouds today...but I feel they (the rain gods) are just humouring us.

FB and other social networking sites have become an integral part of lives this year. Twitter updates have landed people in mess. FB updates tell you more about your near ones than their real presence themselves. Consider this: I took a week off from work but did not put any updates since I wanted to cut myself off in that week. When I came back, a colleague was surprised to know about my break. When I asked him that did he not notice my absence from office...his prompt reply was: "No...because there weren't any updates on FB".

Of course, this part of 2010 is immortal...thanks to FIFA World Cup. "When I get older I will be stronger" and "Waka Waka" are melodious remembrances of 2010!

There's lot more...but I'd now rather see the June moon fading away...marking the end of fabulous two quarters. Hello July! I smell a new beginning...

Pic courtesy: Anuj Sharma

How real is your virtual personality?

2010-04-14T00:05:00.004-07:00

Can you judge a person from her/his writing? Does this blog give you an estimation of my real personality? Is it possible to have a separate real and virtual personality?

I was amused, yet another time, when an acquaintance announced his verdict about my personality purely on the basis of my style of writing. We haven't met ever or spoken much. I was more amused when another acquaintance made a much bigger claim on my emotional being through my blogs.

Ridiculous...I thought. But I don't discard the observations completely and I wonder

how much can this blog say about me. Does it convey my real world personality or am I subjected to being judged by my virtual one reflected through this space? Can these be different at all? If not, then how come Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes...was not a great rational personality himself. He believed in fairy tales and occultism.

Sure, the recurring themes can say about the way you think. And I agree, it is difficult to keep 'yourself' completely apart even if you are writing a fictional piece. But how good is this the indicator of your entire personality or character?

Handwriting does tell a lot to a large extent. The logic there is that your 'ego' is active when you are writing though the degree varies. But a writer might be taking a refuge in his/her style of writing. It's like purposely having a different virtual personality. Being something you are not to the real world. Isn't that the reason 'cool_gal', 'handsome_boy' or 'crazy_xyz' very common email ids...especially of people who have totally contrasting characters otherwise?

It'd be fun to analyze fellow bloggers and get a check on the observation! :)

The Glorious Past

2010-03-02T06:55:00.016-08:00

Lothal. Doesn't it ring some bells? It does for me... The bells that used to bring me back from some dreamland while the History teacher did her best in educating us about this city of Harappan civilization. I couldn't care less about it then.

And I guess I didn't find it intriguing enough even during my half-a-year stay in Ahmedabad, two years ago. But as I travelled back to Gujarat last month for a brief visit...I walked through a lot of roads -- re-living the moments, cherishing the good old days, feeling nostalgic about the past...when we decided it was time to create some new memories.

Lothal was the obvious choice. Perfect distance for a long bike ride to a place that is reasonably mysterious. Details about the excavated site and serendipity of finding a small royal palace were purely coincidental. Read on...the story of Lothal and the palace that would possibly become a popular tourist site soon...

The word Lothal means 'the place of the dead'. The engineering and design of the place is a marvel . When the Harappans came here around circa 2400 BC, the first challenge for them was to ensure safety of the town from high intensity annual floods. But they had already taken lessons from their similar experience in Mohenjodaro and Harappa. The dock as built away from the main current to avoid silting but at the same time gave ships access to the dock during high tide.

They divided the entire town into several blocks of 1 or 2 metre-high platforms of bricks. The city was divided into a citadel/acropolis, where the ruler lived, and the Lower town. Both divisions enjoyed all civic amenities like baths, underground drains and water.

This obviously indicates that the Harappans highly believed in planning and orderliness. And that is how they lead to development of uniform system of weights and measures as well as standardization of goods n services. Standardization lead to expertise and prosperity in business. But nature wasn't perhaps too much on their side as they had to deal with minor floods followed by a large scale destruction...

Imagine standing on the ground where a whole civilization lead a prosperous life eons ago. But it's sad to see how badly it is managed now. It's just a large site seemingly left orphaned. I am curious to see Harappa in Pakistan too see how they have treated it. Authorities here say there aren't many visitors. Pity. Worse is that there isn't any food either. Admiration of survival of this site and figuring out the baths and other divisions there...has left us starved for food.

We remember reading a board saying 'Heritage Hotel' some 4 kms away. We tell each other not to expect much and have something to give the surging hunger some rest and may be we can hog better food when we hit the city. Narrow lanes tell us our instincts were right. But when we reached the 'hotel'... we are in for some heavy dose of surprise! Surprising location....surprising interiors and even more surprising menu.

It is the Uthelia Hotel...which seems to have some European influence in its architecture. We are told the place is popular among foreign tourists. No wonder the menu is rich...not only in food but also in price. Rs 600 for a thali. But what a thali! It included meat after all. And finding non-vegetarian food in Gujarat is like...finding errr...a rose in desert!?Wouldn't say the food was worth the amount...but was quite sumptuous.

The hotel is right now being renovated and would soon be ready to attract more and more visitors. There are several activities like horse-riding and going off-road with hired jeeps.

In all would rate the experience 10/10. It was like a deja-vu of past days in Ahmedabad...brimming with fun while being mesmerized with royalties of some bygone era. Vibrant Gujarat would always hold a special place in my heart.

Hello...who's that?

2010-02-24T06:53:00.000-08:00

Have you ever faked...talking on the phone?
Dialling up randomly or some number unknown
To escape a situation or just to be left alone......?
I was initially surprised by the answers I got to this one. 'Of course! a lot of times'... is the unanimous reply. And I thought, all this while, that the concept of 'fake talking' was my brainchild.
So imagine... the hurried men you see rushing into some quiet corner or women you hear laughing away to glory near a window might actually be fake talkers. But why would want to pretend talking on phone? Umm...To avoid an irritating colleague/acquaintance, to pretend to your boss that you're 'busy', to ignore someone, to get away from a situation...and sometimes just to think out loud to yourself and not look like a fool to others! It's also like going invisible on gtalk... Wearing a mask...escaping from the eyes of others. Feeling superior with a right to 'choose' who we wish to give our precious time to. It's sometimes a great ego booster and many times a relief...of being able to conveniently ignore someone. And sometime just an escape...in your mind...more like closing your eyes to something you don't want to see.
I have done this a lot of times. Mostly to get away from a group that surpasses my low level of intellect. Or to, as I mentioned, thinking aloud. It's like consulting yourself and enjoying your own company ;)

A Date With Chandigarh

2010-01-16T22:47:00.018-08:00

If Chandigarh were a boy I met somewhere...the first impression I would have of him would be of a 'well brought-up' young man. The one who intrigues you and has the ability of making you go weak in the knees!...

No no...I don't say this imagining a tall fair well-dressed rich boy from Chandigarh. (Anyway they are mostly brats!) I say it because I am high on freshness the city emits.

This isn't the first time I met the city but I have very vague memories of it as I was too young. Being just about 250 kms away from Delhi, Chandigarh is an obvious choice for a short weekend get away. But if you are a Delhite you know it isn't an obvious choice because 'there isn't much to explore'. In case, you are not looking to 'explore' too much and just a experience peace and be away from frenzied crowd...trust me this land of Punjab is your best bet! Hailing from a place where while walking on city roads you not only have to save yourself from the snarling traffic but also from spits thrown justeverywhere...Chandigarh is heaven. A bliss. I have never seen a cleaner ISBT. It's the serenity and smell of a clean city that drew me to it.
If you find uncanny similarity between Chandigarh and Gandhinagar in Gujarat... Le Corbusier is the guy to be credited/blamed. He's the one who designed and planned the well-planned cities...and how! No matter how much navigationally-challenged people like me try...it's difficult to get lost. a) It's too small to get lost b) you have sign boards and maps everywhere...just everywhere.
I wouldn't get into the details of roses in the Asia's largest Rose Garden and beautifully arranged rocks in the Rock Garden. Roses and rocks are same everywhere. Yet there is something different about (red,yellow, orange, pink, black, white... all colours possible) roses smiling all around you. There is something about the garden Nek Chand (built with waste bangles, plates, tiles, sinks, ceramic pots..all waste possible!) that leaves you mesmerized. Pinjore Gardens is something that most visitors give a miss. My advice, go meet it during the night. You have not seen a more enchanting garden. At least I haven't! The sight was beyond my expectation. Another thing unexpected was the behaviour of the locals. I did not think, for some reason, auto-wallahs and rickshaw wallahs would be dishonest. I assumed them to have small-town honesty. Little did I know that Chandigarh is not just another small town. It is a rich man's city. All the markets I went to were mini-Connaught Place's flooded with expensive restaurants. So my dreams of having the divine Tandoori Chicken from a roadside hawker went for a toss. But I did manage to have mouth watering butter chicken from local shops in sector 8 and 9.

So like a good date with a young gentleman...I loved my date with Chandigarh. Barring a few disappointments I'd say it makes for a perfect rather than a 'I-had-no-choice' getaway.

The Sky's the Limit

2010-01-01T06:13:00.000-08:00

Imagine: Floating high up in the air...hands let loose and looking at the world below from the top. It's a very 'birdie' feeling.

Though para-sailing over water is lot more ecstatic, it is equally adventurous over land. And before you start getting apprehensive with the thought of being suspended in the air…it is important to understand the difference between parasailing and paragliding. To bring some relief to non-impulsive adventurers and be put simply, parasailing is a passive activity while paragliding is an active one where you are required to control the wings and are technically the pilot.

Parasailing, on the other hand is a relatively simpler and equally if not more fun. Parasailing can be terrestrial or an aquatic one, with a jeep usually being used on ground and a motorboat used in water. The sailor is strapped into a harness, which is attached to the parasail and a jeep tows the parasail with approximately 100-metre rope.

All you need to do is take a few swift steps. As the jeep moves forward the parasail gains lift, which makes it ascend. And before you let your fears get better of you...things start looking up! You soon find yourself high above the ground. If you are able to control your fears, the best thing to do is let your arms loose and experience the joy of flying. Trust simple physics rules to stay airborne till the vehicle stops and the air pressure inside the parasail eases off. You have to compose yourself to ensure a safe landing.

If New Zealand or Malaysia come to your mind as you think of parasailing then come closer home. And if you still think of the popular destinations like Goa and Bangalore…then come closer still to the National Capital Region. Kanwarsika just about 35 kms from Gurgaon is your destination for a refreshing adventurous weekend.

While there are a lot of organizers we chose ‘i Rove Adventure Foundation’ for arranging the activity for us. You require a minimum of 10 people in a group for the activity to be arranged. The cost is charged lump sum and not per head but roughly comes to around Rs 450 per head if you are a group of 15 people.

The difference in exotic locales of destinations like New Zealand might perhaps lie in the picturesque view they’d offer. Kanwarsika, on the other hand, has nothing to offer but a huge piece of barren land with nothing else in sight. So when you are up…up and away it is the uplifting experience you completely focus on!

The height at which you go above depends a lot on the length of the rope and wind conditions apart from your body weight. On the day of your activity, check the weather report and avoid weather conditions like rain, fog or an approaching storm—these naturally increase your chances for a parasailing accident.

Adieu 2009!

2009-12-24T09:45:00.008-08:00

...And we bid you adieu! Goodbye 2009.

As I sit and ponder, there's nothing extra-ordinary that I can think of about this year. Yet there is something so remarkable that it still makes 2009 a memorable year. Experiences, moments, emotions, desires -- whether good, bad or ugly -- make this year (like every year) unique.

Met some new people...had to let go for some old ones. Some dreams shattered but paved way for new ones. New ideas replaced old doubts. New roads welcomed me. Couldn't take some journeys...but that's perhaps what 2010 is coming for. Or may be those paths are meant not to be trodden upon.

I feel a year stronger, livelier, energetic and better. In all 2009 has given me more than what it has taken.

Here's a little glimpse of my 2009...

1. Smiles...and a lot of 'em

2. Roads Taken

Jim Corbett
Rishikesh
Ludhiana
Sariska/Alwar
Jammu - Vaishno Devi
Chandigarh

3. Thumbs Up for:

Parasailing and organising the trip
Studying n taking M.A. English exams
Making a short documentary
The quirky hair cut!
Travelling over 150 kms for Rajma Chawal
Getting driving license
Watching early morning movie show (after a late night show)

Don't want to write about the bad moments. Hope 2010 gives me a lot more things to write about. What's your 2009 story?

Two Moons

2009-12-04T10:49:00.000-08:00

Shrew. That's what suited her most perfectly...as if the word was custom made for her. She felt she had the right to be loved by all. And what's wrong with that?
"Nothing," he would say as he looked at her with his two fingers covering a coy smile on his face. He gazed at the full bright moon reigning in the black sky above. He looked back at her fidgeting with her black dress. Her authoritative face was not even an ounce less of the sparkle he saw in the moon above... "The shrew cannot be blamed for her pretension," he heard telling himself and immediately commanded himself to look away.
He dragged his gaze to the moon dancing below on the waves of river that ran under the bridge they were standing on..."And what's wrong with that?" The coquettish question echoed in his mind. It had a strange mix the smell of a lot of arrogance and a pinch of the need to be admired and loved. Was she really the authoritative moon she appeared to be or was she actually the agile she seldom appeared to be? He couldn't decide.

I, Me, Myself...

2009-10-10T03:28:00.003-07:00

"I wasn't running... I was walking;
I wasn't yelling... I was only talking
Speaking out my mind-
Nothing wrong in that
And anyway I am always right!

I am the king/queen of universe
Hear from me the rule of thumb
World's a big bad place to live
Louder you shout, the mightier you become

SHOUT & SCREAM at the drop of a hat
And let 'em hear you loud
Or who would know of your presence
And how will your battles be fought??

Intensity is very important
So maintain a frown on your face
Ridicule others if you please but
Smiling is a sign of disgrace.

Trust no one here there's malice in one and all...
Even if you can't climb the success ladder
At least you can make the other fall
Fight. That's what you were born for

To win, see everything in black & white
There's nothing called essential goodness of mankind.
Mark my words -- there's nothing wrong in this
Anyway I am always right!..."

P.S.: This poem is a satire on what I am currently seeing around (in a place full of people full of themselves!). Inflated egos, uproars n shouts, blame games and long complain mails...Okay we are not living in a Gandhian era so a humble meek is not what you can be but is this (above poem) a success mantra really? If yes, I want you to define success please... Peace out and take a deep breath! World's not such a horrible place to be in ;)

pic courtesy: Deviant Art

This Time Last Year...

2009-10-03T11:10:00.002-07:00

...I was surrounded with beauty, colour and peace. It's been a year since I met a vibrant autumn Sweden. Since then I have thought about thousand times over. Haven't met any place as graceful as it again so far. Few small trips here n there but a fascinating one as Stockholm is on some other track perhaps...

Pictures Speak more than Words...

2009-09-20T11:50:00.004-07:00

Gang Of Girls

Surreal Night

2009-09-11T23:06:00.004-07:00

It could have easily been passed off as a painting on canvas of a die hard romantic painter. Now who else would paint the night sky with a careful mix of diluted pastel pink, orange, red and a tinge of yellow? Add to that sugary cold breeze making bathed green leaves dance to its tune.

Roads are washed and so are our souls, that got drenched while we were enjoying a walk...hand in hand...My hand is still in yours and your arms have covered me as though protecting me from mischieous chilly wind. The balcony is not too high...then how come it feels like the world is far below me?

The smell of coffee, I just made for you, reminds me of the day we first met at that coffee shop. And I feel the same warmth as when I did when you first held me...

This is all so perfect. Then why does it feel like a dream?

May be because it is... There are no cups of coffee; no balcony so high...and no arms to take care of me.

Only the painted sky is real and so is the playful breeze that just suddenly turned a little unfriendly as though questioning me teasingly of your presence. I look up at the painter's sky as it watches me wait for you...

Come soon...before coffee turns cold.

2009-09-04T23:53:00.001-07:00

Wish I was a character in one of the stories penned by Jane Austen -- Life would have an happy ending then. Or a creation on the canvas popularized by Picasso -- would have been smilingly immortalized. Or may be a melody with words weaved together by a romantic poet; would have been a part of innumerable romantic dreams then...

Hazaron Khwaheishen Aisi...

2009-08-16T07:18:00.004-07:00

Kaash ek kamra aisa hota...
Darwaza uska ek baag me khulta
Wahan pareshani ke photo par haar hota
Aur Haste rehna zaroori hota...
Sapno ki hawa behti
Khushiyon ki ek almaari hoti --
Har roz ek nikal ke odhni hoti
Gulaab ke foolon ka bistar hota
Sapne poore karne ka remote hota
Aur dukh ka andar aana mana hota
Kaash ek kamra aisa hota...
Kaash usi ka naam zindagi hota

Moments - II

2009-07-17T11:55:00.001-07:00

You wish for stars and aim for skies
You look for moon
And you dream of flying high

But sometimes...

Sometimes all you want is...
a cup of coffee, some music and rain

Sometimes it's best to let go
and peacefully experience the change

Sometimes a perfect 'Friday night' means
A long walk at India Gate with friends

Sometimes getting lost in crowd
is the only means of finding yourself

Sometimes walking alone in a busy street
gives you the power you see in your dreams

Sometimes you again want to be the child
You've heard you had been...

Sometimes you have to cry out loud...

Sometimes it's okay to shed tears
after you've laughed your heart out

Sometimes it's just a good conversation
That makes you feel better

Sometimes it's good to believe
words of a fortune teller

Sometimes thoughts of your life 'you'll have one day'
Allows you to live a bit more of today

Some answers are best unasked
Some songs deserve a dance
Some moments are best forgotten
And some moments shouldn't be allowed to pass...

Moments - I

2009-07-14T11:22:00.004-07:00

Giggle in my eyes and butterfly on my shoulder
Smell of yellow Lilies and voice of waterfall
A handful of mist and morning dew on my feet
And a little taste of flowing morning breeze
...Sometimes that is all you need!

2009-06-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

... I was a fairy princess
I caught frogs and called them prince
And made myself a queen
Before you knew me i traveled 'round the world
And I slept in castles and fell in love
Because i was taught to dream....
-Faith Hill

Jungle Calling - Jim Corbett

2009-06-09T11:10:00.006-07:00

“Pack your bags. We are leaving for Corbett at 6 tomorrow morning.” The jungle was calling. With a two-day break from work staring at us and a
dozen plans made and cancelled, we finally zeroed in on Jim Corbett.

More than visiting the wild, this trip was meant to be a respite from a monotonous routine. So instead of staying in a cottage somewhere inside the jungle, we chose a lush resort offering everything from perfect rooms and clean pool to a sports room and decent food. That certainly isn’t a nature lover’s complete delight. You are close yet far. But there is something so fascinating about the Corbett that leaves you enthralled even as you are near it.

Corbett is a six-hour drive from Delhi that is if you don’t take frequent breaks (like we did) and know your way right (we didn’t). We took longer than that and couldn’t help but pounce at the lunch like the hungry tiger, we all were hoping to see. The safari requires a permit from the forest department and the timings change with season.

Entering the jungle in evening was highly improbable so we decided to spend time swimming and chit-chatting. But when you are in conversation with the wilderness all you want to do is sit silent and stare at the untamed beauty in front of you. And as night descends the voices around you seem more real and you become aware of the predators some or many kilometres away. We lit a fire and sat around it joking about the rendezvous with ferocious animals of the jungle the next morning.

If darkness makes the jungle intriguing then early hours of dawn make it even more charming and mysterious. Sitting on a jeep we were ready with our cameras to quickly take a snapshot of whatever we saw of over “580 varieties of birds, 25 reptile species and 110 kinds of trees”.

They say you could spot a tiger if you are lucky. Guess we were quite an unlucky lot. We saw nothing to boast of except a few beautiful birds, wild hen, spotted deer and some admirable flora. It was only later we were told that the bright pink I wore like other members of the group are a strict no-no.

Then there are a few tricks and signs that alert you of animals around. So, it’s best to have a guide or someone familiar with the jungle with you when you are out on a hunt for wild animals. But even if you don’t spot any, there is nothing too disappointing since the experience of being in the forest is worthwhile.

Zilch

2009-05-20T09:20:00.005-07:00

Blank paper...like wordless mind
No inspiration I can find...No full moon night above
And certainly there is no love
No flowers blooming around
There is no rhythmical sound
No glint in eyes...No sparkling smiles
Tbere is in air, strange emptiness of sorts
There seems to be a recession in thoughts...

Paradox

2009-05-04T12:07:00.000-07:00

My life is full of dreams,
Albeit with doubts around
I am the thunder that has no sound...

I am the star that
doesn't always shine
I have no wings
But I dream of flying

I know the way,
But cannot lead...
I am the wave
That wouldn't recede

I believe in destiny
But deny fate
I am the sunshine
That'd never fade

I am fire
I am ice
I am frown
I am smile

And I smile with tear in my eye
I am the truth born as a lie
I am black, I am white
I am winter on a summer night

I am fact...I am fiction
I am my own contradiction.

55 Fiction

2009-04-27T07:30:00.002-07:00

Hopping from one blog to another in search of a good read, I chanced upon something known as 55 Fiction. I feel some of the regular readers of this blog will not only attempt this soon but will also find it addictive. Those who are too lazy to click on the link (which leads to Wiki), 55 Fiction is writing a fiction story in not more than 55 words. It need not have a conclusion or moral in the end. Here's my first attempt...

Imperceptible

Gautam signed-in in invisible mode. Parnita would be online. She is a great friend but too romantic. “I am her antithesis…very practical,” he amused himself. And I can see ‘love’ coming. Always seems to be waiting for me to come online. Best avoided.

Thank God Gautam is not online…thought the ‘invisible’ Parnita.

Unwritten Pages of My Diary Part III

2009-04-18T02:47:00.009-07:00

Stockholm – Beauty on Water

Swedes say their country wears a different look in every season. I am glad my tryst with its capital city happened in autumn. For it is during this time that shades of leaves paint the entire country in mesmerizing hues and the weather is just perfect to enjoy long walks in tree-lines streets.

I admire Stockholm for more reasons than one. Picturesque landscape, peace and few people are some of the obvious ones but the city has much more to fall in love with it. I was sure of liking this place as soon as I walked into the Arlanda airport as it wore a comfortable deserted look. Comfortable because of an array of choicest restaurants within the small airport. The city loves food, I thought. That was quite pleasing for my ‘foodie’ instincts! And this was just the beginning of a series of pleasant sights that unfolded one after another as I acquainted myself with the city.

Stockholm is built on 14 islands, which means you are always close to water. This also means that you get to see entire city on a boat and take pride is seeing one of the biggest archipelagos of the Baltic Sea if you visit it in summer or autumn. During winters, it gets better as you can skate and go for excursion trips over the ice. So, if you love water as much as I do, you do not really need another reason to be here. I was enchanted by sheer sight of clean flowing water everywhere I went!

Besides water, the city boasts 75 museums. Two of its museums -- Skansen and Vasa go beyond the imagination of a typical museum. Skansen is world's first outdoor museum, giving you an insight of history of Stockholm. Go to the top of Skansen and you will witness Stockholm’s cityscape. What’s more? It also boasts the city's only zoo, which has a variety of animals like bears, elks, and wolves native to this part of the world. Vasa Museum, on the other hand, gives you a fascinating experience of a different kind. It is built around a fully intact 17th century ship, the 64-gun warship Vasa that sank on her maiden voyage in 1628. The museum is said to be one of the most visited ones in Scandinavia.

Sweden is a heavenly bliss for a ‘navigationally challenged’ person like me. The subway system works on two main grids, the green line and red line and it is rather difficult to get confused. All I had to do was to remember that I was putting up at Körsbärsv, which has a simpler English recall name of Cherry Road. Metro stations and bus stops have convenient maps that do not look scary and it is not at all difficult to follow them. Local people around are highly reliable and helpful and almost everyone understands and speaks English. There were a couple of times when I got lost and had no clue where I was supposed to head. But there was something about that place that let me love the idea of getting lost. I walked out of the station and did what I liked doing best there. Promenade. I took long walks on stoned streets, passing some museums, watching colourful buildings, hearing the sound of silence with no other thought in mind but pure admiration of splendor I was experiencing.

Each street in the city is a photographer’s delight with beauty brimming all over. Of all the places, I found Gamla Stan (Old Town) most picturesque. Archaic buildings and cobblestone streets made for a perfect frame and equally perfect reason to fall in love with entire city. I spent quite some time there wandering aimlessly taking a note of structures I saw. The main attractions here are The Royal Palace, Borshuset or the stock exchange building, and the two iconic buildings (from 17th and 18th century) on the Stortorget. The latter ones house restaurants and cafes, which are worth a visit. I went to Kaffekopen, which I think was quite a romantic space, and enjoyed a large cup of coffee and cinnamon rolls.

Stockholm would only have remained half met had I not taken a boat trip to catch a glimpse of entire city at one go. I chose the trip that took me about 2 hours to pass under 15 bridges while viewing all the well-known buildings. It was a guided tour with recorded commentary available in 10 languages. I feel summer would have been a better time as far as archilpelago is concerned when I could have taken a 2 day trip and visited some islands. But not particularly complaining because those couple of hours on water, amidst beauty were breathtaking.

On the whole, the ‘Swedish’ experience was quite gratifying for me. The wanderer in me loved walking miles and miles relishing the beauty of every stone on the cobbled streets. The food aficionado that I am savoured everything from reindeer meat to all types of breads and cheese. Only my shopping instincts had to be put to sleep since Sweden is a very expensive place. Moreover, a couple of absolutely stunning overcoats I picked up at H&M had to be turned down because they carried ‘made in India’ tag! But barring that I’d say – a good camera, love for nature, and comfortable shoes – that is all you need to make the best of each moment you spend in the city.

Unwritten Pages of My Diary Part II

2009-04-10T22:16:00.007-07:00

I didn't get the window seat...but the good part is there is nothing to look at outside :) Night sky that is an inspiration for several thoughts when I look at it from my balcony, is less fascinating from here... Sleeping would not be such a bad idea. But the cup of coffee I savoured while observing people at the airport has done the damage and there isn't an iota of sleep in my eyes... Add to that 2 jokers sitting besides me, who wouldn't stop bragging about their experiences of flying to various planets/continents... whatever..."Are you Indian," one of them slimily just asked me. No dimwit...I am African, I say to myself and pretend sleeping.

Hmm...enjoyed forty winks...read some fantastic articles in Financial Times, listened to some silly music, watched a bit of some sillier movies...Also 'How I Met Your Mother' (Hilarious! I think DVDs of 3 seasons are available...Do watch it)...and with that 7 hours on KLM are almost over and the airplane is very close to landing the 'sin city' - Amsterdam...

The connecting flight is 3 hours away. I am gonna utilize this time to do what I do best. Spend money :)It's raining outside and view outside this huge glass window is drop dead gorgeous.

Amsterdam Aiport Schiphol is huge. It's the world's 3rd largest airport by international passenger traffic! And I think most of them are Indian. I see so many Sardar families around...it's not funny.

Unwritten pages of my diary - Part 1

2009-03-30T10:04:00.006-07:00

29 Sept, 2008

There are dreams you dream about. There are desires you think you can't afford to think about. Then there are times when these desires comes true even before you can dream about them... And in those moments there is no other way to react but stare at them with amazement...as no amount of excitement can match the intensity of those moments... Speechless, excited, thrilled - are quite an unworthy words to describe the feeling of the night I was about to fly...

Here goes excerpts from my diary that should have been written long ago.

I am flying off to Stockholm tonight for 5 days. Paid trip...to meet the princess of Sweden. It'll be the first time I'll be entering an airport. Excited...am I?

It's just 4 days ago when I first heard about this junket. From searching for the exact location of Stockholm on map to seeing my baggage ready in front of my eyes right now - it has been a long journey already. I feel like closing my eyes and embracing all the moments and little journeys that await me.

As a little child whenever I bid good-bye to several airplanes that passed our playground (my school being near IGI airport) it literally meant so. They were very far away.

Not anymore...I am flying tonight :)

We are heading towards the airport now. Mom, dad and MegDi are quite excited. Sadly, Meg-di is in office but she is very much with me. I have heard about the formalities, to be done inside, quite carefully. But I'm quite sure I'll still make a fool of myself. Dekhi jayegi. Mom is clicking my picture outside the airport and m little embarrassed :P
I wish I could take her along. Someday I will... For right now it's goodbye ma for 5 days :)

Papers signed. Baggage given for checking. And here i meet my colleague who is travelling along. She has been to Europe before but never to any Scandinavian country. After some wait we are finally progressing towards the plane.

So this is it. It is 'the' moment...it will stay alive in my mind forever. Nothing can take it away from me. And I won't describe it further. It will dilute the experience.

I am flying...

To be contd. :)

She...

2009-03-15T20:50:00.002-07:00

...Shines like moonlight on a long breezy night
She gushes like untamed waves in a mischievous sea;
Her laugh like gurgle of a baby,
She is everything you want her to be.

She is a woman in love...

Like naive clay on a potter's wheel
She lets you mold all her dreams...
Her eyes meet yours and
She sees whatever you make her believe

She is a woman in love...

One day it will all change
When she'll hear life's original song
Illusions it will all seem
And she would have 'lost faith in love'

But till then...
Don't wake her up, just let her dream on
Let her be what she's happy to be
...A woman rapt in your love.

Celebrating 23 years of Being Purva

2009-03-08T08:09:00.003-07:00

It's like entering third phase of my life... In the first one, birthdays meant cake, balloons, gifts, coloured dress [and exams :-(]. Being a March baby was somewhat traumatic in this phase. Nobody around me remembered my birthday [exams :-(]. I never got gifts. It was still some fun. It is from this phase itself I picked up the habit of reminding people about my budday...so that I do not end up feeling disappointed on this day.

Second phase was much more exciting. Bouquets from friends...better from 'secret admirers' :p...wishes from 'crushes', people surprising you at midnight with cake, gifts n more, keeping wrappers of those gifts safely in locker...and then taking them out, months later, on some idle Saturday.

Many March's ago...when I was a little girl, 23-24 somehow seemed to be a very fascinating number for age. Responsible, mature, mellowed -- these are adjectives I'd attach whenever I met a didi of that age :) It has always been an amusing thought all these years...and is an even greater amusement to feel a sense of achievement on this birthday...as if crossing a milestone. 'Marriage' has suddenly become a buzzword. Not for me (thank God for an elder sister, who is still unmarried) but for close friends around. Career looks good enough as of now. Don't know about "Responsible, mature and mellowed' but certainly feel independent, confident and free...

Feels like standing in the middle of a road and admiring the journey i've covered so far and then gazing at the open sky above and smiling at endless possibilities that the road ahead has in store...Feels like understanding myself a bit more and loving every bit of it... :)

I Like...

2009-02-27T09:07:00.006-08:00

...The sound of rustling leaves,
that come under my naked feet.

...Early sun rise and late dawn,
Morning walk in the green lawns.

...Lazy afternoons -- calm n quiet,
Little naps n then dreamy eyes.

I also like...
...
Chikkan suits and printed skirts,
Noisy evenings n chirpy birds

...Stars adding to night's grace and
Summer moon on your face

(Wish you a happy summer)

Buy me Love...

2009-02-15T04:15:00.004-08:00

A bouquet of perfumed roses, box of chocolates, a bottle of red wine or...aww a gold pendant or a romantic dinner...how did your valentine make it a special day for you? For me, it was just another Saturday except that I spent more hours at office. Ah no, not by choice but because I...ohk I had nothing better to do anyway. But I did go for a nice Saturday (not valentine's day) lunch with colleagues. Good food, good company...good day. No gifts, no valentine, no lovey dovey lunch...yet a good day.

Do I hear 'loser'? Read on...

As we enjoyed our weekend lunch, I overheard this cute couple talking:

He: Your eyes are like stars which scatter light...
Your divine beauty makes many a men fight.
Would you be my Valentine and accept me?

She : Your proposal will be thought after I see how you treat me.

(gives her a big greeting card)

She: Oh my god! This is a lovely card... I wish to believe it's as big as your heart...

He: I love you a lot my beautiful doll

She: That's ok...but won't we go to a shopping mall?

He (holding her hand): Why, this place is nice (and cosy)..let's spend some time here...

She: But I want those pearls, I saw in a shop there...

He: Okay before that how about a V-day kiss and a hug?

(...and the conversation contd.)

I am not anti-V-Day but just amused with commercialization of love. Balloons-adorned streets, roses everywhere, special offers at coffee shops make celebration of love for some and depress others who call it 'singles awareness day'! Not sure about love (don't believe in it much anyway) but ones who really celebrate are florists, jewelers, archies', et al. What do you say?

It's night but it's not night yet

2009-02-13T10:22:00.004-08:00

There's still some sunshine in my eyes and a radiant smile on my face. Today, was a happy day. Nothing special...nothing out of the ordinary...yet a nice cheerful day.

I can feel a magical energy in me...something I hadn't so far seen.
The silent thunder in me finally has some sound,
I know no limitations today, I know no bounds...
I feel like stretching my arms wide
And telling the world that,
"Hey I Am here...I have arrived."

You Sang To Me

2009-01-25T11:10:00.005-08:00

Nothing could have prepared her for this moment. This was it. Finally.

She has been dreaming about it day and night. Combing her wavy tangled hair, standing in front of mirror, staring at the ceiling at 3 am, waiting patiently at bus stop -- she'd think of the best way to react to this one moment. Normally, eyes turn watery when you suddenly receive something you've been carving for, she thought. May be laughing away to glory and resting her burdened head on his shoulder was a better way to express? How about pretending that what she was seeing in his eyes was totally unexpected? huh...she'd often smile or sheepishly slap and force herself back to work.

Her wait was over. He was back after 2 long years and still longer 8 months. It would not have been so had she not discovered, soon after he left, a void impossible to fill. She wasn't aware but perhaps, he had been doing so for the 2 years they knew each other. Not that she saw him and spoke to him everyday. But he was there...always.

He walked in wearing a big smile and a white check shirt, blue jeans and shoes, complementing his tall, well-built body. A personality pleasantly different from what she had last seen.

She never thought he had flattering looks. But then she had never looked at him flatteringly ever. He was always there...somewhere. A good friend of hers, like many others.

That was then. And this was now. She had seen 'it' at last. They were always meant for each other. So what if it took some time for her to realize that. She couldn't take her eyes off him, as the smile on her face and drops in her eyes grew bigger.

"Wow, you look beautiful," she thought he'd say.

"Hey gorgeous! missed ya so much," he said in a disturbingly friendly voice.

Pointing towards her he continued, "This is my life..." pointing to the woman standing besides her he added "...and she'll soon be my wife." She heard him laugh...so loud that she had to let out a cry.

Nothing could have prepared her for this moment either. This was it, finally... Or was it?

Should she win her love back? Can you really win love? May be it was just not meant to be...

Give me Red

2009-01-13T08:58:00.003-08:00

Why is my blog red?
It's not angry or aggressive. It just got bored of the darkness, black represents. Sure, the mystery and power of black is an attraction, but for time being red is the way to be. (Shall get back to black but not yet.)

It is the colour of passion, energy, life and strength. And not to forget it is one of the hues that make dawn what it is...

Culturally, Red represents prosperity. It's what brides wear. Vermilion (sindur) is red implying fertility and strength! It amuses me to mention a sharp ironic metaphor within the land that uses the colour to imply auspiciousness. There is a village in Rajasthan where abortion and sex-determination are 'officially illegal'. Some smart doctors, however, carry on sonography and let the patient know the result in secret code. A signature in red ink means "it's a girl"! Obviously it represents danger...more like a stop light at a traffic signal. Grrr... Anyway, it means its a feminine shade :)

Another interesting fact about Red. If you were in Sweden and were to attend a wedding, do not wear red unless...you have slept with the groom (and wish to announce that to the world just on his wedding day!)

Of course, it is an erotic colour. I mean think of red nails, lips...lady in red.
But think of love...red roses, red wine under red dusk sky...

Wheel of Time

2009-01-01T08:09:00.004-08:00

It was her first bicycle. She didn't even know how to ride one but that couldn't take away the joy she felt in owning it.

It wasn't difficult to fall in love with the suave blue beauty that added speed to the experience of being a nature's spectator. She had never before felt wind on her face. She loved it so much that we would jump at every opportunity for experiencing it again. Competition with her little companions, getting bread and eggs from market early morning or curd when sun was at its peak. Everything was so much fun...And then she outgrew it one day.

There was no point buying another one. She could rather go for car in sometime now, she was told. She agreed being anyway busy with other 'first' things in life. But there was an unfinished desire to live that experience a tad more. That desire still lives in her.

There are several such longings you keep curbing giving some justification or none. You are helpless sometimes and learn to seed those desires in some corner of your heart hoping you'd forget about them some day.

And suddenly one day you get an opportunity out of nowhere, to just go for it. And you feel complete somewhere...She too got a chance today. She felt that joy. Her friend brought a new cycle for himself. She had time, a cycle and open space to feel wind on her face just as she did many moons ago.

It's not so much about having to ride a cycle again but about letting out those seeds. Waking up those desires and making them come alive. It's then when you feel a sense of achievement and joy that has no substitute.

Best of 2008....

2008-12-24T07:56:00.005-08:00

It started like a pleasant dream in my eyes and ended even before I could feel fully awake. 2008 was more than I could have ever hoped for. It was a collection of wonderful moments...some of which will be remembered for a long time. The year will be forgotten but experiences will linger and slowly become a part of me. I thought of listing some of those here:

Top 2008 Experiences:

1) Taking off! Sitting in an airplane for the first time...
2) Walking in boulevards of Stockholm, getting lost there admiring colours of fall and being on my own...ahh
3) Clicking pictures with my Sony Cybershot
4) TSJ Convocation
5) Re-union with friends from Ahmedabad and trip to Ludhiyana
6) Seeing mom getting her first book published
7) Looking pretty at a certain office-party...hehe
8) Unexpected shift in job
9) Discovering that I am not such a bad dancer after all
10) Abstract conversations
Good Books I read in 2008:

a) Memoirs of a Geisha
b) Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl
c) Kahlil Gibran
d) A Bridge Across Forever
e) Jonathan Livingstone Seagull

Good Movies I watched in 2008:

i) The Fountain
ii) Rock On
iii) Final Destination I, II, III
iv) Dostana
v) Mona Lisa Smile
vi) Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na
vii) Madagascar

Shall add some more...Eagerly waiting for many more beautiful moments to paint my 2009 with brighter colours....Happy 2009 n Happy Living!

Bikhre Bimb (Shattered Images)

2008-12-06T10:37:00.008-08:00

I have always told myself that it is easy to confront anyone in this world but your own reflection you see in mirror everyday.

What do you do when that image of yours questions you on things you have no answers for? You feel guilty...and there is so much anger in your eyes that the mirror breaks and you see yourself shattered like those broken pieces.

Now, picture such a situation written by playwright Girish Karnad. In 'Bikhre Bimb', Karnad sharply deals with conflict between one self and one's alter ego. It also talks about inexplicable relationship among other things. Since the play is one-act, its impact depends a lot on its actors. I gather that the original play (in Kannada, directed by Kanad himself)was staged by Arundhati Nag alone. I saw Sushma Seth and Rashmi Vaidyalingam performing under the direction of Rajinder Nath at IHC last week.

I haven't seen either of them on stage before. While Seth is a favourite (I guess from Hum Log days), I was more than impressed by Vaidyalingam's performance. She was flawless with her expressions and her voice was just like I hear myself when I do something wrong!

The story is essentially about an English professor, Manjula Nayak, who writes short-stories in Kannada. However, she finds sudden international fame when she writes a novel in English. The critics back home, however, are not pleased as they feel she has deserted Kannada.

A TV channel airs a telefilm based on her novel and invites her for a brief address. Manjula takes this as an opportunity to answer the critics and reveal that she took an inspiration from the life of her paralyzed younger sister, Manini, who passes away a couple of weeks before the novel is published.

After the emotional and powerful speech, just when a 'content' Manjula is about to leave studio, her inner soul affronts her. And then we witness a parley between Majula and her image which brings out true character of the protagonist as well as others involved.

I love the way Manjula, in her dialogue talks about the 'emotional affair' her husband had with Manini, who lived with them. It becomes very interesting when Manjula (and along with her the audience) realizes who had the last laugh after all.

Do watch it whenever it is in your city next.

The Mumbai I Know

2008-12-04T07:59:00.006-08:00

I met Mumbai in September last year for a very brief time. About a week. I admired her from the very moment I saw her. It was 6:15 am when my eyes were still drowsy. But there she was - bubbly, zesty, vivacious...so full of life. It would be an interesting tryst, I was sure right then. I couldn't have been wrong. I am yet to meet to someone who'd have disliked her after being with her for sometime.
I decided there itself that I'll call her 'she'. She has to be a woman to be so nurturing and giving. Plus she is so beautiful and charming. But 'vulnerable'? That is not a trait I associated with her then. I still don't. Perhaps they did. Surprised how her charisma did not lure them.

I had work in the building exactly opposite the VT station. And wasn't I as fascinated to see VT as Bollywood shows people, with big dreams who come to Mumbai, are? More than fascinated, I'd say. Several movies would be made now, featuring the station albeit in a different light.
The memory of a couple of hours I spent in Leopold Cafe is quite crisp in my heart. It was my friend, a former Mumbaiker's suggestion to go there. "Your trip would not be complete unless you go there. You have to see it to believe it," were somewhat her words. And I couldn't thank her enough. Though I do not generally like noisy places, this space was different. "The music here is very loud usually," shouted my friend. I could barely hear her. I get shivers thinking that a year later, one night the silence would more deafening than the music they usually play.
Gateway of India is a few steps away. It was about 11 pm and we walked. I can still feel the mischief in air saying that it was about to bring some shower. The monument, I must say, looked very graceful that rainy night. And then I saw another iconic building - The Taj Mahal Hotel. As I write, I can just think of a white building with red top and rising black smoke...
So I just close my eyes and think about the beauty I have great admiration for. And I see... the promenade beside the majestic Queen's Necklace (or Marine Drive), my guest house at NepeanSea Road, Bhel Puri at Chowpatty, talkative waves at Worli, rocks at Bandra beach, cheerful people enjoying Jumbo King vada pav, bargaining for a trendy t-shirt at Fashion Street...I see a modest Haji Ali standing beautifully in Worli waters, some immodest people pushing you in Zaveri Bazaar and a crowd dancing away to glory in lighted streets (celebrating Ganesh Chaturthi)...Her beauty is apparent in everything she is made of.

I wonder if little Moshe Holtzberg would ever think of her like that.

Tonight....

2008-11-21T10:11:00.004-08:00

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

~By Pablo Neruda ~
Pablo was a Chilean poet and diplomat...Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971. His original name was Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto.

Feels like...

2008-11-10T08:59:00.009-08:00

Feels like submitting the blank History paper in 1999
Nothing was correct...nothing was fine
I had no answers; questions were unknown
With no confidence in me I had fears galore.

Feels like losing the debate competition in 2001
Gave up the fight even before it had begun
I had nothing to say; it was not stage fright
Only my timidity had gained more might.

Feels like first heartbreak I had in 2003
Lost all the faith I had in me
Nothing was grey, nothing was right
I saw everything in black n white.

Feels like many such moments in many many years
Living with hundreds of baseless fears
And I smile...
Feels like nothing more can go wrong
Everything will be just all right

The history paper was filled after all,
Several fights were won...
First love was not the last
Many hearts were broken later
But also many lessons were learned

In my journey so far...
Smiled at some fears, some in me still stay
But feels like success is just some steps away

"The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Never fear what will become of you, depend on no one. Only the moment you reject all help are you freed."
Buddha

Walking with you again...

2008-10-29T11:25:00.007-07:00

Nothing like reading old letters/chats and re-living days of past. Stupid conversations reflecting fairytale romances. Intelligent lines suggesting mindless thoughts. Solving mystery of lost novels n CDs. Reminder of unfulfilled promise of a cup of coffee. Great songs and horrible movies. Common friends and uncommon encounters. Pranks and broken relationships. Smiles...laugh, tear in eye n a secret wish in heart to go back in time. May be not. Things changed for the better. Memories are intact..they will be. But nothing like reading old letter and remembering a lost friendship...

Starless Skies

2008-10-15T12:58:00.002-07:00

Hmm...cloudy cloudy sky
Moon ain't far far away
Sharp-sharp moonlight
'Tis as bright as a day

It smells like winter
with cold cold air
'tis a hush hush moment
Feels almost like you're near

Closed closed kohled eyes
with silly silly dreams
..awake under starless skies
When night's almost like day

Fiery Shades of Fall

2008-10-08T10:55:00.006-07:00

Strolling on stony streets
Mind full of rocky dreams
Thousand doubts in my mind
No way I see, only bars I find

Autumn sky is dark and gray
Taking my light far away
Dying leaves sadden me
They'd leave behind barren tree

Until thy beauty I behold
And let you make me your own
With your touch and divine embrace
I see the beauty in your grace

Your glory filled my soul
And your love made me whole
No stones I see
No doubts blind me

When beauty marries peace
Silence hears what silence speaks
There are messages in fallen leaves
Love will not let trees die
They'd rather help a poet write
And make a painter's work worthwhile

Rest, if you must, but don’t you quit

2008-09-27T11:49:00.004-07:00

There are stresses abound
some created
some complicated.
There are troubles galore
some uninvited
some of them unknown.
But they must not let u down
'Success is failure turned inside out'
Yet now it is time for me
to let the demons go and
allow me to breakfree.

So, away I shall be
(for some days)
flying up high
touching new skies
searching more horizons
n discovering a world
that thus far
existed only in my dreams...

Shall be back soon...
Happy Living!

Lights, sounds and blasts

2008-09-21T10:30:00.006-07:00

Unlike beer and bread, Wine was discovered 'accidentally'- by a Persian lady. A Persian woman tired of her life attempted to poison herself by eating content of a jar labeled 'poison'. She became intoxicated and fell asleep. She opened her eyes later to find that the stress she bore for years had gone and she felt light and happy. The jar was full of spoiled grapes. It is said that in Persia even now wine is sometimes called the "zeher-i-khoosh," i.e., pleasant poison.

The discovered the fact minutes before serial blasts shocked and scared Delhi on Sept 13th. It was narrated through a dance play -- And Then They Came to India --by Mallika Sarabhai and her group Darpana. The play in 45-minutes talks about the Parsi community and events leading to their migration from Persia to India after the Arab invasion. Apart from the wine discovery, one of the landmark events included in the narration was the birth of Zarathustra, the founding father of Zoroastrianism.

Though I found the concept interesting, i would admit I expected a lot more from the group. Mallika was the sutradhar dressed as a spinning dervish. That created a nice impact on the entire play. Undoubtedly, the events were beautifully visualised and the choreography was commendable but there could have been a better choice of events. While some of them were very gripping, there were moments when one lost interest. Sure, it is difficult to summarise the rich Persian history but I am sure there are many more facts that could have the evening more interesting.

I Liked the costumes -- they were rich and vibrant. Lighting was interesting. It was mellow. Music gave the 'parsi' feel. I loved the end part when the tribe mixes with the Gujarati community, adopts things like saree style and a few customs and finally 'arrives' in India. Peace, joy, happiness were the words that came to my mind when, uncannily, just then I received a message saying "Whre r u? Rush home...there hv been serial blasts in delhi killing several ppl...."

A walk to remember

2008-09-20T10:49:00.004-07:00

It's the perfect weather to enjoy a long tiring walk. Roads are clear...so is the sky. The breeze is fragrant or is it my hair that are silky today cause they were washed today? There is relatively less traffic -- it's a Saturday. So no auto/bus/bike/car, I go back home walking today.

The service lane is too narrow to make space for arrogant gigantic cars, mischievous motorbikes, reckless college students and lost souls like me too. Others mights still accommodate, wanderers like me should have separate boulevards. Anyway. Have to bear with this rush only for about a kilometer before i find some peac..."kahan jaana hai madam" - the considerate autowallah.

Nowhere. Seriously. Let me be, please. I see a familiar face approaching. I choose to ignore and pretend I din't see. I wouldn't want anyone to accompany me unless it was you. But you ruthless bugger. You are a bigger dreamer than I am. You'd not like to leave those stars and walk with me on paths that I choose. One day you will. Till then I see my feet taking me one step closer to the beauty of everything around.

The flowers here aren't very pretty but look aesthetic, juxtaposed against dark n light green leaves. The man sleeping under the tree must be a day labourer who just gave up after struggling through a long day. Or may be a useless unemployed soul who drank too much. Must be fun sleeping like that.

I sense a very eerie pride in some cars that speed by - the red Esteem, brown Pajero, blue Suzuki, off-white Corolla and black Skoda. Cycles are innocent but have low IQ, it seems. Go berserk anytime. Bikes are bikes - dreamers like me. And pedestrians are irritants as most of them are walking to reach somewhere, therefore, missing to see how happy trees on the way are; to hear the call of wind; to feel the grief of the big monument that stands unnoticed or under-noticed.

Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe said, "The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone. "

Punjab Tales...Travelogue

2008-09-07T10:02:00.004-07:00

When one plans for a weekend getaway, spirituality may be the last thing on mind. A visit to a temple about 450 km away does not in anyway converge with the idea of holidaying. But what if that temple is located in a place that has memories of an infamous bloodbath, a door dividing two lands that were once one and yet is as tranquil as it could get?

Amritsar, merely 50 km east of Lahore, Pakistan, may not be a destination for unwinding after a long tiring week but it nonetheless deserves a trip to imbibe spiritualism with a touch of culture and history.

The pious journey is bound to start with the Harimandir Sahab better known as the Golden Temple. Pre-dawn is the best time to pay a visit to the shrine when the peaceful breeze gives you the feeling of being one with God as you hear the words ‘ik onkaar...’ (meaning God is one). Basking in the golden glory, the temple is aesthetic and a marvel in architecture.

Its four gates appear to welcome people from all sides at the same time representing the liberal character of Sikhism. The large lake of water, the Sarovar, surrounding it is said to be consisting of amrit, which means holy nectar.

This explains the city’s name. One is bound to get attracted to the splendor surrounding the fishes that swim in the holy water. After you have finished one round of the entire temple you are sure to ask for more. The best thing to do then is to travel around the city and come back at night to witness the grandeur when it is beautifully lit up.

A short walk from the Golden Temple leads you to the site that is reminiscent of the monstrous massacre, Jallianwala Bagh. The ground where thousand innocent lives were lost is now changed into a park. The narrow path between the houses may not give a hint of the legacy stored inside.

There is a well, called the Martyrs’ Well, where visitors can’t help but stop and have a dekko of the place where several people jumped in while trying to escape from bullets. Also, there are remnants of walls preserved to show the bullet holes.

It is advisable to save some time and a lot of energy for a trip to the action-packed Wagah Border, the only road border between India and Pakistan. It’s best to take a taxi from the backside of the Golden Temple, which would take you about 45-minutes to reach.

Wagah is a village that was one before partition. Today, for Indians the eastern part is theirs while the other half belongs to Pakistan. There is an eerie feeling you get standing in Atari, the ‘last village in India,’ that is if the borders bother you. This border, however, is a stage of an entertaining flag lowering ceremony at both ends every evening.

An energetic parade by Indian soldiers and a slight glimpse of the same by Pakistan ranger soldiers does bring in pride for the country and perhaps, somewhere, a curiosity to see the one on the other side of giant gates.

The ceremony proceeds, flags are brought down, ‘nationalistic’ fervour rises and lights are switched off marking the end of the day. The sun sets on both sides equally and winged creatures fly back unaware of the borders, gates and any ceremonies...

The sun rose today....

2008-08-29T19:50:00.003-07:00

There is something about the way trees sway in the morning. Naturally, because the music they hear then is much different from other points of day. By morning, I mean the time when sun has not yet touched them with its rays. This time is pure. It's magical. Very similar to the magic one feels during initial days of first love. Everything around is radiant, beautiful, mystic in curious ways and...surreal.
Last I met this stage of a day was while traveling, only last week to the land of five rivers. But then I was in a train, which does not give same experience as standing still and being just a passive spectator to the glory of the sunrise. There are tremendous preparations nature does to welcome the fiery sun. Trees jostle each other....fighting for their share of sunlight?? The winged creatures aren't as playful as they are in the later part of the day. There's some laziness that makes there flight extraordinarily beautiful. And as the charm of night is submitting itself to the grandeur of light, sky wears a colourful garb until the arrogant sun changes it into blue n white. The sun is arrogant when it reaches its zenith. Like that stage of love, which is full of pride believing that nothing, absolutely nothing can go wrong. It still is beautiful but nowhere close to the chastity it has when it 's in the process of coming into existence.

Do empty roads and the breeze so pure make good reasons to go for a long drive? Most certainly. But driving a car is not as experiential as riding a bike at this point of time. How about a ride on, as Peter puts it, 'highly impractical, but full-of-character' bike? But Peter is not here. Nor is his Bullet. Nor is this Ahmedabad where I could have managed to get a Pulsar or Yamaha at least.

Mind keeps thinking and wandering. It does not need a Bullet nor an Alto, that I am driving right now. Speeding. Feeling the gust of cool wind in eyes, which still have the dreams of last night in them. Flyovers and flyovers. A red light here and a green light there. Few cars and buses. Cycle pedalers and walkers. Trees and trees. Speed an....ohh there comes the sun. Hiding behind those clouds. Shy? Ha. Just loves the drama! Naah i am not complaining. It's all worth it. Power, radiance, energy, hope, optimism -- it's all worth it.

There aren't too many witnesses to this exuberance. The sun still rises.

2008-08-27T10:01:00.001-07:00

"Relationships--of all kinds--are like sand held in your hand. Held loosely, with an open hand, the sand remains where it is. The minute you close your hand and squeeze tightly to hold on, the sand trickles through your fingers. You may hold onto some of it, but most will be spilled. A relationship is like that. Held loosely, with respect and freedom for the other person, it is likely to remain intact. But hold too tightly, too possessively, and the relationship slips away and is lost."

To meet and part...

2008-08-11T11:12:00.008-07:00

This was some summers ago...
When bright was the sun of love,
I were you and he was me.
We peaced by the shadowy tree.
The shadow shadowed my illusions
And blinded me away from real.
They were untrue to me...
You have lying eyes.

For the mom'nt was to last forever,
They told me, but
Were you or is Time a great prankster?
I cried. I wailed. I prayed
To get back that summer sun
Vain. You were to never return.

And this is some summers hence...
You are me and I am he
Life has taken a full circle and,
Tables have turned around for me
Trust, it's easy to be indifferent
There was no love
Only the sun had shone bright
But fault is not yours
Fault is not mine...

It happened to you
Cause it happened to me
Some may call it revenge
For others it is..destiny...

It doesn't rain like this everyday

2008-08-10T09:40:00.010-07:00

To you....

Someone just knocked the dilapidated door today. Thought it is you. It was the mischievous breeze, bringing the message of showers that were to make the earth scented again....
The gentle wind is embracing me and memories of you are all over, flying like curtains of the open window.
Would you like to walk? You too like walking, don't you? I wish we had gone for long walks. We always had so much to talk albeit i went silent most of the times.
Anyway. Music is a great friend too...lemme switch on my Apo....Hey, i see reflection of me on my favourite car.
I see sky and a barren tree
a metaphor of my heart?

"...I tried so hard to tell myself that you are gone" plays Apollo....co-incidence?
Yeah yeah laugh! Your thoughts are as ruthless as you are.

Music in my ears engulfs the noise around. Seems like i am witnessing a silent movie
as i turn deaf to rest of the world much like i do..ok did...when i heard you speak...

No worries, i tell myself. Monsoons, like people in our lives, don't stay forever...

Seasons would change like the music on Appu. "Hate that I love you..." Appu is getting smarter.

Hmm i smell rain. And i feel the drops. Like your memories weren't enough to drench me.....

2008-08-06T11:27:00.003-07:00

Yeh kaisi kash-ma-kash hai zindagi mein,
kisi ko dhundte hai hum kisi mein.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuch tabiyat hi mili thi aisi
chain se jeene ki surat na hui
jisko chaha, usse apna na sake
Jo mila usse mohabbat na hui.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Nida Fazli~

Music to my ears...2

2008-08-02T10:25:00.004-07:00

It's been with me for about 6 months, if i am not mistaken. It's a part of my life now. Can't imagine stepping out without it accompanying me. I call it Apollo. Nickname: Appu

Apollo because he was the Greek god of music. It is believed that Apollo was the most loved of all the gods on Mount Olympus. It's said that he was handsome, talented, charming and honest. He would delight all the Olympians by singing songs. Apt name...Apollo.

Life's a destination-less journey...

2008-07-31T12:56:00.004-07:00

Misty, Mysterious, Surreal - My life better be an enigmatic experience rather than a planned journey through the roads of pragmatism.
Few lives are lived as dreams; rest are spent attempting to make some illusionary dreams come true.....
~Purva~

Moonless night

2008-07-30T12:05:00.002-07:00

Only 4% moon in my sky tonight. Rest of it is unfaithful...flirting with stars in some other sky perhaps.

Words

2008-07-30T11:39:00.005-07:00

'Hmm' is a lazy word

'Haha' is a pleasant word

'Always' & 'Forever' are cheat words

'Boohoo' is word looking for sympathy

'Ohk' is a tired word

'LoL' is a word forcibly made happy

'Mist' is a pure word

'What' is a demanding word

'Chuckling' is a mischievous word

Note: If this makes any sense to you and you feel words have characterstics then feel free to contribute to the list. Btw 'free' is a ......

Hope

2008-07-25T11:42:00.009-07:00

There's silence
in scared air
accompanying
several unanswered questions
And there is Me....

There's dusk
closing day's eyes
with
many undone promises
And there is Me....

There's moon
sitting alone
amidst
blurred sky
of your love
And there is Me...

Dawn's here.
Morning star
shines on
the dew on grass;
There is mist
engulfing my view
...And there is me
still waiting for you

The Bride Across Forever...

2008-07-17T21:21:00.003-07:00

Hmm...it's one of those sad days when you feel like you have lost a friend but this wasn't a very dear friend. Just finished reading Richard Bach's The Bridge Across Forever.
I had much more expectations from Bach after Jonathan Livingstone Seagull. The first half is quite boring and a drag. I befriended it only when I realised that it could reinstate my belief in fantasies. But the friendship did not last long as it isn't too convincing.

The story is an autobiographical account of Bach. He is a passionate pilot, a successful writer...and a lost soul searching for his soul mate. Stubborn, arrogant, smug -- are the words that best describe him. His quest to find a soul mate actually seems to be his unconscious means of running away from commitment.
Then he meets Lesslie Parrish with whom he shares a platonic relationship. He admires her, adores her but does not see her as the woman he has been looking for. But as in all love stories he discovers that the relationship has more to contribute to his life than he thought. Platonic becomes romantic and the individualistic Bach learns to meet the demands of the relationship.

Had it not been an autobiographical note, Bach's personal life wouldn't have affected my degree of liking the book. In real life, Bach and his soul mate (Lesslie) got divorced.

I think you need to be happy with yourself before you can be happy with someone else.
And no matter for how short a time, destiny will find you where you least expect it to. Just be yourself and believe in dreams and not so pragmatic side of life. So what if soulmates do not come with a lifetime guarantee..so what if perfect relationship is nothing but an ephemeral thought....Hmm.
Everything is an experience. Just experience it. In Bach's own words:
"The best way to pay for a lovely moment is to enjoy it."

More quotes:

--That's what learning is, after all; not whether we lose the game, but how we lose and how we've changed because of it and what we take away from it that we never had before, to apply to other games. Losing, in a curious way, is winning.

-- We're the bridge across forever, arching above the sea, adventuring for our pleasure, living mysteries for the fun of it, choosing disasters triumphs challenges impossible odds, testing ourselves over and again, learning love and love and LOVE!

Of Fairies n Fairytales....

2008-07-12T10:04:00.002-07:00

"You gave me peace in a lifetime of war."

II. “Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experience.”...Ralph Waldo Emerson

Roses & Meandering leaves....

2008-06-29T09:04:00.001-07:00

...And again I'll be the leaf
that fell as breeze passed by...
Meandering towards a destination unknown
Dancing to the tune of a song unsung
Believing in destiny....that people say is unwritten
Illusion is what they call it.
You aren't a part of my fate, they say
But tell me how do I believe them
I know you are there.
May be I am unnoticed today
But as I swirl in this wind
I know.....
There will be a road,
There will be a turn
Where two of us shall meet
The flowers will bloom again
And everything will be fine
That day would be our tryst with destiny,
(That people say is unwritten)
And again I'd be the leaf
That flew as the breeze passed by.....

(For chotu)

Pensive

2008-06-22T02:21:00.001-07:00

Myriad thoughts....
Countless words
but paper remains blank somehow
The poet perhaps
needs a funnel
to sift the best ones now

Enigmatic charm

2008-05-28T20:27:00.000-07:00

Mysterious, magnificent, complex, haunting, dreamy -- If there is something that binds all these and many more such adjectives together, it is Enigma, the popular electroni musical project, which according to me should get the status of a cult.

I do not remember when and how I was introduced to it but it has almost been an addiction ever since. It was may be love at first sound! Before I knew it, the soul of the music had already become a part of me. I realised it only when someone close to me pointed my style of writing reflects Enigma.

Hear the music once and you'll feel an immediate connect. You feel there's a kind of energy that takes you somewhere deep inside of you. It evokes a sense of spiritual peace like one attains while meditating.

It celebrates optimism. It lets you believe in destiny...in love, in yourself, in life, in faith, in God, in the child in you and everything that the 'real' world says is not true...

"....If you want, then start to laugh
If you must, then start to cry
Be yourself don't hide
Just believe in destiny
Don't care what people say
Just follow your own way
Don't give up and use the chance
To return to innocence
That's not the beginning of the end
That's the return to yourself
The return to innocence.... "

Awesome Mausam!

2008-05-22T01:16:00.000-07:00

And again Delhi wakes up to a rainy morning. Dark sky, roads full of water, cool breeze, traffic jams, some frowned foreheads but mostly cheerful eyes...in all another beautiful day...that too in the month of May. Couldn't have asked for anything better!

After savouring a hot cup of sweet tea, prepared by dad, I stare at my wardrobe for good 10-15 mins. I pick up the attire I like the most...a loose kurta, churidar and a dupatta. All set I step out feeling positivity all around me. I stop the auto a little far from my destination so that I can enjoy a short walk with music accompanying me of course.

I feel so confident, so positive and so light! On my way I admire the green leaves dancing on trees, yellow flowers making the environment vibrant, roads that look cleaner and darker after being washed away by the rain, cars that pass by splashing dirty water on my favourite dress....i do not mind anything today! Nothing can go wrong today....It is a happy blissful rainy day!

Happy Living and a wonderful day :)

Music to ears

2008-05-16T07:06:00.000-07:00

Destinations do not fascinate me. Journeys do. Traveling is anytime better than 'arriving'.

These thoughts in mind and headphones in my ear are often my companion on my way to work. Most of the time I wish I could just travel and reach nowhere. Alas that is just a wish. Being aware that arriving is important (and inevitable in most cases) I try to make most of each minute I walk towards my destination. It's easy for me as I reach another destination on my route to the physical one.

The transformation to the other world is absolute. No wonder I can never remember directions and routes. I am never there. (This calls for another blog entry, which I think should discourage people from asking me to be aware of directions)

It takes almost 25 minutes and Rs 50 to reach my office by an auto-rickshaw. Traveling by bus is lot cheaper and better as it takes more time but the scorching heat forces me to shell out extra bucks and compromise on extra time. Getting into a rickshaw and putting on earphones and a scarf is almost mechanical now. Earphones connect me to music that takes me into the world of my own and the scarf protects me from killer pollution and some stares that intervene my thought process.

I think music is a very significant part of what I call a good journey. Good numbers - English or Hindi - always lift my spirits no matter how distressed I have been. While a 'dil dance maare' amuses me, 'It must have been love' brings back some past memories. There are songs which help taking a leap into some future event.

A wedding song invariably puts me to imagining what it'd be like when my elder sis would be dressed as a bride. What follows comes to an end only when I am forced to come back as I reach the office gate.

Some days are lucky when radio channels play songs other than the ones that are 'hit' these days. Those bring back memories of some wonderful days that are always worth recalling. For instance, 'Jaadu hai nasha hai' from the movie Jism takes me back to 2002 when I used to admire a cute guy in tuition classes. The thought brings a smile even when everything around looks quite grim.

Incidentally, my notion of having two left feet was disillusioned recently at a party where I was complimented for being a good dancer. Before that I used to dream of some flexi moves and grooves during such journeys. I continue to do so except I feel dancing is no longer just my dream world's prerogative. It is no longer in the list of things I do just for me.

So, a 'Hips don't lie' now brings in the party animal in me which I thougt never existed.

I am not sure if this post really makes sense or conveys what I want to say. "Waiting on the world to change" by John Mayer playing on radio right now.....

I feel spiritual

2008-05-10T21:32:00.000-07:00

There are times in our lives when our own existence seems unfamiliar to us. Our own astitva appears so complicated that everything outside of it becomes meaningless. And sometimes the complications of the outside world lead to search of self...the I that is beyond everything else.

These days I like to believe I am traveling on the road to spirituality. I feel a deep connect with the power that rules all. I am not a Sikh by religion but have always found tranquility in Gurudwaras. I feel powered by the mool mantra written in the Guru Granth Sahib...Here goes

Ek Onkar.....(Mool Mantra)

Ek Onkar Satnam -- One God; truth is his name
Karta Purkh -- he is the creator
Nir Bhao -- without fear
Nir Vair -- without malice
Akal Murakh - without existence
Ajuni Saibhan - beyond birth, self existent
Gur Prasad- By God's grace

Caged under the Open Sky

2008-04-27T11:21:00.000-07:00

The truth to me is not unknown
Cobwebs in my mind are my own
My own rules confine me
Many notions blind me
I refuse to see the sky you do
I do not fly like you...
No, no bars cage me
Only inhibitions bind me

...But that is how I was meant to be

I say this is what I am --
With no wishes to fly
You say I am nothing but
Caged under the open sky....

Relationships.....

2008-04-12T11:26:00.000-07:00

This one comes after a long time. I blame it all on laziness and lack of time management. Getting sentimental on my relationship with this blog I force myself not to let it feel neglected any more. And I gave it a new look. Simultaneously as I flipped pages of a diary lying on the table, I chanced upon an old piece of paper that reads as follows:

A man asked his father-in-law, "Many people praised you for a successful marriage. Could you please share with me your secret?"

The father-in-law answered in a smile, "Never criticize your wife for her shortcomings and weaknesses or when she does something wrong.

Always bear in mind that because of her shortcomings and weaknesses, she could not find a better husband than you."

We all look forward to being loved and respected. Many people are afraid of losing face. Generally, when a person makes a mistake, he would look around to find a scapegoat to point finger at. This is the start of a war. We should always remember that when we point one finger at a person, the other four fingers are pointing at ourselves.

If we forgive the others, others will ignore our mistake too.

There is a saying that a perfect match can only be found between a blind wofe and a deaf husband, because the blind wife cannot see the faults of the husband and the deaf husband cannot hear the nagging of the wife. Many couples are blind and deaf at the courting stage and dream of perpetual perfect relationship. Unfortunateky, when the excitement of love wears off, they wake up and discover that marriage is not a bed of roses. The nightmare begins.

Note ends...and so does one of the glorious days when I feel largely blind.....

Rambling

2008-03-21T23:26:00.000-07:00

1. Things end so that new ones can begin...
Or something new happens so that old one ends....

Celebrations

2008-03-20T00:04:00.000-07:00

Blooming flowers.
Chirping birds.
roads heaped
with countless leaves....

Longer days
Cool nights
romantically flows
the summer breeze

Rise,sing, dance and love
Spring has sprung!

2008-03-05T09:31:00.001-08:00

Heard a friend saying:

"You are a sheep amongst wolves...
Be wise as serpents yet innocent as doves..."

Being Purva: What's in a name?

2008-02-16T08:25:00.000-08:00

For Shakespeare, rose would have been the same even if it were called anything else. What's in a name, he said. I do not know if I would have been any different were I known as Purvi and not Purva. But what I do believe is I possess some characterstics because I am Purva.

I read somewhere: "psychologist say that women with more feminine names are better at jobs like nursing & a person with manly name like Hank will be more successful as a builder." I believe names (rather the meanings) have a strong bearing on one's personality.

Purva means cool breeze flowing from the east -- the direction from which the sun appears to rise. Coming from that direction (which has something that removes darkness), gives me a positive outlook and confidence of brightening up the place I am in.

Breeze cannot be held in one place, making me a restless soul. I like to call myself a wanderer--wandering in search of .....something I am unaware of! I love to get 'lost'! (which is a common occurence thanks to my extremely poor sense of direction).

While there are lot of other traits similar to the meaning of my name, I would not write all here. I like these lines written by Rabindranath Tagore....I can identify with them really well:

"I AM restless. I am a thirst for far-away things.
My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance.
O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly,
that I am bound in this spot evermore."

It's V-day again

2008-02-11T11:23:00.000-08:00

So it's that time of the year again when Teddy Bears and 'I love you ' cards come out of Archies shop. When coffee shops, malls ,roads ,parks , footpath are packed with people in 'love'. When every music channel gives scores of CD/DVD options to gift your valentine.

And it is that time of the year again when I along with a group of friends sit m(ostly at Ansal Plaza) staring at people celebrating this festival of love. The heart shape ballons appear to be smiling (read mocking) at us. Invitations to parties clearly ask us to stay away. 'Losers 'appears to be the word for us.

None of us in the gang cribs about the 'single' status each one of us bears. except on this day.
And it's nothing more than the inability of being a part of this grand festivity. Though a lot of us argue that we can anyway celebrate the day but the reasons do not seem convincing enough. So, we all get together cause we think losers sit at home on 14th of feb.

A friend on gtalk (not part of the gang) questioned me "Is being single a crime?"

Another friend said the celebrations do not bother him since he is busy attending FOSLA meetings on every V-day.

Fosla being Frustrated One sided Lover's Association.

words of wisdom

2008-02-09T10:22:00.000-08:00

Flipping through the pages of an old diary, I came across a few quotes. T

Anger:

I was angry with a friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it Not, my wrath did grow

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Affection:

A woman's life is a history of affections

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aim:

There are 2 things to aim at in life: first to get what you want & after that enjoy it. Only the wisest of mankind achieve the second......

Dreamy eyes.....

2008-01-21T09:23:00.000-08:00

A beautiful dream
I saw through your eyes

Of romantic drives
And the connection divine.

Talks of walks
On isolated beaches

Endless chats
And wordless meanings…

Words insignificant between us

……………………………

Said my fear: “You’d leave me too…”
You told me: “Not as long as you want me to”

Arrogant I was,
For I had you

Then you gave me wings
And taught me how to fly

I was ready to take off
You said that was not my sky

Prank was common between us

………………………………………….

Shattered I am,
No joke it was

No walks…..
Just my footprint
I find on sand

Words are still not said
But silent is the silence now

……………………………………

You are with me
These are no lies

Huh…a wishful dream
I see with my hopeful eyes

Har Custom Message Kuch Kehta Hai

2007-12-01T07:58:00.000-08:00

Whether you see a Green dot, red dot or a yellow
Read not just name but also the message given below

It could be a message not to be missed
or an announcement that
the person has just been kissed

Reflection of a person's mood
or invitation to have good food;
a line that could make you laugh
few words that could pinch you in heart

From spirtituality to greetings;
About dates and important meetings;
About summer, winter, rains and fall
Gtalk custom messages say it all

Googling is a part of our daily routine, isn't it? And so is chatting on gtalk... Even if I do not find time to chat, I do sign in and put 'busy' sign infront of my name. And with that I also place some custom message which need not everytime make sense. So is the case with everyone on my gtalk list. It amuses me to see how creative some of my friends get. We sometimes chat through the messages. Leg-pulling and repartees are common. I sometimes use lines to taunt some deserving people. Some use it as a medium to you of the books and money they had lent. Some mesaages are worth being discussed over the cups of tea at chai-kitli. Here are some categories of mesaages I have come across.

Greetings:

sweetpriya24
Good Morning people!

I-am-bored:

anishamehta1
I am a star twinkling in the sky

What-am-I-doing?:
dreamctacher
is cooking cookies and you cant have any

Going, going, gone :
bewada.bakul
A for academics;B for beer-One of those reasons is why I'm not here. So leave a message

From one corner of the office to other:

crazy_swats
kisi ko chai peeni hai?

Announcements:

unique.piece
going to jhumritalayia on 5th!!!

Read-my-mood:

handsome_dude
aaj main upar...aasmaan neeche....

Philosophical:

adi.prophet
The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind.

And contemplative:

sunnyboy
is wondering why the earth is spinning....

Beach Sand In My Shoes....

2007-11-02T07:14:00.000-07:00

Dusky evening in its spring
Takes the shining sun with it,
Dressing the sky with seven colours
Letting it be kissed by the sea......

Standing near the beach, I wonder
What can I take with me?

Water dancing to tunes of flowing breeze
Making waves come and kiss my feet
Carefree waves, playful like the children around,
Revel in the ...unheard song

Marvelled by the mysticism, I wonder
What can I take along?

Lying below is the vulnerable sand
Embedding my feet with water's kiss,
Is a bed to a thousand shells
And castles that people make....

Awed by its affability I wonder
What from it can I take?

With all these soaked in my soul,
There is nothing I can choose
There is nothing I can lose
And I walk away with peace in my heart
and beach sand in my shoes.......

Thousand Splendid Suns...Book Review

2007-10-12T11:04:00.000-07:00

Myriad Emotions in few pages........

If you have visited Kabul with Khaled Hosseini before then you may not be looking for reasons to go on the journey again with his second book, Thousand Splendid Suns.

Hosseini is one of the best story tellers I have come across so far. Reading his work is almost like watching a movie. The picture he paints through simple language and strong characterisation, is his USP. I love the way he explains relationships. It appears he has a deep understanding of what people close to him are all about. The Kite Runner dealt with relationship between a father and a son along with other significant alliances. This novel decribes simple yet complicated relationships between: mother and daughter; daughter and father; husband and wife and few more.... some unwanted...some unexplained.

Hosseini, in the book, deals with plight of women in Afghanistan. The story revloves around two characters: Mariam and Laila. The first half of the book introduces you to a bastard -- Mariam. Yes, Mariam is a harami or so she is made to believe and be ashamed of her existence. And this is not the only burden this illegitimate daughter of a wealthy man lives with. She pays the price of being hopeful of gaining acceptance in her father's home. Little does she know that the affection she saw in her father's eyes or in the gifts he bought, when he visited her, was not enough to allow the world to know that she was his daughter. A series of events lead her to marry a much older shoemaker named Rasheed.

Parallely, Hosseini tells the tale of Laila, a beautiful teenager leading a good life in Kabul. I like the chastity in her relation with Tariq. Something very close to love.

Some turn of events and Laila and Mariam's lives cross each others. It's beautiful knowing how these characters learn to respect each other and fight the common 'demon.'

The sheer storytelling ability of Hosseni makes it difficult to put down the book at any time. He succeeds, like in his first attempt, to bring out various shades of humanity from cover to cover.

Ending Note: Of betrayal from people you trust the most & trusting the ones you never can .....Khaled Hosseini explains the turmoil and tranquility the best.

Quote Unquote:

'Like a compass needle that points north, a man's accusing finger always finds a woman.'

There is not much time cannot erase......

2007-09-10T12:30:00.000-07:00

It can destroy huge mountains, can melt massive glaciers, it can make garlands of strong relationships, it can rust a lustrous metal and a decade old bond….it has the power to heal the gravest wounds…it is, perhaps, the most powerful. Time.

“Leave it on time,” they say. And time does take care of everything. Without any rules though. Things change. People change. Circumstances change….because time changes. There is nothing you can do.

Things will change. People will change. Circumstances will change. Because TIME will change. And it will alter several deifinitions. It will re-define relationships. It will bring with it numerous new experiences and embed the old ones as memories in our hearts. Some will be cherished and some.......better forgotten...

There is nothing time will not touch. It will - fade the best pair of your jeans; darken the silver jewellery you spent hours buying; turn the laptop you brought from your first salary into a piece of wreck; make people forget the recognition you received.....the mirror that shows a young and energetic you, will change show a wrinkled, frowning and tired you.......

But. It will also-- turn the sapling you planted in your garden into a frutiful tree, improve the taste of wine your friend gifted you and the flavour of friendship too, make space for a new pair of jeans in your new cupboard, it will revamp several relationship and bring with it several new suns.......

Happy Living!

I Am....

2007-09-10T12:25:00.000-07:00

Today I am a free bird; the sky is all mine
there is no one who can stop me
I have left my fears behind…..

I can talk to the flowing breeze,
and spread my wings wide
There is no stopping me today
This freedom makes me shine….

My spirit is shining now; I can feel the glow within
‘You’ don’t exist for me anymore
There is no such thing as ‘grim’…

Today I am a free bird; the freedom is all mine…

Only felicity resides in my life now
I enjoy every bit of pain
Life has attained a new meaning
though every other thing remains the same

Yes, today I am a free bird;
the pain is all mine
there is no one who can stop me
I have left my fears far behind…..

Rambling

2007-09-08T14:53:00.000-07:00

Sometimes life looks so beautiful that I feel like embracing it

and sometimes it looks so beautiful that I feel like just staring at it and letting it pass by......

Kabul

2007-08-16T23:32:00.000-07:00

If you have read Khaled Hosseini, you would make much more sense out of this. I found this B-E-A-utiful desrciption of Kabul and thought it's surely worth sharing:

Ah! How beautiful is Kabul encircled by her arid mountains
And Rose, of the trails of thorns she envies
Her gusts of powdered soil, slightly sting my eyes
But I love her, for knowing and loving are born of this same dust

My song exhalts her dazzling tulips
And at the beauty of her trees, I blush
How sparkling the water flows from Pul-I Bastaan!
May Allah protect such beauty from the evil eye of man!

Khizr chose the path to Kabul in order to reach Paradise
For her mountains brought him close to the delights of heaven
From the fort with sprawling walls, A Dragon of protection
Each stone is there more precious than the treasure of Shayagan

Every street of Kabul is enthralling to the eye
Through the bazaars, caravans of Egypt pass
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs
And the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls

Her laughter of mornings has the gaiety of flowers
Her nights of darkness, the reflections of lustrous hair
Her melodious nightingales, with passion sing their songs
Ardent tunes, as leaves enflamed, cascading from their throats

And I, I sing in the gardens of Jahanara, of Sharbara
And even the trumpets of heaven envy their green pastures Poem by Saib-e-Tabrizi

Posted by Khaled Hosseini fan

COMING SOON: Review of Thousand Splendid Suns

It's Raining.....

2007-07-28T02:58:00.000-07:00

Ek Baar Waqt Se Lamha Gira Kahin
Wahaan Dastan Mili Lamha Kahin Nahin
Thoda Sa Hasaake Thoda Sa Rulaake Pal Ye Bhi Jaanewala Hai

With the song playing in the background I just stopped what I was doing....(pretending to work). One look at the window and I was forced to get up and stand besides it. It's raining cats and dogs outside here in Ahmedabad. And the scene outside is extremely beautiful. I have this habit of messaging my friends whenever I notice something beautiful about nature so that even they can feel the beauty. I took my cell out only to realise that my friends sittign 1000 kms away cannot really enjoy this rain (though I believe it has been raining there as well). And there I go back into my "i-am-sad-being-away-from-my-friends" mode.

hmmmmm but sipping a hot cup of coffee and studying the nature and watching people passing by, life ain't that sad....

Thoda Sa Hasaake Thoda Sa Rulaake Pal Ye Bhi Jaanewala Hai

I don't want to.....

2007-07-23T22:18:00.000-07:00

I don't wanna sit
I don't wanna stand

I don't wanna walk
I don't wanna stop

I don't wanna laugh
I don't wanna cry

I don't wanna live
but I don't wanna die..

May be this doesn't make much sense but I just wanted to write this. As this is what I am actually feeling. Has it ever happened to you? Have you felt moments when you do not want to do anything but cannot sit idle? You want to talk your heart out but do not feel like using these things called 'words'....you want to be a part of the hustle and bustle in a crowd but are reluctant to compromise your space. There are thousands of such contradictory things running on my mind. But I think this much is enough.

Perhaps this is beacuse I am away from home for the first time. Sitting approximately 1000kms from home (in Ahmedabad), may be this is how one feels. I am missing home but do not really want to return. I am certain this feeling would go as things settle and then I shall share with you the beauty of the Gujju land. (I hope I am able to steal some more moments like these when I can blog....missing my PC without any contradictions)

Why do all good things come to an end?

2007-07-11T12:06:00.000-07:00

Traveling I only stop at exits
Wondering if I'll stay
Young and restless
Living this way I stress less
I want to pull away when the dream dies
The pain sets in and I don't cry
I only feel gravity and I wonder why

Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end.......

~Says Nelly Furtado~

Says me too! I am getting senti as one of the best phases in my life has reached the dusk stage...The sun that rose on January 4, 2007 had set on July 4, 2007 but myriad colours had still managed to keep the sky beautiful. The colours too have faded now..... It seems to be the darkest hour of the.....

(Okay let me come to the point before it gets too dramatic and abstract)

Times School of Journalism (The Times of India) welcomed its fourth batch on 4 January, 2007. It was a scary day. On the very first day we were loaded with four fat books and assignments(now that I am writing I noticed there are too many fours involved....could that possibly signify anything??).

Anyways, as days passed earth seemed to be spinning faster on its axis. Hours passed in the blink of an eye. Day turned into night in no time. Number of assignments seemed to be having competition with the rising sensex. Sleeping hours reduc....wait a minute what??? sleeping....it is sheer wastage of time. Being insomniac is such a bliss....gives you a lot more time to plan the assignments and crib about them.....yeah cribbing about the work load soon becomes enjoyable. Isn't it? There was a phase when we had forgotten the days of the week. The only form of answer to "Kal kya hai?" was Radio journalism assignment, Suparna mam's presentation, book presentation etc etc

We soon learnt to laugh at it. Faces that had the grace of a royal palace now looked as inelegant as the slums in Dharavi. But we (including all the girls) learnt to live with it. The joy of dressing up gracefully was replaced with the gratification of stealing a few moments from the oh-so-busy-routine.

In those stolen moments we tried to catch up with the scraps waiting for us on orkut. Those moments were reserved for absolutely unimportant mails in our inbox, for the calls unattended as we were busy sleeping...no no..attending lectures, for sitting and gossiping at the RDB spot, for going down for a cup of coffee, for going to the canteen only to hear there is nothing left for us, for preparing for channel presentations and play, for active and passive smoking, for preparing for the next lecture, for planning to bunk the lecture, surviving some harmless pranks, and laughing.......

Saturdays were the best days. Did not have assignments on saturdays. Few moments of the afternoon were dedicated to 'relaxation dancing' by two great dancers. Then a movie in Film, Art & Theatre class. After a heavily hectic week, we considered it our right to enjoy saturday evenings....those were spent mostly in CP or deciding where to go and ultimately landing in CP......Ah those evenings in Central Park, in pubs n discs, on footpath, in Mac Donalds, in Janpath, in and outside American Center......And every evening when did not mind walking an extra mile to eat or at least get the aroma of Pao Bhaji, have ice cream full of fruits n nuts (just for Rs 10, bhuttas and quick bites at the bakery...

Sundays passed by in pending assignments and with wikipedia preparing for book presentation the next day.

Six months passed with such a routine. The routine gifted us the stamina to remain awake almost all night (and catch up with sleep in clas..shhhh); meet deadlines; think of excuses for entering late in classes; ability to --deal with biasness and prejudices (only TSJ students will understand this), make presentations without preparation and live an unpredictable life.

It gave us some invaluable friends and time we'd cherish forever...

Internship is putting us all in different locations. It's hard even to imagine to be living without seeing other 19 faces.... Sheesh...why do all good things come to an end?

Yeh Jo hai Zindagi....

2007-07-08T22:46:00.000-07:00

This is the first time I am posting a poem in hindi...The essence was getting lost in English.

Coffee ke cup si mehakti hui
Baarish ki bundon si tapakti hui
Aur un bundon pe naachti patto si
Zindagi mili....acha laga

Ek bachche ke hoton pe baithi thi
Chhup rahi thi....
Maine dhyaan se dekha tab dikhi
Acha laga

So rahi thi chandni raat mein
Ek ped ke neeche
Us aasmaan mein chupte chand me nazar aayi
Acha laga

Beh rahi thi ek nadi si
Chupkar kai lehron mein
Un laheron ke beech
Jhaankti nazar aayi....
Acha laga

Natkhat hai...chalaak hai
Masoom hai par shaitan hai
Nikal jaati hai aksar yuhi
Zindagi......

The Fountainhead

2007-07-06T11:24:00.000-07:00

"Man’s ego is the fountainhead of human progress."

I gave two months of my life to this book and I know what I have gained for life.

Howard Roark, Peter Keating, Gail Wynand, Dominique Francon, Henry Cameron, and Ellsworth Toohey—have taught me what years of experience couldn’t have; in all probability my survival would not have the meaning it has today.

For those who have no clue what I am talking of please rush to your nearest bookstore and grab a copy of The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand!!

The book, in these two months, saw various emotions on my face—of sorrow, of joy, of pain, of revelation, and of fear… In the process of discovering the “I” in me I found Peter Keating in me. I noticed myself quivering with fear then. It was too much for my self-obsessed soul.

"Never ask anyone what you should do when it comes to your career, how can you be so ignorant, how can you ask what you should be doing?"

Within the complexities of the book I understood a lot of complexities of life. You cannot decipher anything external unless you interpret your own self…your ego….your esteem…your worth. Once you do that ‘others’ do not matter. Their opinion does not leave you in doubt. You do not wait for the approval of others. You become independent. You realize you are an individual. And then you will discover the strength of that individual.

The most poignant message comes at Roark’s trial when he tells the world:

"I came here to say that I do not recognize anyone’s right to one minute of my life. Nor to any part of my energy. Nor to any achievement of mine. I wished to come here and say that I am a man who does not exist for others."

Love is selfish.

"Before one can say 'I love you', one must first learn to say the word 'I'."

Would you torture the one you love? Would you do everything possible to make your lover suffer? Would you love the one who raped you? Dominique did. And for not one moment did I doubt the chastity of their relationship. Read about Dominique and Roark’s complex affair and you’ll understand this.

So are we…

"Man—every man—is an end in himself…" We must live for our own sake. For our happiness. Morality does not consist in living for others or for society. It consists in living for your self.

"The pursuit of his own rational self-interest and of his own happiness is the highest moral purpose of his life."

Reason is the only absolute

Reason is man’s only means of knowledge. Life is not about accepting things and blindly following them. It’s about questioning the beliefs, understanding them and if need be negating them. Absence of reasoning has made this a world of “second-handers.” A world which Ellsworth Toohey talked about:

“A world of obedience and of unity. A world where the thought of each man will not be his own, but an attempt to guess the thought of the next neighbour who’ll have no thought – and so on, Peter, around the globe. Since all must agree with all. A world where no man will hold a desire for himself, but will direct all his efforts to satisfy the desires of his neighbour who’ll have no desires except to satisfy the desires of the next neighbour, who’ll have no desires – around the globe, Peter. Since all must serve all. A world in which man will not work for so innocent an incentive as money, but for that headless monster--prestige. The approval of his fellows – their good opinion – the opinion of men who’ll be allowed to hold no opinion. An octopus, all tentacles and no brain.”

You live a life when you read a book. A good book makes you feel the emotions of the characters and you feel the presence of characters around you. Catch-22 (by Joseph Heller) made me laugh. The Kite Runner (by Khaled Hosseini) made me cry. The Fountainhead made me think.

The book is so intense that I took several minutes to come to reality every time I read a few pages of the book. The philosophy is quite subtle and you need some time to take it in completely. Besides, it is full of literary fireworks, incredible word pictures, and the power to make the reader read 10 pages when the intention was to read just 2 at that time.

My only problem with Ayn Rand is that in certain portions the philosophy is so dragged that it seems she doubts the aptitude of the reader in understanding what she wished to convey. Nevertheless, do not miss out on this book. Rest assured, it shall enter your list of favourite books when you are not even half way through it.

My favourite quotes:

“I’ll never remind you afterward that you’re crying, Dominique.” [Roark when Dominique calls the press.]

"She thought how strange it would be if she ever said 'Hello' to him; one did not greet oneself each morning."

"Being with Howard is like being alone with myself, only more at peace."

"Don't allow men to be happy. Happiness is self-contained and self-sufficient. Happy men have no time and no use for you. Happy men are free men. So kill their joy in living."

Death in the womb (Female Foeticide Part 2)

2007-06-21T13:01:00.000-07:00

[This is a first person account on female foeticide.]

I was killed for a crime that I did not commit. Rather, for a crime that wasn’t a crime at all.

I quietly lay in the dingy womb hoping to see the beautiful world outside. I lay there dreaming of the tiring evenings when I would play with grandpa in the park. I dreamt of nights when grandma would tell me the tales of beautiful fairies and princess in the castle. I dreamt of daddy scolding me for hiding his car keys. I also dreamt of my brother teasing and irritating me. I dreamt of the love that would be showered upon me once I become a part of the world of these wonderful people. But all my dreams were shattered.

My story came to end even before it could start. My story ended the day doctor aunty told ma and daddy that I would be born as a girl. The clinic had a board saying: “Spend 500 rupees now and save Rs 5 lakh later.”
“It’ll all be done in 15 minutes,” I heard doctor aunty saying. I thought it was time for me to see the faces of the two people who created me. But little did I know my creators would be my destroyers. I shouted…albeit in silence. It took a little knife and Rs 500 to mute my voice. It was all done in 15 minutes. I was denied a life.
Rohan, whom I thought I’d call bhaiya, faced no such situation. He was given the right to witness the colours of life because he’d be an earner and would carry on the family name. He’d also support parents in their old age. But daddy what if he turns out to be like you? What if he too finds his monthly income too meager to support ma and you? What if he too leaves you, one evening, in a nice old age home? Then wouldn’t his right of existence be unjustified?
Mamma, I remember the scriptures you read when you did not know the gender I was to have. “In this land, a woman is worshipped- Nari sarvatre pujyate,” this is what you had read. It is in this very land that mamma you did not allow me to see how the women are worshipped.

Female foeticide, the gravest of all issues concerning women, was most common in urban China in the second half of twentieth century. Female infanticide is still a problem in developing countries, especially developing countries where males are valued over females. In most countries in the world, there are approximately 105 female births for every 100 males. In India, there are less than 93 women for every 100 men in the population. Some are killed in the womb, others perished as infants, while many women succumb in a desperate bid to have a male child. Today, we are living with the illusion that we are at par with the developed giants of the world. Considering the scenario, we must think a hundred times even before we call ourselves citizens of a progressive nation of the 21st century. We may have developed technologically; but are we putting these technological developments to proper use?

Blowing my own trumpet :)

2007-05-24T07:43:00.000-07:00

This post is for the ignorant souls who have no idea who Billy Mac is and are unaware of 'Critique My Blog'. (Well, not really...this is a great chance for me to post some good words about my blog and I am not letting it go!....cheap thrills...)

Billy Mac of Critique My Blog reviewed this blog and here's what he says:

"Sharp and well written is what this blog offers to it's readers. One of those blogs where the bloggers personality comes through the screen at you. The format is spot on and the organization of things is set up perfectly. My only criticism is that the posting is not being done often. That is ok except I'd add a feedburner or feedblitz to let your readers know when you have updated your blog. It is so well done that I'm sure you would get a lot of readers who sign up. Keep up the great work and keep the blog rolling!"

Thanks Billy :)

Today's Woman: Sick & Perverted!?

2007-05-09T07:47:00.000-07:00

"Today's woman has the freedom of being as sick and perverted as the guys." This is a quote from the movie Just One of the Guys
How many of the reader's agree? Here's the poem: Hey Girl!:

A group of friends were chatting in a public park in the city
Their conversations can be termed as being totally "sick and dirty"

They commented on everyone who passed their way
And stared at them as if their eyes had x-ray!

And then they would go on a fantasy trip
thinking of various ways to seductively strip

Hey do you think this was a bunch of just other men!?
Na, Na these were a group of "sick and perverted" women

A guy who overheard their conversation was totally perplexed
when he heard a girl say - All day I dream about sex.

The guy went home feeling funny that day,
Shocked, with the things he heard them say

But that's the freedom woman of today enjoys
Her thoughts are 'free' just like the boys'

These are reflections of the changing times
No more will SHE live in the superficial confines!

She can talk 'whatever' is on her mind...
What she should not think...now no one can define

What was a 'natural' behaviour for guys till yesterday
...is absolutely fine for the women of today

Today, she can be sexy, naughty and bitchy
She is absolutely cool with her sexuality....

Erotica, lust, desire and the sex toys-
these are no more just the territories of boys

As women have the freedom to be as sick & perverted as guys

Acceptance of this fact has already begun
...After all why should boys have all the fun!

Life: Definition Revisited

2007-05-01T05:26:00.000-07:00

This thing called life through a wanderer's eyes....just a rambling

Life for me is an implausible dream…
It is certainly not what it always seems.

There are lessons to be learnt in every season...
Everything here happens for a reason.

Life for me is a melodious song
Dance to its tune till it is on.

Secret lies in understanding the purpose we have to serve
Perhaps, it is to exist with an unending verve!