Teach your fingers while they can still learn!

Son, I am writing to you this afternoon for an important reason.

You are growing up fast and so are ten little soldiers on your palm. It is important that you educate them while they can still learn and before they are misguided by musings of your own mind. While it is essential for you to know and understand the Archimedes principle, Trigonometry identities, and Human Anatomy, it is equally important that you impart some knowledge, skills, and habits to your ten tiny soldiers. Sounds absurd? Maybe it does, but hear me out first!

Son, do you know when you were just ten months old, you broke your dad's expensive glasses and my favorite flower vase. And at two, your aunt's imported perfume bottle and your uncle's iPhone. And at three, your own beloved toy-train? Unknowingly, of course. Do you know the reason why all toddlers have this similar habit? Because when we are born, our baby fingers are like untamed wild creatures who want to reach out but have no clue of what to do with the things that come their way. Their basic instinct is to just grab and throw, destroy, unaware of the fact that most broken things can't be fixed. Hence, when we grow up, it is our duty to tame our fingers and discipline this bunch of nincompoops into a responsible army. Reason? Phones and glasses and toys are replaceable, Son. People aren't! 

Dear Son, I have always believed that what you do is what you are- what you do matters more than where you are, what you are born with or what you dream of. You just need to apprise your little army with what your heart desires and it will build you huge skyscrapers, write profound novels, smash tennis balls in courts and even grow your favorite oranges in the backyard. But you know what, this army can be easily persuaded. It adapts quickly and can change its habits in a jiffy. You give them a lighter and they can light a lamp this moment and ignite a cigarette the next. You teach them to shoot and they can pose for Olympic medals or become those of a terrorist's. Hence, it is important that you cultivate in them the right wisdom so that they can make the right decisions. Decisions that reflect your quintessence.

Hands are the maps of our lives, Son. They have in them chronicled all reminiscences of heart and soul. I want you to take a look at the hands of your grandparents. Do you notice they are stiff and wrinkled with umpteen age marks? Do you see the hands of your grand-moms? Can you figure out the stories they are telling? The stories of swollen fingertips, knife cuts, and hot oil burns, buried layer under layer? The stories of three stubborn kids, difficult in-laws, and no helping hand? The stories of tireless tending and no stopping? Teach your fingers Son- the ability to endure. The strength to carry on, never rest, and nurture the family despite thousand reasons to give up. Do you see the hands of your grand-dads? Can you figure out their stories? The stories of their hands that scorched all day in the heat to hold the stars in place, for me, your dad and our siblings? The stories of calloused palms that earned every brick of the house we grew up in? The stories of rugged fingers, which before putting morsels in their own mouths, counted pennies for our school fees? Teach your fingers Son -to work hard. They would be bent and broken, dried and raw, tired and slimy but they should never stop working. Your grandparents worked hard and endured all the hardships. And that's how our skies were always sunny. I am afraid they hid the dark clouds beneath their veins, like a rock salt. Go. Kiss their hands. The tears might just melt. 

Dear son, you see the spaces between your fingers? They were created to fit in a special someone's. A few years from now you would fall in love or may be in love already. Love that someone with both your hands. Press your fingers a little harder and hug tight when she says "I'm fine" but you see she isn't okay. Make her some good coffee and a cheese sandwich when she has had a tiring day. Comb her confusions, clap her achievements, kiss the scars that shine on her fingertips. Wash away the sweat on her palms with you grip. Most importantly, learn to hold her hands. Hold her hands like universe holds the stars. Like ocean holds the sand. Like papers hold the ink. How you hold a hand is a sketch of your soul. Make sure it comes out fine. Son, someday you will travel places and meet new faces and your mind will give you an impression that you have ample options. But your fingers will always know where did they fit best. Listen to them. Teach them to knuckle down in a relationship before they learn to unbutton. Let your fingers have the spine! They are much more than nerves and tissues and veins. They are an army. Powerful, yet sensitive. Forgiving, but they never forget!

Son, teach your fingers to create and caress. To not hesitate to pick up sanitary napkins from the store for the women in the house. To make a phone call and not type emotionless emoticons. To plant saplings and count blessings. To not scorn while doing dishes or cleaning toilet seats. To hold walking sticks and school bags with equal ease.  To buy pencils and drum on dining tables. To not let go too easily, to touch appropriately. To not hold on too much. To draw clouds in the dust. To dress up wounds, to paint half-moons. To fold in prayers and curl into fists. To flip the pages of the fables and clear the mist. To not crumble when they bid goodbyes...Teach them while they can still learn! They can learn more than minds do. Understand more than hearts do. They are beautiful than faces could ever be.

You cannot stop their lines from forming but you can always color your highways!

Love,
Mom

बेकार की गणित !

मेरी छत पे अंगड़ाई लेते सूरज 

तुम्हारी खिड़की पर शर्माते चाँद 

के दरमियाँ, चलो फ़ासले नापते हैं !

तुम्हारी मेज़ पर रखी मेरी तस्वीर 

मेरी अलमारी में रखी तुम्हारी पुरानी कमीज़ 

के दरमियाँ, चलो फ़ासले नापते हैं !

तुमारी दांईं आँख के तिल ,मेरी पलकों के बीच 

मेरी हिचकियाँ  ,तुमारी करवटों के बीच 

तुम्हारी कलाई घड़ी ,मेरी दीवार घड़ी की सूईयों  के बीच
टिक-टिक, टिक-टिक करती तन्हाईयों के बीच 

चलो फ़ासले नापते हैं !

मेरी जम्हाइयां , तुमारी झपकियों के बीच 

मेरे काम, तुम्हारी थकान के बीच 

मेरे सवाल ,तुम्हारी खामोशियों के बीच 

तुम्हारे अश्क़, मेरे बयानों के बीच 

चलो फ़ासले नापते हैं !

मेरे आँगन के पीपल , तुम्हारे बरामदे के मेपल के बीच
माप लेते हैं दूरियां , वो अल्हड़ समंदर 

जो अलसाया पड़ा है, मेरे तुम्हारे दरमियाँ
उसकी गहरायी भी मालूम करते हैं
चुरा ले जाता है जो मेरे परफ़्यूम की खुशबू 

ठीक तुम्हारी नाँक के नीचे से और आने नहीं देता
तुम्हारी पतंग मेरे खेमे में  !
पता लगाते हैं अंतर तापमान का भी मेरे तुम्हारे शहर के बीच
और फ़िज़ाओं की नब्ज़ टटोलते हैं !

उफ़ !!!

कितना कुछ है नापने ,तौलने को
सुनो ! इस बेकार की गणित से
ज़मानें को ही उलझने देते हैं !

तुम्हारे ख्वाबों में मेरी मौजूदगी है
मेरी दुआओं में तुम्हारा ज़िक्र
वो जो पुल बन रहा है आसमां के उस पार
चलो , वहां तक एक दौड़ लगा कर आते हैं !

--सौम्या 

Over a cup of tea

when the sun was slowly sinking
and the breeze was charismatic
and the pale blue sky was dyed
our favorite colors red and purple

when grass rustled
and birds huddled
and the weather was oddly whimsical
You and I were having tea
perfectly brewed with ginger
unmindful of the unknown faces
on a boulevard lined with red roses

We were delighted with the splendor around
and with the exquisiteness inside
our penchant for tea grew and expanded
to the fondness for the connoisseur opposite
you and I, we knew this secretly

the aroma traveled, to-and-fro
carrying our spirits across the table
conversation commenced, glances shared,
smiles cruised, butterflies whispered love in the air
refreshing it was, like never before
the tea and the company

silent spurs weren't awkward, but fitting
happiness was the only emotion in the setting.
we sipped the cup’s contents slowly, serenely
hoping to expand the span of the moment
to forever, to eternity

you looked at me with an unwavering gaze
I asked ‘What is it?’
You replied ‘Nothing.’
In a jiffy, your eyes revealed ‘I want you’
anon, my lips acknowledged ‘I’m all yours’
over a cup of tea! ~Saumya

Dear Friend with a Certificate

Dear Friend with a Certificate,

First and foremost, this is not a hateful write-up. Not another debate on the need of caste or gender-based reservation. Not an article on the origin of caste or the history of oppression. Not pointing fingers to political, religious or communal groups. It is not meant to offend you or anybody. It has no pun intended, no sarcasm hidden between the lines.  If it still displeases you, I offer you my apologies and the below quote.

If you are still reading, let me address you in the most appropriate way I know- FRIEND. Just as Oxford Dictionary defines the word. Plain,Simple,Friend. Dear Friend, We, you and I- we go to the same shopping malls, eat at the same restaurants, read the similar kind of books, play at the same grounds and breath the same air. We go through the exact same feelings of love, hope, despair, pride, shame and loneliness throughout the course of our lives. The sound of our laughter, the composition of our tears and even the smell of our farts is same. We have shared our lunch-boxes, made fun of teachers, bargained in street shops, used each other's clothes and jewelry, celebrated festivals together and what not. Amidst all similarities, however, there is a difference- a piece of paper, undersigned by a  government official, differentiates us. It is a certificate that you are entitled to, and I am not, on the basis of your Surname and this certificate can bestow you a seat dream in a Government institute or Organization. 

Though I detest the reservation system in its current form, I have absolutely no qualms against you friend. It was not your choice to be born in a 'caste' as it was not my choice to be born a particular 'gender'. I don't understand why 'what' and 'where' we are born matters so much despite the fact that we have no control over it. I am not a socialist enough to support stratification of Surnames or a feminist enough to talk about gender equality and women reservation in a single sentence. Dear Friend, I don't deny your hard work, believe me. You are doing amazing things in life. I know many friends who have certificates but they are pursuing PhD's in top US varsities or presenting top-notch innovation strategies in corporate summits. I also know a friend, a class topper, who had a certificate but she never used it at the time of admission or during placements. The entire batch respects her even today. I know there are more like her.

Am I going to ask you to start a revolution and burn your certificates? Absolutely not! Everybody likes privileges or free gifts, to be very honest. Who knows, if tomorrow, people who share my surname go to streets and protest for reservation, I might also get a similar certificate and start using it. Just One Life, dear friend. And each one of us has an appetite for a little luck in one hand and a bunch of certificates in another. Always,no?

Well, what is this write-up about then? It's about a small ask. The ask is, to tell the truth. The truth that you owe to people who don't have certificates or who have but don't use their certificates. The truth about your actual marks, actual percentile, actual rank.You owe this truth not to your friend, colleague, competitor or foe but to something known as hard-work. Because Hard-work is not a caste, gender or surname thing, it is a discipline, determination and sweat thing. Dear Friend, when your Facebook wall is flooded with congratulatory messages, that someone who scored more than you and still didn't make it, is contemplating over his mistakes and doubting his capabilities. He is unable to decide if he should quit or compromise or give another try. He is someone who quit his job for his dream, someone who skipped innumerable movies to buy books and take test series, someone who slept two hours less every day to analyze his mistakes, someone who is hell bent to not use his certificate or someone who was barely able to make both ends meet and counted pennies to fill forms. I am not saying that you didn't do any of it. You did. And so did he. But I know somebody who scored a 66.79 percentile and bagged a seat in a top institution but reported 99.79 to everyone! People who don't have certificates or don't use their certificates do not deserve such a lie, especially when they score a 96. 

I am not stereotyping anyone, I am not defending anyone, I am not generalizing anything. I know many people who tell the truth straight away. I know a friend and mind you a very adorable one, who openly accepted to use her certificate and it never changed anything in our relationship. Except that, I was in awe of her honesty.  

We are all humans who fall and rise and grow and not a 'tool' of a political party.Hard-work is a revered thing, friend. WE should not mock somebody else's with a lie. And WE as in 'WE' in the Preamble of the constitution.

~A friendly 'I'ndividual 

Because I am in hope with him!

Dear Papa,

I know you worry a lot for me. I can always sense the tornado of anxiety in your veins and spot the multitude of apprehensions on your skin. I do not blame you. Categorically, your concern and care are manifestations of your benign affection. I fully understand the perilous times we live in and how the poignant articles in newspapers, sensational stories on news channels and quirky gossips from the neighborhood inflate your fears. One of your major worries is finding a suitable guy for me or perhaps me falling for a wrong guy. Albeit your fear is innate and genuine, like that of any other parent, I have something to confess. Lend me your ears as you have been doing, this time a little more patiently.

I like somebody, Papa. Hold on! Don't get mad at me! Listen unassumingly, please. I never say that your choice would have been any lesser. I know you would have left no stone unturned to find the best suitor for me. But since I found one earlier and made my choice, I want you to know him,succinctly though, through my eyes glasses. 

His name, caste, age, height, salary and other information which you ought to know are written in the other envelope. But are these the most important metrics to determine the suitability of a person as your daughter's life partner? No na? I beg you to take a look at the other envelope later and read further to know the answers to the umpteen questions that are tangled in your mind right now. 

Well, who is he? He is perfectly imperfect;he is real, as real as real can get. It's natural for him to show his love or anger anytime to anybody, un-apologetically. He is never afraid to cry, like you Papa. He will be the first one to say sorry in a scuffle, regardless of the fact whose fault it was. He is a dreamer. No, I'm not being poetic. He dreams of all the riches in the world, a tour to Europe, a Porsche, an ambitious career, only that he wants me to be a part of his every little endeavor. We will rock the world together is what he says.  

He has more confidence in me and my abilities, than I myself have. He has not promised me moons and fortunes, but a morning cuppa tea. He is not the one who would open car door for me; instead he would prefer me at the driver's seat, and make me learn driving and conquer my fears. He is not the one who would remember each and every date or anniversary because all he is thinking is to make my 'today' beautiful. He will not bring flowers and chocolates for me every now and then but will get me a yoga mat, a neck pillow, Oats and Chocos packets or a diary for me to scribble. He encourages me to write more often and get published some day, like you do Papa. He never lets me give up, as he himself never does.

He loves himself a lot. Isn't it a beautiful thing to do? His self esteem is unshakable. The inner child in him still roams freely and plays around, and this is something he takes pride in. He loves his family even more and has his small little plans for everybody- his siblings, his mom and his father. He gets attached to people very easily and knows very well to bolster up the bond and sustain the relations. He has friends for whom he is always ready to walk the extra mile, and so would they for him. Through his subtle ways, he can charm the people alike, no matter they are in a conference room or in a drawing room!

He has his share of flaws,failures, struggles and successes. I have witnessed his best side and worse side and I chose both and so did he. I do not claim he is the best guy in the world. He is not an award or a trophy I would like to win. He makes me laugh and he makes me dream and that suffices. 

This is just his silhouette, Papa. If you decide to meet him, perhaps you can get to know him more and think through completely. I am asking you to trust me as you did when I walked my first few steps. I am asking you to give me a chance because I am in hope with him, because ten years down the line neither me nor you would want to regret "What if I said 'Yes' ". 

You have a choice to make Papa, either you can pick that other envelope and look for his caste or you can give me a call right away. Or wait! You can open the door as well. I am standing right outside, waiting for a hug!

-Your Daughter

PS: You matter most to me, always and forever!

I'm an Ordinary Man!

Plain
Simple
Common
Mediocre
Unsophisticated
I'm an Ordinary man!

With small fortune
and equally small ability
I take Life
as it comes
making joyous compromises
each day
every moment
I'm an Ordinary man!

I'm not perfect
Neither do I have an extra-ordinary talent
I'm no stylish,no special
my heart doesn't desire much.
I have my warts and weaknesses
in full acceptance
Slow and stupid
many a times
I'm an Ordinary man!

My world is narrowly confined
to the immediate ambience
where I often cultivate
broad-mindedness.
I have a small family
and few friends
I love them a lot
they love me too
I'm an Ordinary man!

I'm unnoticeable in the crowd
unobserved I travel down the paths
I'm never a 'centre of attraction'
I'm seldom highlighted
or paid attention
I'm an Ordinary man!

I do not always know
which way to go
my dreams are little
my prayers big
I take second chances
but not too many 'risks'
I'm an Ordinary man!

I say no to tyranny
to power
to things unethical
of which
I'm the ultimate sufferer
Very calmly I intake
all injustice
without any resistance
'coz I'm an Ordinary man!

The mere absence of sadness
makes me happy
I'm astouded
by natural beauty
I can be innocent
and simultaneously wise
I'm living a very ordinary life
I'm an Ordinary man!

I do not have a vision
Or a purpose dignified
I live life on the daily basis
Trying to push things in hand
A little up
A little higher
every moment
so as to 'not lose'
Seeking happiness
in small little pleasures
trying best
not to be unkind
I’m an ordinary man!

Unknown,Unspoken
Unlamented I'll die one day
My name will not be etched
anywhere in space and time
'cept in the hearts of few akin
I’m an ordinary man!

But I'm not alone you see
there are many,untold like me
living a tiny
yet satisfying life
Plain
Simple
Common
Mediocre
Unsophisticated
Happy
Contented
ORDINARY!

I Await You!

Like a coarse tiny vapor

arrested amidst the black clouds

fighting tough to reach out

waiting to be sculptured

into a beautiful white pearl!

Like an unborn dream

in the womb of the heavens

traversing through crests and troughs

seeking for a worthier doer!

Like the darkest hour before dawn

waiting to bathe in the orange light

to exempt all grief amalgamated over night

and zealous to start anew!

Like an eternal prayer of all souls

of hope and happiness

and of love and madness

waiting to be ascertained by the one above!

Like the other half of crescent moon

counterpoised by the beholder

owing to the radiance of it's better half

waiting to aglow to it's full glory!

I Await You!

The Eloquent Silence

Here as I stand on the kerb of my balcony,
Forlorn, wretched ,as if a woe betide.
Venturing to unravel the bizarre cacophony,
Of the reapers and the sailors ,of the tits and the tides.

The pluvial pearls pattering the floor,
Songbirds crooning hitherto to azure.
And the quavering foliage whispering in my ears,
Crescending the tumult, the windy veers.

Townies trundling , Oh! the tittle-tattle meet,
Kids making merry, boys strumming down the streets.
Hawkers howling at the vortex of the voice,
Adding to the bongo, the banger device.

Even the artifacts ,the clock ,ticking at pace,
The wind chimes jingling ,perhaps struggling in the race.
Then the phone bell ranged ,oaf, another cry,
And there in the kitchen ,the vent blew high.

Ah! all judders ..hammering my tympanum,
Be it whispers, slurps,ditty or hum.
For everything is sonorous ,and everyone has to aver,
Save two in the milieu ,the quietus ever.......

Quietus ever , I couldn’t make out why?
All seasons ,all occasions , tacit and shy.
Perhaps abstaining ,from escalating the symphony,
Or are the sole listeners , of all enigma, all euphony.

But silence is also the veneer of noise,
Eventually thwarted ,revealed in disguise.
Still they are mute, subdued ,and might remain to be,
The Savior the Mighty ,and the Solitary Me…

I want you to cry tonight

Today I won't droop your shoulders

with the burden of indefinite hope

Neither would I crumple your eyes

to another aura of sleepless dreams.

I won't blabber philosophies today

'It's Destiny','Move on','Such is Life' and so on

Nor will I sink in the sea of emotions

to wet you in the showers of sympathy.

Instead I want you to cry tonight,

Yes do that,it's a begging plea

reel of your pain,let tears tumble down your cheeks

which might be aching owing to fake smiles
Don't make your wounds rot 

Don't pretend as if everything's okay when it's not,It hurts

Don't act wise,I cognize you are broken inside !

Let your mind accede to the failure

and lament aloud,very loud

until it outbursts your agony.

Don't be hesitant of the otherwise ruthless world

Nobody will see your break down,I promise.

I'll shut mine eyes too and turn my back,if you desire !

But please cry,cry for once

and let your heart be dried of sorrows

your soul redeem of yesterdays residues !

For O dearest, I empathize

with the irreplaceable loss incurred on you

And so I want you not to just escape it

under the refuge of hope,dream,destiny or sympathy

but instead triumph over it

on the chariot of your own WILL

with the sword of your infinite virtues !

I'm waiting to see you soar high,again

Let You be dawned forever!

Love unconfessed...

Dearest You,

The YOUness in YOU

I Appreciate

I Admire

I Respect

and I ..........

II.
Though I could ne'er see
laughter ripples on your face
or hug you tight
when you really need one.
Though I could ne'er
wipe off  tears
rolling down your cheeks
or hold them in my palm
as precious pearls.
Though I could ne'er
walk with you at a starlit night,
holding hands,silently
taking all your fears away.
Though I could ne'er arrange
surprises on  your birthdays
or celebrate life
un-occasionally.
Though I could ne'er
lend you my ears
or offer my shoulders
in moments of pain.
Though I could ne'er give you
'a gift' which you like
just to see a smile
on your tired face.
Though I could ne'er hold
tears of joy
for your small little
accomplishments.

Though I could ne'er tell you

that ' I LIKE YOU'

coz I understand  you deserve much better

why to bother you,unnecessarily .

Still  O Sweetest heart
I care for you

from a distance though!!!

for
The YOUness in YOU

I Appreciate

I Admire

I Respect

and I ..........

III.

I do not exactly remember
when did it all began
you became a priority
in my daily prayers.
To every cheerful face
I come across
'Smiling with a spark'
I feel you!
Whenever I espy
a shooting star
I just wish
for your wish come true.
My dreams often
bless your dreams
with my soul sincerely yearning
for your happiness and esteem.
Whenvever I turn the pages of newspaper
to read horoscope of the day
it's your's always
which I read first!
I do not know why
but when it comes to judging people
guys particularly,I compare them to thee
and unsurprisingly none matches up!
That day also
I believed in your dreams
today also I assert
You'll be a great man one day!
Whenever I'm sad
and cry my heart out
I know you can never be there
Still,I only think of you!

I often convey my love

to butterflies and sparrows and winds

I hope they carry it to you

unknowingly though!

for
The YOUness in YOU

I Appreciate

I Admire

I Respect

and I love!

IV:
I won't measure my love-true love,deep love,mad love ,selfless love etc etc.It's unimportant.Let it be just LOVE for the sake of LOVE.I just wish for your happiness,that you live all your dreams.

I'll never confess it to you.Never.Few things are best when left unsaid.I comprehend you have a lot of aspirations from yourself ,from life where I somehow do not fit in. You truly deserve an angel who'll love you heart and soul and will get your love in return.And for this I have no regrets, no grievances towards God,towards you,towards me or any other.It's destiny,I apprehend.As I said your happiness is of paramount importance to me . May you get the best in life!

Another important thing here is that I LOVED.Yes surprisingly ,I loved someone and I'm happy about it and the best thing is that I Loved YOU.(Hey would you believe that ever since I have known you I did not have had even a crush on anybody else?Forget about attraction ,lol :P.It's been some twelve years.Long time,no?).Yeah it's like that.

My love is not the greatest of all.It might not grow with time for togetherness is essential for that.But my love for you will remain as it is.You'll always be in my thoughts and prayers,and that's a promise.Love(for me) was tough.Unloving is tougher,in fact un-achievable.

The fact is that I do not deserve YOU.

The truth is that I'll always love you,from a distance though!!

Take care.

Sigh!

Could ne'er be Yours

Me

Behind.....

Behind the misty silence
Is a soul that cries so hard
Behind all those hope and wisdom
Is a fearful, brittle heart.

Behind all those laughter ripples
Is a pain that is kept hidden
Behind the walls of reasons
Are answers, unquestioned.

Behind the ties of space and time
Is a void that does not seem
Behind every journey that begins anew
Is a boulevard of broken dreams…..

How about Unloving?

How about unloving?

Yes, let us un-love this time.
Let us first shun the myriad of adjectives that 'adorn' the word 'LOVE'- 

True, Infinite ,Understanding,
Respectful,  Desperate, Demanding

Passionate, Beautiful, Friendly

Practical, Romantic,Motherly,

Inter-caste, Homosexual, Promising,
First-sight, Sentimental,Dying, 

Selfish, Unconditional, Unrequited,
Sexual, needy, coveted.

Delete it all.

Let us just unquote what writers of love have quoted since eons. Let us not believe it when Oscar Wilde says "You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear."  or when John Green says "Love is keeping the promise anyway”  or when Erich Segal says "Love means never having to say you're sorry". Just, just unlearn the umpteen definitions they have given  and  the zillion meanings they convey. Often, they contradict themselves I tell you.

Let us not buy what they have portrayed in movies-A walk to remember, The Notebook ,DDLJ, RHTDM or Veer-Zaara. Forget it all. Don't fall for flavored rhetorics -Shahrukh's&nbsp "I love you, I love you very very much Naina. Main aankhein band karta hoon toh tumhe dekhta hoon, aankhein kholta hoon toh tumhe dekhna chahta hoon..." or Amitabh's "Tum ho toh hum hai ... hum hai toh sab kuch hai ... warna kuch nahi, kuch bhi nahi" or Ranbeer's  "Tumhare jaisi ladkiyan flirting ke liye nahi ... ishq ke liye bani hai". Just don't take any of this. Do not link the lyrics of those songs in your playlist with somebody. All that is, is for entertainment only. Period.

Let us un-learn everything we know about love from friends, from college, from poetry, from family, from peers,from magazines ,from newspapers and from been-there-done-that junta. Let us not celebrate February. Date and dating is outdated. Let us not seek 'advice' from love gurus.Forget every memory you made, forget every promise you faked. Forget the way you proposed, forget the way you broke. Forget the nights you cried, forget the days you smiled. Shift+Ctrl+Del. There is no need to save or send those cheesy messages. Throw away the mementos. Refrain from PDA's on social media; it's as fake as it can get. Let us not write about love. Let us not read about love.

Un-love. Because we have been doing it the wrong way. Our love is whipped by the chain of letters in our surname. Our love is scared of the form of God we worship. Our love is built on foundations of promises which are sometimes hollow, other times impractical. Our love evaluates the monetary benefits first, social second. Our love expects too much when the other person owes us nothing. Our love is guided by society. Our love is questioned by our cast, creed, religion and rishtedaar. Our love peeps into our stars. Our love has checkpoints-parents, job, salary, marriage, kids and what not.Our love complicates. Our love hurts. Our love dies an 'honorable' death. Just un-learn it all!!!

UNLEARN IT.

Then what love is? Don't ask. I am not wise enough and describing love is a futile task. I only know that it has no synonym and no antonym. Love, once happened cannot be replaced with hatred, it cannot evaporate. Love never happens just because you're single on 14th Feb or you are a genius or because you own a Mercedes or you have so-called 'good heart' or because you are in a desperate need. Love is not a relationship, love is not marriage, love is not sex. And that Love has nothing to do with heart. It is a mind thing. A beautiful mind thing. We don't fall in love; we rise with love. It is definitely not blind; its intellectual enough to pick and choose for itself and even leave. Love cannot change unlike you and me; though it can expand or grow.It will linger in those coordinates of space and time even when we move on.It is not a promise of a happily-ever-after but a heartfelt mindful  'YOU'RE B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L' moment. PERHAPS.

Perhaps.
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PS: Don't believe in this too or in this or this!

Love in a cup

She is my favorite, my closest companion. A darling to many, she is not sexy enough to be served in a delicate wine glass. She is not colorful like the mock-tails served in five stars but blonde. She isn't pricey and so you won't find her true-self in CCD's but somewhere in the corner of a busy nukkad or in your very own kitchen, getting brewed with ginger love. She is nothing but sweet. She is My Cup of Tea. Both literally and metaphorically.

She is the one who 'makes-my-day' daily. In the morning, she unwraps me from the blankets of laziness. And then at night puts me to a peaceful sleep. During hectic hours in office or while worldly gossip with mom or when reading Nicholas Sparks in solitude, she is always there to help me ease out, to grasp every detail, to get me more involved in a thing. Be it a tiring hot Saturday afternoon or a chilly winter Sunday evening, she is an accompaniment. Be it a college reunion and reminiscing of good old memories or a family get together she gets invited first (given a great conversation starter she is)and then there is no stopping to the stories unfurling and "Ek Cup Chai Aur?".

She is my kick, my partner-in-crime. She knows my playlist from Jagjit Singh to Arijit Singh. She knows my every friend from school to college to corporate-the ones who left and the ones who stood by. She knows the books that made me laugh and the fiction that made me cry. She knows all my secrets more than anybody else. She knows...Everything!

She knows what I'm thinking or who is in my thoughts by the way I stare at her -and then out of the window and then at the ceiling and then again at her or the reverse.  She knows if I'm triumphant or crestfallen by the way I hold her- with both hands or with the right or with the left.  She is aware when I'm alone in the coterie, when I'm content with nothingness or when the company is blissful.  She knows with whom I am by the span and frequency of every sip . The spans are generally longer and frequency lesser when I am with my favorite people. Of course, she tastes better then. She herself appreciates that 'other-cup-of-tea'.

She calms me down  when I'm excited, she makes me cheer when I'm sad. My deepest scars and biggest fears lie buried inside her interstitial spaces. She has been a witness to all my fulfilled, unfulfilled and broken dreams. She has tasted all my tears and has measured my every smile. She doesn't say much but is a silent listener who understands why I did something I shouldn't have, why I  am awake at 3:37 in the  morning or why I'm reading Gulzar when I'm supposed to study or why that thing I yearned for is no more appealing. She tells me that it is okay to fail in something you worked hard for , that there  is no right-doing  or wrong doing-it's all relative, that it's okay to not have a goal at times, that it's normal to get angry, that reciprocal function for real life is "not defined". She is a bridge that connects my inner self with the mundane. Her warmth , like the first ray of the sun,reaches to  the treacherous rivers meandering in my palm, to the saline ocean that resides in my eyes. She is a healer, she is a lover.

She beams on the table when she sees me laugh and hugs me silently when I need it the most. No matter how big a cup is or how many times I have it, I just can't get enough of her.For me, anytime is tea time- before lunch, post dinner, 3PM, 5 AM, after another cup whatever. At times she comes with a little extra sugar and another times without ginger, sometimes just-not-perfect, sometimes a little less hot . But, she is always there to caress, unconditionally!

Cheers, To my cup  of tea!!!

PS: At times, the only good thing in an entire day could be ki 'Chai Acchi bani hai'. And that suffices.

Wing Commander Puja Thakur

I switched on TV today to watch Obama’s reception at Rashtrapati  Bhavan. But my eyes got glued to the lady in uniform-Wing Commander Puja Thakur! The grace in her walk, the calm on her face, the pride on her shoulders, the precision in her voice  and the confidence with which she carried herself in that navy-blue uniform-have you ever seen a more sexier model? I haven't. Sorry for Mr. Obama, but standing right behind him ,she is the one who stole the show today. I am not  interested in knowing the outcome of US president's visit or the theme of R-Day,  but this woman made me smile today-I was glad  and  filled with utmost respect to watch her  lead the guard of honor for the most powerful man and reminisce my childhood dream where I wished to be somebody like her.

I was some 7-8 years old when DD National used to telecast a navy based serial -'Aarohan'.  Pallavi Joshi was the main lead. The story revolved around how a young stubborn girl turns into a dignified, determined and disciplined woman navy officer. That was the time when I didn't even know that Indian Armed  Forces  had three wings (Yes I was  an  ignorant kid and Google uncle wasn't around)- I only knew that those people in uniform are brave hearts  and "wo desh ko  bachate hain". I used to eagerly wait for Sundays to watch Nikita(Pallavi Joshi)- it was fascinating to see how she underwent those difficult training sessions with injuries on knees and elbows,  how she almost gave up but didn't , how she sang the national anthem, how she was passionate about to serve her country, how she fought her fears, her parents, her physical stamina and also the dramatic in-love phase with a senior officer. The strict discipline and rules that the cadet had to follow were very intriguing for me and seeing a girl follow it was all the more inspiring at that time. Her neatly washed and ironed white shirt with knee length skirt, white navy cap with black border, the firmness and smartness in her posture with her left hand neatly raised till the forehead for a salute.... I was totally fidaa  on her personality and wanted  to become  SHE. I wanted to be a Nikita someday. I wanted to be in army. I didn't tell anyone. But I knew I would be happy being her.  I remember I used to act like her in front of the mirror. I do remember.

During school days, my PT instructor used to ask me to give Stand-At-Ease/Attention commands to the entire class.  That used to be a very enthralling moment for me-shouting out loud and clear-CLASS--SAAVDHAAN----VISHRAM-----SAAVDHAN-----VISHRAM. Taking part in Republic or Independence Day parades with all those rules for movement of hands, legs and shoulders was both fun and fulfilling -LEFT RIGHT LEFT---LEFT RIGHT LEFT. But the rat race and hunger for marks ate away the childhood fantasy. The drama was a small series and ended quite soon. DD used to do a repeat telecast and I remember I watched it every single time. But then one fine day it stopped telecasting, I grew up, board classes weren't too far and somewhere in between sneaked in the devil-IIT-JEE. Bas wahin THE-END ho gaya!!

When I saw  Puja Thakur today, I had  a sudden flashback of all these memories and  I realized that I have already traveled a long distance from what-could-have- been to what-could-never-be. My dream just got expired. I know I could have made it but maybe I wasn't passionate enough; may be it was just a dream and not an ambition. I just hope that the girls and women who aspire to be  in  army/navy and have still not crossed the age bar got inspired today. I wish we have more Puja Thakur's in the future to lead not just on R-Day but Every-Day, Every-Where. 

For me, matching earrings with your dress is an ordinary thing. Beauty lies in matching your attitude with the pride you earn.  Proud of you Puja Thakur. I am sure today you must have awakened many dreams.

Thank You! I am all smiles for You, for me :-)
The head is definitely held high!!!

Strength,come to me!

Strength! Where art thou?

Come and find me for I’m too weak to look for you

Come from novel psychologies, Come from diverse geographies

Come from mirthful smiles, Or Come from loudest cries

Come from within or come without, Come from mountains or from clouds

Come to me in solitude, Come to me when I’m alone in crowd...

Come to me

From words I refuse to speak, through walls of silence I relentlessly build

From tears that remain un-shed, from possessions under the pillow on my bed

Through books I haven’t yet read, from pale pages wherein I scribbled myself

From bournvita or from a cup of tea, from four meals or Glucon-D

Strength, come to me!

Come to me

From saddest lines that Neruda wrote, from prudent words that Coelho composed

From songs I’m scared to sing, from a long distance telephone ring

From memories of the beautiful past, from unknown future where possibility lasts

From part of my heart where anger stimulates, from part of my brain where love rejuvenates  

Strength, come to me!

For I really need a great deal of you!

Come to me 

From revenge or challenges I was given, from dreams in childhood I had woven,

From genuine praises I receive, From God and religion that I conceive ,

From close companion who turned into a mere stranger 

From fear,from hope, from awards, from danger..

Strength, come to me!

Come to me

From prayers offered in my name, from dusk’s extinguishing flame

From mistakes I haven’t learnt, from conscience that isn't burnt

From infinite thoughts I carry along

From that far off place, where there is no right, no wrong…

Strength, come to me!

Come to me from the lap of my mother, and run your fingers through my hair

Come to me from arms of my father, and hold me tight ‘round the shoulder

Come to me from words of my sister, and pour wisdom in my air

Come to me from innocence of my brother, and let inner child take the dare

Come to me from eyes of my lover, and convey ‘I am always there’

Come to me from a dear friend, the one whom I forgot, but she still cares!

Come to me when I’m sleeping and sneak in through the window, silently

Or come when I’m too occupied with work and do not even recognize you,

Or when I’m crying in shower, or when I smile a lot

Or when I’m too mad, or when too quixotic or when I'm writing a paragraph

Come and stand beside me, kiss my palms, gently rub my forehead,

Gather and glue together my broken parts and withered pieces

Get inside me, dissolve in my blood, and get absorbed in every cell

Unleash your power, fill the voids, be a link in between my breaths

And I’ll tie you to my soul ,and I'll lock you in my veins
Be my carrier, and I'll be a fighter

Never shall I let you escape, never....

Come to me for I’m too weak to let go, and too weak to hold on

I’m too weak to stand and stare, and too weak to move on...

Strength,Come to me!

Dreams that took a back seat

This blog post is meant to be a new beginning but I'm confused on how to begin. Today while contemplating over the good old times and memories, I realized that all my dearest dreams have taken a backseat. Actually I shouldn't call it a realization. It was always there in the less visited domain of my brain, only that I ran away from the fact for unknown reasons.

Since past 20 months, I am doing a job which I do not like-it's umpteen chochle irk me to the core. Why am I doing it then? For experience?No. Just because every body else is doing it? Probably yes. Why not change?Because every other IT company is the same and none other service/job lures me enough, yes not even UPSC. Nevertheless, I don't mind sitting in front of my laptop for 9 hours a day because anyhow it has made me independent -I can give gifts to my family and make them smile, I can buy myself tickets to home, few decent dresses and  a whole lot of books and save too. Also at one point of time it gave me happiness because I was among the selected few. And I won't leave it until and unless I get a better option which pays me few more bucks. What bothers me is that I have sidelined things that used to make me happy.

I never had those big dreams, neither was I that ambitious for my career- an Audi, being a manager in a fortune firm, a big bungalow or a pair of gold earrings never fascinated me. I had small little desires(I call them dreams)- like having a big library in my small home, like adopting a girl and raise her like my very own child, like travelling to places and click pictures ,like being a teacher to a needy kid, like working for a non-profit organization in the weekends, like pouring down my creativity on paper, like reading all the awesome literature ever-written, like writing and writing more and writing till my last breath. And it saddens me that I am doing none of the above. Is it because I'm too busy with my professional life?Naah. One can always take out some time from her busy schedule to do the things she enjoys doing. But I didn't. I don't. Why? I don't know. Probably because I kill time by thinking instead of doing and there lies the fault.

But better late than never. It has dawned on me that whatever be the phase of life you're going through, whatever family support you enjoy,whatsoever number of friends you have and in whatever way you are earning, you should never stop doing things that give you the greatest pleasure. Those little moments of happiness should always be lived. The wisdom I develop when I think and write, the tears I secretly shed when I read an emotional paragraph and the smile I acquire when I create a new handmade card define the life that is just mine,the moments I live just for myself and they give me immense satisfaction.

I have to start somewhere because not doing has started to pinch deep. Now is the time to wipe off dust from those old unread books, to re-fill the ink in my long forgotten pen, to smell those familiar pages of my diary , to stop being lazy always and to shop for some stuff to give wings to my imagination.

As far as career is concerned, I am not at all concerned about it. I am decently independent ,so no worries.I know I am going to be an entrepreneur at 40(not a technology one for sure and that again is a dream). I kind of know I wont die before 80;so it ain't a bad age to start.I'm in no hurry to earn 25 lac at 25. :-)

Time to stop procrastinating and drive from the front seat!

Un-stereotyped!

I really really dislike stereotypes.When each of an individual is unique what's the point of generalizing something as girly or manly. Girls can love sports and Guys can like chocolates.What's the big deal?It literally frustrates me on being classified based on gender.I saw this post on a blog and thought of doing the same.

So here I am : Un-stereotyped! Read on!!

1.My favorite color is Blue and a shade of Red best suits me.Pink is nowhere in the picture.

2.I absolutely love Cricket.Yeah,I do.Back at home,I used to sit glued to the TV with my brother,father and grand-father and clapped for every boundary Sachin scored and criticized Nehra for every run he gave.I have my own superstitions for the game too.I still cherish the World-Cup-Winning moment when Sachin and Yuvi cried and I had tears in my eyes too!

3.I am NOT scared of lizards and cockroaches.Yes,I don't go eeeewwww or aaaaaahhh on espying them.Unlike many others,I never freak out when they come around. Khaa thodi jaayenge!!

4.I love Driving and I'm very passionate about it. Four-wheeler,I still have to get hands on,but with my Two-wheeler I have already done a lot of dhoom dhadaka. I loveeeeee speed and have a good enough direction-sense which many don't have :P

5.I say NO to TATOOS. God I hate them.I mean seriously.What's the point of ruining your simple self for a filthy form of art?Tch!

6.I don't keep long nails ,neither do I apply nailpaints. Similarly I never put on jewelry - matching earrings,rings,chains,necklaces-that's not my cup of tea unless the occasion is really really big and gaudy.I just do not like those cumbersome constrictions!I prefer simple and sober!

7.I am a big tea lover as opposite to many girls.A cup of ginger tea with a newspaper in the morning and with a TV remote in the night was my daily routine at home.Quite manly?

8.I don't get angry that quick,but once I get, its really really tough to manaao-ing me. Bhayankar gussa aata hai......uske baad mei apne aap ki bhi nai sunti!!!! (Janhit mei jaari :P)

9.I love horror,adventure,action,mafia-all types of movies and not just romantic ones. It's the plot and story that matters to me.

10.I love spending time alone and cannot talk too much in general.Women are supposed to be good with words and articulate, but that beats me.I am more of a listener than a gossip-girl.

11. I am better at repairing sockets/burnt wires and changing tube-lights bulbs/fuse than at embroidery and tailoring. Haanjiii!!

12. I never think before eating.If I like it,I'll have it-be it chocolates,cheese or chaat.

So here’s to the not-so-stereotypical,un-womanly me! :D :D

That's all I could think of now...there's lot more in my bucket list :) :)

Thank You My Noble Countrymen!

I remember the times four months back when someone my age was brutally gang raped, when she struggled hard for her life for thirteen odd days, when thousands of men and women protested day and night on streets against it, when peaceful people praying for her recovery were lathicharged and water cannoned by the coldhearted Delhi police and when the anger of people literally came out against the indifferent government and its officials in a very very long time.

I cried a lot then, a lot....for her, for me, for every other girl/woman who unfortunately, yes unfortunately belongs to this country I live in. However somewhere in the back of my mind it was convincing to see the awakened masses on roads resisting the gruesome act, demanding justice for her and protection for their own sisters, daughters and friends. I was a little hopeful then that may be things would change for the better. Every day I used to sit glued to the TV to keep track of her health. I wanted her to live and inspire and fight. But, no she died. Every politician and policeman promised that her sacrifice would not be futile, that they would soon come up with stricter laws, that the culprits would be severely punished.

Alas, as usual and as expected, everything went in vain! I see no amendments in Criminal law bill, I see no stern punishment yet being given to those six savages, I see no measures being taken to curb the menace.  That little hope I had was mercilessly exterminated.What all I see now is increasing number of rapes in the country, particularly in the capital. WHAT I SEE IS A 5 YEAR OLD RAPED REPEATEDLY BY HER NEIGHBOR.WHAT I SEE IS HUMANITY BEING ASSAULTED ALL OVER AGAIN WITH UTTER SHAMELESSNESS! IS THIS THE CULTURE WE'RE ALWAYS PROUD OF?

When the Delhi gang rape happened, I heard a lot of well-educated and generally sensible people saying, “She shouldn't have been out after 8, that too with a male friend, in a place like Delhi", "She should have been sensible to stay home after dark”. Then came ‘expert’ comments from khaps and other 'eminent' politicos-"Girls should not wear provocative clothes”,” Age of marriage should be further reduced to 16","Rape happens not in traditional Bharat but in westernized India", not to forget the dented-painted remark and Aasharam Bapu's 'Bhaiya' theory. To all these people and those who say “She deserved it”, “She invited it all by herself” -WHAT DO YOU SAY ABOUT THE FIVE-YEAR-OLD? WAS SHE RESPONSIBLE FOR HER OWN RAPE?A FIVE-YEAR-OLD-KID? Should she be blamed for playing provocatively, wearing provocative frocks and in general, existing provocatively on earth instead of getting aborted in the womb?

It boils my blood to know that a bottle and candles were retrieved from her body, to learn a policeman bribed her father with 2000 rupees to not file an FIR, to see a policeman telling her family that they should be thankful that the girl is alive, to see a policeman slapping a protesting girl. I am filled with immense rage and fury. I want to scream out loud, very loud, loud enough to break the earth into pieces.HOW INSENSITIVE CAN A MAN BE?

Truly speaking I never had expectations from politicians. How can one expect them to frame tougher laws with the likes of Abhishek Manu Singhvi, Gopal Kanda and N D Tiwari being the MP themselves. I never had faith in the police. They are more barbaric than animals. I am flabbergasted by their insensitivity towards the society. I only had hope in you, the people. But the callousness of the first two P’s has badly thrashed the third P.  Sadly,no lessons were learnt from Nirbhaya’s case. I am dried of all hope! I am sacred to the core. And this time I have absolutely nothing to say except that it is now I realize why my parents are always over-protective for me. No reforms or mindset change can happen in this great country of ours. I can trust nobody(exceptions apart) from the autowallah to the neighbor next door. THANKYOU for giving me a whole new bout of fear (of EVERYTHING) all over again. Good going my fellow noble countrymen. Just well done! 

Thank you very much!

Sincerely,

A teary-eyed ,really scared girl in India

PS:BTW Dear Khaps,planning to reduce the age of marriage to 5?Ehhh 5 months would be better,no?