Rhapsody and silent utterances

Patna Marathon- Feb 19th 2012

2011-12-31T17:03:00.000+05:30

Make fire and get married...

2011-11-08T00:41:00.000+05:30

….. Well yes. That's true.

Can you make fire without your matchstick and lighter? If your answer is an emphatic ‘No’ then chances are that all you guys would not be seen as being ready for marriage in Batek tribe of Malaysia..

The Batek are one of Malaysia’s 133,000 Orang Asli, which simply means ‘original people’ in Malay. They lead nomadic life and have little to no formal tradition of story telling.They have their own language although now they have picked up malay too

As with other tribal groups, urbanisation, development and the logging of their traditional habitats has resulted in their numbers falling and has pushed them deep into the protected national park of Taman Negara. There are an estimated 750 remaining Batek living in this dense rainforest The best way to access the remote region is by water, down the Sungai Tembeling river on a traditional wooden long boat. The journey is lengthy, but it offers the chance to contemplate the density and vastness of the rainforest.

A typical hut

The two main tribes in the area have built around 20 villages between them. The village is made of rectangular huts in plan and raised on stilts. The settlement is mostly parallel to the river in a sandy, man-made clearing. The raising of the huts is nothing to do with the proximity of the river but rather to encourage air movement beneath the building. ( A common sight with a lot of other housing style in Borneo )The shape and size of the huts are determined by the limited roof-span and by palm widths. The structure is made from assorted hardwood branches lashed together, while the walls are bamboo, which is hammered flat and held in place by two sticks on either side.Despite interaction with people from the nearby Malaysian village, corrugated metal sheeting hasn’t yet reached the Batek. Instead all the roofs are constructed in atap, traditional leaf thatching. Batek women who are taught to weave from an early age make all the roofs while the men make the hut.

They survive on a combination of hunting and gathering wild food and trading products like rattan an resins. In return they get money which they use for buying food products. Men also trade it for tobacco!!

Hunting is purely a male domain.They go out alone or in group.Sometimes when without any catch they have to remain in the forest for 3-4 days. Women in those situation land up to the nearby river for fishes.

Everything in the village is shared, including the food, whether it has been hunted or gathered. Food is divided for the entire village with immediate family receiving portions first, then the extended family, then other families

Here come the smoke

Vigorous rubbing of bamboo plank

 Marriage happens within the Batek tribe. That's where the art of making fire plays an important role. All men must know how to make fire with the help of bamboo plank. Besides they also need to perfect the art of making blowpipe- their weapon for hunting. The blowpipe is a work of art, hollowed from two trunks of young palm using monkey bone tied to rattan. Once hollowed, a piece of cane is used to make the smooth barrel bore. Resin seals the mouthpiece. The darts are made from pine leaf, which is thin and flexible. The dart’s plug creates an airtight seal. The tips are then dipped in a natural poison that can paralyse and kill a man. With monkeys watching from the trees, a villager demonstrates how it’s used. Amazingly he’s accurate to the millimetre from a distance of over 30 metres.

Sharpening the dart

The Batek also believe that all food belongs to the forest, so a person in possession of food has a moral duty to share. In addition, upsetting someone in the village may not only cause anger among the community but also to the spirits. The fear of supernatural reprisal is enough to ensure the Batek are a peaceful society. This also explains the social importance of communal meals and the grand bamboo dining table, complete with bamboo benches large enough to cater for the entire village. Bamboo is tied together using bark lashing to form benches, while the table top is constructed from flattened bamboo similar to the walls of the huts.

Marriage is not an elaborate affair. It's performed in the middle of the jungle with entire village as attendees. Post marriage the bridegroom is supposed to stay in the jungle for at least a month ( sans the bride of course) a ritual to make him realise what they are leading to ( hunting hunting and hunting)

The Batek have no concept of land ownership. They are just caretakers, looking after the land. So they have no difficulty in moving every five months to allow the forest to replenish. All Batek are animists, without organised or codified religious beliefs. They see the world, especially the river and jungle, as being animated by spirits. It is the respect for the spirits that command the entire village to move if someone dies. The departed are very important and are considered to act as intermediaries between this world and the next.

Uprooting the village is just the start of a hugely elaborate burial ritual, in which the body is brought by procession to a hut, similar to the ones in the village, but constructed in a tree some 50 metres high. The body is covered and left with its possessions alongside it, together with food for the spirits. It is then left undisturbed for two to three years, upon which time the village returns to procure a bone from the skeletal remains. This is then buried, so returning the family member to the forest.

And thus continues the cyclic process of moving from one village to another.

Aam ke aam, guthliyon ke daam

2011-09-20T19:18:00.000+05:30

Some few kilometers away from Varanasi, along the national highway is tucked this sleepy and dusty village called Pakadi. Parallel to the highway lies the neatly laid up aam ka bageecha ( Mango orchard), quintessence of any eastern UP rural landscape.

As a kid I remember spending most of my summer vacation at Pakadi ( named after Banyan tree which is colloquially termed as ‘pakad’). So the aam ka bageecha welcomes you to the village. And then there’s acres and acres of green field stretching out on both sides of topsy turvy ‘kaccha sadak’..

So while the ‘gaon’ has so many mango trees, it’s mostly barren for most of the year… only few lucky trees used to bear fruits.. Our tress usually didn’t. So we would always stare the ones with those fresh juicy mangoes lustily.

So I guess one year God paid heed to those greedy eyes. That year God blessed all the tress of Pakadi with loads of mangoes. All the kids of the family would tag along with Baba ( grandfather) carrying the daliyas ( bamboo basket) and walk that approximately 3 KM stretch to reach the ‘bageecha’ ( Orchard). The heat.. the rain.. the pebbles on the road… the distance… nothing deterred the charm of eating freshly plucked mangoes.

So it was one of those days when me along with my sister and bua had gone to the bageecha along with baba. That day my mango vocabulary got richer by two words.. Baba made something which in UP and Bihar is referred as Sattu-pana. Hadn’t known about it before that day and refused to believe that the drink he prepared was called sattu pana. Both me and my sister ( whose name is panna) thought that baba had named it after my sister. Anyway I would request panna to have a satttu-panna recipe soon @ http://sinfoodie.blogspot.com/

After the splendid sattu pana devouring it was time to have something sweet. Baba said he would get us the sweetest mango of the gaon. Just when he said that we saw an old man who was limping a while ago climbing a tree and plucked some mangoes. One look of it told you that it wasn’t any ordinary mango.. Baba called us and told us to have those ‘langda aam’.. I was surprised and shocked by the way he referred it. The otherwise softspoken baba referred to that old man who plucked the mangoes for us as ‘langda’.. how was it possible. But then we thought may be the entire village calls him by this name and therefore baba did too. It was only after few days when we got to know that ‘langda’ is a very popular mango breed and it has nothing to do with that old man.

That year Pakadi witnessed exceptional mango growth with us thriving on sattu pana and langda aam...

p.s : am officially unemployed now and am not complaining :) and i seriously hope i would write more regularly.

Living with the deadliest pain....

2011-08-19T05:26:00.000+05:30

It wasn't any usual evening. I was going to Hong Kong next day. I was quite excited. Hadn't travelled much in the last few days and my camera was just looking for an opportune moment.. Was desperate to see the Victoria harbour... the ships... the water and the sea... Wondered how everything would be... With these thoughts at the back of the mind i was trying to sleep.. Not realising that few minutes later my life was going all topsy turvy...

At around 10:00 PM, i had a strange searing pain shooting through my left side of the head passed through the face and extended to the nerves of the neck... all on the left side.. I just held my head tightly believing that it would go away... but it just kept on increasing... the pain cannot be described in words... it was like somebody was stabbing you continuously... as if electric current was passing through your nerves.. I managed to get up and take out Arcoxia.. which according to my dentist should be taken only if the pain becomes intolerable... I waited for 10 min... the pain just kept on increasing... took another arcoxia.. my mind was not functioning.. that didnt work too... in the next 2 hours i gulped down 8 painkillers believing and praying that probably this time it would work. It didn't. ... i dont remember when and how i slept that night... And when i got up in the morning, everything seemed normal... except that i could feel the chemical in my mouth and stomach... the pain had gone!! And my apprehensions too. I believed it to be one off thing and left for HK the next day. Things were perfectly alright.. So much so that i thought that probably it was just a bad dream...

Got back to KL after few days.. although had decided that i would go to the dentist over the weekend and let them do whatever they want. I am so scared of injections... it makes me giddy... but no... before that pain strikes again, i should get that sorted out.

Exactly a week later I was in the middle of finishing off my report.. and the dreaded thing started off again.. This time it was not gradual... right at the onset it became fierce.. somehow my trust for the painkillers hadn't died. As a kid when i got to hear about something called painkiller, i was thrilled. And i had wondered why people undergo those painful surgery when a painkiller would have done their job... as to why people screamed when they had a fracture when all they needed was just a painkiller... Why cant the doctors just give their patients just the painkillers.. Did we need anything else?? Hadn't had too many in my life so that perception still stood valid...

I had that last Arcoxcia with me.. exact repetition of what had happened a week back.. 10 painkillers in 2 hours.. i knew i was doing something that was so stupid.. but at that time my mind had no place for logic and reasons.. I wanted to scream but could not... i wanted to jump out of the window ( Although i wouldn't have died jumping from that height)... God.. what should i do...'excruciating' was an understatement... tried calling the hospitals but in vain.. the pain was getting worse every moment.. something in my mind told me that i cant survive the day... that this is not normal.. i had no idea as to what i should do next.. i went to the bathroom and that entire night i stood under the shower with the stream of boiling hot water.. i was indifferent to everything around me... the hot water was doing wonders to my nerves in the brain.. i didn't come out until wee hours..

Next day without any delay i went to the dentist.. sick like crazy... so chemicalised... ufff.. !! Well, the dentist felt that the pain had nothing to do with my teeth but it was a nerve issue.. He took me to the neurologist there.. and then that's when i got to know about this strange ailment called Trigeminal Neuralgia. Hadn't heard of it ever.. i just hoped that the medicine would do wonders..I was given Tegretol, an anticonvulsant to treat seizures. Once again with high hopes i got back home believing that may be this is the end. I really didn't know how deadly was this pain.

And then day 3 saw the same thing... what do i do now.. again a night with 15 pain killers... though none helped.. again a night under the shower's hot water. God. i could not deal with it anymore.

Despite taking the medicine the pain persisted...all throughout the day... all throughout the night.. and the side-effects of the medicine just added to the misery. Went to another doctor.. She thought it was a brain tumour.. !! i was so terrified by all these things that i just wanted to leave KL and go back to home. Thank God for having Shruti in my life. Thank God!!

Tegretol had started working to some extent but i was too scared to stay back in KL. Went back to Delhi. Doctors in Delhi also confirmed Trigeminal Neuralgia and now i have another set of medicines. couple of them reacted badly... getting used to the new ones... It's better than Tegretol but am completely intoxicated the entire day.. So all my friends who've wanted me to have the taste of those few pegs, be happy. Am always in 'nasha' now. Walk like a zombie... and am legally 'high'!!

I am yet not sure of the prognosis. Unfortunately, most narcotics are absolutlely useless for this type of nerve pain. A horrifically overdosed coctail of Motrin, Midol, Tylenol, and Arcoxia did zero to relieve the pain or intensity of the attacks. The only drugs that have any effect on the pain are anticonvulsants. They don't moderate the pain, actually, but they moderate the severity of the attacks. The same drugs in epileptics tend to have similar effects: they stop the seizures entirely, or mitigate their effects so they are not as severe.

Hot water shower with my left side of the head strategically positioned under the stream helps me the best. But well, this also means that i need to be home 24 hours. It lessens the pain somewhat, and keep me from being completely incoherent. Without them, the pain's so bad that my whole body like freaks out: I'm left trembling, hardly able to stand, not entirely in control of my muscles. The pain is so bad that I can't think of anything else, it's really hard to be rational and avoid hitting things.

Unfortunately, the only known permanent cure involves surgery, where they unwrap the artery from around the nerve, and sheathe the nerve with Teflon.. but no. No incisions on my brains please Mr doctor! But i don't even want these intoxicating medicine all throughout my life.. I'll be on this drug for about 2-3 months, varying the dosage until we've reached a point where it completely prevents attacks. If it doesn't, then we'll get to experiment with other drugs... and another and another.. and another..

As of now the pain is very erratic.. this pain kills me... It's so intense that everytime i have an episode i become completely incapacitated... i feel there is blood inside my mouth... i feel 100000 injections is being pierced into my head and face... i feel that that this is it. I don't want you to reside in my body. It kills me. But, what kills me even more is the fear of getting the pain any moment. The anxiety... the apprehension stays with me every living moment... yeah, fear of suffering is worst that the suffering itself...

So is it all that bad??!! Not really... cos this has made me do what i would not have done very easily.. I have quit and am back to Delhi soon :) And I am extremely extremely happy about taking this decision. Though the thought of not working scares me but at this moment i really dont care..
Though this entire thing would bankrupt me... but i really dont care...
I really don't!!!

Here begins a new journey.

:)

A big hug to all my family and friends for being there with me... And any thank you would be small for shruti... so no thanks to you.. lots of love...

Do you speak Bihari?

2011-02-24T14:50:00.018+05:30

"So do you speak Bihari at home?"

More than often we are stumped by this question. Am sure, most of the fellow Biharis never knew that there is a certain language called' Bihari' before they left Bihar. No parents told us this... no school book taught us.

My answer to that question was always a big 'No'.No, because i never knew what 'Bihari language' meant. What we speak at home is Hindi and that's the only language i am familiar with, i know of and i speak.

For long I defended that there is no such language called Bihari.. We have Bhojpuri, Angika, Magahi, Bajjika and Maithili as dialects of Hindi in Bihar but nothing as such which would be referred and recognised as 'Bihari'..

However, lately if posed with the same question, my answer has been in affirmative...and primarly because of love for the place..

Alright. So back to the same question.

What is Bihari language?

a)Is it a different language?
b)Is it a Hindi dialect?
c) Or is it Hindi?

Is it a different language: Am not a linguist but i would still want to believe that Bihari is not a language. It has 'devnagri' script.. it has 'Hindi' grammar.. It doesn't have it's own script and vyakaran.. so surely not a different language

Is it a Hindi Dialect: Not sure as how one would define 'dialect' as? If i look at other 5 Bihar dialects- Magahi, Maithili, Bhojpuri, Angika and Bajjika.. i am able to differentiate the sound of it.. the tonality.. the words.. the specific districts where it gets spoken. I am not able to imagine "Bihari' in the same light.

Is it Hindi: That's what i always thought of.. .. so I would stick to it. But yes it is surely different from Hindi that is spoken in the mainland in various ways..

For e.g.

1) the way we speak... so we love strectching the word ( खींच के बोलना या रेघा के बोलना )

2) We know the distinction between तालव्य, दन्त , and मूर्धन्य theoretically... And we also say हर्स्व and दीर्घ instead of badi and choti matra...( Something that seems to be absent in other region) but mess up with the pronunciation. So Sheela would become sila...( or silwa) silsila would become shilshila.. We also mix र and ड़. So घोडा is घोरा and घर is घड़.

3) We might be excellent with our Hindi vyakaran and adept at all those अनुप्रास, श्लेष, यमक अलंकार et al or निबंध लेखन but we mess up with gender. So though we know that dahi is khatta ( grammatically) but in practice when we are speaking then we'll say, ट्रेन आ गया.. बारिश हो रहा है.. I think we are fond of using masculine gender for most of the things. Although the interesting thing is that while writing, our sentence construction is correct. So in our essays we would write, गाय घास खाएगी और ट्रेन आएगी.

4) We don't like saying things straight. When was the last time your name got pronounced as is. We love suffixing. so Nina becomes Ninwa... rohit would become rohitwa.. ruchi would become ruchiya.. khao would become khaiyebe.. nahao would become nahaiyebe.. andhera would be andheriya and so on.. so each of the Hindi word would have it's suffix according to what suits the pronunciation... so 'suffixing according to convenience' is one of the intrinsic characteristic of Bihari Hindi.

5) Then we don't even like answering straight. You ask a question and you get another question as an answer.

Question: खाना खाए?

Answer: खायेंगे नहीं क्या?

6) Fetish for affirmation: Like my friend Ejaz rightly says that after every two sentence you would end up saying- "ठीक बोल रहे हैं न जी" :-)

7) The use of 'हम' , हमको' instead of 'मैं' and 'मुझको'. I have actually always wondered about usage of hum in Bihar particularly. 'हम' to me is an urdu word so i would understand it's wide usage in awadh belt but Hindi in Bihar does not have Urdu influence. Never understood how 'hum' got calibrated with Bihar's Hindi

8) As my sister sushmita says, Bihari Hindi exudes respect for one and everyone. So we say 'आप' 'तुम' ( not तू) जाईये instead of जाओ. 'गा' used as a prefix for lot of words to suggest respect like: जायएगा, आईयेगा...etc...

9) Then we have super rich vocabulary which only Biharis would understand. And well, it extends beyond the popularly known 'burbak' and 'baklol

I have been trying to recollect the words which you get to hear in Bihar only..

Spontaneous ones.. :-)

So you make bhaat in tokna and eat in a chipli.

Tarkari is made in kadhahiya with the help of cholni

You take out daal from the tokna with the help of dabbu

Roti is rolled on a chokla with the help of belna

The sisa ka sisi ( glass bottle) has got a thepi

You see your face in an Ena ( Not Aaina)

You wipe your gor with a ghamchi

Sugga ( parrot) has a 'laal lol'. Sugga eats boont and sings sita ram sita ram

Mummy would make nenua and kadima ka tarkari today

One is 'ek tho'.. two is ' doo go'

You sit on a peedha and when your eyes water when you cut the onion then that's 'jhons lagna'

When somebody is screeching then he is 'chichiya raha'

You go to school 'Bhihane' ( Morning)

Kapda feechna is washing clothes

Okta jaana ( not ukta) is getting bored

When you are stubborn then you are 'thethar'
Jonk ( earthworm) is 'jhonkti'.. and mitti ka cup (kulhar) is 'kaptee or cuptea' :-)

Butru kaan raha ( the kid id crying)

Bartuhar or Kutumb are coming home to see the girl
And even if they like her they would ask for grand 'tillak'

Door is Kiwad and chouraha is 'chaubatiya'

Samosa is Singhara, chahe baliya ho ya Aara
Gulab jamun is kala rasgulla and if you have sore throat then do 'susum paani ka kulla'
Desi daru is 'taadi' while the meetha sugarcane is 'ketari'
Cut the 'kasaili' with a 'Sarauta' ( betel nut cutter) and the tarkari on a 'hasua'
Eat 'boont ka saag' garnished with mirch and tel that should be 'Karuwa' ( mustard oil)
You go to maidan with a 'lota' and if you spot a big black ant, then that's a 'khota'
Go to 'kansaar' for 'bhunja bhunjane'
When you get lost then that's 'bhutlaana'
Polythene bags are 'Panni' and hard board would be 'koot'
'Gaach' would be tree and 'fawa' is free :-)
Kheechad is "Kaado" while hibiscus is "arhul"
Handbag is 'jhola' and you store water in a "ghaila"
Mirch is ' Marchai' while chai is still a chai :-)
You jamao the dahi in 'matkuri' while the kaccha aam is 'Tikola'
And if there's a hailstorm then that's called 'oola'
Ribbon is 'feeta' and teekha is 'teeta'
You 'chilo chimdi on your kotha' in jaadey ka mausam
And if the milk is lukewarm then it's called 'susum'
Bindi is 'tikli' and a gold chain is a 'sikdi'

Mattress is tosak you wrap yourself in oodhna
Your head is 'kapar' while a tattoo would be 'Godna'

Wife is 'kaniyan' and Jeth is 'bhaisur'
Jethani is 'gotni'.. while a sasur remains a 'sasur'
'Biha- saadi' ( vivah- shaadi) is the biggest celebration
And if you didn't serve 'Buniya ka laddu' then that's quite an embarrassment
To see is 'laukna'... and to to slip is 'sasarna'
If you blink then that's 'matki marna'
And if you limp then that's 'lengrana' ( not langarana)

Ok.ok ok...The list can only get longer... as i am writing this, am actually being able to think of so many words which had almost become absent in my vocabulary. ( sorry.. bhocabulary.. that's the way we would pronounce it)

Anyways, the point is not to create the shabkosh but just to establish that Bihari has a distinct 'shabd-kosh'.... that the way we speak is slightly different.. that we have used all our freedom to make it flexible... But at the end of the day it is HINDI.

कुछ बुझाया की नहीं?

Ek chitthi pyar bhari

2011-02-21T16:37:00.000+05:30

Three days back Ruchi opened the old rusted iron box which she got from our native place this time. Box full of light brown coloured paper..worn out papers, torn edges.. faded ink.. emanating that distinct old paper smell which for once was not disruptive.

As we shuffled through those papers we accidentally found a letter... A letter which none of us other than ma was aware of... a letter which is more precious than anything i can imagine... a letter written by Babu ( maternal grandfather) to our Nani in 1938.. 13th Oct, 1938, 7:30 ( AM or PM, not sure) from Ranchi.

Ruchi hurriedly started reading the letter.. first aloud and then to herself.. struggled with few words...then smiled... awed... and smiled again. I could make out that this was not just a normal 'haal- samachar patra'. Babu had written this letter to our Nani who was apparently 'roothi hui' ( can't think of any better word in English expressing the same emotion) and Babu was in 'manana' mood..

Once i got the letter, i could instantly feel the 'babu touch' with that familiar handwriting. I was still struggling with few words. It was one of our cutest discovery. He addresses her as 'Pran-priye... prem smaran..' Nani, from what it appears from the letter is upset about the fact that babu had not been writing to her... and apparently she had also returned some of the gift that babu would had sent her. Babu has just passed out from the college and is struggling to get a job in Ranchi. He was going through a tough time and didn't want Nani to be distracted by his ordeals. A long silence from Nani's end wakes him up and he resorts to cajoling and persuading. Without going much into the context, what's interesting is the choice of words. He has taken all the effort to floor her through words. And am sure she would have just melted reading this.

None of us know anything about her. She had passed away when ma was just few months old so there is nothing we knew of her other than the fact that she had beautiful eyes and was referred as 'Mrignayni' by babu. So this letter manages to etch those 'aadha tircha' lines on a blank slate. At the same time it also talks a lot about our cutest Babu.This indeed is priceless and adorns the safest place in the house.... beneath mummy's pillow!!

Lots of love to both of them.

Other related post:
first-man-in-my-life
unwritten letter

Dubai diary: Moments and memories- Ummm Naisha and Abbu Naisha..

2011-02-17T18:09:00.000+05:30

Ummm Naisha, to begin with is perfect. Just so perfect. If there would be a superwoman then it would Prachi. And she does everything with such perfection that all of us sitting around her feel what useless breed are we..and i really wonder if i can ever be like her!!

She walks with confidence... she speaks her mind... battles it out even if it means being alone at the other end..and then with equal ease tame people like Garima ( in Garima's own words..)

She does the best presentations which gets showcased globally and is loved by clients all across...

And in Nilanjan's own word, she is one of the best marketing brain he has known in the research. One would not disagree with this at all...

But besides this Ummm Naisha's bollywood numbers would put munni and sheila to shame. So what baby Naisha doesnt get tired watching sheela and munni. She just needs a 'jhalak' of her ma..

And well, she does get stressed too... and you know it when she starts eating her nails (How many of you have noticed her doing this!!)

Prachi and I have spent lot of time together esp in the office as we used to sit together.... and there are some of them which just cant be compared.

The day when she told me that Naisha was to come in this world.. achanak se... she said.. ' i have to tell you something..'.. and i almost knew what she was going to say...

Then one day both of us were engrossed in our work.. It was one of those busy days when you dont even get a minute break.. then again achanak se she says.. " Richa jab tumhari shaadi hogi to main dance karungi..' and this was not fun conversation. She was serious.!! Haan prachi. Jab bhi hogi shaadi, you would surely come and dance.

She is planned.. matured... structured.. everything that i think i am not..!! And despite sitting with her for such a long time, i haven't learnt my lesson..

Strong she appears to the world, and which she is... But she breaks down on the phone when her friend is on her way to the airport. Ironically, it was she who made her take the final decision to take this plunge. Your phone call that day made me wonder if i was doing the right thing.

She has immense power... so much so that after the third floor in Belhaul building, most of the presentations were written in 4th floor of discovery garden.. Nilanjan, Noby, Maha, Garima,.. everybody has had their day and night outs at her place. And if this was not enough, she was efficiently supported by abbu naisha...

She makes the most wonderful khana and the bestest khadi chawal... and can we forget that wonderfullll kheer!! and the best part is that she knows what everybody likes to eat.. so dosa for prashant.. kadhi chawal for Richa... Pasta for Varsha...

She runs like a roller coaster throughout the day... and then at 10:00 PM, 'needra devi' jolts her.. so she would go to the bed along with Naisha to make her sleep and would tell us that she would be back in 10 min.. But she doesnt come back.. !! After 40 minutes you realise that both Umm naisha and baby naisha are already asleep..

Then abbu naisha explains... 'you cant help.. she has been up since morning'..

Abbu Naisha who is always 'busy' and Naisha knows it so well, is mostly 'bilkul seedha sada' but don't go by his 'seedha' looks.. He mixes vodka in Masi Naisha's coke and gives her without letting her know. Masi Naisha now refuses to even have normal water from him..

Then he resorts to emotional blackmailing and doesn't let her go to click the pictures of Burj Khalifa fireworks on new years eve..

Baby Naisha who was tiny miny few months back, loves sheila and Munni. She can watch both of them dance endlessly...( You dont need to guess where she gets her dancing genes from) Men, stay away from her. You'll be welcomed only if your name is Manas or you have a Galaxy tablet which plays munni and sheila..

Suneeta's ladu and mamma's gugu is a real gudiya. Richa Masi misses clicking this chotu doll..

I miss you all .. :-(

Lots of love..

Dubai diary: Moments and memories- 'G'- the electricity

2011-02-16T01:23:00.002+05:30

She is a Hindi poetry, when you look at her..

A heavy metal band, when you let her speak...

Jat from Ajmer is what she would introduce herself as.

The concoction gets deadlier if you get to know where are real blood comes from ( Lebanon)

She need not ring the bell to announce her arrival...

the air around her travels in the form of her voice five minutes before she comes

She would not let you speak as her kitty is never empty

She wants to get married tomorrow but the next second she reveals that she is not fit for it..

She is gorgeous.. she is glamourous.. she is gregarious...

and in the past 6 months, she galavants in style in her high heels..

Her kitchen is full of gourmet books... and all she claims to make is a very nice tea ( which she does)

She loves rock.. and her jazz and god knows what!!

She is hyper... full of temper... difficult to control.. is always in on a roll

She is the hurricane.. the electricity.. unfazed... uninhibited...

Gori' for sudeshna... 'grrrr' for Prachi.... towny for kinchit is what she is referred as..

Thats Garima singh for you... that's Garima singh for the world...

She is papa's darling daughter and he surely is proud of her

She is bharat's loving sister, and his inner strength

She is Ma's pyari putri and makes sure that she does everything to make her happy..

She would come back from office at 11 from Abu Dhabi and would still go to Varsha's place for the final meet

May have a deadline next day but would still stand by her personal commitments

She is very intelligent and probably was the last person to leave the office along with some other stupid souls..

She makes you cry on her farewell speech..

She falls in love and believe me, that really makes her happy ( despite her hazar claims that she is not cut out for shaadi)

She is that sweet little girl who you failed to see all this while...

This is what Garima singh is for me..

Ajmeri Garima and Mungeri Richa shares lot of common dreams..

She knows me completely.. and yes Garima, I am indeed that doe eyed girl waiting for some miracle moment.. ( aur jab tak nahin hota tab tak i will click and write and do some research)

Wait for another 5 yrs ( or may be even less than that)... and you'll know what stuff she is made of..

Dubai diary- moments and memories- Mr and Mrs Sharma

2011-02-15T16:44:00.001+05:30

He calls her sharma ji and she calls him sharma ji. These two sharma ji's are straight from any of these MB novel. Know each other for more than a decade and yet you feel that they have gotten together just now. As uncle ( Prashant's dad- Prashant- the 'he' sharma) says the he got transferred to Bhubneshawar ages back only because these two sharmas were meant to be together. So their topsy turvy love story sailed through all the rough patches and it continues to do so. Sorry.. I can't reveal much as I am supposed to write their biography.... and then do their portfolio... and pata nahin what not!!

Mr and Mrs Sharma had a beautiful house which had the 'very varsha' touch. Very beautifully done up house. So whenever anybody came to their house, they took a trip so see what 'jadu' varsha had added to every nook and corner. There was this room up there which they introduced as 'richa's room to everyone. ( Unfortunately i don't have any picture of that room).. So that beautiful 'deep purple' room was mine which i used to royally occupy most of the weekend... they gave that quiet space to me and a lot more than that...Lots of dhoop... early morning chai ( at 1:00 PM)... story telling sessions... and again chai. They would come all the way from their place which was some 40 KM away at midnight to just pick me up... and when i was in the hospital and unwell, varsha would act mommy, tracking each and every medicine i took....Never felt out of place because of you all ( of course along with Pratibha, prachi and deepak being my support system)

And there were times when the husband-wife duo would bully me really bad!! Oh yes, Prashant is all shareef and nice, but there is of course that other side of his which he displays occasionally!

And then there were days when we would have serious discussions on what we wanted to do in out life... the bigger dreams and goals..The good part is that those conversations are not just restricted to living room discussions.

Everybody would agree that all the festivals got a new meaning in Dubai only because of Prashant and Varsha.. Holi never looked more colourful, Diwali was never this glittery and New years was never this patakhedaar.. Not to forget our nine days navratri vrat which began with that pooja in the poojaroom..Both of you were the perfect host for all of us on all occasions.. For me it had the double mazaa as i was mostly part of the preparation process.. so be it choosing the kheel batasha for diwali or inflating the mini swimming pool for Holi..

It's pure co-incidence that varsha and me met after almost 10 years after the college. Although we hadn't spoken to each other back then but knew that we existed. So even after meeting we could not instantly recognize each other. But then that lasted for only few minutes...Varsha and me after few months ended up sitting in the same room and then after every 40 minutes we had our chai break.... so much so that people ended up saying that are you guys always together..!!! We would often break into our toota foota bhojpuri dialect and reminisce about old Hindi poems in school.. Everything looked so perfect.. so much in order....

And then suddenly this disruption in our lives... all three of us have often inferred that there is a reason why we have taken these drastic steps. Suddenly we are there in three different corners of the world. When Prashant sent the message that the movers and packers have come to pack the stuff, i could almost feel the pain. Par jo bhi hoga achey ke liye hi hoga...

Sharma and Sharma would sail through all rough patches.. like they have done in the past...best wishes..

Lots of love

Dubai diary.... moments and memories..

2011-02-14T18:12:00.001+05:30

It's been more than a day now away from this city.. feels really weird... really weird. For the first time it did not hit me that i had landed in Delhi until i reached home. The last day in Dubai made me really weak. And Prachi's phone call just before leaving made it even worse. Good thing is that am lucky to have such nice people in my life... love you all for such unconditional support and love..

Laura, you are one of the sweetest person i have ever met. Sad that we could not spend as much time as we should have... but the other reality is that i probably have not spent as much time with anybody else..

We were so different... and yet so similar... you the chirpy and the exuberant one.. me, the quiet and composed. You, super active and me so lazy. the house looked so organised when you were there.. and kitchen loved the presence of the pasta and pan-cake maker... everybody loved your salad in the office. You the green tea drinker and me the ginger tea drinker... Yes, we were very different...

I remember those difficult days when you had come to Dubai.. God.. each day had it's own story. there were days when you lost all the hope and there were days when you were in your real spirit... what remained common was the determination to stay in the city. And you did it. I rememeber the day when you finally got the offer. I remember the message you had sent.. I got so scared. ( Please note: in India 'urgent' has a very negative connotation). and when i was back home, i could not believe you!! happy we were..

Loved your surprises... the occasional flowers that you got for me ... the chcolates... the surprise tea sessions.. you listening to Hindi songs and then trying to sing it.. your favorite one being 'tera hone laga hoon..".. and you making faces at Sanjay dutt and wondering, who on earth considers him as good looking ( I don't)..and then in the spice souk on being asked where were you from, you would say that you are from Hyderabad and that you cant speak Hindi because you know only Telugu and English!!

I wish we can make that same egg biryani and eat it together with lots of ginger tea.. lots and lots of love

My last post from this home

2011-02-09T17:41:00.001+05:30

More than two yrs back, we met almost accidentally... i was looking for that perfect you, and there you were just waiting to welcome me in... And it didnt even take me more than 2 minutes to realise that we were to stay together..

You were not all that imposing. In fact you were barely noticeable but your warmth made you stand out.. If i was away from you, wanted to desperately come back to you... and once back, nothing else mattered...

Nobody knows me as well as you do... you looked happy when i was happy... you consoled and comforted me the days i would break down.. you pushed me out the days i would give up.. you embraced me the days i would think i had won.. you were there.. always... with me... all throughout...witness to all my emotions... witness to all i was and all i am..

Today, it pains me to see you so empty.. !! I may never see you again in life... you may never be the same without me... both of us would miss each other..

Hope, the new person in your life loves you as much i did.. Love you my sweet little space @ 605- Buhaira corniche.

Lots of love.. and lots of thank you

And sorry i did break those few tiles in the kitchen... and i did pierce those pointed nails on the wall .. :-(

2nd Nov 2008- 30th Jan 2011- my two wonderful years at TNS- Dubai.

2011-01-31T23:32:00.002+05:30

Well, this is not enough. This is not complete.. there is so much that i have to say... so much that i have to listen to...

And, as promised, i would soon write about each one of you.

I feel really blessed to have received so much love and affection from you all. Really really lucky I am.

See you all soon.

Lots of love

Richa

The last day...

Speaking eyes: Mujhe tod lena vanmali, us path par dena tum phenk...

2011-01-28T02:44:00.000+05:30

Speaking eyes: Mujhe tod lena vanmali, us path par dena tum phenk...: "Pondicherry"

The unwritten letter....

2010-11-15T05:50:00.007+05:30

Two weeks ago, when I had almost lost my wallet, the only thing I feared losing was a letter written by my best friend… Everything else was substitutable, except for that handwritten letter, which has been there in that wallet for almost 2 and half years… It is in shambles.. has become yellow… the ink is fading… but at this moment, it’s one of my most valued possession… Unfortunately this is the only handwritten letter I have at this moment…

It wasn’t long ago, when all of us would eagerly wait for that one person everyday… The postman in his khakhi. In Munger they used to walk down to each and every house…Each postman was allotted specific ‘mohallas’.. and didn’t we love them? As he clanged the bell, our heart beat would stop.. and if he walked pass our house without delivering anything, my face would drop…And if he handed over the letters then just wished that there was something for me… This anticipation and endless wait for postman continued even while I was in Allahabad. I exactly knew the time he used to come ( Between 11:00 AM-11:15 AM).. I exactly knew the way he used to ring the bell… and if that familiar bell didn’t ring in those 15 minutes, I would get upset for some few hours.. and post that, wait for another day would begin

Letter writing in our family was a ritual… something that had to be followed very diligently. As a kid, never realized that letter was the only bridge that connected Papa’s salty water world and our world… Could not imagine at that time the joys our letters would have brought forth… If I would have, then my letter would have experimented more with words.. All my letters to him started with “ Aadarniya papa, sadar-pranam”… and ended with “Aapki pyari beti Nina”… But then as I grew up, I wanted to impress him with my literary skills and would hunt for words which sounded fancy interspersed here and there in those letters written largely in Hindi.

Coming back to the ritual of writing those letters… so there used to be two options. The yellowish cream coloured pre-stamped lifafa ( Envelope) which at one point of time had 35 paisa stamp on it.. This was primarily for bulk letters.. When all sona,nina,panna,ruchi,champak and mummy had to write in one go..So there we had blue ribboned white paper torn from our school copies.. And then the fountain pen freshly filled with Chelpark ink..And then each one trying to write their bit in their best handwriting… ‘motiyon jaise akshar’…slowly, carefully, each word well crafted… after all papa would be comparing the handwritings over there and the best one would be praised ( And didn’t we all die for his one word of appreciation)..Despite all our efforts, none of us could match Papa’s handwriting….So well, that one envelope could accommodate close to 6 letters. ( And you thought G-mail gave the maximum space!!) And well, it was not just the letters. There were times when we had sent his ‘Prasad and kali baddhi’ ( Black thread) from Deoghar in the same envelope along with letters.

And there was these blue coloured ‘antardeshiya’, inland letters…So over here, you had space restriction. One page from ma and the rest one and half for all of us. So ‘Aadarniya papa, sadarpranam’ written in four different handwritings in that same inland letter…

So this was from us… Till the time I was there in Munger, I had nothing much to write except for school.. After moving to Allahabad, the content changed… the length changed.. the frequency changed…( Aadarniya, still remained as is.) And it was not just a ritual anymore… then it became more free-flowing… more open..

Papa’s letter were mostly very frequent… His well calligraphied letters.. Religiously, the place and the date was written on the right hand side of the page..I specifically remember him writing several letters from Rotterdam as it sounded very familiar to our school and all of us would rhyme Rotterdam-notredame… Early this year when I was passing through Rotterdam, there was that sense of Nostalgia..Those few drops of salty water had trickled down.. and I remember me telling my fellow Dutch passenger on the train that I have received several letters from my father written from this place. It just felt that he was there around somewhere..

So he used to write one letter to ma and then other were more in combo. Sona-nina ;panna-ruchi… and probably when he was slightly more generous, then we used to get individual letters.. Each one of us then preserving it in our own ways… Thank God, we moved to different places and then each one of us got our own letters!!

These letters were not words put arbitrarily here and there..It made you slow down and feel about what you wanted to write… Got good marks, you got to tell that!! Got an award, papa needs to be informed…. Somebody getting married… he needs to be told so that he can make it… Somebody ill, oh well we should not be telling him… and then sheepishly write that we missed his lots…

Letters, which probably at times made us cry while writing… and made few tears drop while reading..

Letters, which made us smile.. made us read again and again..

Letters, which announced his arrival ( Along with those occasional fuschia coloured telegrams)

Letters, which made us anticipate…

Letters, which made us wait..

Letters, whose absence made everybody restless.. ( And there were times when we had not received anything from him months)

So that was then… some 15 yrs back when the world hadn’t seen the advent of SMS… when the word ‘digit’ meant numbers and not ‘digital’… when ‘phone’ meant luxury and we never had one… and when my dear papa was there thousands of kilometers away from all of us… and when the only thing that connected us was those handwritten letters… those letters which were never thrown away.. which were well stacked in those polythene bags and locked in those aluminum trunk…

The last letter I wrote to papa was almost one and half years back.. it lies right at the side of my bed.. Am sure he reads it everyday.. ( And for a change the letter starts with dearest papa)

While we have butchered handwritten letters, and limping ahead with technological advancement… where emails and facebook has replaced those inland and yellow envelopes, I am still comforted by those handwritten letters… Letters which are not just plain black and white alphabets but which has the ‘writing’ of somebody who you know so well.. it has the touch and smell of the writer.. It feels. It lives. It breathes… It cannot be deleted. It’s to be preserved.

Aapki beti..Nina...

Shukriya zindagi...

2010-11-02T03:04:00.002+05:30

2nd November... A baby step or a giant leap??

Well, 2nd Nov 2008 was indeed a baby step, when i stepped out of India for the very first time with my fresh, fifteen days old passport. My biggest fear at that time was stepping on to the escalator.. My Delhi friends would never forgive me for forcing them to take stairs/lift and not the escalator... and all along i just hoped that Dubai airport would have stairs...

2nd November 2010- so that baby step was just the beginning.. discovery of 'chakra' . ( They say it that if you have chakra on you feet's finger then you travel a lot... and apparently sita and ram had chakra on all their fingers and hence the aajeevan jungle bhraman).. These two years would go down in history as milestone years for me. ( taking the escalator with ease is one of the many things that you have helped me do) And thank you Dubai for these blissful days. Thank you.

Dubai, 'jalta hua ret' ( burning sand).. or pighalta hua paani ( The AC all around is freezing... so much so that i actually wear a sweater/jacket even when it's 50 degrees).. Dubai... where, Hindi/urdu is the first language ( And well, i do break into my mungeri Hindi and gazipuri bhojpuri as well).. and Dubai, where my colleagues are from different parts of the globe...

Dubai, which is more Indian than any other Indian city... bhelpoori to kulhar wali chai... Durga pooja to diwali ( oh well, i managed to get proper vrat wala khana during navratri).. where you have not less than 5 Hindi FM channel...where i can see Hindi movie even before it gets released in India

I thank you for exposing me to so many different cultures... of mesmerising me with some peculiarity each passing day ( Even though most of the time it throws me out of the track).. of letting me know that Lebanon was not just about Civil wars, but a country where you find plastic surgery clinic in every nook and corner... ( And if you are a single woman, then getting a visa to lebanon is soooooo tough)... of telling me the difference between habibi and habibti.. of letting me know that make ups are beyond kajal... .. I thank you for these small lil pleasures...

And i thank you for letting me meet so many wonderful people... And i thank you mummy for making it easy for me...

I thank you Dubai for these two years... happy second anniversay...

Yesterday and tomorrow

2010-11-01T01:40:00.005+05:30

I must have been out of my mind...

Or was i just too blind??

Was it just a figment of imagination

Or was there a lesson for life??

Did i not try hard enough??

Or was the fight to save too weak??

Did we ever walk that path...

the path,we never actually tread...?

the path which saw it's end.....

...much before it began...

breathlessly i ran...

Did we ever weave those dreams...

... or did it get entangled in it's own mesh

Did you ever see those drops of salty water..?

Which has completely dried now...

Did you see that glint in the eyes...

Suddenly dissipating into nothingness

Did you see the chirpiness dissolving into the air...

and what prevails now is just those silent utterances...

I know you don't...

Yes, You walked ahead..

And i stayed back and bled...

Am proud to have loved...

to dream... to surrender..

While i bathe in your indifference

I have those memories to lead me ahead...

.... the path, where there was dream of you....

Yesterday would linger on...

And tomorrow will just lead me on... :-)

meri ma

2010-09-01T02:17:00.004+05:30

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6qi_hOriRU

She was babuji's favourite daughter.. he loved her like no end and she too never left him
She is papa's soulmate... inseparable they were and inseparable they are
She is the strength, support and inspiration of her daughters..
And certainly sweetheart of her only son.. ( the mutual admiration club)
She is my own sweet lil ma... pratibha, as she is popularly known as
So, this small lil 60 yr old kid of my family thinks that God has been really unthoughtful when he made short people and the world is unfair to short people... so her two daughters Pragya and Richa would always have to go through tough time as they are shorter than the normal standards... and this applies for all her short beloved extended circle.. what do you say kadambari :-)
Maninder Singh dhoni and Rajeev khandelwal ( Sujal as he is popularly known as), do you know that your biggest fan resides in my house... well, you two must see her once in your life
And since, none of her daughters are really pretty ( i guess she would exempt Ruchi over here), they should definitely wear a 'mala' and don some 'fancy looking ear-ring' to look pretty... not to forget, she herself is a huge fan of wearing necklaces
She has had some 5-6 mobile phones in her life... and yet she would not call up anybody... and if by chance anybody calls up then she would say, 'I was trying your number.. milta hi nahin hai..'.. Milega kaise, jab kabhi sahi number dial hi nahin karti ho ma...
And yes, when I would call her up, the very first sentence she would say.. " Tumhi ko yaad kar rahe they beta..".. ( that's another thing that she was watching Balika Vadhu at that time)
She is really really really cute.. and yes, probably one of the strongest person i have known in my life..
Single-handedly she brought up her 5 kids ( 2 quiet ones and three brats)
And God, she was stricter than any maths teacher... As a kid, she made sure that all of us woke up at 4:30 in the morning and study ( Subah subah dimag jyada tez rehta hai..).. and no, you were not allowed to sit just like that.. we were supposed to read aloud each and everything so no chance of duping her...
And if.. if.. if.. she caught us red-handed then one cannot even imagine the punishment we got.. A pencil between our two fingers and then all you could hear was shrieks and us crying out :-(
Her claim to fame in Sports... any guesses... !! She got some championship award for Ludo.. :-)
She is a wonderful writer... an exceptional singer ( how come we haven't got those genes).. and an occasional dancer ( nadi nyare na jao shyam, paiyan paroon)
There is so much i can write about you ma.. so muchhh... You have been simply brilliant ma... sabse achi..
Love you lots...
Nina

Story of the Shark and a Fish...

2010-08-12T02:05:00.012+05:30

This story is about a small little tiny fish called Scuba. She was sweet and colourful, had super cute large watery eyes. She stayed with mamma fish in a small fresh water pond.Scuba and her mom were new to this pond. Her mother had recently moved here from Pacific ocean. Scuba missed her other friends who she had left behind. Long chatter with butterflyfish, quiet conversations with angelfish, friendly banter with fairyfish and her closest friend, the damselfish. She missed all of them and wanted to go back to the sea.

One day she got up in the morning and was sitting quiet. Mama fish knew that she is not liking it here. She asked, ‘scuba, why are you so sad, I haven’t heard you singing and dancing for long.. let’s go out and have fun tonight”. Scuba sat unaffected. Didn’t utter a word. Mama fish asked her again, “ Tell me scuba. What should I do. I will do whatever you say. I want to see you smile and dance and sing.” Scuba’s eyes suddenly lit up. “ Ma, I want to go back to my friends. Let’s go back. I would do whatever you say.” said scuba. “ Alright. We’ll go back, but promise me that you would do whatever I say..” said mama fish. Scuba smiled and smiled. Promised, and then both of them were back to the Ocean.

Her friend’s were delighted to see scuba back. They stayed together the entire night telling scuba all the new gossips..jerry got a new bike, but he can’t even start it… silvery, has got a golden outfit for herself and is planning to wear that for her prom night… fluffy is on salad diet these days, while snarly got an award for the quietest fish in the school.Scuba felt she was back to the life. How she had missed all her friends.. She smiled and thanked mamma fish.
Next day she got up early and started her tour to all her favorite nook and corner. The green spot, the reeftopia… was ‘living’ each moment.. lost and engrossed. …

Suddenly from nowhere, came a huge shark- the tiger shark. It was really huge with black and white thin stripes on it’s body..Powerful jaws, strong teeth, bright eyes. Scuba was stunned, numb, speechless. As the tiger approached closer, scuba was trying to gather all her senses…

“Hi, am scuba… my mother calls me scubadorable”… and then she blinked.

“Hmmm.. So, what am I supposed to do with your name miss tiny miny.. am here to just gulp you down my throat you liliput....and yeah, am tiger-shark by the way”… said the tiger shark in his imposing voice…

“Oh please, don’t do that tiger shark. You’ll find other fishes tastier than me… am so thin.. am so skinny.. your throat won’t feel happy.. it will curse you…" pleaded scuba

“Oh well, then let me just bar-be-cue you. I would sprinkle a bit of lemon and a bit of pepper and have it with my Jack Daniels.. my throat would bless me..” chuckled the tiger

Scuba was running out of her wits. What should she say now… and then she thought, let me try my last bit..

“Now that you know that I am scuba and you are tiger, then we are kind of friends. So if we are friends, then would you not feel bad to eat me. There are so many other things you can eat. In fact, I recommend that you skip your meal today. Look at yourself. You are becoming overweight. Look at fluffy, my friend, she is on salad diet these days. Do something about it..” said Scuba

Tiger- shark smiled at the audacity of this tiny-miny scuba.

“Hmmm… so you want me to go on salad diet. Alright. Let me have your salad today. Let me see how does it taste like… and if I like it then you wont be bar-be qued today” said the shark
Scuba chuckled and smiled and together they decided to have a tour of Scuba’s world..Scuba took her to the chai stall.. She ordered, teathy to make two nice ginger-cinnamon tea. Tiger was mesmerized to have it. How come he had missed this all along..

Then they went to the see the butterfly school. Baby butterflies were singing and dancing…. A step towards the left and then to the right, and then they turned around and did it on the other side… showed their teeth… and banged the head… hopped around and danced like mad..

Tiger, was overjoyed to see this spectacle,, He hopped round and round, moved here and there, lifting his hand up and down… and danced like a clown… as if nobody is watching him

Then they went to angel’s school. Angel looked divine. She was immersed in her yoga. Eyes closed, chanting the ‘om’ mantra, hands moving slowly up and then down. Completely in contrast to what tiger had seen just now. This was contagious. He tried chanting the same. Scuba told him that he would learn it after some practice.. Tiger loved it and he made up his mind that he would excel in this…

Scuba noticed that tiger was no longer condescending. He was listening to all her stories quite attentively. He was responding to it, asked questions, seemed curious, offered suggestions… looked pretty excited and exhilarated…

Tiger shark didn’t realize that he was almost away for some 8 hours. He would have to go now as mamma shark had asked him to get some stuff. So he told Scuba that he would come again tomorrow.. that he loved her company and that she had shown her the most wonderful part of the ocean, and that he doesn’t mind the salad diet anymore. Scuba smiled. She knew that he meant it. And then they bid each other good bye with the promise to meet again tomorrow…

‘Scuba, where were you the entire day… I was looking for you all around… ‘ asked mamma fish

“ Ma, went to all my favourite place… had fun… met all the old friends.. had my favourite cinnamon tea” said Scuba

Mamma fish smiled with satisfaction..

“And Ma, I also met tiger- shark”….said scuba

Mamma fish froze with disbelief.. she hurriedly ran towards scuba… touched her all around and screamed

“What… what are you saying… I told you not to go far from this place… I told you to listen to me… you don’t know these sharks.. they will eat us… they have eaten everybody in our family.. that’s the reason I had moved to that pond. I wanted you to be safe, and here you tell me that you met tiger shark..” mamma fish yelled breathlessly..

“Ma. Uff. You don’t worry. Tiger is my friend. He is nice.. He is not going to eat me. He is as good a friend as butterfly or angel is. Don’t worry. He wont harm me..” scuba tried pacifying her mom
“Listen Scuba. If you have to stay here, then you would have to listen to me. You are not going to meet him again. And that’s it.” Ordered mamma fish..

Scuba knew that with time, mamma fish would cool down so she just kept quiet. She firmly believed that Tiger was his friend and would never harm her…

When tiger shark reached home, he told mamma shark the entire story of the day. Ma- shark was petrified.

“Tiger, what it this.. we are predators.. and those fishes are our prey. It’s a different world. We are big, prosperous and powerful. How can a small little fish be your friend. You have done something that nobody in our family would ever imagine doing. Can you please not do any such thing ever again” Screamed mamma shark in an annoyed manner

Tiger just kept quiet not knowing what to say… He told himself that he would think about it tomorrow morning. For now, he needed to rest after the long dance and yoga session.

Next morning, scuba got up excitedly..wore her favorite magenta dress with silver danglers. Mamma fish looked alright. She told her that she would come back in a while… and she went to the same place where she had met tiger- shark yesterday.. she waited and waited but he didn’t come.. she went back home for a while and came back again.. Tiger didn’t come.

Next day too, she went there.. but tiger was nowhere in the sight. Is he alright… Has he caught fever.. is everything alright at his home.. what could have gone wrong… wondered she.. She was sure that something had gone wrong or else he would have communicated it to her…

Days passed by… months passed by, Scuba, almost religiously went to that spot everyday.. but tiger- shark never came..

One day she was sitting with butterfly when she saw tiger shark from the distance… he saw her.. she wanted to run to him.. but he just went away… Scuba didn’t know what to say.. She just broke down.. cried inconsolably..

Tiger on the other hand hated this feeling… That one day with Scuba was one of the most wonderful day of his life. Fine, their world and her world is different… so what. Isn’t his own happiness important than all these bigger protocols…Scuba is his friend, Scuba is innocent, Scuba is harmless and more than anything, Scuba trusts him, so it would be unfair on her. He went to mamma shark and told her that he is going to meet Scuba. Mamma shark, initially sounded upset but later gave in knowing that tiger being tiger would do his own things.

Tiger went to the same spot next day.. but Scuba was not there… Scuba had decided that she would not speak to him anymore.

Tiger went there again and then again but in vain. Where should he look for her. Stupid him, never even asked for her address. Was pondering long faced when it struck him to go to Angelfish school. Angel looked pristine and calm as usual.. .. She called up Scuba without telling her anything.

And then Scuba and tiger met finally at angel's place… Scuba kept quiet…staring at another side of the ocean.. Tiger kept hovering around her and explaining…" Am sorry scubadorable... am really sorry.. please listen to me..i would never go away.. now please talk to me. You told me that you never get angry.. that you are so calm and tranquil so why are you not listening to me... listen, i would eat only salads from today. Promise. but please talk to me.." tiger said pleadingly

Scuba smiled and smiled.. and fluttered her eye-lids...

Tiger continued. He promised her that he would be her best friend like others… that he would never hurt her.. that he would join Angel's classes and control his anger... and he would teach jerry to ride the bike and he would assist teathy in getting the best tea leaves...

Scuba looked at him and looked serious for a while...... she said - " Tiger, I understand that we two are from different realms of ocean.. we are completely different.. that never ever there has been any instance where a shark and fish were friends. And the truth is that you could have easily eaten me the first day we met... that if I exist today, then it's all becuase of you.. that despite all these differences, we care for each other.. In a world, where everybody is fighting with each other, we two should be an example... look at human beings. They claim to be the most intelligent species... what good is their intelligence for when brothers kill each other.. when they don't shy away from killing innocent kids... they have destroyed the entire environment, so much so that even our ocean is endangered... In that kind of world, shark-fish as friends is the most wonderful thing to happen... " said Scuba

Tiger, all along was listening to her and patted her back and then both of them had that glint in their eyes... Superior they were to any other 'so-called intelligent species"

So after this meeting at angel's house, they decided to meet and pacify their family...
Both of them went to Scuba’s house first… Tiger promised that he would take care of Scuba and never do anything that would mean to harm her remotely… Mamma fish, for once was not scared of sharks anymore...

At tiger’s place, mother shark had already cooled down… She loved the multicioloured frilled dress scuba wore... She prepared some papaya and mango platter which she had picked from another small fish friend long time back and gave to them... oh well, she too had may friends from 'not so happening' small fish world..

Since then tiger- shark and Scuba- the tiny miny fish remained the best friend. Not to forget that tiger got the award of the best butterfly-fish dancer that year… a story that angel, damsel, butterfly and fairy and all merrily spread through…

So from that day onwards, the Sharks and the fishes of the ocean lived in harmony. Sharks did not stop eating fish, but they hunted for the ones they were not familiar with. They protected the scuba family from any predators and everybody stayed happily

When i won, even after being the last

2010-08-02T23:21:00.018+05:30

From Mount Batur... the first sight of sunrise...

Us, waiting for it to rise...

The clouds obstructing it's way

And then we push it away..

The sun making it's way...

And see... here it comes :-)

Blooming every moment...

'Badal, suraj, chandan ( must be somewhere), paani... ( A verse from a famous hindi song.. just that bijli is replaced by suraj)

The sun in it's ful bloom...

I am one of those who cannot walk much.. in fact my feet hurts and gives up after some time. then I am clumsy and have had fracture in the past without any reason… And then I was down with fever for past two days and then i have not been sleeping properly for the past few days...

So was I in my right senses when I decided to go up there to Mount Batur, close to 2,000 meter, active volcano?? ( FYI- It has erupted 26 times since 1840) May be yes, may be not.. All I was interested to see was the Sunrise from the summit.. the path.. the journey didn’t matter at that point of time..

Till 10’o clock in the night , I wasn’t sure if I was going for the trek or not as Pineh, the person I was in touch with had not given any confirmation. Tried calling several times but in vain. So finally I got a call at 10:30 from Pineh ( All this while I had assumed that Pineh was a girl).. He said that a car would come to pick me up at 1:30 am.. which meant that I had barely 2 hours to sleep.. and then due to some watch confusion I woke up much in advance..

Sharp at 1:30, go picked up from the hotel at Kuta It was a 2hr drive to the ‘ Pineh Colada’s house. Other than me there was a French and an Australian girl.. We reached the base at around 4. There were people there hiring out wind-jackets.. I took one of it and then I realized how ill prepared I was… Till then I had not realized that this flip-flop of mine which I wear whenever I feel I have to walk a lot was not suited for a mountain hike… this was my biggest mistake.. A After 10 minutes of walk, I was struggling for breath.. It was still dark and I had a torch, camera bag, tripod bag, another bag with water and other knick knacks.. so I was kind of lagging behind… We also had 2 guides with us.. On our way up, there was this guy who was also following me.. So the first sentence he says, sounds something like this.. ‘you kisz me’… So I was slightly flabbergasted but then I thought I must have misheard him.. and then he continued his conversation… that he was not a guide but a transporter ( water porter) who carried drinks for all the hikers.. I just snubbed him as I thought he was being intrusive… I thought I really didn’t need his help as I already had my water and wall.. Then the guide offered to help by carrying some of my stuff.. I gave him some… By this time my entire team was much ahead and now I was in no mood to catch up with them.. And after a while I realized that this was not for me… it was a difficult terrain for me.. rocky.. steep.. I was slipping.. my legs were half bruised because of the stones.. must have fallen down several times…After some 40 min of walk, my one bottle of water was already over.. the ‘transporter’ guy from that moment acted like a savior to me.. So literally I had 2 person assisting me.. the guide who was now carrying all my stuff and this water porter who held my hand and helped me climbed till the end.. I could not have done this without him.. So after 2 hours of climbing I finally reached the summit.. It was quite chilly.. there was a small hut up there.. Got myself some tea.. fixed the tripod and the camera.. there were some 50 more people waiting for the sun to rise… And then when it rose, I knew why I had come here.. Yes, this was what I wanted to see… just breathtaking!! Would not even attempt describing it in words.. Ever seen people clapping at the sight of sunrise?? They did.. they did at the summit of Mount Batur..

In just couple of minutes you could see the entire area.. I expected it to be more barren and covered in dried lava, but it was very lush and green. There were monkeys at the top and they were still quite wild but worth photographing.

After the sunrise, we were ready to explore the crater rim and descent by another route. A longer but less steeper one..We stopped by at the crater to have our hard-boiled eggs as breakfast! The eggs were buried inside the steam hole.On the way back we finally saw the trail for the first time as it was too dark to see anything during the night hike. The same sandy volcanic trail that we had to scramble! As for me, it was really difficult as my slipper was so slippery that I was falling down all so often :-( .. Going back was even more painful… All along I was thinking what if.. what if this flipflop betrays me today… what if my leg gets fractured.. how would I have come back… Thank you, my dear slipper and my 2 lil’ feet… So what, I was probably the last person to come down… I still did it :-)

And by the way, I realised it at the airport what the water porter meant when he said 'You kisz me'.. He meant ' excuse me'.. ( 2 girls at the airport said this couple of times and I smiled :-) )

So lesson learnt... !! what? No more mountain hiking??

No no no..

Lesson.. Make my feet strong... and wear your shoes for the next trek :-) Atta girl!!

When night is not an end...

2010-07-25T02:26:00.015+05:30

Night is not an end... but just a brief stop-over
The grey would fade away gradually..... into varied colours..
The chill in the wind would soon be converted into warmth..

I wait for a new morning... a brand new day.. ( Literally waited for the sun to rise today)

But... the clouds take over.. :-( the sun hidden somewhere under that heavy blanket of cloud

Despair and disillusionment shrouds those hopeful eyes

But then again, clouds too is just a brief stop-over.. Isn't it.. :-)
For tomorrow, the Sun would rise again...
The orange, the yellow, the azure blue would shine again..

Those hopeful eyes would have glint and smile

For tomorrow, the sun would shine again..

( Thank you Sayyam and Sangya didi)

Pictures from Fujairah- 5:38 AM- 24th July

'Keep walking'..so he tells us...

2010-07-24T17:39:00.004+05:30

His actual name is Indradev / Inardev ( the apbhranshit version)… however, don’t remember anybody other than babuji ( Grandfather) calling him by this name. For us he is our very own ‘mushahru’… our rikshawallah who ferried all of us to school for 7-8 years..

He was dark, tall, bald… must have been in his early 40’s then… I can still picture him in his ‘loongi’ and pale white ‘ganji’.. But there were days when he used to dress differently.. Holi, when he would wear his white kurta pajama and speckles of pink and green ‘abeer’ here and there.

He has been a part of my life, ever since I am aware of my existence.. at school, mushahru would double up as a surrogate parent.

Mushahru’s association with our family was not confined to this generation alone. Apparently he used to take ma and badi mausi to college as well and babuji trusted him like anything..He paid back in his own little ways. My obstinate babuji ‘s ‘law blood’ was in full bloom even in his 90s and he wanted to visit the local court everyday. He had become extremely frail, though his fiery attitude never fizzled. Mushahru, would escort him to anywhere he wanted to go to.. He must have been really patient to tolerate all the idiosyncrasies of babuji..

So, coming back to Mushahru’s rickshaw... I think he had couple of them.. He rented out few of them to other rickshwapullers. His was the most dilapidated one. Every time he would ask ma to increase the fare, ma used to counter argue and ask him to get a new rickshaw as a pre-condition. Am sure she would have given in later. The new rickshaw did come. Brand spanking new – with its cardboard and plastic wrapped even after months..the new cushy seats… the shiny aluminum body… the new wooden hood… And then it was embellished with several danglers in the vibrant shades of magenta, orange, purple and green here and there.. Wow, we had a new rickshaw…

And then there was of course vishwakarma pooja when all the rickshaw of the town was decked up in all colours… the very many coloured triangular ‘jhandis’ and streamers.. Literally there used to be a competition as to whose rickshaw was best decorated… it wasn’t just musharu’s rickshaw, but ours.. and we tried to ensure that ours was the most differentiated one…
1st May was another day when again this solidarity got displayed… The day when all the rickshwalla used to get something from the school. The only day when all these guys were dressed in their best dress..There was lambu… there was chotu.. and loads of others…One by one they would go up to the stage and collect their gift.. probably the only day when our Musharu was called by his real name- Indradeva.

Well, this three wheeler was not just not just a transportation mode… It kind of symbolized you…. And where you sat on the rickshaw was a determinant of how powerful and senior you were. Ideally, one rickshaw could fit some 8 people. 3 on the seat and 4 on the bench.. So the 2 most powerful ones got the cushy seats. The next in tier got the sides of the bench and rest others were sandwiched here and there..the meek richa always was a part of ‘here and there’ club. How aspirational those seating positions were!!! And then there were days when people used to fight for those places.. ‘aaj meri baari hai..’ .. ‘ aaj main baithunga/baithungi’… Poor Mushahru would have to keep pacifying all his foster kids..

We, the lesser human keep complaining about working weekends… working endless hours… no AC.. no refreshments.. no vacations.. and there we have people like Mushahru who used to ride his rickshaw 7 days a week.. 16 hours a day… from pre dawn and into the late night… through the searing summer heat… the cold chills of the winters.. to those frequent monsoon showers… and I do vividly remember how the entire rickshaw was covered with that plastic sheet during those rain showers… the only person who was all drenched and still walking ahead was Mushahru..

Haven’t seen Mushahru for ages now.. Don’t know how he is..the last time when I had met him, he was no longer riding the rickshaw… had outsourced it to other guys and he himself had started selling vegetables.. I hope he is doing well for himself..

This one goes for all those people who we used to clap for on 1st May..

When silence speaks... words are not enough..

2010-07-18T01:40:00.033+05:30

Khasab,( Oman) a place where, the only sound you could hear was of silence.... the white sandy hills... the clear still water... that desolate snaky road... that sole leafless tree...

But the sand surely had the mark of footsteps reminding one of history ...

...history of a life, of people who would have crossed paths... of some action and activity... of probably some happiness and revelry ( I suppose)

And then i walked barefoot.. in the heat and then in the water leaving behind my footsteps...

Wonder if the footsteps would be observed... noticed... taken care of ..?

Or would water and wind sway it away ...

My oldest love story..

2010-06-19T19:47:00.004+05:30

I still remember the first day you came into our house..None of us knew about you before that day... Had never heard of you... Didn't know much about you... so when you were taken home, there was that bit of skepticism amongst most in the family... they didn't trust you.. you were kind of ostracised... and then rejected. Your appearance was strange... the curved countours, the pale yellow complexion..you looked like an alien...Ma and Mausi interacted with you for some time, they took you to the corner and then finally concluded that you didn't fit into the family... I was too young to express my choice or preference... I liked you but bringing you home from next time onwards was not in my hand....

Time flew.. as i grew up, you still haunted my mind... those few years of separation did little to keep you away... I had also grown up so Ma was ok with listening to me at times... Gradually once in a while you did come to our home.. i wanted to be with you completely, but was not allowed... You had to be 'shared'... I was tempted and craved for you but all in vain!!

Time flew again, and here i was a grown up girl, away from that small lil' town.. with all the freedom to do whatever i wanted... Now i was free to meet you whenever i wanted... we met everyday... was never bored being with you... you were an integral part of my life... so much so that people said that we should get married..!!

Time flew again and here i was in this strange country where you didn't exist. :-( I missed you... like real bad... !! Got to meet you only when i went back to Delhi... and whenever i came back, i made sure that i had bagful of good memories...

Am back again with those sweet memories... and want to let you know that i have always missed you.. i love you my 'masala maggi'. i had loads of you in the last two days and am still not satiated.. from the day when ma split one pack of it amongst her 5 kids, to a day when I get to have two packs in one go, our love story has come a long way... Would come back soon.

Lots of love

Love- aaj kal

2010-04-02T05:46:00.015+05:30

This one goes to two most wonderful person whom the Gracious God had created to touch our lives…. They came, they charmed us and then they decided to set up their own house in a different world… And this one also goes to all the people closely associated with their lives…
HE was the handsome hunk of early seventies… and SHE the chirpy, ‘chulbuli’ and crazy queen of early nineties…HIS impressive baritone would leave one speechless, while HER ‘wada raha sanam, honge jooda na hum’ used to enthrall one and all and make you sing along…HE was quiet and seasoned .. and SHE loved talking incessantly… HE, my dearest papa and SHE, my Chandrani didi…

Kal- We are at early seventies... He, as I said was a tall, handsome, good looking guy, brought up and grown up in ‘bhadralok nagari’ Kolkata.. well spoken, well read and to top it all, a marine engineer… unarguably making him one of the most eligible bachelor in his social circle ofthat era..Through some contacts Kolkata made it's way to a very small town of Bihar called Munger and reaches the ‘aangan’ of Pratibha- short, sweet and sanskritized ( Oh well, I have grown up surrounded by those millions of sanskrit book in my house).. Their marriage was almost fixed until a little birdie flew up to Kolkata and informed our folks out there that the would be bride is too short for papa… and therefore things should not be taken forward… But he being him, had already taken the decision…Resenting the elderly in his family he married ma. They had not seen each other.. not even spoken to each other even once before their marraige… And thus began their love story..

Both of them were very different from each other, but if I think to pen down the differences, I am not able to identify one.. And now I realize how well they complemented each other. When he was away on the ship, she was the most strict ma ( Well, she used to wake us up early morning at 4 every morning to study and that too one had to read aloud or else be ready to get punished)…A little bit of TV was allowed ( She herself loved watching it, and hence those small pleasures..).. We were not allowed to go anywhere after 6 and things like parties and going out with friends were kind of alien words..And then when papa used to come home, that small portable TV would get packed and was kept in the store room… Then she used to become slightly lenient….. I think, the only time, that TV used to come out was when there were cricket matches or probably election times!! Talking to boys / having guy friends was a big NO. Phone conversations and chatting was kind of unthinkable… so there was lot of juggling that happened throughout the year, depending on Papa’s presence and absence..

Amidst all this chaos and drama, there was one day we always used to look forward to..2nd July, ma-papa’s marriage anniversary… Papa, always tried being home on this day and he would always buy something special for her.. their 25th Marriage anniversary was a day not to be forgotten ever. Remember penning down these lines on the invitation card: As unto the bow, the cord is, So unto the man is woman; though she bends him, she obeys him, though she draws him, yet she follows; Useless each without the other.. In retrospect, these lines appear so true..She always knew how to bowl him over… She knew when to be quiet and when to show the anger... Well, i know everybody who knew papa would refuse to believe how strict he was at home.. and ma wasn't just a wife or a mother but had to be a conduit between us the children, and him.

Can’t forget that day when, papa was late for home and all of us were waiting for him… Then we tutored ma to talk to papa in English… So all our efforts were directed to make her learn one line- “ Where were you. I was waiting”.. Managed to make her say this after so many rehearsals. And then he came.. and there she was.. “ Where”… hahahehehaha ( And all of us in laughter)…. Then “were” hahahehehaha ( And all of us in laughter)…. She could never complete that sentence… Those shy utterances, that cute laughter is well etched in my mind… Who says that chemistry keeps it ticking... am witness to a love story, where the unconditional love and support was what constituted the relationship..

And i must not forget to write this. While Papa's mother toungue was bhojpuri, ma spoke angika- both a dialect of Hindi but very different from each other and one needs time to ingrain it. Ma, obviously wasn't familiar with the bhojpuri dialect. So right after marriage, she was staying at our native place in eastern UP. One of the night she woke up suddenly and started screaming -' chunta kaata.. chunta kaata' ( The big black ant). Now nobody out there understood what 'Chunta' meant.. Her finger was badly bleeding.. and there was quite a ruckus.. It took some time for people around to realise what 'chunta' meant and that it was a crab and not the ant that had bitten her!!

Those were the days when you didn’t have all these hi-tech, all pervasive mobile phones and internet.. Infact we didn’t even have landline phones in Munger until early nineties… so in those days, the only mode that connected our world and papa’s world was those inland letters and post cards.. Papa’s well calligraphied letters equals no gifts or presents.. His handwriting was the bestest!.. ( and ma’s, one can barely read) Those letters used to come once a month or two months.. Wonder how we survived those months!! Not to forget how our letters began “ Aadarniya papa, sadarpranam….” I so miss writing these :-(

So, here you had some shades of this love story which withstood the test of times, differences and distances… Ma-papa, thankyou for being such wonderful parents- A big thankyou from you paanch bacchon ki paltan!!

Aaj- Now we move to early nineties...Who says that the sun and moon cannot meet.. they did and on this very earth. Ravi-chandrani ki kahani is the most popular love story one would have heard of in the narrow lanes and bylanes of Munger/jamalpur..

Chandrani didi was the prettiest, smartest, coolest and all the ‘est’ that I can think of in Jamalpur Notre Dame.. the story goes that when the ‘Mungeri guys’ of 90’s batch moved to Jamalpur Notre Dame to get admission in the 8th class,they were quite charmed by Chandrani didi.. And then the story goes that Ravi, the dude of that era, claimed that he would ‘patao’ her… ( Ravi bhaiya, not sure if it’s true or not).. so this began when they were in their class 8..They were so cute together… she was like an electricity. Whatever the competition was, you knew who the winner would be… She sang like nobody did.. she danced as if nobody was watching her.. she was probably one of the best in the district when it came to sports..she was the best… Ravi bhaiya wasn’t any less… Intelligent, sharp and equally talented ( except of course his singing prowess) Munger in those time was still an ancient town, and these two people were the rebel sorts.. defying all the differences of caste, culture and language..

It helped to be a sister of their common friend, sona didi.. and I still remember being a part of several interesting episodes.. Ravi bhaiya, I remember the payal you had given to chandrani didi on one of her B’day… and with bewildered eyes, I loved sona didi narrating the story of how Ravi Bhaiya sneaked into Chandrani didi’s house at midnight to wish her happy b’day with assorted chocolates.. Epitome of romanticism in that sleepy town of Munger!!..

Like most love story, this too went through acidic times…or rather a very tough time... but they say, if you really really really want something, then, you get it… so after several twists and turns, they met again andthe rest is a history. Almost half the school residing in Delhi got together for their marriage..She was the happiest bride I have ever seen.. On that day too, she sang her favourite song, ‘wada raha sanam.., honge jooda na hum’

Chandrani didi left us some few months back.. But as Ravi bhaiya says, she stays with us in the form of Ronit… She stays with us in the stories of Uncle and Aunty.. and she would stay with us in the form of Ravi-Chandrani ki kahani… Love you Ronit and Ravi bhaiya…

So it seems Papa and Chandrani didi are having fun times up there... Am sure Chandrani didi would have kept Papa busy with her never ending stories... and Papa must be getting his regular supply of chai, and must be waking her up for his midnight mithai's.. It would be six years since he left us.. quite weird that he had met chandrani didi only few month before he left us.. Miss both of you lots..

Lots of love

Nina/Richa

Of Swatch Watches... and dreams unlimited....

2009-08-02T05:52:00.005+05:30

I am not really a ‘watch’ person… infact don’t remember wearing one post my 10th class. Though interestingly have two stories with watches as real heroes… that too, ‘swatch’ watches... Two events, exclusive to each other… where these watch were symbols of unconditional love and affection, of dreams and aspirations… of expectations and fulfillment

2004, April. Don’t remember the exact date. Must have been 6-7 days before 26th April. I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night to one of the most horrible dreams of my life.. Dreamt that Papa had passed away and I was sitting beside him with a watch in my hand. Thank God. It was just a dream and thought about the watch I had bought for him some few days back and had yet not given to him… was waiting to buy some more gifts for him and had thought that I would surprise him by giving all those things… Dreams of a daughter, who had just started working and wanted to give her father all the best things of the world… Knew that he would get angry… he would have considered everything as wastage of money.. but little did I care for that..

I had always dreamt of buying an Omega watch for him.. didn’t obviously knew how much it would have cost me. Compromised. Felt that Omega would happen some 4-5 years down the line and therefore settled for a Swatch.

After that night, I would have possibly forgotten that dream. But have not till now and probably would not ever forget it.. 2- 3 days later Papa left for Allahabad and then to Munger. Before he left, I gave that watch to him. He tried to show that he was irritated. Reacted by saying that I should be saving money and not waste buying things which is not needed. But at the same time, I could see his excitement…That was my dear father… never showed what he actually felt like…

As I said, that watch wasn’t just a watch.. It was my dream.. it was Papa’s pride… and he expressed it to the world… like a child he would show it off to everybody he met… and if somebody failed to notice it, he would make it a point that it gets talked about… those were the last 3-4 days of his life. My dream wasn’t just any other normal dream. He passed away on 26th April with the same watch in his hand… that Swatch watch.. and thus began a new journey of my life...

Tic Tic Tic…… and now the time moves to September 2008. Beginning of another new journey. .. the decision to move out of the country…leaving behind all those people who were integral to my life…my family.. my friends. .. Again, numerous expectations… the dreams…. The good wishes..and the beautiful gifts…

Few days before I had to leave for Dubai, I got this packet from my bestest friend, with the specific instruction that I should open it when I am in Dubai. God. What punishment was that. It was there infront of me and I am not supposed to even open it. Ufff… Anyways, he relaxed his conditions.. and allowed me to open it before leaving for Dubai.

My hands trembled when I opened it. What I saw left me completely speechless… drops of tear rolled off my welling eyes…I had in my hands, his most priceless possession… something he was closest to… something, I was sure he wouldn’t have ever parted with… His Swatch Watch…a symbol of his endearment.. of all his affection and his expectations…I knew what it meant to him... and he had given it to me.. Blessed I was to have you as my friend.

As I see the watch lying beside me today, it reminds me of all your instructions… your expectations. And it tells me that no matter how tough the road may get I will thread on it…There might be difficult days… low days… but I have million other reasons to celebrate..

And I end this with a smile :-) Come what may, I would not let the richa in me die!! Thank you ‘ Swatch watches’

कुछ अनकहे शब्द

2009-07-27T05:17:00.004+05:30

निर्निमेष निहारती, एकटक सी ताकती,

उसके दो छोटे नयन, अपलक थी जाग रही।

आँख नम थे, निर्झर बहे वो,

मन के उद्वेग को कैसे सहे हो।

आकुल मन, मौन क्षण।

लोचन हुए थे थोड़े मर्म।

आस टूटा, स्वास छूटता.

नयन थोड़ा मुस्कुराये,

रोक सलिल वो चुप बैठी तब,

पर मन का था वो संताप बड़ा।

हाथ पकड़ा, छोड़ न पायी,

थी उसकी वो अन्तिम विदाई,

आंसू तब से रुक न पाये,

आँखों को वो हर पल जगाये.

ऋचा - 13th July

2009-07-22T19:02:00.001+05:30

Istanbul

2009-07-12T00:33:00.003+05:30

2009-06-19T03:37:00.003+05:30

Miss you sampath...

2009-06-18T23:28:00.002+05:30

It seems almost unimaginable that you are no longer there. Seems as if you'll peep through right now and say, ghar jao.... !! How could this happen. My last sentence to you was " abhi mujhe bye mat bolna" and your last message on my facebook 'tum humse miley bina hi chale gaye' sounds metaphorical now. Everybody misses you sampath. Terribly.

Would you read this?

2009-06-17T21:48:00.003+05:30

Do you deserve two continuous entries on my blog... that too in the span of 20 days..Yeah, I know you follow my blog religiously and have numerous 'tipanni' to give after each entry.. but still, why should i again and again write about you.. Your 'chota baccha' loves to have sleepless nights in the office and cannot be spending hours writing about you.. You are so cruel. How could you go like this.. were you not supposed to call me yesterday.. you have to call me.. you have to fight with me for not meeting you before going to delhi..Sampath, you cannot go like this. Love you lots.

2009-05-27T03:28:00.002+05:30

One of those days when i am left completely numb and speechless.. when I dont understand the norms of socalled practical world.. when things look all so inexplicable to me.. may be there are reasons behind be.. may be my 'childlike' mind can not see that right now.. May be you know how to handle it.. You definitely know.. these kind of things are trivial to change the course of your life.. this ten year old kid would miss you..Am really blank at this moment.. really blank..

Ek duniya aisi bhi

2009-05-19T03:26:00.007+05:30

GRADUATION CEREMONY IN SAUDI ARABIA

Six months back when I had left Delhi, I had little idea of where i was heading to.. I was quite comfortable with the haziness and unpredictableness... wanted to discover things on my own, slowly, gradually and at it's own pace.. So when I landed to this place, I had come with zero expectation. ( And am glad about it)

In terms of work I had assumed that it wouldn’t be very different from what it had been in Delhi.. Considerable part of my work back in India was done in South India and therefore i had thought that I wouldn’t face much of a language barrier… well… Till then I didn't know that there is a country like Saudi Arabia on this earth which is governed by it's own set of rules and norms. And amidst several handicaps, language was probably the most insignificant one.

I remember while I was being interviewed, one of the prospective employer had mentioned that most of their work happens in KSA. Initially i was blank when i heard KSA... then thought that he is probably referring to KSA technopak. Given Dubai’s reputation of being a mall city, I wasn’t wrong in assuming that…( So, I at least knew that Dubai had several malls!!) Though I realized the very next moment that KSA is Saudi Arabia..

So why am I writing about Saudi Arabia… ?? Because, KSA or Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is not just any other country… What makes the cradle of Islam so enigmatic and mysterious is something that is beyond our comprehension... simply inexplicable!!! There is so much to the place and we know so little about it. Must admit that i am really really curious to know more about the place and the people.. Unfortunately, given my current status, I cannot travel to Saudi Arabia. I need to get married and then travel with my husband or else I am not eligible for the visa. Oh yes! You can travel to KSA only if you are married or alongwith somebody who is your blood relative. Woman traveling out of KSA needs to get a written permission from their husband or else travel along with them...

But as I told you that the country is beyond anybody’s comprehension so we were not surprised when one of our female client from Singapore got the visa while her male counterparts were refused… Well that’s another story that she could not find any Abaya in China and we had to send one person with an Abaya to the airport when she landed at Jeddah,

But what happened last week was something that left all of us at our wit’s end. One of our moderator was to come down from Jeddah to get briefed on a very important study. ( As I have already mentioned that none of us can travel down to KSA). She was refused visa at the last moment because her passport includes her children’s name too and according to some new directive she can travel only if all her children travel’s along with her!!!

So is it all that bad!! Actually not… behind the black veils, there’s lot of colour and vibrancy that woman of Saudi Arabia display. Would write more about it in my subsequent posts. Am lucky enough to have enough touch points with the residents out there. And have re-fuelled by webnography penchant. ( Shivani, I know you would be glad to see me doing this)..Attempting to uncover some layers of this enigma . ‘Inshallah’ as they say it..

Shubharambh!

2009-05-08T02:16:00.001+05:30

2009-05-07T22:20:00.000+05:30

Talk about woman emancipation

Prachi's last day in the office.

2009-05-07T15:38:00.001+05:30

Will miss you. All the conversations... Lunches..crib sessions..late nights..

Phone blog

2009-05-06T03:13:00.001+05:30

Fir chidi baat, baat phoolon ki..

Fir chidi baat,raat phoolon ki

2009-05-06T00:51:00.001+05:30

Purple delight

रोटी की कहानी

2009-05-04T01:32:00.006+05:30

कब सोचा होगा की एक दिन रात के १२ बजे मैं रोटी की कहानी लिखूंगी। और आप सोचेंगे की रोटी की क्या कहानी हो सकती है। एक निर्जीव सी इस वस्तु का भी कोई अस्तित्व है क्या? कुछ तो बात है वरना इस वृत्ताकार खाद्य पदार्थ ने कितनो की दक्षता को प्रर्दशित किया है। कोई लड़की कितनी सुगढ़ और गुणी है वो उसके रोटी और चाय बनाने की कला से ही पता चलता है.

खैर, मैं अपने कहानी में वापस आती हूँ। कल कितने सालों बाद मैंने मन से खाना बनने का प्रयास किया। नहीं। कोई बहुत बड़ी उपलब्धि नहीं है। बस इतना है की इस प्रयास ने हजारों यादों से धूल की परत को हटा दिया.याद नहीं आखिरी बार कब रोटी बनाई थी। और कल जब बनाना शुरू किया तो लगा जैसे सब कुछ भूल गई हूँ.आटा गूंधना शुरू किया तो एहसास हुआ की कुछ नहीं बदला। ख़ुद पर गर्व हुआ। पर असली लडाई तो तब जीतती जब रोटी का आकार चौभुजा न होकर गोल होता। भगवान। पहली बार में ही असफल रही। पर जब तक मेरी रोटी गोल न हो, मैं उसको तवे पर डाल ही नहीं सकती थी। फ़िर कोशिश की। कुछ तो बेलन में ही खोट था। मन खट्टा हो गया। करुँ तो क्या करुँ। ३ बार उस गोले को इधर उधर कर के सही आकार देने की कोशिश की। पर सम्भव प्रवास विफल रहा। और मैं भी हिम्मत हारने वालों में सो तो नहीं। भाग्य बुलंद था। दूसरा बेलन मिला मुझे। फ़िर तो सच में वो मेरे हाथ का एक वार बन गया। उसके बाद हर रोटी को फूलता हुआ देखने में जो मज़ा आया वो तो बहुत कम चीजों में मिलता है... हाँ। ये थी बड़ी उपलब्धि।

याद आया वो बचपन का दिन जब मन होता था की हम जल्दी से बड़े हो जाए॥ और बड़े होने की सबसे बड़ी निशानी होती थी रोटी बनाने में महारत हासिल करना। जब छोटे थे तो इतनी आज़ादी कहाँ थी की कोई हमें रोटी बनाने देता। पर हाँ। जब सब रोटियां बन जाती थी तो अंत में बच्चों की बारी आती थी। सबको आटा का बना हुआ एक छोटा सा गोला मिलता था। और हम उन छोटे से हाथ से छोटी सी रोटी बनाते थे। मोटी और छोटी से रोटी जो की शायद घर में कोई नहीं खाता।कभी कभी रोटी जल जाती थी, और कभी वो छोटे से हाथ.बहुत छोटे थे तब हम। शायद १०-११ साल के। और उसके बनने के पश्चात हम ही उसको खाया करते थे। ऐसे ही... लगता था जैसे इससे ज्यादा स्वादिष्ट चीज़ कभी किसी ने बनाई ही नई होगी.... वो होती थी बड़ी उपलब्धि।

फ़िर धीरे धीरे हम बड़े हुए... सच वाले बड़े... रोटी बनाने के उत्साह में कोई कमी नहीं आई... कितने लोग होते थे घर में। और घर में हर बहनों की बारी आती थी। सुष्मिता सबसी अच्छी रोटी बनाती थी। उसके बाद हम। सोना दीदी को उस समय कुछ ख़ास नहीं होता था और रूचि से तो भारत का नक्षा भी नहीं बनता। शायद इसी लिए उसका जीवन यापन चावल पर होता है। खैर॥ उस वक्त मुझे सुष्मिता से कितनी जलन होती थी॥ पापा उसी की बड़ाई करते॥ मेरी बुराई तो नहीं करते थे पर फ़िर भी मेरी रोटी सर्वश्रेष्ठ नहीं थी॥ समय बदला॥ और मेरी रोटियों का स्वरूप भी... और वो भी दिन आए जब पापा कहा करते थे की नीना की रोटी सबसे अच्छी होती है। हाँ। वो थी उपलब्धी। कब होती है ऐसी गर्वोक्ति?

उसके बाद तो रोटी बनाने का ये क्रम सालों तक चलता रहा जब तक आलस ने मुझे नहीं घेरा॥ पता है की आगे भी आलसी ही रहूंगी पर खुश हूँ इस बात से की इन छोटी छोटी बातों से आज भी खुश हो जाया करती हूँ।

और कल का वो अनोखा दिन। पापा को सपने में देखा। वही वार्तालाप... वही बातचीत।और वही प्रशंसा। इसलिए कल की वो रोटी बस एक खाद्य सामग्री नहीं थी। अनेक अनछुए तारों को झंकृत करने वाली एक कड़ी थी.

2009-04-28T23:40:00.004+05:30

कुछ शब्द ऋचा को प्रोत्साहित करने के लिए....

पूर्व चलने के बटोही बाट की पहचान कर ले।
पुस्तकों में है नहीं
छापी गई इसकी कहानी
हाल इसका ज्ञात होता
है न औरों की जबानी
अनगिनत राही गए
इस राह से उनका पता क्या
पर गए कुछ लोग इस पर
छोड़ पैरों की निशानी
यह निशानी मूक होकर
भी बहुत कुछ बोलती है
खोल इसका अर्थ पंथी
पंथ का अनुमान कर ले।
पूर्व चलने के बटोही बाट की पहचान कर ले। यह बुरा है या कि अच्छा
व्यर्थ दिन इस पर बिताना
अब असंभव छोड़ यह पथ दूसरे पर पग बढाना
तू इसे अच्छा समझ
यात्रा सरल इससे बनेगी
सोच मत केवल तुझे ही
यह पड़ा मन में बिठाना
हर सफल पंथी यही विश्वास ले इस पर बढ़ा है
तू इसी पर आज अपने
चित्त का अवधान कर ले।
पूर्व चलने के बटोही बाट की पहचान कर ले।
.......

Love you papa

2009-04-27T01:20:00.001+05:30

They say that time heals everything. Is it really that powerful? I wonder,,,Five years have gone by… 5 yrs of not seeing you… of not hearing your voice.. of not reading those precious little letters.. of acknowledging the fact that we have to learn to live without your physical presence. Not a day goes by without this realization of you being somewhere around us. You were always there. I have sensed your presence. Time hasn't filled this gap.. it can't be that powerful and it's not. I know you can watch all of us.. I know that I would have hurt you a couple of times when I did things which you would not have expected of me. But you would have also forgiven me knowing that my intent were never wrong..

Am not there for the first time with Ma on 26th April and am not liking it. Am angry with myself now. I miss you so much.. I so want you to be here with all of us…. I want you to wake us up early in the morning at 6:00 AM.. want to see you in the kitchen with your experimentation…with you screaming at ma when she again gives you the three rotis in one go… of you not allowing us to watch TV.. of you getting up in the middle of the night looking for some mithais.. of you struggling to figure out the various functions of my cellphone and finally blaming that there was something wrong with it…. of you screaming at us when we didn’t touch jiwanand mausaji’s feet…of your recitations on durga pooja… of you discovering that your dear daughters were not studying but sleeping in that distant room of the house..of you buying asking us to light all the diyas on Diwali at 7:00 PM itself... of you playing ashi, kartikay and Gunjan… You always left only to come back. But this time it wasn’t the Sea that called you.

I remember when I was in class 1V, we were asked to write an essay about the person you loved most. Without any two thoughts I had written about you. Sir Asit even read out that essay to the class… Can vaguely remember the words… “ Love Papa cos he stays away from his loved ones so that everybody in his family are happy”.. “ And then he brings all the best chocolates and toys and best clothes for us”.. Yes Papa, it was only you who gave us the best. We could not do anything for you. I grew up with this fear of losing you.. of not being able to do anything for you.. and my biggest regret would be live with feeling. If only I could have stopped you from going.. ! Though I know that you can watch all of us even now…It’s been so difficult to stay without you. So difficult. Love you papa. Lots.

Of Mughal empire… recession and my dreams!!

2009-04-13T00:26:00.000+05:30

So does it look like some jigsaw puzzle… some inexplicable riddle? Well not. When Mr Delmore would have worded his ‘in dreams begin responsibilities’, he would have actually thought of a character like richa rai. Yes. So now do you know the connect between these three words? My dreams weaves in the most inordinate things into its fabric. Mughal empire and recession is an example of the same.

So let me tell you the story now..

Almost ten days back.. on Saturday...I got up in the morning. Breathless… I was running continuously in my dream. Up and down.. on the mountain.. by the side of the sea..at my fastest speed.. ( That reminds me that i was a good athlete in my school).... jumped into the sea and swam ( So what if can’t swim in my real life.. am a piscean)..

There was someone running after my life. he was equally fast... I could clearly see the rifle in his hand.... I ran and ran.. climbed the wall like a chameleon... reached the top.. jumped from there ( And didn't fracture my leg... who says I am calcium deficient)...God.. all i can remember is that i didn't even stop for a second...

And then the clock struck one!! Thank God. The man stopped. He could have almost shot me...but by the rulebook he could not have killed me after one. And thus I survived another Monday.. Who was this guy??? Why was he running after me??? What had I done??? What does this event represent??? Well… let me not spill all the beans..the only answer to all your queries would be – 'recession' :-)

So what is this Mughal Empire about?? Well apparently the man running after me was Aurangzeb’s grandson. ( it’s my dream again).. Now the funniest part is that this guy is an English and am sure he would not even know who Mr Aurangzeb is… so this Mr something takes immense pride in being a descendant of this great Empire. And nobody could have questioned his action. So there I was, along with several people, trying to evade him. And this act was repeated every Monday morning. Tomorrow is another Monday and am just wondering where would i find myself in the morning.. Rajasthan.. Gazipur... South America... or Mungeri laal ke haseen sapne!!

What metaphor!! Kudos to my dream cells!!

क्षण भर को क्यों प्यार किया था?

2009-04-12T01:09:00.001+05:30

अर्द्ध रात्रि में सहसा उठकर,
पलक संपुटों में मदिरा भर,
तुमने क्यों मेरे चरणों में अपना तन-मन वार दिया था?
क्षण भर को क्यों प्यार किया था?
‘यह अधिकार कहाँ से लाया!’
और न कुछ मैं कहने पाया -
मेरे अधरों पर निज अधरों का तुमने रख भार दिया था!
क्षण भर को क्यों प्यार किया था?
वह क्षण अमर हुआ जीवन में,
आज राग जो उठता मन में -
यह प्रतिध्वनि उसकी जो उर में तुमने भर उद्गार दिया था!
क्षण भर को क्यों प्यार किया था?

क्या भूलूं, क्या याद करूं मैं!

2009-04-11T23:30:00.000+05:30

क्या भूलूं, क्या याद करूं मैं!

अनगणित उन्मादों के क्षण हैं,

अनगणित अवसादों के क्षण हैं,

रजनी सूनी घड़ियों को किन-किन से आबाद करूं मैं!

क्या भूलूं, क्या याद करूं मैं!

याद सुखों की आंसू लाती,

दुख की, दिल भारी कर जाती,

दोष किसे दूं जब अपने से अपने दिन बर्बाद करूं मैं!

क्या भूलूं, क्या याद करूं मैं!

दोनों करके पछताता हूं,

सोच नहीं, पर मैं पाता हूं,

सुधियों के बंधन से कैसे अपने को आज़ाद करूं मैं!

क्या भूलूं, क्या याद करूं मैं!

2009-03-14T03:12:00.003+05:30

i am always so excited about my birthday. For the first time there is this sombreness surrounding me.. i so want to be in Delhi at this time.. But for pratibha, there isn't anything that I am excited about. Nothing. I dont want to be here at all.

2009-02-12T06:39:00.002+05:30

सुबह सुबह आज इन दो पंक्तियों का ध्यान आ रहा है;

छोटा करके देखिये जीवन का विस्तार

आंखों भर आकाश है, बाहों भर संसार।

एक प्रयास

2009-01-07T00:25:00.002+05:30

कभी हम में से किसी ने एक पूरी पंक्ति शुद्ध हिन्दी में बोलने का प्रयास किया है क्या? अभी कुछ क्षण पहले मैं और मेरे मित्र ने ये प्रयास किया और ये पाया की हम ने अपनी भाषा का ह्रास करने की दिशा में कोई कमी नहीं रखी हैं। हिन्दी भाषा अब उर्दू का पर्यायवाची हो चुका है। लज्जाजनक तो है ये। 'आदत' जैसे एक सरल शब्द का हम हिन्दी रूपांतरण नहीं दूंढ पाये। ऐसा प्रतीत होता है की जैसे अब ये दूरदर्शन और विविध भारती का ही दारोमदार है। हम दोनों ने आज ये प्राण लिया है की हम अपनी ओर से एक प्रयास करेंगे। कठिन तो होगा पर असंभव नहीं।
शुभकामनाएं देतें हैं हम दोनों को।
ऋचा

2008-12-28T04:59:00.004+05:30

So, its been close to two months now. Two months of staying away from people who are integral to my existence... and two months of staying on my own. It hasn't been all that bad. Am actually quite proud of myself for shedding those extra ounce of laziness.

So let me begin from 1st Nov. It was my first international flight. I looked my usual clueless self. Was wondering why I missed Nielsen’s international conferences... At least would have known about the formalities at the airport. I shudder any kind of paper work and am notoriously popular with airport personnel. Deep down I knew that something has to go awry. I wasn’t wrong. That immigration guy asked me so many questions!!! Why are you going there.. show me you appointment letter… why don’t you have your residence visa et al.. Phew… I was watching him for the last 20 min while I was in the queue. He was running to his senior for every small thing. I knew that he wouldn’t let me go now.. Me and my tabooed equation with airport staff!!! Thankfully his senior had some brains. I was relieved to know that nobody is sending me back.

Khair. The flight was uneventful. Can’t recollect anything exciting.. except for the occasional loud laughter of my south Indian co-passenger who I guess was watching Ugli and Pagli!!

I always knew that Dubai airport was humungous.. but what I saw was beyond my imagination. ‘Thank god for the Marhaba services’ I told myself. Otherwise I would have got lost in that crowd. I hated those escalators. To all those who know me, are aware of my escalator phobia. I know that Mr God was silently smiling when he saw me taking those fearful steps.

So what caught my attention at the airport… I think swarm of men in white robes and red head gear. I was still familiar with abaya or burqa but hadn’t seen men dressed like that in real life.. But at the same time Hindi and Malayalam was equally widespread… the conveyor helper, the lift guy, the driver… everybody understood Hindi.

I was looking forward to the next day. Fear gradually giving way to excitement. Good thing was that my ex colleague Diptanshu was also staying in the same hotel. So next day both of us were ready at 8. Office was nice. Didn’t look like an alien place. i was sharing my room with Prachi…who is now a very good friend.

The bigger task was to find a house. Didn’t know where to start from. Thanks to argyhya for all his help. Post coming to this house, I have been busy setting it up and now am almost done..

So what am I happy about….. Plenty of stuff.. Am glad that I get up in the morning ( I know am forced to, but nonetheless).. am happy that I make my subah ka chai.. I reach office much before the normal time.. that I have not been wasting time… that I have not been cribbing about traffic..
Though am yet to do couple of things I had planned to.. :-)

I am happy to see my two mynas everyday.. to see the ‘dhumrapaan Nished” board..… to find Quality Street chocolates in every nook and corner…( as a child me and my siblings used to have QC breakfasts!!).. to see my pink and yellow flower bloom everyday… to get this chori ka wifi signals.. to win the bids at souq.com… to have colleagues who are across the Asian and middle east countries…to receive so many mails from all my friends in India everyday.. making new friends over here…a bit of gossiping.. a fair share of cribbing too…eating the grand Rajasthani thali.. and yeah the Jalebis too :-)… plus the friendly Pakistani cab drivers. With the growing acrimony between the two nations, little do we realize what the common Pakistani would want. People at the helm of affair need to know that war is not what the commoners want. All these people who are away from their family are working hard so that their family back there is happy and free from day to day struggle. Am a witness to their disdained eyes whenever they have heard the news of the troubled indo-pak relationship.

The other thing that has left me intrigued in the life of Saudi woman. Am amazed that there is a place like this on earth. It would be interesting to see how things evolve and change for woman in this country. Reading ‘Girls of Riyadh’ and several blogs makes me realize the complexity of their social fabric… all is not what it appears to our eyes… Am happy that am getting to work with so many people in that country.

What else… !! am yet to see the blue waters, the white sand… the desert… God, have not even seen a camel till now.. :-( Hoga. Hoga. Jaldi hi hoga…

And yeah, to all those who know me well, i have been running up and down the escalators.... oh yes. Now all you people wont need to persuade me or be forced to take the stairs. Though i still maintain that stairs help you lose those extra fat and is healthier. :-)

Ending with the same hope and anticipation... Will write soon with pictures and new stories.

The best days of my life...

2008-10-31T13:13:00.008+05:30

Time flies, yes it does. Come Saturday and my life would take a complete turn. Its been eight fulfilling years in Delhi… and it seems as if it was yesterday when Animesh and Sushmita had come to pick me at the station. If I sit back and reflect then the last three years were undoubtedly the best years of my life… and my days at Nielsen cannot be compared to anything.. the place where I met you all.. each one of you have a very special place in my life. We have had n number of round table conference about what I thought of each one of you and what would I miss about you all.. I kept quiet all along. No better way to express it through this blog. This will remain with me forever.

It’s so vivid. The day I met Shivani at vasant vihar Barista for the first time. And I wanted some chutti before I joined Nielsen… But she did not budge. Messages and messages and messages… she loves doing that.. kept on saying that there are loads of projects so I need to come immediately. So there I was at Nielsen on 6th June. It wasn’t all that bad. I already knew couple of people.. Pratibha used to come to the office at 11 those days.. So I met her the very first day. Shivani, Deepika, Pratibha and me… that was us in those days. And since then the team has just been growing.

Shivani was brilliant with her work. Exceptional. I traveled with her twice to Mumbai. I was always the quiet self. She was so full of life. At times her exuberance is unbelievable. Would admit that I wasn’t close to Shivani at that time. The ‘finger’ episode just changed all the equation. Spooky as it may sound today, but its true. I had seen Shivani in my dream before I broke those two fingers of mine. How would I forget that day. Clumsy me!! Shivani, thank you for all your love and support. I owe a lot to you. Remember the five things we had promised to do this year…I know I wasn’t successful in achieving all, but atleast I tried. the most memorable event of our association would be your phone call when I was in the hospital ( typhoid). That typhoid bout made me realize that I had no right to hurt people who loved me so much. Shivani, I would stick to those 5 resolution. Promise.

Now comes my sweet little team- Smriti swarup ( singh rathod, saxena, XYZ), Simeran Suri and Richa Rai. God. I will miss you both so much. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”.. if were to operate without any boundary of times then trust me we would die debating and would debate in our graves too!!! Remember senior citizen!! Phew…And remember that day at CCD.. and the uncle and aunt..there is something about that CCD.. Infact our second visit to that same outlet was no different. Am sure Smriti that you don’t remember anything. The three couples…. Kuch yaad aaya… The good thing is that all three of us really bonded well. Simeran and me were very close from our synovate days.. and I was blessed to have you with me again..Her sense of humour was contagious. Smriti shows some signs of affliction.. I had loads of antibiotics and am therefore safe!! Poor harsh has been the worst prey. Simeran you need to do something about it. Anyways. Simeran, you know that I will always be there for you. And you don’t need to worry about anything

Smriti, you have this rare quality of spreading good vibes all around. Honestly, I haven’t seen any day where you are down and out. Far from cribbing and complaining… I have always seen you smiling. Touchwood. But but but, you also have this rare quality of putting yourself in weird situations. Now that worries me. Isiliye apna tum khayal rakhna and please keep your phone charged. Always.

Then comes Mrinal and Ritanshu…am very fond of both of you. Mrinal, your message today made me teary. We have spent such beautiful times together…Nobody would forget the very first day of Mrinal.. Remember me briefing you and devika that very day on CDA analysis?? Even before you had come Shivani had floated the stories of your ingenuity … and during that briefing you were so quiet. .. I was like… oh God… he is trying to judge me.. am I sounding stupid.. sach mein.!!Bangalore was fun.. the driver.. the rajnikanth movie.,, those funny interviews.. the Richmond fiasco.. wow.. it was so adventurous… and gizmo was even better..kitna maza aaya tha…I know you’ll think about me the day you’ll get rajma chawal.. when anybody would utter this word ‘madrasi’.. the day you’ll break the next chair, the day you’ll get a nice mail from someone… the day you’ll click a nice photograph..the day you would have cold and you would want to drink coke… !!! It would be difficult… remember your last birthday? The bad traffic.. and we did everything to embarrass you…I will miss you too.. All the best.

Ritanshu is cute little sister.. and the two guys in the office are just after her life… god. I will miss all those ‘bhumihar’ and ‘ kanhaiya’ jokes!! Ritanshu I know, the phrase ‘ humko kuch dikh nahin raha’ would be one of the scariest thing you would have heard in the wee hours… No words can thank you enough… Its so funny. Both of us came to Nielsen the same day.. we sat next to each other.. I was so happy to see somebody from Bihar..and then our metro rides…kitni baatein karte they hum.. I remember all my promises.. you’ll get all your chocolates before I go.. You are very bright, and there’s a lot that you have to see in life. So think before taking any decision in life. Tum aage chalkar bahut acha karogi. Am 500% sure about it.

Mona, tum to rockstar ho gayi ho. Am really happy to see the way things have shaped up for you.. You are so confident. And I know this confidence would take you a long way. We have spent so many sleepless nights doing Nestle presentation. Those were the days..!!! Remember the day when I was in Chennai and you had to go for UHT presentation alone.. You made me so proud. But nothing beats TDA. We were literally in the office for several days… and shoppers!! Uski to baat hi na karo… 6 months of shopping! Nice times..

Roohi Vohra. Haven’t spoken to you for long. You need to take care of yourself. You are so sharp and bright…Please make best use of it.. don’t let it go waste. I hope you get everything that you have wished for.

Pallavi, you are really cute.. mujhe tumhe tang karne mein bahut maza aata hai..Am sure none of us would forget ‘dekh lena aaj 1 baje kya hota hai’ J ..Please take care of yourself.. kaam jyada mat karna. Time par ghar jaana.. gussa kam karna…And mail me everyday asking me ‘kitna presentation ho gaya’!!! I will always have the same answer.

Maitreyi, like always I would say the same thing “ sab acha hoga. Don’t worry’.Don’t stress yourself. Be in touch. Btw, Pratibha and me have always felt that you were the prettiest girl in the office.

Shabnam, be in touch. Take care of your health.

Devika and Deeksha, I wish you all the best in everything. Be in touch. Both of you have been working very hard. Take things easy. And call me up whenever you need any help…

Deep Choudhary, Roy is so coy…!!! I know you don’t have even one minute to spare. I wonder who would do your brainwash now. . And please stop instigating harsh about that particular ‘ qual model’… narad mooni ho bilkul. It was real fun being with you. Am sorry, I could never go out for a ‘drink’… Pratibha nahin hoti thee na!! Be in touch. You need some motivating words from someone at regular intervals.

Deepanjan Nag, Prashant Jain, and Roopam, my indica friends... we are never tired taking about Indica.. abt Nary.. abt Soumya...all the best to three of you. Extra wishes for roopam barara.. Would have loved to see the mom in you... khayal rakhna apna.

Aman, gaurika, Neelakshi and Disha- All of you are doing really well.I wish you the very best . Aman, I was always very impressed with you. From Day 1. Admire the excitement you display for even small work. The journey has just started and there’s lot to learn. Unfortunately we were together for a very short. Am sure you’ll enjoy your stint at Nielsen.

Gaurika, the soon to be bride is all in blushes. All the best.

Now something about people who are no longer there in Nielsen. Pradnya, pooja and Saurav. Pradyna, my neigbour for more than a year was my conscience keeper. Very mature and practical. Am sure if you were not there, I would have taken many stupid decisions. Thank you Pradnya.

Sourav, pooja and Richa had fun traveling together to the office.. it was like three children going to the school.. all excited… we laughed and talked about the world..cribbed.. complained.. shared our dreams… fought over kailasha’s song… made fun of RJ’s … and the greatest pleasure was going through the barred cantt road.. and remember that shady restaurant we had gone to in sector 6 and their menu card.. !!
Pooja, no point even saying that I miss you so much… hum log kitni baatein karte they… costa mein, gadi par… phone par raat ke 3 baje, office mein… ghar par… I have seen you going through so much… main kuch din pehle soch rahi thee ki mujhe’ khushi wale aansu’ 3 baar aaye hain. Aur unmein se ek hai wo din jab tumney LSE ke bare mein bataya tha…

Now about two people who I value like no other thing. Pratibha and Harshvardhan. I don’t know how life would be without you two. I just don’t know.
Apart from being my good friend, both of you are wonderful human being. And am blessed to have you in my life..
I still remember the day harsh and me were discussing the CDA RQ… and the next day I told Arpana that he is really difficult… it was so difficult to convince him.. my judgment about you remains the same..but now I know how to handle it.. Very few people can decipher the real harsh.. he is far from being ‘elitist’ ( this debate would never end).. Very sharp and conscientious… bossy too.. have I refused you for anything??? Except for Metro?? Not actually. I am scared of you. I shudder doing anything that would upset you.. you have been so patient with me.. between two of us, you are more mature and practical… and for every small little thing I have come to you… and you always had some perspective… If I have taken such a drastic step today then it primarily because of you. I wouldn’t have done it if you were not there. Not primarily but infact completely because of you. Saba acha hi nahin hai.. it’s because of you that my k-750 died an early death… Tum maantey hi nahin is baat ko. !! Khair.. as always, I will be my obedient best.

Pratibha Jain Mathur. Well she is just close to perfect. A very very very good friend. I know you’ll miss me lots.. L par tumne mujhe roka bhi nahin. I will miss so many things about you..our coffee – tea.. ( lately chaas and neembu paani) sessions, CCDs Bandstand.. raat mein… hum kitni baatein kartey hain!! Hum dono bilkul ek jaise hain (except you being more intelligent ) our dreams are similar.. we like similar things.. our values are identical.. kabhi kabhi dono ke ‘shirts’ bhi bilkul ek jaise ho jaate hain!!! I open up to very few people… and undoubtedly, I haven’t spoken as much to anybody as I have with you. Love you lots.

Thank you all of you. I will miss you all. A lot.

Chotu Singh’s Epitaph… “If it takes forever, I will wait for you”

2008-06-28T00:23:00.014+05:30

In memory of 'chotu singh'....

Chotu woke up suddenly in the middle of the night.. drenched in sweat… frightful eyes.. and then he said to himself….. thank god, it was a dream. Held both his hand tightly.. Would never let him go, said he to himself..

That was chotu. Chotu singh.. People all around loved him.. though, his personality was characterized by contradictions. Few thought he epitomized tranquility and few others would laugh talking about his ‘natkhat harkatein’.. Attentive and yet lost… blank and yet wanting to say thousand words… dreamy but within the realm of realism…ordinarary and yet extraordinary... that was chotu..

It was one of those days when he was sitting alone by the river, hurling stones and watching those ripples.. lost in his thoughts.. weaving stories.. painting pictures… and smiling to himself… and then he felt that somebody was staring him all this while… he looked in that direction.. and exchanged smiles.. Not knowing that this one moment would change his life dramatically.. This was just the beginning..

Days passed.. both of them were best of friends now… withstanding all the differences.. he saw his father in him… Felt protected, secure.. wanted…daring to do anything… not an inkling of fear in sight when chotu was with him..Chotu loved him, and so did he.. at least it seemed so.. He would do all the stuff for chotu as he would have done for his child.. telling him stories.. walk with him, holding his hand.. play with hairs.. buy him an ice-cream after his numerous pleads.. Chotu too took care of everything.. Things were all so perfect… and Chotu was never so happy.. He had got his father.. somebody whom he looked upto.. somebody whom he would love unconditionally… somebody who would never leave him, come what may..somebody who would be there to share all his sorrows and pains ... somebody who would be with him while climbing the highest mountains or even the escalators..somebody whose mere presence is so comforting that all other worries, impediments and tensions appear to be trivial and surmountable..He was so happy.. wasn't he God's chosen child?? He would ask himself and smile...

But it was not to be… you forgot. Chotu lived in an unreal world… A world which is susceptible to destruction..

And his foster father ( for lack of better word) had to go back to the real world.. that the real world was not for people like chotu.. that he was a misfit there.. He had to go back to his real world where people were far more smart and exciting.. .. he was here just for a vacation.. a leisure trip and chotu was no more than a chance encounter..

Chotu should learn now that the world is beyond his dreams. And he must grow up now.. said he to himself.. He was sad too.. told him that he would keep in touch.. that he would send him chocolates.. his favourite video games... et al.. Chotu could not listen to any of these words...

Chotu pleaded.. Chotu prayed.. said, he would do everything that would please him.. will stop eating maggi completely.. would learn tables till 30.. would come first in the class.. would never be stubborn.. would never lose his sketch pens and tiffins.. he would sleep at 9 at night and get up at 5 in the morning.. he would do all XYZ that would make him gel in his 'real' world..He was ready to do everything that would make them stay together..

But the chasm between the real and unreal world was so wide that it could not be filled by these trivial things… he wondered.. thought.. contemplated.. what should he do to make things the same.. He left one day with this thought that his chotu singh would grow to reality.. That was his mistake… Yes, chotu went back to the normal life.. he played with all those friends.. laughed.. scored well .. won awards..

... but wept inconsolably by the river where he met him first.. Aloud and with those hopeful eyes ( or hopeless) ..the eyes that searches for him… yes, he was alive,sans the glint in his eyes.. He still loves him like never before..irrespective of his presence or absence....

There were no bad dreams ever again… as he slept with his eyes open..

The mornings were not bad. He was the same chotu to the world… but died each day, silently. And yes. He does not dream any longer..

I have a dream...

2008-06-23T14:52:00.003+05:30

We can very well categorise all the emotion into positive and negative... but what about 'hope'.. When Pandora opened her box, then was hope also seen as evil or does it symbolise that hope is the only way to get comfort from all evil.. I would go with the latter.. hope was not released to wreak havoc on humanity, but remained in the box for there is always hope to heal.. hope for things to change.. true, it leads to delusion but it also gives you the strength to move forward.. esp if it's about hoping to get something that you really want. I will not sit and sulk.. but i'll not even give up. Once you choose hope, anything's possible. so says Martin L king - If you lose hope, somehow you lose the vitality that keeps life moving, you lose that courage to be, that quality that helps you go on in spite of it all. And so today I still have a dream.

So dear friend, you might hate the dreamy side of me but let me tell you that hope is what keeps me going. but yeah, I shall not hope beyond reasons..let me hope to be successful till there is even .5% chance. God, bless me.

Selling janani janmbhoomi

2008-06-14T08:41:00.006+05:30

An unusual Saturday morning!! Got up at seven, amidst thoughts and memories of this small sleepy town, munger or if I want to give it an ‘Anglican’ touch then spelt as Monghyr- A place which evokes strong sense of belongingness and passion..A place where i was born.. a place where where i have grown up...I wonder if I am more passionate about any other thing..

Sensorially it takes me to a completely different world.. a world which does not have any parallel ..

So what do I see when I think of this place… the endless ganga nadi…( erstwhile..) the orange gulmohar flowers..the red gurhuls... the yellow 'kanel' the all so spacious rickshaw..urvashi’s palatial house( grew up believing that no house can be more magnificent than this)..the friday crowd of Mazar.. ( it always saw more of Hindus).. the unique movie posters

And if it comes to smell then the sweet smell of ‘harsingar’ lingers all around॥ the dhoop- agarbatti.. the smell of that weird insect called ‘gandhi’!!! and the 'malda' aam..

Sounds… well, nothing can compare to this॥ the sound of the ‘koyal’ in those sleepy afternoons॥ when was the last time I heard that!! new movie release announcement ..." shukravaar ko shaam ke chaar baje neelam takij mein aakar dekhiye ghar ke sansaar"

Hmmm.. and the taste aspect… all mungerian’s would swear by munger’s chaat.. Arjun’s ‘jhalmmooori’.. the multi myriads preparation on navmi of durga pooja..

Well these are the strongest associations for me… Munger transcends these associations.. As Harsh says, Munger for him just ‘mungerilaal’ and my facial expression at those moments says.. ‘how ignorant your are’… and then I open my pandora’s box… the quintessential signifiers of Munger’s glory in my eyes…

“Do you know that Munger is anga Pradesh” I would ask?
“What’s that”?? is the typical answer..
“What.. you don’t know this… it was karna’s kingdom’’

And what about Munger… is it more than a cowshed… ??

And then I would rattle on..

“ Munger has a yogashram… people come from across the world to this place… and then you have ITC.. SCRA is there in jamalpur.. and then probably the biggest railway workshop of India.. the gymkhana.. they even have a golf ground.. . and Ramdhari Singh Dinkar.”

Phew.. so much to tell people that Munger is not just about ‘mungerilaal’

I love Munger :-)

मौन शब्द

2008-06-13T22:21:00.005+05:30

हम और तुम

पृथ्वी के दो छोर

खड़े अलग अलग कोनो में दोनों मौन.

पाषाण ह्रदय तुम्हारा, और अकुलाता मन मेरा॥

अधरों के सीमित होते स्मित...

आंखो में नीर के दो बूँद

स्वर के संसार में

शब्द होते जा रहे लुप्त॥

जलते हुए दिए,

अब धुंधले होते जा रहे॥

मेरे कच्चे आँगन के..

पद छाप आधे रह गए॥

किया प्रयास कर पूर्ण अर्धव्यास..

मन में है बस धूमिल होती आस॥

कुछ और नीर बह जाएगा॥

वृत्त का केन्द्र क्या सूना ही रह जाएगा?

ऋचा

nosce te ipsum

2008-06-13T22:07:00.006+05:30

omnia causa fiunt

Everything happens for a reason

quod me nutrit me destruit

What nurishes me also destroys me

The first man in my life…

2008-04-27T00:45:00.002+05:30

Yes, this is for him.. thirty years of existence and he was there with me for close to 24 years..

But before I write about him, I must talk about my current assignment. It’s about senior citizen and am so excited about it.. This would go down in the history as my favourite project…. This blog would now be devoted to elderly’s for some time now..

Coming back to the first man in my life…Initial few years of my life were spent in a fairly large family, at my maternal grand parent’s place. At any given moment, there were not less than 25 people at home. And this huge family was headed by my nanaji or babuji.. who raised his seven children, watched his twelve grandchildren grow up, and got to even see one great grand daughter..
A lawyer of par excellence, he was known for his vast knowledge, his honesty and integrity and above all his fiery temperament. And there was never any deviation from this disposition, except of course when he was with his grand children and particularly five of us. With Papa, away at ship most of the times, we were answerable to babuji for most of the thing.. be it taking permission to go out, or to show our report cards etc..His fondness for five of us was extra ordinary…worthy enough to be an object of jealously ( His own children and other grandchildren!!!)

Today, when I sit back and think of him then I realize that his peculiarities never changed.. My first memories of babuji dates back to early 80’s Surprisingly, the way I picture him in early 80’s and the way I see him in early 2000 is very much the same ( except signs of old age). Nothing changed ever.. his quintessential white dhoti, kurta, lathi, paan ka dabba, his diary writing fetish. His over underlined newspaper, his spider like handwriting… his obduracy .. his staple diet of ‘doodh roti’, his sarauta ( betel nut cutter)..His hearing aid device.. his conversations of ‘mukadma and khet’... Yes.. nothing changed..!! Even in his nineties, he never gave up, strong man, as he was.

Just trying to recollect the trivia’s… The only movie he had seen was the one which starred Ashok kumar and Devika Rani… and 8.30 for him was ‘samachar’ time.. when the TV was at its loudest volume…later when we shifted to our fort area house then he would visit us regularly.. proximity to local court made things easier..And his arrival was action packed… the entire neighborhood knew that he was around..Even before knocking the door or ringing the bell, one could hear him say.. “ pratibha.. sona .. nina… panna.. Ruchi.. champak…” And then he would read all the newspaper.. and then the chai time with spoonful of chini… and if it was less by even an ounce then one was a bad tea maker.. so he had his preferred set of grand daughter who made nice tea.. ( Yes, I was one of them)

All five of us were extremely close to him… quite capable of waging a war against any one who tried to hurt him in any ways.. there wasn’t a day when he wouldn’t have his dinner with Sushmita.. The only person who had the dexterity to cut his nail was Ruchi.. So much so that when Ruchi came to Delhi to study, he would wait for her to come back for months!!My brother would have lost his cool, if he had to put up with anybody as adamant as him, but with Babuji, his patience overflowed. They made the perfect ‘ nana- nati’ combination..

For me, he was more than just a grand father… at that point of time, all I did was to make him happy and proud. Even in his nineties he used to write his inspiring letter.. the frail hand was shaky by then.. and it was quite a strenuous task to decipher those precious words.. but he continued writing those letters till his end.. Munger visit in early 2000 meant only meeting babuji… and every time I met him, I could see his teary eyes.. He knew his end was close and thought that perhaps that was our last meeting.. I would get restless, as there was a lot that I had to do for him..I started working in 2002 May.. His first grand daughter who had started working.. I had to meet him... I had to tell him personally that his ‘nina’ would work now.. I had see his eyes.. ten days after that I went to Munger..and I can never forget that smiling eyes.. he could barely get up at that time.. I had taken his favourite white colored dhoti- kurta for him.. he got up.. smiled.. took out his diary.. got all the details and wrote them in his diary..And then he told me again then I would not see him again.. He was right.. two months later he passed away.

Babuji remains and would remain an integral part of our lives. His presence is intertwined with thirty years of my life.. Now that I’ll get to meet so many grand parents in couple of days, I’ll relive my days with him.

2008-04-26T15:44:00.003+05:30

Some latin....

Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.

I love and I hate...why should I do this, perhaps you ask
I do not know, but i feel that it is happening and I am in torment..

Tears

2008-04-23T23:20:00.000+05:30

The tears of men are dear, but only when they fall do you know their true meaning:-A tribute for someone who has left an indelible mark on my mind:-

I was already late for the flight.. was nervous and was sure that I would miss it. Didn’t want to stay back in Mumbai and anxiously prayed for flight to get delayed. Was blessed. Got the middle seat, sandwiched between two men. Didn’t feel like reading anything and was just staring here and there. Scanned through ‘ The Week’. There wasn’t much to read.. I thought, what am I going to do for another 2 hours.. was getting restless. Took out another magazine. Had read them in the morning itself. How I wished for the window seat. Atleast I could have slept. I had not much choice except for closing my eyes and think about ‘nothing’.

Suddenly my thoughtless thoughts were broken by this husky voice- “ Can I have the ‘Time’ magazine please.” The man at the window seat addressed the air hostess. And then it occurred to me that even he did not have anything better to do.. He waited for few minutes but didn’t get the magazine. He looked at me and said, “ Seems she does not remember it”. I smiled back..

He wasn’t hungry.. He asked for an apple…. Again to the same air hostess.. poor he.. she was one forgetful soul.. I smiled again. I don’t remember, how and when exactly did I break into this conversation with him.. but then yeah, if today I think of it then I recollect that I had already WASTED some 45 minutes by not talking to him. It was a normal conversation which one can have with a co-passenger.. about work.. and I guess only about work.. and then he said something which has caught my attention till date.. something that spoke about his genuinity, about his softness.. about his being so very different from other men… “I can’t hold back my tears watching sentimental movies… esp the karan jauhar’s one” I smiled again. Not that I am big fan of KJ.. but then here I met a man,perhaps first time in my life who not only admitted watching the movies and liking them but also getting affected by them.. Men, to be sure, probably shed fewer tears at the movies than women. But that doesn't mean they're not as vulnerable to emotionalism. Male tears are generally seen as a sign of weakness, a failure of macho values and the control of passions is the essence of masculinity and gentility. And here I met this person who not only sheds this superficial garb but admits being a part of it.. Must say that I was touched.. and then I thought, today all of us are so very entrenched in the rat race that all we yearn for is materialism and success. These subtle values, which give us inner happiness is lost somewhere, and we don’t even realize it.

Felt good that I met a person who irrespective of being high up at the ladder felt so differently. No, that certainly does not describe him completely. There are various other aspects of his personality… an intelligent man, who had opinions on everything.. a protective family man.. and a very very nice person.I could go on and on with this but enough already. Regretted at those 35 wasted minutes.

Remembering you... in memory of Jha Ji

2008-04-18T22:42:00.005+05:30

It was one of those abnormal morning.. one of those rare days when I was in a chirpy mood early morning…donning my new ‘Mango’ top, nice straight hair.. kajal in my eyes…and then 1 hour long drive with pooja to office,.. overall I was back to my normal days after a long period of illness.. and I was liking it..

But things were not the same in the office… things had changed two days back and I was not even aware of it. When Harsh told me that Jha ji was no more, I was stunned… shocked,.,speechless.. bewildered!!!.. Jha ji, the office guard who used to stay in the office at night. Jha ji, who is remembered today for his soft intonation, smiling face.. But for me wasn’t he more than that?? Yes, he was. And the sad part is that I realize this when he is no longer with us,,

The day was passing by … I was sad and shocked.. yes.. just sad and shocked..Not a tear trickled down..had my lunch like any nomal day.. went out with pratibha in the evening.. and God, I was just sad and shocked.. nothing more than that!! How insensate and blasé’ I had become.. and deep down I hated myself for it

It was around 9.30 PM when it finally hit me.. when I didn’t see him at his usual place.. and then I realized he wasn’t there.. on my way back to home, I just cried and cried,. And that entire night my eyes were moist. And then I realized that he was like a father figure to me.. I still remember the first day when he walked up to me and had asked.. “ Aap Munger se hain……” The only other person who had similar bright gleam in his eyes was probably papa… He was from Bhagalpur… a town close to Munger where I have grown up.. ( a big enough reason for that solidaity) and post that day, I can’t think of any day when I missed that twinkle…Everyday he would walk up to me to ask how I was… Would make sure that there was a cab for me if I got late ( he knew how careless I am).. At times would ask me to get married and take it easy.. He was so thrilled when he got to know that ‘richa ki shaadi ho rahi hai’…realizing it later that it wasn’t me but the other Richa..!! Very few people knew that he was well educated and well read..had a wonderful family and despite that he came to work to as it gave a meaning to his life..

This makarsankranti, he got chuda dahi and tilwa from me…( Bihar specialty for the sankranti festival)and whenever he had his favourite ‘sattu ka paratha’ he would definitely mention it to me. I met him last on Tuesday when he was waiting for me in the office as I was going back to work after a long time post my illness.. I could barely talk to him at that time as I was still very weak… he just mentioned .. “ hum aapka hi wait kar rahe they.. itney din baad aap aaye..” God… !! I never saw him again after that..

Today when I look back and recollect then I find that he was always there for me.. always..His demise has taught me one thing… that I need to be more responsible for people around me.. who have given me so much of love.. anything an happen to anybody anytime and we should always thank people who show so much of love and care in whatever way we can.. Jha ji, I’ll always miss you. Always.

कलम आज उनकी जय बोल

2008-03-29T17:09:00.010+05:30

कलम आज उनकी जय बोल ( दिनकर)

जो अगणित लघु दीप हमारे,

तूफानों में एक किनारे

जल जलाकर बुझ गए किसी दिन

माँगा नहीं स्नेह मुँह खोल

पीकर jinke लाल शिखाएं

उगल रही लपट दिशाएं

जिनके सिंघनाद से सहमी

धरती रही अभी तक dol

कलमआज उनकी जय बोल

( Please forgive me for some transliterations)

2008-03-29T17:09:00.007+05:30

मधुशाला ( ५ से १० रुबाइयाँ)

मधुर भावनाओं की सुमधुर

नित्य बनता हूँ हाला

भरता हूँ इस मधु से अपने

अन्तर का प्यासा प्याला;

उठा कल्पना के हाथों से

स्वयं इसे पी जाता हूँ;

अपने ही में हूँ मैं साकी

पीने वाला, मधुशाला। (५)

मदिरालय जाने को घर से

चलता है पीनेवाला,

'किस पथ से जाऊं?' असमंजस

में है वह भोलाभाला;

अलग अलग पथ बतलाते सब

पर मैं यह बतलाता हूँ-

'राह पकड़ तू एक चला चल,

पा जाएगा मधुशाला। (६)

चलने ही चलने में कितना

जीवन, हाय, बीता डाला।

'दूर अभी है' पर, कहता है

हर पथ बतलानेवाला;

हिम्मत है न बढूँ आगे को,

साहस है न फिरूं पीछे;

किन्कर्ताव्यविमुध मुझे कर

दूर खड़ी है मधुशाला। (७)

मुख से तू अविरत कहता जा

मधु, मदिरा, मादक हाला,

हाथों में अनुभव करता जा

एक ललित कल्पित प्याला

ज्ञान किए जा मन में सुमधुर,

सुखकर, सुंदर साकी का;

और बाशा चल, पथिक, न तुझको

दूर लगेगी मधुशाला। (८)

मदिरा पीने की अभिलाषा

ही बन जाए जब हाला,

अधरों की आतुरता में ही

जब आभासित हो प्याला,

बने ध्यान ही करते करते

जब साकी साकार, सके,

रहे न हाला, प्याला, साकी

तुझे मिलेगी मधुशाला। (९)

सुन, कलकल, छलछल मधु-

घाट से गिरती प्यालों में हाला,

सुन, रुनझुन, रुनझुन चल,

वितरण करती मधु साकीबाला;

बस आ पहुंचे, दूर नही कुछ

चार कदम अब चलना है;

चहक रहे, सुन, पीनेवाले,

महक रही ले, मधुशाला। (१०)

Semiotics of color (2)

2008-03-26T22:38:00.020+05:30

"Lal rang ki lalima..."

What better color than red to start with.. Red has more personal associations than any other color. Recognized as a stimulant, red is inherently exciting and the amount of red is directly related to the level of energy perceived.
Went back to my school days when we were studying alankar…and how kabir beautifuly has out in his doha..Laali Mere Laal Ki,Jith Dekhu Tith Laal…Laali Dekhan Mein Gayee,..Mein Bhi Ho Gayee Laal… Think of Red and you can think of so many things.. God!! Its mindboggling... ‘blood’, ‘roses’ ‘ apples’ ‘Ferrari’ ‘Colgate’ ‘ Fire’ ‘ Sharm se lal hona ‘.. ‘ gussey mein aankein lal karna.. .. ‘Red soil..’ Red Indians’ ‘ Red carpet welcome..’..’ red letter day’.. ‘ye lal rang kab mujhe chodega..’!! Oh, and I also thought of ‘Red’ starring Celina and aaftab.. then ‘red light..’.. “painting the town red’ ‘ Red tapism’ ‘ Red herring’’ vermillion’.. ‘little red riding hood’..Airtel.. Vodafone.. Levi’s.. mastercard.. virgin.. Wills, Yahoo…danger.. passion… Phew….!!!! Let me sleep over it tonight…Need to delve into it.. will be back tomorrow.

2008-03-26T22:38:00.018+05:30

A very nice day… how often would I be woken up by pratibha in life.. rarity!! I open my eyes and I see her.. I thought I was dreaming… and then we chatted at the weirdest hour.. yes, early morning at 8.. thank you Pratibha for coming down…And then off I was to treat myself.. straightened hair.. a new top.. and what else.. and then the coffee time with Pooja.. am sure, neither of us would ever forget this day in our life.. God!! Eerie it was..And am really liking the ipod shuffle that my cute little sister has given..Am really happy.. and it shows.. quite a contrast from day before when all you could hear the feeble voice of a bedridden girl… and hear the harp now..

Color factory

2008-03-26T22:38:00.013+05:30

Color Factory

Talking of colors, i must write about color factory at Gurgaon.. once upon a time it was our favourite haunt.. ' our' as in Nupur, Pooja and me..
So what is this place all about?? As you can see in the pictures, you get lot of stuff made of porcelain.. one can paint on it the way one wants to. Colour factory gives the colour, the brush..you even have books to get references for your designs.... once the thing gets made, it is then baked and glazed..a place where you can make nice personalised gift.. where you can send your kids on weekends.. one can even celebrate birthdays over there ( Remember Nupur!!!) So planning to surprise your best friend with a wonderful gift this time?? you know where you need to go this time..

Semiotics of colors (1)

2008-03-26T22:38:00.011+05:30

Was just flipping through a magazine and then stopped at Bravia’s ad section.. so much for the colors!! Rightfully so.. think of India as a country and you think of colors and vibrancy that it exudes.. Jaipur, Holi, Bandhani Sarees, khatakali, rangoli, chania, choli, bangles.. the kites… phew!! I can go on and on and there won’t be an end to it…it was then I decided that I need to do some work on it… what’s the significance of all these colours in our life.. how do we decode it.. what does it stand for.. let me just discover that..

There has been phenomenal change in the way have accepted various colors in our day to day life…Remember the last time you bought home the ‘white colored tooth paste’.. ; coloring hair in pink and violets.. and didn’t we grow up believing that formal wear is all about whites and blues.. until we had Friday dressing..and didn’t you see woman folk flaunting their attitude with their pink Motorazr…and ask me how fascinated I am with the vaio colored series!!! Well… so are we ready for colors in all walks of life.. or are there certain areas where the established colors are sacrosanct??

Well, am going to spend some time on this for the next few days…

2007-02-04T14:37:00.001+05:30

From your daughter...

I strongly believe in the causal nature of the world. There is a reason behind every event in our lives… past few days I have been in a reflecting mode… trying to ponder over lot of relationships… and yes I missed You.. no day starts with you as a first thought. No loss can ever be this big… . Losing you was the biggest fear… With time I started believing that you were immortal and nothing can take you away from us.. . yes, forgot that we were only humans..

It seems as if it was yesterday… Jan 2004- April 2004. The only month where I have spent time with you. .. the only months when I actually had any kind of conversations with you.. You came and stayed with us cos how could I have lived my life with blank memories.. those few days are the only days when I had my breakfast in my life.. how could I have refused you…the clothes you ironed before I went to the office.. you opening the door when I was back… the evening tea….

But often wonder as to why did you want to go back to Munger.. I was getting irritated… I wish I could have stopped you… I got signs but I could never understand them… I was the last person to get the ticket that day.. I wish the counter got closed before I got the ticket.. I fractured my leg the very same day.. but why didn’t it stop you from going.. after all you could never see your daughters in pain.. Why couldn’t even that stop you.. If only I could have stopped you from going...

26th April was the day when you left us. I still remember the evening before when you had called us up.. You sounded so concerned.. didn’t know that I would never ever talk to you again.. .

One night, I was feeling down and dejected after some unpleasant incident or other… I felt so alone and unloved I silently cried myself to sleep. I dreamt of Him. He was inside my room, bending over my bed, kissing me on the cheek. I woke up with a start and could almost feel warmth on my cheek where he’d kissed me, as if he’d really been there.
Had he been? Or was it my imagination?

I didn’t go back to sleep immediately but stared at the darkness, thinking about my dream. I remember how sad I was when I’d gone to sleep. Then I realized – or was it my subconscious telling me that I was loved? – that I was just overreacting. Or maybe Papa sensed my sadness and wanted to comfort me, to tell me that he continues to love me even though he’s gone. My heart believed the latter. I thought of him, of how much I missed him. I cried again as the old grief resurfaced but, at that moment, I felt so close to him, so loved by him, and this comforted me… I went back to sleep, no longer with a heavy heart. I often see you in in my dreams..and they make me feel that you are always there with me...
I know tou are just a loving thought away, for as Thornton Wilder wrote: "There is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning." I know you would never want to see the weaker side of your Nina. That, you are very much around me and would always take care of me.. The only regret that I have is that I could not do anything for you...

2006-11-05T22:24:00.002+05:30

CHENNAI WOES'

If there is something that can defame Chennai, its the Auto-rickshaw flavour of it. Sick. Chennai auto-drivers are beyond being unreasonable. They have no logic in deriving a rate for a drive. They wont agree to turn-on their Meters, and even if they do, the meter's run faster than the Auto itself. You hardly find some auto driver who will not cheat.

Few of the regular public develop special skills to bargain and many win. But most of the new comers in Chennai suffer from cheap-quality cheating. Especially when you are in need to find an Auto at night ("Night" in Chennai means any minute after 7.45 PM) you will need extra-ordinary bargaining skills.
"Saar, Night Hours sir.. I should return empty saar.." - Few auto drivers state silly reasons for the high-rate. Few of them are even adamant. As if they dont care loosing a passenger. There are umpteen number of reasons- why they will deny you a service, or why they will ask you for more money. Some udaharan
1. Night Hours = More money
2. Remote Places = Have to travel back empty = more money
3. Short Distances = Cant come.
4. Petrol prices go up = More money
5. Heavy Traffic = More Money..
6. One extra yard= More money
7. 2 minute wait= Extra Extra money
8. Ask the address from someone= ( They are reluctant to do that.. and if do then it comes at an extra cost)

So, a journey to Chennai always comes with this painful package!!!

2006-11-05T21:55:00.002+05:30

Sita would never die...

Circa- August 2005, Mumbai airport was undergoing renovation. Everything was chaotic and to make the matter worse it was raining heavily. I came out, drenched in rain looking for an auto..I have always been at loggerheads with auto drivers for some unreasonable reasons ( presumably cos’ of bad experiences in every other cities, though Mumbai autowalla are considerably the best ones)..

So there I was on the road looking for the right auto.. Negotiated with few, but knew they were overcharging. Then I heard a NON- MUBAIYA HINDI. Struck me immediately that he is from eastern UP. I have this knack of juggling between my UP and Bihar identity. I boarded that auto as I was getting late. Didn’t know till that time that this small auto ride would be mind wracking.

I get quite excited when I get to hear Hindi in the familiar Bhojpuri accent.. Feel more at home and immediately connect to that person. I don't remember his face at all. Neither do i know his name. He was from Azamgarh. Was rebuilding his life after the infamous Mumbai rains in which he had almost lost his everything. Had bought a chawl and was staying with his family and had not visited Azamgarh for the last 5 years.. He was sad of not being able to visit his village… But for that fateful rain, he had plans to go there. ..the entire family was trying their best to get back to their normal life- post the horrendous rains. His wife was taking tuitions. Apparently she had done her graduation and was 'quite smart' in his words. One could easily sense the pride in his voice..But that alone was not a reason for pride.. there was two other genius in his family. His elder son doing his B-tech from IIT kanpur and the younger was always stood first in the class..And he as a provider worked day in and day out to see that all their needs are fulfilled.

But that was not everything..he wanted to say many more thing.. one could easily sense the pain in his voice.. I wondered..- “ bahot tyag kiya hai in bacchon key liye”.. ( Have sacrificed a lot for these two kids). “ Meri ek aur patni hai aur wo ma-babuji key sath gaon mein reht hai” (I have one more wife in the village and she stays with my parent). My head started spinning.. what is he saying.. And then I could sense the lump in his throat. “ Uskey karan hi humko fir sey shaadi karni padi. Hum uska sath nahin chodna chahtey they par wo nahin maani” ( I had to get married because of her. I didn’t want to leave her but she did not relent). Apparently she was not able to conceive and for the want of their own child she forced her husband into re-marriage. He married his wife’s sister and the ‘smart wife’ was actually his first wife’sister.

Now I knew that all those movies based on polygamy and all so sacrificing wife were not based on some baseless assumptions. He referred his first wife as “ devi” ( goddess) but was it worth it. She lost her everything. All relationships that existed in her life was wiped off. Her husband still claims to love her but has not met her for the last 5 years. What did she get in her life.. there, she was.. the modern day sita who sacrificed her all for her husband’s happiness.. Perhaps, that is all she wanted in her life.

2006-08-17T17:23:00.003+05:30

Me and my various shades....
As a kid wanted to be owner of a shop selling candies ( SO that I had the freedom to eat as much as I wished for)… When in college, wanted to own a petrol pump … guess for what.. so that I could smell the petrol day in and day out

Unimaginable things that I have put in my mouth- chalk, paper, Mitti..

Have slept continuously for 24 hours at a stretch.. and when it comes to the record of being awake then its been 73 hours!!

My day is determined by number of myna I see in the morning..and this is something I strongly believe in .. eventually I end up seeing 1 myna everyday..

I m veggie and i have been for 14 years.

i like putting dots after sentences, like this... usually 3 dots, sometimes more.

My favourite word is ‘hmmm, acha’.

I am terribly uncoordinated and unorganised

I have a phobia of creepy creatures...earthworms..snakes...

I love to take afternoon 'nanna' naps in the sun in winters…and in a dark room in summers…

I love summers, and yes love the feel of sweat!!!…

i hate perfection in people or things, imperfection is interesting...

When i'm depressed or irritated or angry with someone close to me then i am keep quiet.

Love 'green chillies'

love getting drenched in rains.. and the smell of mitti tempts me beyond control…

Hate carrying umbrellas…

I m a hopeless romantic and a dreamer and i always will be..

For me these lines “Dopahar ki dhoop mein woh tere nange paaoon aanaa...” epitomizes romanticism .

I m spontaneous, creative and yet clumsy and you can't change me!

Settled life unsettles me..seek lot of adventure in life..

Like husky voice..jaise… farhan akhtar.. bipasha basu.. malvika tiwari...

Have an unusual cravings for 'jalebis" on certain days...

'BLUE' is the colour of my life.. myriad shades.. and has calming effect...

To be continued….

2006-08-14T12:08:00.002+05:30

Raat yun kehney laga mujhsey gagan ka chand

Raat yun kehney laga mujhsey gagan ka chand

Aadmi bhi kya anokha jeev hota hai

Uljhaney apni banakar aap hi fansta

Aur fir bechain ho jagta, na sota hai

Jaanta hai tu ki main kitna purana hoon

Main chuka hun dekh manu ko janamtey martey

Aur lakho baar tujh sey paaglo ko bhi

Chandni mein baith swapno par sahi kartey

Aadmi ka swapna hai? Hai wah bulbula jal ka

Aaj uthta aur kal fir foot jaaa hai

Kintu fir bhi dhanya, thahra aadmi hi to

Bulbulon sey khelta, kavita banta hai

Main na bola kintu meri ragini boli

Dekh fir sey chand! Mujhko jaanta hai tu?

Swapna merey bulbule hain? Hai yahi paani?

Main na wah jo swapna par kewal sahi kartey,

Aag mein usko gala loga banata hoon

Aur uspar neev rakhti hoon naye ghar ki

Is terah deewar fauladi uthata hoon

Manu nahin, manu putra hai yeh saamney, jiski

Kalpana ki jeebh mein bhi dhaar hoti hai

Ban ( arrow) hi hotey vicharo key nahin kewal

Swapna key bhi hath mein talwaar hoti hai

Swarga key samrath ko jakar khabar de

Roz hi aakash chadtey ja rahe hain we

Rokiye jaise baney in swapna walo ko

Swarga ki hi oor ( towards) badhtey aa rahe hain we (them)

Ramdhari singh dinkar

2006-08-12T04:50:00.004+05:30

It was one of those days when I was back to my hotel room after a day long of work in Mumbai. Three focus group discussions in a day leave one weary and dead by the end of the day. I just wanted to catch some Z’s, not even wanting to eat something..
But then I looked out of the window.. life was at its full swing outside the window.. Sunday evening had made this place even more colorful. Juhu Chaupati was at its best, atleast from what I had seen. I thought it would be criminal to sit back and lose out to these beautiful moments.

So there I was at one of the open air dhaba in 2 minutes.. completely oblivious of the entire fatigue that had gripped me some 5 minutes back..and then gradually the hunger also surfaced..loved that spectacle.. Young couples walk along the tide hand in hand, families pose for photos at the sea-side and others simply strolling.. happiness.. gaiety was the underlying emotion.. and the unpredictable tide just added that extra bit spice to the overall scenario..
And then I saw this girl with that unusual glint in her eyes which was hard to miss. Must have been 12-13 yrs old.. with her was her case stocking blocks, mehndi designs.. cones and all that. She wanted me to go for it but I wasn’t that keen.. but we broke into conversation.. generally chitchatting about her and her work.. She had lost that initial bit of inhibitions. Then she asked me if I had eye-shadow with me!!! I was taken aback.. off all things on earth she was asking me for eye- shadow. My answer in negative kind of disheartened her.. but I was more intrigued by the fact as to why did she want that.. Apparently her friend’s sister was to get married and all her friends had elaborate plans for that. They refused to share any of those with this girl and she didn’t know how she would be at her beautiful best. For once I was sad at not having eye-shadow in my bag!! She asked me not less than 10 times to check if it was hiding somewhere in the bag.. and I hated saying no to her every time. Then her interest shifted to Mehndi again.. She wanted me to put some designs.. I got that done and so was she..

I asked her if she wanted to get something to eat.. then together we ate all possible stuff at those stalls..but then I could see that something was amiss. I hated that sight. It was getting too late.. I told her that she her mehndi design was exquisitely beautiful and she should be rewarded for that. I gave her the amount that she wasn’t quite expecting… I wanted her to buy that eye shadow the very next day.. BUT THAT WAS NOT TO BE..She was happy but on the parting note she departed saying that whenever I’ll come there the next time I must bring her an eye-shadow. I smiled and promised her that I would do that.
That was a happy ending of a day which I would have just lost in my deep sleep otherwise. And yes, must not forget to mention her name. She is Sonali.

2006-08-09T01:28:00.002+05:30

My favourite poem- Courtesy- HG Longfellow

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!—
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,—act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.