sravspeak

old friends

2006-10-14T01:16:00.000-07:00

This wednesday I managed to talk to four of my old friends. I have been in touch with Ajay and Yogini off and on but I had totally lost touch with Madhumita and Shekhar. Actually I was suprised when Yogini told me that Shekhar was trying to get in touch with me ``Boss sey baat karni hai'' he had told Yogini and Ajay. Well, that statement brought back so many merry memories of the college days. It has been almost a decade since i hadnt talked to either Shekhar or Madhumita
Shekhar and Madhumita could be described as two totally contrasting personalities - at least they were during our college days
Shekhar - Chandrashekhar Godghate to be precise - was the `rogue' of the class. He would speak in baritone, stare shamelessly at girls and be generally rougish. Of course like it has been all the `characters', I had a pretty nice inter-personal touch with him. I am sure he sometimes tried a bit of flirting with me, though I dont remember him to be very obvious in his efforts. But when he finally called me up this Wedenesday (after I had kept a message for him), he certainly came out open flirting. May be the growing age gave him the needed confidence. He no less proposed me marriage (though he is happily (i guess) married and father of a four year old daughter) and if I was not inclined to that .. a serious affair .. haahahah. I told him that if I felt like I was sure to give him a ring :D But of course it was nice to talk to him and so casually, after so many years.
Now for Madhumita, I always had an idea she was in Mumbai and though I have visited Mumbai thrice in as many years I really did not make effort to get in touch with her. But the sauve, `girlish' girl from college days - one who had so many falling at her feet - raked my memories so often. On the phone she sounded as chirpy as she did ten years ago. She is a mother of 8-year-old boy now and a teacher and a well-settled mumbaite.We really were happy to be talking and promised to be in touch. Hope we keep up to the promise. We also decided that if it was possible, we would attend the golden jubilee of Department of Geology at Nagpur, so that at least some of us could get back in touch.
I really feel sorry for having lost touch with Atul Dhawne. He was my prime `Chela' in college and so dedicated to me. Strange are way's of life, I just know where he is placed, though I am sure he must be doing well. Hope I get back in touch with him too. Soon.

Hectic week and Nikki !

2006-09-18T00:58:00.000-07:00

Last week has been hectic ! The editor, spurred on by the diktats of the new editor-in-chief had the beautiful idea of attending the morning meeting (uhh !) and though it hardly alters the pattern we follow at work, it certainly gave the days a more hectic shade. And damn these issues that have been going on and on .. why can't they find solutions to them so that I can sleep in peace.
But well the most disturbing factor that occured during the week was about Nikki - my gigantic baby-faced nephew. Why the hell should a perfectly healthy 21-year-old strapping young man get afflicted by something as rare as dangerous as the guillean barre syndrome. I was shocked to know he can't move his limbs and thank God though doctors say his case was detected early, it still leaves a very disturbing sense within self. Didi n jeejaji r no doubt worried mad about the health of their only son. He has come back home from hospital on Sunday and I am hopin he gets a quick recovery. I planned to visit mumbai to be with him, but seems its not urgently required, so may be i would space out my visit when its required.
I get along well with this young nephew of mine, who though in that very agressive age is somehow quite genial person around us. His relationship with me is nice. Perhaps cos I am the only unmarried among his uncles and aunts .. he finds me closer to him than others. Me and Nikki went to Goa year before last, just two of us and we had a freaking good time .. him pillion riding me across Goa in not so comfortable sun :)
Am sure we look forward to many more such good times !
Then there has been this depression creeping just on the edges of my being, threatening to set in with full glory. I am holding it off. There is again this feeling of being `unwanted' of `having to let go'. Damn! why do I get myself into such mental situations.
So coming full circle, I actually am thankful that my week remained hectic and that my editor-in-chief decided to call for pulling up of socks :D

U, my love!

2006-09-08T09:39:00.000-07:00

U, My Love,
++++
Dew drops pure of the morning
Gentle salty breeze of the evening
U settled on me, U shivered through me
Transforming my entire being

Like hot erupting lava sometimes it bubbles
Like a nascent stream sometimes it gurgles
But love it is sure, as thru veins it travels
It halves my frowns, smiles it doubles

Up it soars like the sea vapour,
Great it feels like a desired favour,
Deep it reaches like the deepest thought
Sweetest as the taste we savour

Ur love makes me entire
Ur love transcends world
Ur love makes me whole
Ur love makes me pure

whither my `evening show' sleep ?

2006-09-06T10:42:00.000-07:00

Suddenly, since last two weeks, I can't seem to complete my `evening show' sleeping session on Wednesdays - my well awaited weekly off. I have always been proud of my schedule of wednesdays .. mainly the fact that I manage to catch a huge nap between 6.00 pm and 9.00 pm. All my close frnds know about it and no one disturbs me in those hours. It's massive good feeling to sleep at time when u never really can even wink ur eyes on weekdays.
So ? what happened to my beauty(ful) sleep ? :-( last week I just couldn't get even a few minutes and today I had a curtailed version - 5.30 to 7.00. Although I keep in the bed with all the lights off and curtains drawn during the entire period, but well no ! sleep has been lost. I have been kinda waking up with a start, for no apparent reason and can't get back into dreamland. I hope i catch it back .. I don't want to give it up !!!

oroosa's achar!

2006-09-05T02:58:00.000-07:00

Oroosa is a real good cook. The fact that she loves cooking is evident from the taste of her meals. Even the simplest of the stuff tastes great. She made nimbu ka achar few days ago. And her hubby Shams broke all records to get her a glass jar in which its supposed to be stored. She has been pretty worried about the fact that it tasted somewhat bitter. But I tasted the great looking stuff yesterday ! Oh well ! it tastes as good as it looks. Sure there is a tinge of bitterness inherent to any lemon dish and we agreed that may be a little sugar would help. But well, I - with my sensitive taste buds - can vouch without hesitation, that its a great achar. Garam daal chawal key saath ghazab dhayega .. ya methi key parathey ho toh kya baat hai ! Only wish more of you people were lucky enough to be so closely acquainted to a great cook like Oroosa!

rains .. a bit too much!!

2006-09-05T02:19:00.000-07:00

I have always loved rains. No doubt about that. But this time around, after being a very close witness to the destruction it can unleash, rains have started troubling me a bit. When it starts raining heavily these days - which is often - I get somewhat unsettled. I woke up with a start early yesterday morning. It was pouring heavily. A sheet of white beyond my window. I immediately rushed out to check the slum locality besides my apartment. No ! it looked fine. People were slumbering peacefully in their dainty homes. But I couldn't go back to sleep until sometimes later, when the intensity of rains decreased. Actually it wasnt any big rain episode. But the events of the last fortnight, with the city witnessing massive flood situation thrice, has put in an inherent fear into people. It's not actually fear with me, just an unsettling feeling.
But of course I am sure I would keep loving rains always. The feel of it on my face, the smell of its first contact with earth, the look of the rainwashed greens. Only hope people take care enough not to let rains turn into insensitive killer. They should allow it to lash down, get partially absorbed and flow away. Let it rain... but let it get its own path in nature, so that it remains the provider that it is !

baras jaa badal ...dil khol key baras jaa..
par aisey baras .. key tan man mein bas jaa ....!!

back... n roopmati !

2006-09-03T10:34:00.000-07:00

Lol ! back again. dunno may be just temporarily. no consistence at all. like always been totally engrossed in frivolities of life. but like always don't regret !
Actually looked into radica's and oroosa's blogs today. they r the only girl friends i have in bhopal. rather they r among the few girl friends i have anywhere. feels nice to know they have decided to find space for their thoughts. wish them best on blogging and of course hope they r not anywhere as inconsistent as me.
my friend the great blogger keeps on berating me for my inconsistency. he is right... i mostly burn out my energy in totally inproductive act on net - chatting ! but well ! it has its own attraction .. what to do .. i am hooked :D

achcha .. heard recently that they have tried to recreate the magic of roopmati mahal in mandu by setting up a telescope through which narmada river is visible. well ... viewing of narmada was the main reason why baaz bahadur created the roopmati pavillion atop the roopmati mahal. roopmati was said to be not having food without taking `darshan' of the narmada. but in recent times, the narmada was not visible from the roopmati pavillion. i missed the view when i went their 3 years ago ... have been planning to go again since many months now .. on official mission of course. .but somehow its not happening . hope i go soon and am able to see the narmada. well that missing narmada had prompted a poem out of me .. its a pretty short one .. probably readable. :)

Mumtaz and Roopmati

As the cold marble kissed my feet
Trying to gather all my warmth,
I felt her sitting beside me
Ruby lips smiling, doe eyes pleading,
Was she a prisoner in monument of love?

When the brazen wind got entangled in my curls
Fighting a losing battle of freedom
I felt her standing beside me
Apparel flapping, vacant eyes searching,
Had she lost the river, her first love?

The bull-y encounter!

2006-01-18T07:34:00.000-08:00

Here I am again. I took that inexcusable break. I just stop sometimes. Don't know why and how. But the flow just stops. Anyway.

Today I was in the market in the evening. I had taken along my two wheeler. I still find it easier to roam around on the two-wheels, mainly because of the ease of parking and of course the ease in meandering through the peak hour traffic.
So I had to go to this medicine store and I parked the vehicle just near the row of the shops in the main market, but by the road. I noticed this huge, really huge and imposing bull standing some feet away. As I moved away from the vehicle I had this funny feeling that may be the bull would knock my dainty vehicle down !
Well, when i returned about 3 mins later, there the bull was, leisurely rubbing his neck against of the edges of the front of my vehicle. Uhh ! I slowly and cautiously approached the vehicle and managed to look the bull into the eyes, hoping he would understand that it was my vehicle and I needed to retrieve it. He looked at me intently but surely showed no signs of moving away. Rather he started licking the handle of my scooty .. ughh.. I could see the saliva glistening.
Now I tried talking to him ``hat jaao yaar .. mujhey gaadi nikalni hai'' (move away man, I want to take the vehicle out)'' I said. I implored at least thrice, very gently. But what I got was a pulled back mouth flap and a huge expulsion of breath, which was enough to warn me to move away. I started pacing some distance away, looking imploringly at him, hoping he would fall out of love with the dainty white machine. But it was not to be.
Finally some autorickshaw drivers from across the street noticed my dilemma. ``Madam apki gaadi hai kya'' (Is it your vehicle Madam) one of them asked and crossed the streets towards us. ``Rukiye main hatata hun'' (Wait, I would move him away) he said. Then he went to the bull n vehicle and shooed at him. After lookin at the man for a while, this was quite well built, the bull probably realised it would be better not to confront and moved away a bit. The autorickhaw man managed to pull my vehicle out from below his nose and I heaved a sigh of relief.
The other auto wallah then told me ... ``Madam isey safed aur khaki bahut pasand hai.. policewalon aur safed gariyon key paas khada ho jata hai aur hilta hi nahi .. pata nahi aapki gaadi itni jaldi kaise chhor di'' (He loves khaki and white and normally stands near the police wallahs and the white vehicles and doesnt move away easily. Don't know how he left your vehicle alone so soon)... I told him it was not voluntary, but through intervention of his friend (the other autowallah).. We both laughed before I moved away with a last look at the bull. He was staring at my vehicle longingly. I pushed the accelerator further.

Lost in Thought

2006-01-01T09:00:00.000-08:00

Still deeply lost in the thought
In a dizzy maze I am caught

Happiness is merely a passer-by
Why aren't pretty sorrows shy?

Desires unrequited, tearlessly wept
Promises are never meant to be kept

Explodes in ear, my silent moan
The love I gave was left alone

Bondless sand, had to scatter
Dare not dream, they always shatter

new year

2005-12-31T10:45:00.000-08:00

2006 rang in quietly .. peacefully ..

Think this is the best way one could usher in another year .. just like it was another year.

Never made any resolutions.. same this year.

Only hope it passes normally .. for everyone ..

Peace !!!

who can calm these ripples for me ?

2005-12-30T10:55:00.000-08:00

I faced one of the toughest bit of question and answer session today. Interestingly I was on the other side of the table for this time, answering a flurry of questions and doubts that left me in a tizzy for the moment and quite thoughtful in the retrospect.

Earlier in the day, I was a witness to, rather a part of, a very poignant occasion. More than a dozen children - all found on different major railway platforms in this part of country, were handed over to their families - families that were dutifully tracked down by the NGOs who organised the event. These dozen-odd children were part of the 28 platform children who were put through a month long `de-addiction and home placement' camp. The family members of the other children could not make it to the function and the organisers decided to themselves take these other ones home.

Well, the scene when the children - who were away from home since months or years and have been through hell called life - reunited with families was to say the least -- ``poignant''. There were tears and smiles and more tears - enough to moisten everyone else's eyes, including mine. I was suddenly announced as to be one of the guests and had to `grace' the dais - something I really hate to do. But I am really really satisfied I decided to attend the function.

The runaway children narrated their experiences - all shockingly similar. They came from all parts of country - Ghaziabad to Hyderabad and from Akola to Calcutta - two of them even from Bangladesh (these guys were really happy to talk to me in Bangla and though I was doubtful whether they would be able to read it, took my cell number :) )

The most interesting and awakening part was a role-play presented by children who have been picked off the platform and put in a night shelter by the organisation. It was a well choreographed and intensely acted play, showcasing the life of platform children. The shocking twist came when towards end of the play my co-guest was roped in by the children to resolve a mock debate on `whether or not to run from home'. However, the questions put by the children and the debate put forth by them regards various reasons for running away from home, had the guest - the commissioner of women and child development department of Madhya Pradesh - stumped. I sweated inwardly and thanked my stars I wasnt chosen by the children to `resolve' that debate.

But soon my composure was to be shattered. During lunch, I was singled out by one of the participants of the role play - a boy of about 15, who was disabled on both legs. He started the conversation quite genially and soon moved on to the core issue. He was not too satisfied with the answers he had recieved from my co-guest. ``Wealthy people do not at all realise the problems the poor people face, do they?'' he asked me, his glittering eyes boring deep into mine, his face resting in the cup of both his palms. I started a tedious process of making him understand as to why the commissioner had given generalised answers and examples. He was still not satisfied. ``Why would not a child run away from home, if he/she has no other option ?'' he asked.

He then narrated his tale. His uncle killed his father in property dispute and turned him and his five siblings into almost bonded labourers, pulling them out of schools. ``He would thrash me everyday and ask me to work though I wanted to study. I could not bear it . I had to run (he cudn't even run.. I noticed).

Well I hardly had any answer. I took the roundabout route. Tried telling him that one should always look at one's problems and sorrows on a relative scale - comparing it with those who are worse off .. I tried to cram him with thoughts that I understood were too mature for his age. But I had no choice, it was the only way out I could take. I gave him example from my own childhood and how things had turned about for me. Tried telling him that there are so many children who have worse destiny.

After a while he seemed to grow calmer. The glitter in his eyes subsided and a smile started forming. ``main samajh gaya didi..'' he said, a grin spreading on his face. All the while the food in front of him remained untouched, though I had reminded him several times. Now, he started eating and I heaved a sigh of relief silently.

Later however I kept on reflecting on what all he had said. The questions he had put. I had managed to calm him temporarily, but I know I could not him satisfy actually. I had not even satisfied myself. I knew that as a part of society I was found wanting. That I was responsible for what he faced and managed to shirk my responsibility thinking after all I am not directly responsible. His questions only had managed to throw a pebble in lake of my mind that I try hard to keep calm. But Who can calm these ripples for me ??

Siesta inducing Pankaj Udhas !!

2005-12-29T11:08:00.000-08:00

It's interesting how it becomes very difficult during winter evenings to imagine what a terribly hot summer afternoon feels like and vice-versa of course. But well... although i have to pile upon two blankets and two bedspreads to really keep the cold at bay when I try to sleep these days (nights i mean) and of course have to wear two t-shirts most of time, I somehow have started remembering the sweltering afternoons of about 15-20 years ago - my teen days.
Sweltering or whatever, summers were expectantly awaited. Naturally because of the vacations and the immense freedom of timeless sleeping hours that they brought with them. Well it was not as if one was allowed to sleep anytime, but things were far far better than school/college days, when sleep was confined to particular fixed hours and of course heavenly when compared to exam days, when the sleeping hours were the ones to get the scissors.
So.. to sum up .. While I loved my working (Academic) days - I certainly looked forward to summers for my born passion for sleeping.
Summers at my hometown are notorious for their extremity. I really have seen birds drop dead on May afternoons. So sleeping would not be easy task. Nights were manageable, because the tiled roof made the house cool off faster than concrete ones, though the thin walls remained hot like furnace walls till late in night. Not yet too aware about water scarcity issue, we would often use ample quantity of water to drench the walls of the front room (our sleeping room .. cant call it bed room) during the nights. Still earlier, as little children of course we slept out in open.
However it was the siesta for which far more elaborate preparations were made. The black slate floor was wiped and sprinkled with water over and over. All the possible creaks and holes and cracks and fissures in the doors, window and tiled roof were sealed off with cloth. After the lunch was over at around 2.00 pm (mostly it would be arhar daal with green mangoe or musur daal eaten with lime along with rice. of course a vegetable and some fried delicacy) we would spread thin shatranji (duree/thread mat) on the entire floor so as to accommodate four or five of us . often two of our cousins (sort of adopted ones .. they are no blood relation) woudl come at our place for the siesta.
so well .. the shatranji was in place and so was the small delhi-made black and silver tape recorder cum player and a heap of audio cassettes - Ghulam Ali and Pankaj Udhas. At least two summers - when I was 16-17, Pankaj Udhas ruled the roost during our seista time. ``Sabko maalum hai main sharabi nahi .. phir bhie koii pilaye toh main kya karu? '' ... ``deewaron sey milkar ronaa .. achcha lagtaa hai .. hum bhie pagal ho jayenge .. aisaa lagtaa hai'' .... ``jheel mein chaand nazar aaye .. thi hasrat uski .. kabsey aankhon mein liye baitha hun .. surat uski'' .. ``Aye gham-e-zindagi .. kuchch toh dey mashwira .. ak taraf uska ghar .. ak taraf maykada'' ... .... .......
ohh loads and loads of them. They made our afternoons musical and very very conducive to sleep ... it was not as if the songs lulled us to sleep ... may be it did that to Mitu lol lol .. but I have rarely dozed off to sleep while listening to a good ghazal. But one cassette full of ghazals - mainly by Pankaj Udhas - set that stage for a very very balmy and magical seista.
Believe me .. I never much heard Pankaj Udhas after that .. and still whenever I hear him .. the first thing that comes to my mind is the siesta... not demeaning him by indicating .. he sings u to sleep ... but just that he happened to be my seista inducer for many many days :D

tootkar pyaar !!

2005-12-29T08:26:00.000-08:00

... don't know how i do with urdu (!!) poetry .. here is one of them.. seems ok to me.. at least conveys the thoughts.
....

Dil ko dardmand, aankhon ko ashk-baar naa kiya
Kisi keemat par ishq ko ruswa humne dildaar naa kiya

Aankhen band kii, tujhko seeney mein dhadakta paaya
Kya hua jo muddato sey maine tera deedar naa kiya

Dard ki baarish barsi, tar dil ki zameen bhi hui
Hamarii khiza ko phir bhi usney bahaar naa kiya

Tod detey saari rasmein, chhin letey tumhe jahan sey hum
Kamzarfii hamarii thii, taab-e-dil pey ikhtiyaar naa kiya

Palkein khushk rahi toh kya, dil tadapta hai pashema hota hai
Kaun kehta hai key tootkar humne tumhe pyaar naa kiya

of major and minor sorrows !!!

2005-12-26T09:17:00.000-08:00

Today was first anniversary of Tsunami disaster. Though the intensity and enormity of the tragedy never actually faded from memory, the extensive coverage on anniversary by the television channels certainly made it raw.
Remembered the hindi movie song `duniya mein kitnaa gham hain ... meraa gham kitnaa kam hain' (there is so much sorrow in the world. my sorrow is so little).
Really its all about major and minor sorrows in life. The depth and intensity of sorrow are only relative. When one sees or experiences a sorrow bigger or more intense than currently being experienced, the present sorrow becomes minor.
I am going through quite a depressing phase. There is this feeling of loss and emptiness, of not being able to hold on. The depression is accompanied by sorrow much of time. Sometimes the sorrow seems quite major. It certainly gives me some pretty bad moments these days.
But as I watched the footage on the disaster, the tales of the survivors, the devasted skeletons of villages, the sheer statistics of loss, suddenly I was kind of ashamed of my sorrow.
I know there's nothing to be ashamed of my sorrow. After all, its an integral part of me. I have it cause I feel it. But then, when I saw the vast and major sorrow .. suddenly the personal sorrow seemed somewhat minor. Of course the sorrow is going to remain with me, at least for some foreseen future, it would keep stinging me, tormenting me. But today its edge was somewhat blunted. May be temporarily. But I do realise ... there are far bigger sorrows in world than mine. And people do endure them with grit and courage. I am not doing badly either. I hope I would emerge better person.

christmas times !

2005-12-25T08:10:00.000-08:00

I whiled away almost the entire day today. If it was not for the television, I would have forgotten it was Christmas. I even wished Francis happy christmas only in evening.
Thats so dramatically opposite from school times. I went to a missionary school and Christmas would be one of the major events of the year. And of course there was family of Zachariah Uncle who made our Christmas such a special occasion, as we made there Dussehra and Diwali.
The preparations for Christmas started a month in advance and one of the most interesting factors about the festival was that we had about 10 days of holidays marking the festival and before that about three-day of celebrations, which made about a fortnight off.
For students like me , who was an important member of school choir and quite culturally-oriented, the celebration time would extend longer. The rehearsals for the inter-school choir competition and the Christmas tableaux and other cultural programmes would start a month in advance and we would get two periods off each day to practise.
When I was in class V, VI, I used to sing alto, later I shifted to Soprano as with puberty my voice got that special feminine edge. Inter-school choir competition was an interesting event. We had this special dress for the occasion. Beautifully pleated black skirts, deep pink tops and black bows, of course black shoes and pink ribbons for those who wore their hair long. We would go to different schools that hosted the competition each year and there was kind of nervous excitement about the entire thing. More often than not, we won :)
I think I prayed much more to Christ than any other Hindu Gods in my entire life, cos prayer and bible reading was part of daily assembly in school. I never even gave a second thought to the fact that we were made to indulge in activities of other religion. Prayer to any God was fine enough. Actually that way I grew up in quite secular manner. The primary school I went to was a Sikh school and there we would regularly go to the in-house Gurudwara and chanted `Ek omkar, Satnam.... '' The halwa, puri and chhole that would be prepared in Gurudwara on religious occasions was a subject of great interest too :D (glutton me again lol !!!)
I still remember several of the Christian prayers as also I remember the Saraswati Vandana that we religiously did on Saraswati Puja at home.. the only puja that we participated in with utmost seriousness. Afterall She is considered Goddess of Wisdom and I understood quite early in life that knowledge was the biggest weapon I could arm myself with.
And of course Christmas Day came about with big interest. We would be invited for a special dinner at Zachariah Uncle's place. The family was replica of ours - uncle auntie and four children, eldest daughter, then son, then two daughters, just like us, with the age group also almost matching.
Before dinner, snacks were served. The rum cake, the rosecookie and the typical Indian chiwda (namkeen/mixture). The dinner was chicken, roti, one veg sabji, daal, pulao, plain chawal and more cake. Well, it would be something we would always look forward to. :) Auntie was a good cook.
Later, during my first job, Francis provided the Christmas excitement. He would bring in huge sized cake and there was even a big Christmas cake joke going around :D After that .. slowly, Christmas faded from my life.. more so in last few years since I am out of my home town. Today, a colleague sent around pieces of rum cake.. and the taste is holding in my mouth .. at least some semblence of Christmas :) MERRY CHRISTMAS everyone !!!

Memories of Rain ... my article from Indian Express, 2000

2005-12-24T08:54:00.000-08:00

Memories of rain
Sravani
Rain is an amazing leveller. It never fails to stir emotions within living beings. These emotions range from yearning to revulsion, depending upon the part of earth these living beings occupy. I for one surely belong to the category that finds the rains irresistible. Whenever those pregnant silver-lined balls of nimbus accumulate and sharp streaks of lightening flash across the skies, something undescribable stirs within me. Rain has had this effect on me since childhood. Unlike my friends who looked upon rain as an excuse to skip school, I would fight my protective parents to be allowed out in the open. I have never missed a day in school, college or office just because it was pouring.
My romance with the rains has continued unabated, although like in any other passionate affair there have been some time outs. Any person with a lesser love would have annulled the bond after those ravaging 40 hours I endured last September. Accompanied with two equally fickle-minded pals, I had embarked on a long-awaited journey to Darjeeling. Scampering on snow-capped mountains has been one of my long-running dreams. It all started well. The three of us paid no attention to some lighthearted curses from the fourth in the group who couldn't make it with us. "It will rain so much, you won't be able to venture out anywhere, let alone Darjeeling," this fellow had told us just as we were about to leave.
We did not realise that it had come straight from his heart. Braving thigh-deep streams that were Calcutta roads and ignoring the ominous announcement that the city of joy had received the highest rainfall in 25 years, we managed to get on the Darjeeling Mail. The train left Sealdah on time. But at midnight, it suddenly stopped rolling. We were at some obscure station, and the river Ajoy was flowing over a bridge in front of us. We spent the first night of our journey gazing at unrelentingly grey skies.
Though the train moved the next morning, our bad luck continued. After covering only a short distance in four hours, the train stopped at a more sleazy station, Rampurhat. The tracks in front had been washed away. Trains behind us had blocked the return path. We were stuck at a nowhere place.
We went through hell for more than 20 hours. The electricity supply to the train snapped, the water ran out, food was unavailable. We managed to get back to Calcutta only the next evening, covering 150 km in 12 long hours.
Broken-hearted, I wondered if I would be able to enjoy the rains ever again. So when the first showers of monsoon hit my city this year, the stirrings within me had a desolate tune. To add to my irritation, I was caught in a heavy downpour on my way back home late in the evening. Riding a two-wheeler and without a raincoat, I was forced to seek shelter in a deserted building. The heavens would not relent. A little later I was joined by two thoroughly drenched men. The three of us stood silently, waiting for the rain to stop.
It did. As I was about to move out of the porch, one of the men surprised me. "Could I ask you something?" he queried. "Did you study at Gurunanak School?" I was stunned. I had, but that was about 20 years ago. I nodded again. The half-balding, non-descript man suddenly grinned. "I was your class-mate in standard III," he announced. I could not utter a word as he went on to narrate the details of standard III, our classroom, the class teacher and the friends. I regained my composure in a short while and managed to exchange social pleasantaries with this long lost classmate of mine.
It was still raining lightly as I started back home. My childhood flooded back, bringing a smile to my lips. I was thoroughly drenched and was still smiling when I reached home. The rain had managed to weave magic for me yet again.
Copyright © 2000 Indian Express Newspapers (Bombay) Ltd.

(This is my favourite article by me.. appeared on edit page of Indian Express ... in July 2000. The incidents mentioned in the article are both real. No imaginary additions there)

more on rains

2005-12-24T08:15:00.000-08:00

Rain has always evoked passion in me. Right since childhood. No suprises then that my favourite article (written by me) is on rains. I would be posting it shortly.
Apart from the sprinkles coming in from open window by my head and the leaking drops from roof, rain would also create huge puddles in the earthern courtyard of our house, turning it muddy and slushy. Then bricks were put in sequence right from the gate till the cemented part of the courtyard so that the slush could be negotiated. I would always frogleap over those bricks, mostly singing some song loudly - some hindi oldie. ``Barsaat mein ... humsey miley tum sajan, tumsey miley hum .. barsaat mein'' ... from Raj Kapoor's Barsaat was my favourite frog leaping song, mainly because of the `tak dhina dhin' part in it.
As primary student, one of the major problems regards negotiating rainy days was the fact that the rainwater would enter our rubber shoes, which more often than not had some minor cracks and sog our socks badly, making walk a little difficult. Apart from that, I have always loved the feeling of light streaky raindrops or even pouring heavy rain on myself. I have often had to face anger of my mother cause I would reach home totally drenched, even if I was carrying a raincoat.
When we were little, we would be allowed to get wet during first rains of season, since that rain was considered remedial for the heat boils that kept our backs and foreheads rough hewn all through summers.
I distinctly remember a Saturday morning. I was I suppose a student of class IX, quite a young woman, while Mitu was in class VI. Saturday was morning school that commenced at 7.30, meaning we had to catch the 6.45 am bus. The dark skies looked quite omnious and Maa kept warning for us to not to go to school that day, but both me and Mitu were adamant. Well we had just managed to board the bus when it started pouring literally cats and dogs. We had to walk about 3 kms from the bus stop where the bus dropped us on Saturdays and no prizes for the guess that when we reached school, we were sogging, dripping, like wet rag dolls. We were among just about 15 students who could make it to school that day and naturally it was declared a holiday. Well, we din't stop at the school, we were already too wet. We again walked down the the bus stop and were doubly sogged. There we started shivering of the cold wind and the heavy rains.
Bus won't come. The streets were quite flooded. Then we saw `Jai Jai Shiv Shankar'. That is what we called a three-wheeler auto that was regular at the bus-stop near our house. The auto had this title emblezzoned and we would call the auto by this name. Of course we had named the auto as `pass' and a egg shop as `chhotey chhotey andewala' (small eggs' shop) and another as `lambu ki dukan' because the shopowner was quite tall.
Anyway Jai Jai Shivshankar's driver decided to give us a lift that day :) we din't have enough money on us to pay the fare. That incident made him special for us and the good relation continued for several years :) Jai Jai Shivshankar carried me for both my board exams and was a regular conveyance for me during my college days. The auto driver even would visit our house and my parents had immense faith in him. Interestingly, I dont remember his name, I just remember `Jai Jai Shiv Shankar' :)

rainy days ... in that house

2005-12-23T00:11:00.000-08:00

Rainy days in that house were unique. Right from the fact that one needed to almost take an umbrella to get to take a bath (!!! lol lol) in the roofless bathroom, the fact that the tiled roof leaked at umpteen places and various ploys were needed to hold rain at bay was an interesting (though sometimes irritating during those days) proposition.
There was this bed, not a single bed neither a double, something in between. Me and my younger sis shared it. It was placed along the right hand wall of the room, just adjoining our textbooks rack. The in-built rack in the had three shelves top one was my elder brother's, middle one mine and the lowermost one my younger sister's - division according to seniority :D
My shelf was the most cluttered. I was supposed to be messy one as a child. That's reason my folks are quite surprised at the very fincikily orderly way I conduct my life now. My spick and span home now defies there vision about me. lol ! people change don't they?
Well coming back to rainy days. As soon as the monsoon months started, pots and pans would start finding place in the front room where we all slept. Some were tied up on the roof to hold the known major leaks, while some were kept as reserve in case of unsuspected leaks overnight. There was a major leak right above the spot where our bed was placed, but interestingly the focal point of the leak seemed to shift most of time. So even if one tied the pot just below the leak, there was no guarantee drops wont start sputtering on your face in dead of night.
My younger sis, Mitu, has/had this immense talent of falling asleep under any circumstances. You would think I am exaggerating, but I am witness to her falling asleep while walking/strolling. I mean she would try to keep up with me for late hour studies. She was a very hardworker as far as studies went and always performed better academically than any one of us. But she was a poor late-nighter. She however never accepted this :D. So if I decided to study late in night, I have been always the owl, best during late hours, she would also keep awake, trying to study. But normally her head would start rolling immediately after midnight. I would have to move her between the wall and myself to keep her from falling off the cot which was my study spot for nights. Any suggestions of hitting the sack would fall on her deaf ears. When sleep would overcome her massively, she would decide to stroll across reading and believe me, her steps would falter and her head would dip even when she would try to keep up her stroll :D. Most of times, I would get her back to bed, asking her to sit and study so that she could comfortably sleep while `studying' :). When she was younger, she often fell asleep doing her homework. We would remove the notebook from under her hand and place a `rough copy' and wake her up with a start. `Mituuuuuuu ... othhhhhhhhh' I would yell ... and she wud immediately jerk up and start scribbling. Thank God, but for the `rough copy' she might certainly have messed up her notebooks badly :))).
So there would be Mitu and there would be me on those rainy nights. I would normally be awakened by the slight sprikles of rainwater coming from window behind our heads and keep awake. The raindrops would start spluttering on Mitu's body or mine depending on who slept on the edge of bed that day. Me and Mitu alternated our positions on bed each day to be nearer to the lone ceiling fan hanging in middle of the room. There would be bitter fights if the positions on a particular day were confused. Anyway even if the raindrops sputtered hard on her, Mitu would remain blissfully asleep. Unbelievable but true. That's Mitu for u :D
Maa would get up and the process of shifting the hanging pot on roof would start. Once she was certain she had the pot placed right, my tired maa would go to sleep. I would however keep awake, listening to the varied sounds that a rainy night brings with it. Not for long though, I am a big sleeper too and would doze off in a while, those drones becoming milder and milder.
Another interesting proposition on rainy days was Khichuri (khichdee, preparation of rice and pulses with some vegetables thrown in for that unique taste). Maa would cook khichuri with cauliflower and spinach leaves and would fry different kind of bhajiyas, papad, omelette, atar bora (a fried eatable made of wheat flour ... you cant imagine how tasty, though full of oil). Khichuri would be cooked in open pan not in pressure cooker like these days and the taste was very very unique. So whenever it rains even now, I can taste that khichuri in my mouth :) surely a glutton I am :D
I remember a very very rainy day when I was about six and a student of class II. It started pouring madly suddenly and me and dada (my elder brother) did not have the raincoat. But since school was off, there was no holding us back. Coincidently me and dada separated :( and I could not find him. As expected I saw my maa rushing along with an umbrella. Chaos reigned as she discovered dada missing. Well the way to and from school was searched and we found dada sitting amidst heaps of vegetables on a hand cart, safe under the plastic sheet that covered the cart temporarily. This vendor had taken pity on crying dada and kept him safe :D well all was well !!!!! another rainy day countered successfully...

more on rains... later ... :)

my saving grace

2005-12-22T09:28:00.000-08:00

Yes ! in a sense he was my saving grace. I fell in love for the first time when I was 16. In retrospect there could not have been a worse time to fall in love :D It was my higher secondary year and I whiled away very important seven months lost in a dream like state. But then, to be very candid I dont think I lost much, rather, that innocent, trembling feeling of love that I had felt during those months remains forever etched in my mind and heart as a lesson of life.
The courtyard of that house, the cement steps and wooden ladder whereon I perched to `study' and the wild rose shurbs played such an important role in the events that unfolded.
The family came to stay in neighbourhood sometimes in September 1986. I was into my HS preparations. Folks at home were sure I would do better than my elder brother who had made it to both engineering and medical merit lists (chose engineering). I was confident enough not to go for any private tutorials that were becoming vogue those days.
I would sincerely study, enjoying the sunshine of mornings fell on that ladder. It was then I started noticing him. Since I would be sitting high on steps of ladder, the house on other side of the compound wall was clearly visible. First time I saw him, he was standing at the door of his house, one hand holding the frame over his hand, intently staring at me. He was lean and sported a beard and although he couldn't be described at handsome, my 16 year old heart saw an irresistable charm oozing out of him. Our eyes locked and there started a unique flow of silent yet deep-set attraction that only continued to grow over next few months.
I found he was a keralite and had recently come to my city from his hometowin in God's Own Country. He did not understand a word of Hindi and little English, certainly not Marathi or Bengali. For me Malayali was Latin and French. Well, there would have hardly been any use of spoken language. We actually did not exchange even a single word during all those months of silent attraction that certainly was my first love.
Now, my entire attraction shifted from my books to the doorway next door. He would be there during the early mornings, later I suppose he went out to work. And of course on wednesdays, that I could surmise was his off day he would be hanging around that door frame almost entire day. We never got to talk though I managed to make somewhat of friends with his two sisters. But those looks were really something. He would cycle away to work and I would rush to gate of my house complex to see him going till my vision could follow. Of course he would also keep looking back all the time. :D
It din't much go beyond this, but the bond seemed to grow strong all those months, quietly. Would anyone believe I din't even catch his name, nor he mine :D Well coincidently that year `Ek Duje key liye' released and I could imagine myself to be Rati Agnihotri pining away for Kamal Hasan.
It suddenly ended when the family decided to move away around February. It was so sudden, it came as a big blow. I saw his eyes grow sadder and sadder, reflecting my own mood. But he hardly took any steps forward. I too never thought of doing so.
One month before my XII board exam was scheduled to start, they moved away, leaving a sharp emptiness all about me. The exam results told it all. I dropped from 84 per cent of X board to 60 per cent at XII. No hope for any professional courses :D
But well , I guess I gained a lot during those months. I discovered the woman within me. The yearning and the innocent desires that could hardly be put into context at that time. He was gone, my unnamed, unknown love, but he left behind sweet memories.
I still remember those haunting eyes and the tilted smile and I associate it with the wild rose scent. The poem I wrote three years ago perhaps says it all.
+++++
My Saving Grace
++++++

Two hundred and three roses I had counted
Their white pink colour, dewy mild scent,
Appeared to me heaven sent
One, two three….two hundred and three,
On and on went my counting spree,
The thorns did not hurt, the insects did not bother,
Only the dewy mild scent did my mind gather
My senses climbed over the wild rose bush
And descended down the other side of wall,
Where a smile lit eye, a fear locked lip,
Awaited me with desire that equaled my thrall
A breeze blew, a leaf rattled, A thorn cut through the flesh,
The smile, the fear, the desire, the thrall,
Bobbed, trembled, disappeared in a flash
The best scent in my sixteen years,
Got etched in my mind with a face,
His name remained unknown,
But the fear locked lip, the smile lit eyes
Became key to life, my saving grace.
++++++++++

that house... more

2005-12-21T08:59:00.000-08:00

The earthern courtyard of that house had a special significance. It was laced with wild rose shrubs and other flowering plants, one or other of which would keep blooming the year round. the courtyard had to be broomed every morning and once a week, it had to be groomed with cowdung water. All those Indians who have ever been to rural areas know what I mean ... cow dung mixed in water is sprinkled and then with help of a broom, the liquid is spread uniformly all over the earthern area so as to keep the dust down and bind the earth to give a very clean look.
This was always my task in childhood. One had to go to the families rearing cattle to purchase some cow dung and then the `lipana' (as the grooming is called) would begin. On auspicious days I would decorate the entire courtyard with rangolis (decorative traditional designs made with powdered sandstone - white and coloured). It would often take me about 2-3 hrs to complete all this work. I was overweight and often my knees would be sore from continuous kneeling to make those rangolis. But the result was breathtaking and I would be one proud person throughout the day and it would be pointed out to everyone that I made the rangolis.
The entire house complex was surrounded by a concrete wall, part of which was wooden hedge. The gate was also a wooden structure and our window to the outer world. Just by this gate was a white rose shrub and a juhi plant the that partly grew over the gate, giving it that arch like shape. The mixed aroma of flowers and often the cowdung from the courtyard provided an unique envelope of smell to the house.
When we girls had nothing to do we would hang literally over the gate, it was not too high, and watch the proceedings outside. It wasn't supposed to be a very nice thing to do, because the locality was quite notorious - anti-socials and even criminals were regular passers-by on the bylane that passed just before the gate. But my mother never forbade us standing there, she just made sure we knew what was right and what wrong.
The wild rose shrubs - there were four of them over the complex - were always blooming with flowers - year through. The roses were small, not very beautiful in shape, but had such sweet aroma, it was almost intoxicating. The colour was a pastel pinkish white. Never much saw that variety later in life. Sometimes as many as 300 roses would bloom on single day. But we never plucked them. They remained on the shurbs like big stars until they wilted and gave way to new ones - two or three days later.
The two concrete steps that held the wooden ladder was the study point for me and my younger sister, mostly me. I would often perch on those concrete steps or the wooden ladder to study. It went fine until the most crunch time. My Higher Secondary year, it was the same ladder that became forebearer of my `academic downfall'. Would detail it later :D
When we were younger, during summer nights we would sleep out in the courtyard. Two wooden cots would be perched one atop another to make a bunker structure so that four of us siblings could be adjusted.
I still remember looking up at clear skies filled with numerous stars and typically learning the
planetary positions, shapes of constellations and other astronomical details laced with mythology. Whenever I think of those summer nights, the clear sky, the slightly baked scent of the earth heated by harsh tropical sun during days mixed with the wild rose aroma fills up my vision, my nostrils and my heart.

that house!

2005-12-18T09:36:00.000-08:00

We stayed at that house for exactly 18 years. The years hold special significance for me, because entire of these 18 years made up for my academic career. We went to stay there exactly during the month I started going to school (was directly enrolled to class I though I was only four, mainly because my somewhat shy elder brother wasn't thought to be capable of handling the pressures of schooling alone. He was enrolled directly to class II !!).

It was as if the house was meant to be my study-inn.

It was a three-room structure with tiled roof that leaked badly during rains. The front room was a queer rectangular shape and the other two rooms were replica of front room just divided at centre. One of these back rooms was converted to kitchen and the other was a the `inner room' that housed the resident deity, my grandmother while she was still alive and my elder sister till she decided to get married. It could hold only one narrow wooden cot that left just enough space for my mother's sewing machine and a narrow passage from the side door to kitchen. But this was the `inner' room where we girls would take refuge, the study room during night and in general terms, the fiefdom of the females of the house.

Two parallel passages ran on two sides of the house. At end of one passage was the bathroom - without a roof. The bathroom had an inbuilt cement structure for storing water and just enough space for someone to take a bath crampishly. Because it was roofless, bathing during rains was an interesting experience and during the hot months of summer, a real luxury. The other passage held another bathroom (with roof) that our landlord's used, a huge open to air water tank and two sets of toilet at the end - to be used by the three families including us that resided in the entire compound.

The house had a cemented front and a huge uncemented courtyard running its entire breadth. A concrete roofed set of rooms stood on other side of the courtyard of which our family held two additional rooms - a workstation for the small family business and an additional study room. A queerly structured wooden ladder - set firmly atop two cemented steps, led to a loft like structure that ran across the rooms. To actually reach the roof of the rooms from this loft, one had to do some realtime acrobatics.

That house was truly a learning centre for me. I learnt all life's tricks and trades while staying in that house. I grew from a child into a woman there, I fell in love for first time there, I learnt to appreciate life's small blessings there. I have a lot of tell about the house. That house is truly a storehouse of memories that are live and throbbing.

Lookout for more...

baigas

2005-12-17T01:19:00.000-08:00

Here goes one of my impromptu poems... they just loom in inside me sometimes.. bubble up suddenly .. without warning ...
Of course I had been to Baigaland some days before I wrote this.. its always an amazing experience to go to their fiefdom .. It sends you back a somewhat renewed person each time ..
Once you have been there .. wordly worries seem trivial .. when basic survival is a struggle .. all kinds of problems that we consider a worry simply become inconsequential .. its a rather sobering experience ..

Baigas
+++++
Eyes awed, smiles unflawed,
Minds at ease, like fields unploughed

Nature's pets, life's bets,
Grueling existence, hardly any regrets

Unhindered flow, dust-laced glow
Like a wild stream, like sunrays mellow

Green of leaves, brown of earth,
Grief of death, the joy of birth

Away from feign, where nature reigns,
They laugh, they cry, unblemished human beings
+++
(Baigas are one of primitive tribes who survive in utmost difficult conditions high up in the very rough terrains of Maikal range in Dindori district of Madhya Pradesh, India).

in reverse gear !!

2005-12-15T08:51:00.000-08:00

I would like to put myself into reverse gear. Rewind the spool of my life a bit .. there are these snatches of memories .. interesting incidents and some continuing thoughts and processes .. may be somewhat commonplace but to my mind chronicable...

Often i am able to relate bits and pieces of my childhood and my early youth (well i certainly consider myself very much young :D ) quite interestingly to my friends. some are a little shocked, some appreciate, some think i might be making up at least part of it.. but sincerely, though i am a lengthy narrator, i certainly don't mess up with facts..

what is my earliest of memories ?? one of me, dada (my elder brother) and mitu (my younger sister) sprinkling colours on ourselves from those cheap plastic sprinklers on holi, cause we would not be allowed to mix much with children of surroundings (didi - my eldest sister is a bit extra elder to us and wasn't often part of the team) ? or was it that terrifyingly cold and dark bathroom in the courtyard of our house, where were never took bath, but were locked up one day cause we had broken rules.

Hey, hey now!! don't let these two instance make you think we had dictatorial parents. certainly not. they were strict no doubt ... like any parents of our generation ... but they weren't at all unnecessarily dictatorial. it actually never needed my father to physically hit us in our entire lives .. none of the four of us, his grave looks were enough to hold us in our tracks. We still don't much argue when we see that look on his face, though I am the official middleperson between my father and my siblings ... need to discuss any serious thing with him .. go through me.

my ma is one jewel of a lady .. havn't seen many like her. of course all mothers are jewels - aren't they ? :) but my mother is a special one.. she simply wasted (!!!) away her life for us. though she wont agree to the word i chose - wasted.. I feel proud that my mother's best picture is the one in which i am in her lap as a six-month-old .. she looks fantastically beautiful and happy in that picture :)

so .. dada, me and mitu are exactly one year and nine month younger to each other consecutively and interestingly fall on three corners of the astral water triangle - dada scorpio - me cancer - mitu pisces - probably why we gelled perfectly ok while we were younger .. though each of us are totally different on personalities. didi is aquarius and my memory of her are distant during childhood (i would come to the hell and messy relation that i had with her for ten years .. later)

penury was the p-word in my childhood .. too little earmings .. too many mouths to feed .. parents -- four of us and `kotta' - our grandmother with name as grand as `hemnalini' . we wud often call her hemamalini - after the dream girl of Indian cinema :D. it was always compromise on everything for us ... but our mother was such a good manager .. she would never let us actually feel the dearth during those days ... somehow she managed to keep us away from the mental effect of the need, the want, the compromise that was part of our daily lives..

There was this day - Ganesh festival most probably, dada got invited for a festive lunch where only young boys are allowed. Me and mitu were asked not to venture behind dada, given a banana each as a treat to hold us back. but we managed to sneak out behind him .. dada would rarely venture out without me .. so it was obvious .. well the hosts had no choice but to feed us sisters separately on the tasty meal. but well .. i remember the taste of my mother's wrath better.. did she hit us? no i think .. did she shout too much .. well don't think so either .. but she was so angry .. her eyes were welled up with tears -- i remember the eyes clearly ... now i understand what those tears meant....

.... look out for more ... you are listening to my heartbeats ...

My off day!! hibernation ... not to be !

2005-12-14T09:42:00.000-08:00

Last evening a thought struck me. Nothing special or out of the world. But it struck to me kinda interesting. How about a hibernation period for sleepy-headed people like me?

I always look foward to winters and when it comes, it comes like a big dose of tranquiliser ... I feel like sleeping all the while. It becomes a mental and physical strain just to snatch myself away from the comfortable cocoon of bed and get on with the day... ohh why not sleep another hour ? But well .. not to be .. the day has to get started and get going ...

Had there been an alloted hibernation period of say two months .. one would just feed oneself enough to survive and go to sleep ... just wake up momentarily ...sometimes ... to feel the heavenly feeling of being asleep..

My off day falls midweek .. Wednesday .. and my best plan for the day always is to cram in as many sleeping hour as possible. When the hibernation idea struck yesterday, I thought i would probably make somewhat of a beginning of implementation of the idea today .. but not to be ...

I woke up earlier than usual today ... damned couldn't get back to sleep even when I tried. uhh!! looking back at the day .. seems i worked harder than the usual day :D

Went shopping for things that were on list since so many days .. of course a sumptous meal entails a lot of purchases all the while ... but the results are pleasing. Managed to buy two nice bedsheets too .. watched the match .. cooked the food ... with such concentration and sincerity .. lol .. few things else gets such dedication from me these days..

Bathing during winter time is one big meditative task ... needs a lot of preparation, particularly when its someone like me who's taking the bath .. I mean someone who always bathes with cold water ......brrrrrrrrrrrrr .......... uhh .. but to be candid ... when those cold needles of water hit you .. they surely refresh every pore of your body and your mind too. It's a therapy, particularly for a mind thats as clogged as mine these days.

Well ... good bath .. good food ... and then tv .. sometimes I make it a point to watch tv .. why let the gadget lie unused so much .. well there was this sickeningly sweet movie .. the title should have warned me `the object of my affection' .... it left me feeling more morose than sweet ..

What the heck ... It brought my depression back .. I am fed up of this bout of depression .. that is simply stretching on and on ... It makes me more blabbery .. more gluttonous .. more sleepy .. and then i could not sleep properly when i tried during the evening hours .. odd hours i chose, yet i found myself much more awake than asleep ..

I know the depression phase has to go away ... nothing could continue in life .. if good phases could be over so soon .. bad phases are bound to disappear .. only that they appear to stretch indefinitely .. even when they aren't..

Well .. the day is about to end quite positively .. managed to launch myself in the blogosphere .. and I intend to prepare a tasty khichdee (a rice-pulse-vegetable mix preparation) for dinner ... well what better than good food to pep yourself up ..

Ironical that I decided to arrive in blogosphere in such frame of mind .. but it is always better to let out the worse first .. and hope for a happy ending ... :D so well ... look out for better things on this space .. Be certain its gonna be interesting ... hehehehe !!!

Kabooom

2005-12-14T09:25:00.000-08:00

Today on December 14, 2005 I decide to arrive in the blogosphere. Arrive is the word. Hope to make useful treads for myself and anyone who decides to share my world. Open my arms, raise my head..... Here I come ...