Nothing makes any sense at all.. lets talk

I was trying to figure out what to do with my time, while I was listening to this song by Cold Play.'Nothing makes any sense at all.. lets talk'. I mean not necessarily if you talk , you can make sense of things. Just started thinking about things. At times, when you are trying to make sense of a situation and you start talking, it doesn't seem to help. You seem to be saying something, the other person interprets it in other way.. which brings me back to the question, does talking help all the time, or do you need silence as well to make sense of things? After all, silence is golden.

Good Old Days

My colleagues and I have recently gotten in the habit of walking for some time after we have our lunch. The conversation varies from office talk, movies, family, upcoming personal events and what not. Today, two out of five in our group couldn't come with us, and that left three of the most talkative people in each other's company. Trust me, we CAN TALK!!!

I don't know who started it, but we started talking about our school days and about the things which seemed so mundane at that point in time. The craze about having fancy pencil box. There was a time, you could only have a plastic pencil box, which was later updated to disney pencil box. I remember I created quite a scene to have a pencil box with white bottom and sky blue lid with pretty Daisy Duck on it. Oh! it was such a pretty little thing! Of course higher classes demanded 'geometry box' and nothing less than 'Nataraj' would do :) . It is a pity, if you have an older sister or brother, you have to make-do with hand-me-downs. Then there were pencils, which had fancy caps on them, I remember one which looked like a hand! How can we forget fountain pens and very strict instructions from parents to not lend it to anyone else, as it would hamper your own handwriting. The list goes on.....

The best part about today's lunch and post-lunch conversation was all of three of us are from different cities, different backgrounds, and have some age difference, yet we all were able to understand each other perfectly. One would start describing the object and the other would end it and then there would be squeals of laughter!

Never thought I would remember those things so fondly. And have company in doing so :) . Good old days ,they sure were, my school days.

Nostalgic

I love listening to songs, come to think of it, I don't think there is anybody who doesn't like to do that hmmmmm ( thinking)...
Moving on, I have this peculiar habit of associating songs with a particular time, place, person,situation. And regardless of when I hear that song, it will always make me nostalgic about the person and the situation. Wonder if its the case with everybody.(Wondering quite a bit over here, actually).
The feeling most of the time is great. "aaoge jab tum o sajna, angna phool khilenge", was listening to this song some time ago which made me write this post. Every single time I listen to this song, it reminds me of the first few months at the beginning of the year. Everything about it, comes rushing back to me. Would not divulge much, just that brings back memories, good,bad both.
It is just one of the numerous songs which are close to my heart and as afore mentioned, makes me nostalgic.

The Glass Palace

I have been reading 'The Glass Palace' by Amitav Ghosh as leisurely as possible. Finished it over the weekend. I think I wanted to do the book some justice, after all Ghosh took five long years to write this book. However, I liked 'Shadow Lines' better. Ghosh pays attention to every single detail to the point of driving the reader crazy with so much information. This novel spreads over to Malaya, Rangoon, Calcutta and over three to four generations, prior to post independent India.

It is a good read, no doubt, but it is difficult to start reading this book and develop interest. But once you start, there is no looking back. There are so many characters, so many stories inter-twined, and so many coincidences ( sounds quite "filmy" to have so many coincidences).At the beginning of the book, Rajkumar, a "kaala" , and Indian in Rangoon seems to be the protagonist, but by the end of the novel, he is removed from his "heroic" characteristics.Leaving me unsure whether he was the "hero" of the novel or not. A young soldier in the Indian Army who almost till the fag end of the novel refuses to accept that he is working for the British and not for India or it's independence, the realisation of which does him no good.

Ghosh has done a brilliant job of describing Rangoon, Malaya , and other smaller and less known places. Gives a detailed picture of teak plantation and the crucial roles elephants play in these plantations. Also, the prominent aspect of the book seems to be independence, to be free, on a national level , or a personal level.

The Glass Palace is the second novel of Ghosh which I have read, and again is a special gift, and hence will be cherished by me forever.

Unaccustomed Earth

Jhumpa Lahiri's latest book, 'Unaccustomed Earth', failed to impress me. I have read her other books. For me, her first book which got her a booker, was the best. 'The interpreter of maladies' added to the list of diaspora literature. Everything was different about the book, the author writing about Indian families migrating to America and coping with it. For the same reasons, her latest book refuses to create an impression. And if you have happened to read, 'The Namesake', the third one seems even more stale.

Short stories about Bengalis in America. One thing common in these stories is that the author has tried to show how second generation Bengalis get married to Americans , and at times face the same kind of problems.There is no freshness in her stories. She seems to say the same thing, just changing her characters' location and names.

On a positive note, this book is a gift and hence holds a special place. I would like to read more of Lahiri's work, but I guess something apart from Bengalis in America.

Rains, rains go away!

It has been raining mercilessly for the past one week in Hyderabad. God seems to be lashing out on this city for some reason. And worst of all, lesser mortals like me, have to come to work on a rainy day. why God, why??? Okay the melodrama aside, I am not a huge fan of rains. I can look at them from my window, nestled under a warm blanket.But to go out in rains. Blimey!!!!!
It's been a while since I have seen sunshine, and I almost feel like Jaadu of Koi Mil Gaya, screaming "dhoop" , "dhoop". :)
Also, writing this post on a Monday afternoon, Imagine!!!
I hate mondays, they symbolize the fact that there has to be an order in life, every day can't be a sunday, and you need to get out of your bed and earn your bread and butter.So, view this, torrential rains, Monday , a sleepy me, 5.30 is faaar faarr away... and no sunshine .
Thinking of a song, and waiting to sing it when the rains leave... "I can see clearly now the rain has gone, I can see all obstacles in my way. Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind. It's gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day!!!"

"How you doin?"

My all time favorite sitcom has been F.R.I.E.N.D.S and I guess it will undoubtedly remain my favourite forever. I started watching it many years ago. Out of desperation, as at that time I used to look for things to do, so that I ould be able to pass my day ( which in fact was very difficult to do). I was absolutely lost at the beginning. I didn't even know then how huge this sitcom was. All these years later, I can watch the same episodes several times over. I know most dialogues by heart and I cannot , for the life of me, stop laughing at the jokes which I must have heard several times over.
It is witty, there is sarcasm, humour, at the same time some very touching moments. I have always tried to pick my favorite character, but then all the actors are so great, I have never been able to do so. However, I like Chandler a little more, as he is just so so so funny. According to Joey, "Funny is all he has got" :). Some of my favourite episodes are when Rachel and Ross break up, when Chandler proposes to Monica, actually there are just many....
I wish it would have gone on forever, and I could watch more than ten seasons over and over again, but , alas every good thing has to come to an end . Sigh!

P.S. If you thought that the serial is funny, wait till you watch the bloopers, they are Hilarious

How bad a movie can you make?

These days people generally don't have a lot of expectations from the movies they get to watch. I guess I said it wrong. The moment we start having expectations , think that Indian cinema has finally moved on to quality, standard, meaninful movies, we are brought back with a thud. On one side, you have movies like Chak de India and Taare Zameen Par, thoughtful movies, on the other hand, you have movies like Tashan. I shouldn't even bother to write about this trashy movie, but I was stunned to see the preposterousness of it! It made me think whether there was a script written at all and if it was did the stalwarts bother to read it? I get it, we as a society are opening up to many ideas, and are shedding our narrow thought process, and we are okay now to show it and see it in our movies. But shouldn't there be a reason for you to show the amount of obscenity, vulgarity and nonsense? Over all, an over-hyped movie with nothing to cater to the audience. As I have been telling everyone around me, if you hate someone, just make them watch this movie.

Summer of '08

I love Summers. I hear people complaining about it all the time, at times I also do, but more than any other season, I like summer. I think it is just in my head. With summer, I relate fun, frolic, going out ( of course in the evenings!!), sleeping on the floor, everything cheerful. I relate melancholy with winters and hence, don't really like them.
I like dawns in summer. Right when the sun is about to be up to punish us with its blaze. Being stuffed in a room through out the night, the moment I step in the balcony, I can feel the freshness in the air, the very slight chill, when it touches me, is like water being poured on a fire to extinguish it.

Last summer was different and a lot has happened from then to this summer. Life would change so drasistically for me, I had no idea, but yet again this one year is a reminder for me to always keep in my mind that you don't take life for granted, you just can't. The twists, turns, shocks, surprises I had in this one year will keep me on my toes for a long time to come. :)

I don't think anyone who is sensible enough would like to hurt people they really care about. But, we are after all human beings, and feel every emotion, and getting hurt is one among them. We either get hurt or hurt people. Ahem, I am writing the same thing, again and again, I guess I am waiting for the words to form in my mind.
Time and again, you meet people, who ,over the course of time, you become quite close to and they mean a lot to you as well. What if, they hurt you unintentionally? Do you take it ? If so, how many times will you? And what happens when you do tell them that what they say at times, really upsets you?
Hmmm, I take it a couple of times, maybe I am being modest, maybe I take it more than a couple of times. Yes, it really upsets me. What happens when I tell the person that he/she is hurting me? Well, I don't feel any good. I feel equally bad, if not more. And it is also accompanied with a feeling of guilt of hurting them instead.Phew! So, I am upset before and after telling the person so. And worse still is the fact that it will keep on going in my head, over and over and over again!
Solution? ( no , I don't need to go to the shrink :) )
I guess, I need to take things in my stride and better still, I need to choose at times between me and the others.

Pre-school!

I used to hate going to school as a kid.I mean really, really hate. And as I used to stay with my grandmother and Uncles', it was very easy to convince them to let me stay back. :) So, some days would start like this, "Amma, can I please stay back today. I promise I will go tomorrow" . I was around four , quite plump and I knew how to convince her and my Uncles'. I would just look at them with a very sad face and beg them with my eyes, tears almost about to fall. She never thought more than a second from saying yes :) . And days when they used to convince me to get ready for school, I used to get ready with a heavy heart. The small bag propped on my shoulders, my hand quietly put in my Uncle's, I used to start with him for school. There were days I used to start crying the moment we used to step out of house and I used to be brought back home. There were days when crying wouldn't be of any use, and I had to walk to school. My Uncle would carefully avoid looking at me and my silent tears , he would buy me chocolates which I would throw. At the school gate, I would look at him and tell him,"Bhaiyya, my stomach hurts, it really does, I can't sit in the class. The pain is unbearable, can we please go home, please? " Of course it never did hurt , but I just didn't want to go to school and yes he would bring me home. And of course, there were days, we would enter the school, enter the class, he would help me sit in my chair, neatly put the bag beside me and the water bottle, and wave me good bye, with a promise of being outside the class before the home bell.He would go out side the class and stand near the window, pleading me with his eyes to stop crying. I used to make it so difficult for him to leave me there.

All that changed after I went to stay with my parents. No more excuses, no more tantrums.School was school and I had to attend it, come what may :) Last night I suddenly remembered how much I used to hate going to school and how my Uncle and grandmother had to put up with it.

Places I remember.in Kashmir.

1. My grandmother's place in Kashmir. I was spoiled rotten by her and my Uncle's. I can never forget that house and the love I got there.

2. The garden in our house in Kashmir. Filled with every kind of blossom. I was never allowed to pluck any though and one flower which always used to tempt me was the Tulip. Only one tulip, every season. No begging, pleading would let my father or grandfather allow me to pluck it. And finally that flower was stolen by the neighbor's son. Wanted to kill him , I guess I still want to :)

3. Nehru Park in Kashmir. You could go near the lake and put your hands in the water and all the tiny fish would come and touch your hands and tickle you. After all these years, I still remember the feeling.

The list is not exhaustive. I hardly remember anything about Kashmir. I was too young when we left that place and I have tried to forget some not-so-good- memories of that place and yet when I think about Kashmir, some things, some incidents and some places like the above are ever fresh in my mind!

Just One Left.

Now this is truly sad. My fish. There were so many of them and now just one remains :(.
The second last one died last night. It had better chances of surviving as it had grown bigger. Alas! I have left all hopes of the last one survining, it is very small and will not be able to survive the summer. I have another fish, gouramis, a very strong fish, but I don't really like it all that much.( I wasn't sure about getting it home, but I did). Hence for me keeping fish as pet ends here.
I had always wanted fish in my home. The first recollection I have about throwing a tantrum for having a fish to take home goes back to Kashmir. I must have been three or four ( some things you remember quite vividly, not matter how old they are), I had gone to the market with my grandmother. She needed to buy vegetables and I guess fish for dinner. So, I kept pulling at the corner of her sari, and asking her to buy me a fish. She kept telling me that she was buying fish for dinner and I kept telling her that I didn't want to eat it, I wanted to keep it. This went on for more than half an hour, I guess. Finally she couldn't take it anymore, neither could the shopkeeper and my grandmother asked him to give a fish to me. Picture this, a four year old with hands as small as they can be ( if you want to know, how small my hands were then, you can still look at them, they never really grew, they are still very small :) ), tryin to hold a slippery fish. The fish, whose size was bigger than my hands( 0bviously!), kept slippping from my hands and as it was a live one(:) ), it was jumping everywhere. I dropped it in the mud several times, picked it up again and yes this scene went on for some time, till Amma got vexed with me and my silly tactics, snatched the fish from me, got a tumbler from somewhere and put the fish inside and off we went home.
I was very excited, I had a fish! we got the fish in the afternoon and I was allowed to keep it only in the bathroom, so every ten minutes, I would head to the bathroom, to see whether it was live or not. Also, meanwhile, I had my lunch, afternoon nap and a lot of other things.Come night, the fish curry is being cooked and I go to the bathroom to check on my fish and to my utter shock, it's gone! I run everywhere to ask about the fish and everybody gives me the same answer, that it died while I was sleeping ( I actually bought it , I was small with no brain at all, you know).

Sigh! All my other attempts to convince my parents to buy me a fish went futile. They would never hear of it. I did once convince my sister to buy me one , but she said the bowl would break in the auto and we would come back with my father the next day to get it ( I am still waiting for that day!)
Finally, last year I got a pair of gold fish as a gift. My happines knew no bounds.I finally, finally had proper gold fish as pets! However, one died in a week. I was so crestfallen that it was replaced by another gold fish the same day. Now, you have to know about this fish. My room mate and I christened it Oliver ( people who are laughing, can stop reading this post). It was some fish.The most active fish, I ever saw. Even after it's partner died , it was blissfully happy to be lonely. It would know when it was time for it to get food. A very , very beautiful fish. It couldn't survive last year's summer as well. It died the night I was at my friend's place. I really liked it. After keeping away from getting anymore fish home, after a couple of months, I did get many and some of them gave babies. Around thirty to be precise. From that thirty, just one has left. If it survives , it would be nice, but from now on I am never going to keep fish as pet. It is very painful to see them die. A pet is a pet, however small it might be.

A grumpy cab driver and a poor me!

Yesterday evening, I had to go to a Uncle's place for dinner, who is a very close family friend. I was out of excuses of not going to his place and had to give in yesterday. I had a brilliant plan of travelling from my office to my home and then travelling again to his place. I was too smart to listen to somebody's advise of going straight to Uncle's place from the office. My theory - I don't know the way properly to his place, I will be clubbed in the cab with people who would have to go in the same direction, and I would be directionless ( confusing ??) and hence didn't want the wrath of people who were heading home early. So I thought I would do everyone a favor( really, don't know why I have to think about people whom I don't even know. ) and head home.
Oh yes, of course I called up my folks, told them to wait up for me, and that I was going to leave in an hour and not to leave without me at any cost. And so, there I was ,sharp at five thirty in the basement, going helter skelter from the zone which would have cabs going to my destination, to the person who allots cabs. When I went to my zone, the driver told me that he is not suppose to go to my place, so I ran to the cab allocator (:) ), who asked me to go the zone again! ( come to think of it now, I did feel like a ping-pong ball :) ).
Finally sat in the cab, told the driver,"I am sorry, I was asked to sit in this cab and now I can't really help it." He grumbled and grunted and started the cab. The story takes yet another turn, while leaving, two other girls who were going to B'jara Hills were asked to sit in the cab. :) Yes, the cab driver wasn't happy about it and started grumbling again. It was a complete detour for him, in the first place, it wasn't his route at all :)
After they were dropped near and around City Center, the driver couldn't hold it anymore and went ahead with a barrage of complaints and everything, convincing me completely that I was at fault for having a home which is so far. Inter- district travelling as some people put it :) .
Sigh! I couldn't take it anymore , his cribbing was getting at me. So I asked him if he knew where diamond point was ( where I was suppose to go later on in the evening), he said he did. I asked him again, whether he was really , really sure where it was. He gave me a look which convinced me that he knew where it was.And then I asked him if it would make him happy if he had to drop me at diamond point and not at my place. He said, "of course madam". So I told him to drop me there and not at my place and to stop breathing down my neck( yes this phrase,I obviously said it in my mind :) )
Called up my mother, my father picked up the phone and told him to not wait for me anymore and that I would see them directly at Uncle's place. Hung up as quickly as possible before I would hear another barrage of complaints :)
So here it is , the first of many cab driver related incidents. At the end of the day what matters is that I was saved from travelling more, I wasn't lost and the cab driver had stopped cribbing and was glad to have a drop like me, so accomodating, I tell you :) !

Books, books and books.

As children, most people love to read comics. I detested them. I only managed to read Pinki ( hehehe, really Pinki??) and chacha Chaudhary, and later on Champak and Twinkle. Also, I read them only when I was bored to death and my sister would have her exams and I couldn't fight or irritate her. The reading bug caught me when I was in my 8th grade. I made my sister borrow a book from the library on her name ( only students in the higher class could borrow books in my school). Hence, the first novel I have read in my life is, Coma, by Robin Cook. Well, those of you, if a little familiar with the author, would think that a thirteen year old, could have done without this as her first novel. The book gives a detail explanation of the not-known side of the medical world and many other things. But I was fascinated by the book. I wanted to read more from the same author. Alas, my sister would not hear of it ( she was advised by some silly friennd of her's to not give me novels to read at this age. Talk about being old - fashioned! as if! ).

So, the next novel which I read was after two years of gap, and this time around, it was another popular writer, Sidney Sheldon. Nothing Lasts Forever, this was the first novel of his which I read, and I was hooked on to his novels in the years to come. I have read all of his novels except one and my favorite is , Tell me your dreams.

Another book which was a milestone in itself to read was , Godfather. I was obsessed by the book, I used to read it through out the day, while eating, travelling, in between classes, all the time. I have still not the seen the movie, beacause I don't want to spoil the magic this book has created for me. The way I look at the characters of this book are my own, I have my own setting and I refuse to part with it.

And so the journey began from Sheldon, I went to back to Robin Cook :), ( the friend didn't have a say anymore :) ), Jeffrey Archer, some claasics, Ludlum, Christie, Poe, Jayeshree Misra, Shashi Deshpandey, the list is endless. I love reading books, my summer vacations used to go by in a jiffy, I used to read through out the day, as well as nights.
They still give me pleasure, company and a lot more. The journey is not over yet! :)

A Bright and Cheerful day!

Well for several reasons it is a bright and cheerful day. One very obvious reason is that it REALLY is a bright day :) . Two, I am able to write something , anything. Three, I wasn't in my best of moods for a couple of days, but, today is different. I feel good, I can't stop smiling and I am happy. It was something I had been waiting for months to happen and it finally did. Will not bore anyone with what it is that has made me so happy ( people who have to know , will know about it :)

P.S. Cheerful mood makes you ramble very easily, doesn't it? :)

Blank

what do you do when you want write something, I mean really want to write something, but there is nothing which comes to your mind about which you can write? Sometimes to pen down even random thoughts is so difficult. To put it in sensible, meaningful words is even more :).
I have been trying to write about something, anything since yesterday.. but all I could manage was nothing. Not that I don't have anything to say, write, share, express.. but why is it so impossible to put it down? No wonder writers take ages to write a book.

"The Place of My Dreams"

There is a place I know, or do I ?
There is a crystal clear river,
the sun shines on it
and makes the water look as though
diamonds are strewn all over it.

The mountain tips are
covered with snow.
The earth is covered with
a green blanket.
I see a house
which is painted white.
There are trees on both
sides of the path.
Flowers are blooming everywhere,
they are scattered all over the path.
My feet crush them,
imprinting them on the path.

I see somebody watching me
from the house.
Is it a man I see?
Suddenly my heart starts beating faster,
my walk turns into a run.
I knock at the door.
I knock at the door and wait for it to open.
When it is opening, I am shaken out of my
reverie without seeing the face of the man!

P.S. I am not sure it can be called a verse :), yet
it was written impromptu one year ago while sitting
in the class and getting bored by the lecture .

The Alchemy of Desire

No, not writing a review on this book by Tarun Tejpal. ( Actually din't know that he wrote fiction, thought he was only interested in creating tehelka :) ). Just penning down my thoughts on this book. Anyways, chanced upon this book at my friend's place.Wasn't sure if I would be able to read the book till the end ( can't read a book if the first fifty pages don't interest me), but I did read it and that too quite eagerly.Imagery, the first thing which comes to my mind about this book. The author has done full jsutice to the places he has described be it the lanes of Chandigarh, or the small house in Delhi or the place near Nainital, where a large chunk of the story takes place. While reading the book, you can actually picture every thing and for me if a writer is able to make the reader visualise, he/she has done a great job.
A couple madly in love with each other, share similar interests, not materialistic,are happy in any situation, any condition as long as they have each other.The husband dotes on his wife , the desire still intact even after so many years of courtship and later, marriage. What keeps the relationship going on , rather keeps it alive and sizzling is this desire.
A small inheritance takes the couple to the mountains where they buy a very old house which was built during the British rule. The house , however, needs some renovation. Although the caretaker of the house strongly objects to this, the renovation still takes place. The husband finds a bundle of books when the wall is brought down. The writings in these books make the couplegrow apart.
The reader is taken to the pre-independence era where the rest of the story takes place. Another love story, a white woman falling in love with a homosexual Indian prince and coming with him to his country, and falling in love yet again with his slave. The books are the entries written by this woman. The husband reads this entries and is possessed by the era, is taken over by the desire for the woman, destroying everything which was real in his life. He sees her everywhere, his wife tries hard to win him back, and leaves eventually. His madness takes him to America to find the descendant of this woman, and when he finally does, he is not relieved, he is shaken from his reverie ( nightmare??)and gets back to his country, his place, his house, his wife.
The alchemy of desire,can make you do strange things, things which you don't think you are capable of doing.
If a book tells you many stories at the same time and is still able to retain your attention and not confuse you, then you know , you are reading a good book. Also, the tiniest of details if mentioned, no doubt make it a lengthy book, but it's worth it. :)

Deep Blue Sea!

The recent trip to Mahabalipuram revived a lot of memories and allowed me to store some more in my box :) I have rarely been to beaches, the first time was four - five years ago. A few miles from Ratnagiri in Maharashtra , there is a temple near the shore. There are steps which start from the temple and lead to the ocean. The day I went with my parents to the temple, the ocean was fierce. The waves were hitting the banks hard , as if angry about something or someone. The person who had accompanied us said that it was the first time, he saw such a thing happen. I wanted to go down a little further, tease the waves a little bit, but my mother would not hear of it. Fifteeen minutes from this place, is another beach. Not yet a tourist spot, hence very few people were around. The first time, I came to know the joy of the waves touchimg my feet and the sand slipping through my toes. The amazement when I realised that we move bakwards when the waves go back ( do we??). It is simply ecstatic. My mother told me later that it was the first time she saw me so happy and laugh like a kid after a long time. My father made sure to hold my hand throughout the time we were on the shore ( which was very less :) ).

The shore at Mahabalipuram brought it all back. The company was different though. The first thing which we did was after reaching M'puram was to head to the beach. The crispness in the air, the beautiful sight of water, revived the tired souls.To look around in this small town, didn't take much time, and by early evening we were back at the beach to have a great time. A quick word on the view from the lighthouse of the sea - BEAUTIFUL. To actually see the sea, in different shades of blue, so serene, so lovely, will be with me for a life time.

Promises to keep....

I never had a plan. I always went with the flow.In school, all that mattered was a lot of fun, a lot of fights with my sister and to be in bed by nine, at any cost. I used to see my sister slog through out, to be the best in her class. My policy, " To have fun". Somewhere from primary to secondary, something changed, a lot changed rather. Some conditions, snatched the fun away.I could see myself change, become dull and I couldn't do anything about it. The rest of the years in school and later in plus two, went in a daze. Graduation was all about proving to everyone around that there is more to a student's option of studying stereotype streams. University sucked out the living day lights out of me. Hoards of internals, seminars, exams, took aways whatever little life was left in me :)
But it gave me what I had lost in school - fun. Yes, the meaning had changed. But the two years in the University made up for all the time lost. First and foremost, I learnt to think out of the box. The people I met were all different in every aspect, religion, region, orientation, ideology.. everything.I met many intelligent people, some too pedantic, some unaware of their intelligence and some hell bent on ignoring the realities of life.
I haven't travelled much and hence the campus provided me with the oportunity to be close with Nature. Right from reptiles, to birds, to hares, to beautiful trees and blossoms, I got to see them all.
The dream is over, leaves me with many unforgettable moments, and at the same time a litttle bit of bitterness. But don't we say, "life moves on".
I have decided it has to, I have to , I already have. Yet another phase starts, yet another journey with a loved one in tow.... It holds a lot of anticipation, anxiety, curiosity, and a lot of promises :)
..... "promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep"

Why Simplicity ?

I have always liked simple things in life. Right from simple people to simple thinking. Simple things in life give me immense pleasure. I don't profess to be simple myself, how so ever I try :). To see a new born smile in it's sleep, brings a smile to anyone's face. One of my cab mate's nephew (barely a year old), comes out on the balcony once in a blue moon. I look up to him, perched on the wall of the balcony, nudged by the grandmother to wave at me. And all he does is stare at me. The days that I see him, I know for sure my day is going to go just fine :) The same cab mate's mother comes out in the balcony to see her daughter off. I don't know her and yet I unconsciously look at her and smile and she smiles back and acknowledges me. ( yes, there are other people in the cab as well, every body busy in their own world). A few months ago, while I was traveling to the office, I saw a mother waiting with her son, most probably for his school bus. Months later, I still remember the one second scene which took place between them. The son had tears in his eyes, he was not crying, just had tears. The mother wiped his tears with one hand , hugged him and was trying really hard not to cry. I found it so beautiful to see this simple expression of love. Just a couple of instances to reiterate the fact that simple things, if not anything else make you feel happy, only if it is for a short time :)

To be or not to be !

what is it about writitng?
what is it that makes me stop in my tracks whenever I think of writing something.
Something that is me, that is my own, that is my own craziness, myself.
As a child,I never thought twice before writing whatever came to my mind. Years later when i read my diary entries, they
never failed to bring a smile to my face. Then what has changed now? why is it that every time, i think about writing, it is only a thought
and never put on paper. hmmm, is it that I don't have any experience to write about? I hardly think so. Every day in the last seven to eight years has brought something with it.
Be it a simple sun rise, a sun set , a tear, a smile, a fight, a rendezvous, anything and everything. I think if I start writing now, I will be able to finish writing about all the experiences in a year or two. :)
Most of the times, we all know the answer behind the questions we ask. I know to mine as well. Years of education - school, college and university has made me aware, in fact a little too aware of my language. The technical part of it, to be more specific. I am a person with a literature background, I don't want to use rules when I am writing something which is very close to my heart. Yet, what makes me not write these days is this reason alone.I don't want to dissect nor let anyone else get the perverse pleasure of dissecting my writing.
Ahem, a silly reason? At times I think so too, yet I know the moment I write something, I will be the first person to trash it. Only when I get over this, will I be able to relive the magical and not-so-magical moments of my life.

A jump start!!

After a lot of contemplation, and no-nos, I have finally decided to create a blog where I can write, and most importantly what I want to write.Hopefully I will do justice and write religiously.Ahem, of course it all depends on how much time I will be able to give to this. However, baby steps have been taken and I will let the wild, care free writer in me take over. :)