Thursday 8 March 2012

The Many Colours




Red, Blue, green, yellow, Pink, [purple and I lost count as I looked on at the countless vibrant dunes of colors in the shop. ‘Holi’ the day of the colors is here and it’s a nightmare to be out on the street on this day. They won’t leave any one out, and no one knows an escape from the clouds of colors that rise from every nook and cranny of the street. It is mayhem and its totally unpredictable. It’s the one day you regret ever making friends as you don’t want them anywhere in a one mile radius near you. You don’t have a single safe place to hide safely from their sinister intentions; they infiltrate everywhere including your bedroom. The streets are the worst, you have no idea from where a bucket full of colored water will hit you and you have no escape from the rogue pichkari bearers running lose on the streets and what not.  You are under street from the two foot toddler and they are more dangerous and reckless than their adult counterparts.



In short it is a wonderful and colorful day to live and its one hell of a festival to be part of. The celebrations are heart warming and the sense of brotherhood reverberating. Huh! I can hear the foot steps of my friends approaching my door now and guess what I have a surprise planned for them. Poor chaps they are expecting to a me hiding carefully from them and they are in for a surprise.

Happy Holi and let the colors lose and the spirits free.

PS: I have to see their faces! He! He! He!

The Day of the Women







Every once in a while when something sinister happens, we start talking about, their security, their safety, their lives and the several clichés that we so randomly use. The only exception to it ought to be this and a handful of other anniversaries. And now I am not going to be doing the same here just because it’s a cliché.


There were many women in my life and quiet a few are worth mention. And there are of course a few that I will not talk about ever, not even a passing reference or a unwelcomed memory. But in the making of the man I am today there are quiet a few skillful hands that that belonged to the some very lovely ladies all along. I must be very thankful, rather indebted to these very special souls.


I don’t know what being an women would come to mean and how it feels to be being the daughter of Eve. I can only imagine and my imagination ought to be highly restrictive. After all the key is to a women’s thought is yet to be identified. But it must feel wonderful to be the one to possess the gift of life a rare and divine responsibility that the heavens entrusted to them. The continuation of humanity ought to be a very demanding responsibility.


When we talk about women, its just natural to talk of fertility, the wonderful gift of giving birth and ‘The Mother’.  For centauries we have worshipped this divine gift and have always embraced it close at heart. So I am thankful to my very loving Mother whose sole love and care and the occasional scolding and scorning made me into the made of value I believe I am today. Then there is her mother, my grand mother who with her love and unbelievably tasty magic made sure that I was always full and stuffed to the brim. I must thank these two wonderful ‘one hell of a woman’s but I wont, I just love them and I will leave it at that.


Women have a heart so big, yet so small. It’s heard to get out once you have found your way in and its hard to find your way back into it once you have been thrown out. There are many women I love and I loved in the many (twenty one) years I lived. There are the ones that require a special mention and the ones that may have a passing reference, but irrespective of that they all have made significant contributions to the big and small things I have done and became. I have two aunts who were my world when I grew up and they are quite amiable too. And one of them I solely remember from her photograph on my grandfather’s desk and the weekly call she made to my grandparents house during my stay there. The two women own much of my construction and rightfully so.


Falling in and out of love is not a prerogative of men, women do it to often with such deceptive elegance and for a chauvinistic argument they do blame it on men always. But we both know the truth.  Then again its not the breaking and breaking of love that matters but living it. And from all the romantic relationships I have had and all the wonderful souls I have been with and the angel whom I have decided to share my life with (officially and officially she doesn’t know yet) I have had a life’s worth of wonderful experiences.


I have been blabbering for too long now and I don’t intend to take it any further than this. So for all the wonderful ladies I missed but not forgotten. All the teachers, friends and acquaintances and all the wonderful time they cared to spend with me I have just this to say.







Sorry! I missed to mention you
And
Thank you! For all the things and times you cared to share.

    














Tuesday 6 March 2012

An Amazing Ad



When I found this ad lying around in a dusty corner of this laptop, My first reaction was to throw it right out. It was old, it was viewed and it was unused for a long time. But then I thought of just playing it once and I just had to share it with all you wonderful people.

Its not everyday that you come across that really touches your heart and it has something, something more than just the brand it represents. This ad contains some of the finest emotions in all its subtlety. It truly is a remarkable and beautiful add, very moving utterly touching.


Saturday 3 March 2012

It's What is Not Said





Life is rather elusive yet we live it as if we know all about. In its rather innumerable strangeness lies its beauty and the very reason for the invaluably of life. Life has certain unique ways its chose to be and it has rather solid reasons for it remains so. Who could have thought that what we prefer not to say is much more significant than what we spit out. I have heard people speak in volumes about the importance of saying at times and not saying at times, but what they carefully or carelessly neglect is the significance silence has in ones life as it is. May be that’s because silence is as unattainable as most of the good things in life, they never come easy.


In the many things that we prefer not to say for obvious reasons remains for obvious reasons the fundamental building block to solving our many a million problems. It sounds so obvious doesn't it; keep your mouth shut and no more problems. It ought to be that simple yet we find it increasingly difficult to keep our mouth shut, don't we. The truth and trick is to know when to keep it shut and when to shout aloud. The particular thing about life is that it is not whether we fight or not, fighting is fundamental to marriage as sex, to borrow the idea of Jon fighting is instantaneous, creative and deeply personal, in fact everything that sex ought to be. The trick is not to over do it, know when to stop and know what not to tell. Like any fair fights you win some you lose some, and isn't the reason for the fight not to break up. It serves as a excellent opportunity to let out the steam and make you calm down.


Every fights is a potential treat, you could convince yourself that your fights are just that the normal average household is used to. But the unfortunate truth is there is no simple fight, in every fight lies the indomitable ability to develop into something formidable, something that could wreck your household. Every fight requires the active care of both persons involved to prevent it from developing into anything more than what it is now. A fight is always volatile and ever so tempting. 


Every time you are presented with the option to win, but at what cost it comes is a matter of great concern. Would you want to say something sinister and unforgivable and win or would you want to bow out like a gentleman in the true sense of the word and preserve what you have. It often bothers me whether winning is worth it, why do one ever have to win to win a domestic fight, i ask myself Wouldn't i be happier to just lose and have my family than celebrate my victory as someone else very dear to me lies shattered. Isn't it her loss my loss and isn't her victory just as mine as it is hers. Yet at every fight it seems just as different a story as it possibly can, the spontaneous and explosive creativeness and the intense emotional and personal involvement leaves but little room for a thoughtful fight. But one thing is certain before you say anything too much you are sure to choke and it sure is going to get caught in your throat, that's when you ought to decide whether to say something you are sure to choke on, at the heat of the moment. Its always uptown you to decide and the question always remain.

To say or not to say.

Tuesday 28 February 2012

The Little Big Things





Every journey is a new experience, no matter how often, no matter how short they tend to be. It’s not the journey that matters, not as much as the people we get to meet and life we get to experience. Every dawn and every dusk brings along with it a hoard of experiences that are just waiting to be discovered. This is the story of just one of the many interesting people I got to meet in my numerous journeys that made me realise that life is not something sacred; it is what happens right in front of our eyes, everyday. Don’t for one second think that I am an adept traveller, the sad truth is that I started travelling out of necessity and though I prefer the familiar comforts of my writing desk it has given me a chance to experience life as it is, raw and unadulterated.


It must be in one of those dreary Friday evenings that keep coming up every week, offering a strange intoxicating mix of anticipation, relief and happiness that this happened. I was supposedly going home after a week’s hectic schedule and it was literally killing me that I had to wait further for it to happen. I have had a practise of going with a couple of really goods friends; we have been travelling home together since we were travelling home at all. But today they had to pack and they were late, late enough to let me fend on my own. The necessities of the travel insisted that I find a suitable mode of transportation, an autorikshaw ( for those of you unfamiliar with the word, it is a three wheeled public transport vehicle in black and yellow or either, refer any Bollywood flick to know more . It’s easy to spot and hard to forget, for us it’s just a way of life like taxi is to New Yorkers.) is what I had in mind. It was not hard to find one, certainly not on a Friday.


Okay! That matters too!


Soon I landed a certain driver who was more than just willing to take us to the railway station that we needed to get, but since my friends were still packing I had to wait for them to come. Poor chap readily agreed to wait along with me; I must say he was a jolly good fellow to spend time with. Now just for the record I had to wait a good 45 minutes for my friends to come and hence being late for all the right trains. But then again that gave me this rather valuable lesson in life.


The little ones knows much more about little things than us!
The long wait let us on the streets with nothing much top do but talk, though a practical lover of silence I would always like some company at times. He insisted on talking as he would occasionally blurt out some random question or the other (like does every one speak English in the campus) and so and so. I did take a liking to him. Things didn’t get any interesting till a friend of his dropped by and they got talking. The truth is I never intended to eavesdrop on those guys as I was happily trotting away in my own imaginary world. The startling reminiscence of innocence in their routine chat drew my attention to them and their conversations. He was talking about his luck and I was instantly interested in knowing what lady luck has bestowed upon him, the truth was it was me, rather us. I realised then how much it meant for them to have the weekly trips that we made, our travels were more essential to them than it were ever to them.


In their casual conversation lied an unmistakable scent of innocence that is otherwise unseen and unheard of today. He was talking about how lucky he was to have gotten customers that day and how he and friends were celebrating in their free time yesterday and so and so. Its not what they talked that made it important, its how is said it, how with a smile and a attitude to match he made it seem that the very basic things in life were something else entirely. Its how his words and the sentences they formed transcended what would have been just a ordinary life into a story worth talking about, a life worthy of mention. In the simplest sense he taught me how life is in every little thing we do. And what I learnt sitting under the bright evening sun on a concrete sidewall by a rather crowded piece of asphalt.