Meanderings

Before she knew, the twisting and winding path took her deep into the pine forest. She turned around to see if there was a trail, but all she could see were the tall coniferous trees. Still, silent, observant of the entangled thoughts. She felt goosebumps on her soft skin. What if this was a black hole of pines? The only saving grace was the bright sun, playing hide and seek. There were no clouds, but the pines were tall enough to block the light every now and then. 

Her feet started aching. Her head was spinning. The beautiful wonderland forest was becoming a maze of illusions. The green pine trees, lined in rows, with mountains in the backdrop, looks prettier in pictures. She was thirsty, and her stomach was growling. She called out for help, but there was no reply. She didn't pay much heed to the chirping, or the rustling. Tired, broken, and with lost hope, she rested herself on a flat stone. The stone was wet. She closed her eyes, and drifted away to sleep. She dreamt of her childhood days, spent in the woods of her hometown. It was a small town, with dense forests. She knew the trees, the shrubs and the creepers. They grew up together with her. The riverbed was her afternoon hideout. 

A familiar sound woke her up. It sounded the same, like the gushing of the clear stream. She pulled herself up. A bit of hope fluttered in her heart. Climbing higher up the rock, she raised herself on her toes, just to sight a clear sparkling stream of water. The sun rays created a mystical glistening sight. She slowly but steadily walked up to the stream, cupped the crystal clear water, sipping the drops. Her lips quivered, he heart jostled the lost hope. Walking along the bank of the stream, she could see the clear blue sky, the green path ahead. It was no longer meandering aimless. 

Image source: 

www.usda.gov

www.divineglowinghealth.com

Simple pleasures with a friend for life

I was lying on my back, on the big swing, staring at the blue sky, the white clouds drifting slowly across. My 5 year old was lying beside me. :) His curious question came up next. "Mom, why do we have a big blue hole in the sky?" "Vihaan, that part of the sky is clear, the clouds haven't yet covered it with their blanket..". "Oh, OK mom, I thought its a monster's burrow". 

Before relaxing on the swing, we had done some football passing practise, skipped rope, played stapo, went round and round on a merry go round, and jumped the trampoline. Well, we needed a break. 

Later we went to the supermarket. Standing in front of the chocolate shelf, we decided. "No mum, we have to be strong, so no chocolates. You already had some ketchup in the afternoon today, which is bad for your health." 

Last week, there was a leaking water tank at the Söder Hospital, next to Vihaan's school. The water was gushing down in a stream down the road. Thus began some fun, which converted into experimentation mode. How does the water flow stop when we put our foot on the drain. And similar stuff. 15 minutes well spent, irrespective of the passerby's staring at us. After all it was raining as well, at 5pm in the evening. Time to go home lady. 

As Vihaan just pushed me into fixing the dry clothes from the laundry, and putting them back in the almirahs - a job pending since a week, a sudden calmness engulfed me. Enjoying these simple pleasures, I have a made friend for life. Vihaan my son. Love you darling. 

Linking this post to Ultimate Blog Challenge (UBC) April 2014. 

Being me..

I stand and see the years flow by

Learnt to walk with head held high,

Learnt to foresee, learnt to speak 

Learnt to selfsame in trough or peak. 

And then it's me who lived along

I dream of life like a bonita song,

I love, heart full of compassion

I smile, live life, its my passion. 

Penned for “BEING ME- THE HERSTORY MONTAGE” hosted by Indiblogeshwaris. 

Coffee without water..

It was the year I started working with Nielsen (New Delhi office). Year 2006 to be precise. It was a great team to start work in the new industry. 7 years down the line, I am fortunate to be working with Nielsen, now in Sweden. 

A few months after my joining, one of my mentor's put in his papers. S dada is a gem of a person and an excellent professional. I learnt a lot working with him on a couple of projects. The vacant position was taken up by someone from the same team, working in Mumbai office, and wanted to relocate back to Delhi, to stay close to his family. His name was Sampath Atmakury. 

Sampath - the life, the exuberance, the love, the colleague, the friend. 

My first impression was - "what an arrogant brat". Well, we had to work together anyways. We were in the same team. Things changed, and from mere colleagues we became friends. Sharing knowledge, helping each other which slowly moved on to sharing secrets. Our workstations were next to each other, Samzie and Arps became good friends. 

Sampath had a penchant for thunder bikes (Harley Davidson types.. he owned a bullet though), and he loves jazz. I have a preserved pic of us in the nielsen office, dates back to 2006. 

Courtesy: Sushmita Sarkar ( www.myunfinishedlife.com ) 

Once he sprained his ankle in the morning, while I was on my way to work. He called up to ask if I could get some spray. At 8.30 am, no chemist was open, but I did manage to go to RML's 24 hour chemist to get the spray. Whenever I look at Volini or Iodex spray bottles, all I recount is this incident. 

The coffee machine at Nielsen was a tragic error installed for the pitiful employees. The pathetic liquid which slowly made its way in the plastic cups was far from coffee. Sampath derived this methodology, Of removing the cup away from the machine when water oozed out, which was twice in the process of filling one cup. Well, this one incident is etched on my brain, and now, in the past 8 years, whenever i fill my cup with coffee from nespresso or any other machine, i follow the same formulae. And everytime I perform this act, Sampath Atmakury makes his way in my thoughts. 

The post lunch walks, the Andhra Bhawan lunch visits (I have been there without him, I just can't), the visits to Sai Mandir, Lodhi Road, the memories are all so fresh. He gave my son the name - "Sai". 

Sampath moved to Dubai, to look for better career prospects, only to return in 2008. The patriot in him was always alive and he wanted to come back to his country, and was bored of the sand and water of Dubai. 16th June 2008, he was to visit us in Delhi. He called me on 15th June, and told me his flight is on 16th morning. Sampath didnt show up that day. I got a call from another colleague from Mumbai. 

Sampath died in a head on collision with a truck while riding his bullet in the wee hours of 16th on the Secunderabad - Hyderabad highway. He was 25 years old and left behind his parents and younger sister in grief. 

Ironically, I still have a note from him, a long email, which ended as follows: 

Its been an hour since I got back…am lying back on my bed…my body still aching pleasantly…still throbbing from our intense time together..the smell

of her on my fingers….traces of her on every part of me……and in my head

thinking…"what the hell am I doing?" …and as I started to write this…my 

attempt at catharsis, i guess….I am thinking about all of you….all of you

in your snug lives...who'll read this..and am thinking that she might be

just a 350cc bullet to all of you….but she'll always be more than a woman to me….

And here goes his favorite track. 

Hugs, wherever you are!! 

The tram line, and we...

I am lucky to live in a city which is by far the best in public transport system. The need for your own car/ vehicle never arises. Around a year back, atrociously, the bus stop near my home disappeared. This was thanks to the new tram line construction (from Solna to Alvik, in Stockholm, Sweden where I reside). And thus began the journey, which our neighbourhood is still reeling in. The 800 metres walk to the nearest metro station is suddenly extended to 1200 metres. The whole day we have sirens to warn against the loud thump of dynamite blowing the rocky terrain, to build a tunnel for the tram line. I would like to mention that the sound of this dynamite is much less than the honks and noises of the blue line buses in Delhi. You get to feel a thump (reminds me of "Jurassic Park").

A couple of days back, I returned back from work to find a box of Marabou chocolates in my post. The box is specially ordered, and has a "Tack" printed on it. That means "thank you" in Svenska (Sweden's local language).

 There is a note attached to the box as well. I have translated it (the note was in Svenska as well). It is a "thank you" note from the construction company NCC who are handling the tram construction work and SL, the Swedish public transport company. 

The note thanks the residents of the area for their patience, and tolerance towards the disruption of normalcy in the locality. They thank us for enduring the noise, the disturbance in  the walking track and barriers on the road, which have led to discomfort to the public. 
An immediate curve on my face, and all becomes fine. :). I am excited about the whole process now. I am looking forward to the day when I will use the tram to reach my favourite shopping destinations, or to my friend's place. Thanks to the Marabou milk chocolate and the simple thought from NCC-SL, just the concern for the common man, 

Being an Indian, I tend to immediately compare the situation with the construction of the Delhi Metro, whch is the latest which comes to my mind. Just as a reminder and a stark comparision - http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-south-asia-11161014


The tram line is expected to be on in the summer of 2013. 

From Arrays to Binary Trees!!

As I write down this peculiar thought which were clouding my mind in the train this morning, I wonder where are these words going. In the array, queue, linked lists or binary trees. Where are the analog signals heading to and where are the digital signals formed. How does this sleek box (read laptop) shares my brain and processes half of what I think.

Well, recalling what all I studied in my graduation, I do not know whether I have ever applied it anywhere in my work. Morover apart from BCG matrix, I have not applied any of my management lessons in my work too. Then why did we study so much?

Ahh, I know the answer. To make a disarray of friends. That is what the first 20 odd years are meant for, to make friends. To have the real fun of life. To enjoy. And await the worse to come. The Tsunami hits with a thud as I received my joining letter from my first job. And then there was no looking back. Everyday facing the torrents, the storm. Hitting my face and ripping me apart. I keep pulling myself back, and somehow keep going everyday. And then has come the binary tree. And here I spread the disarray, queue and linked lists to the genext and here I complete the binary tree.

But is this all what life is meant for? Struggle and achieve? But on what cost? On the cost of your happiness? On the cost of your satisfaction? On the cost of love? It is like the chicken and egg story. It depend on my choice, I choose the chicken or I choose the egg. If you have the extra potential you may choose an omelette or a chicken biryani too!!

So this is what I write on the valentine’s day today. I have to stop being a array with no connections. Instead I should be a binary tree, with branches touching the ground, laden with fruits which my kin will cherish, with shade which my fellows will love. I should spread and not dissipate. I should smile and not grieve.