"Love" for me, has a wide array of aspects - love which I feel, smile in the loving thoughts, laughing in each others arms, watching the rain together, when my little one kisses me, when I run on the sea shores and sing aloud with my friends, when I love myself for the way I am, love for which my little one calls his teacher "mum" (so he has two mums, let innocence prevail).
But amidst all this, I have a secret love, which will no more be a secret after this post. So to the love of my life, my dear home of my dreams, you are the best my dream could be, so here's to your existence, somewhere in the world.
Wait for me, for I will be with you soon!
White rain-washed walls, glistening under the lovely bright rays
Surrounded by beds of pink and yellow roses,
The clear glass mounted on blue wooden window frames,
The white shirt, and your loving gaze!
It is a small wrought iron gate, freshly painted black
Lantern shaped posts line the cobblestone path,
Green chillies and coriander planted in the backyard,
Creepers in the crevices and crack.
Flame of the forests shades the wooden swings
Set up by dad, exactly the same as my loving grandpa did,
The boundary wall overlooks the busy street,
The bakery has a visitor, every time the bell rings.
As you enter my house of love
Notice the color theme, in hues of blue and red
The flowers and candles adorn each nook and corner
That's the aroma of home baked bread, fresh and fluff!
Poster photos of all loving memories, from childhood till this day
Warmth of love and companionship welcomes you in my home
Light breeze, the country music, gives joy galore
My home is beautiful, in some antique, and some modern ways
My home has a corner for everyone,
Home theatre room for the movie buff man, a flat screen for the soccer loving boy
But my corner is my dream come true
I will show it to you when its done :D (Surprise!!)
My home will be complete with you and me
So, come over to have some chocolate cake
To admire the fulfilling sense of life, to sing the beautiful song
To be happy with me, and tirelessly dance in glee!
He woke me up. It took me time to register his
existence. I felt my stomach churn. My head was spinning; a big boulder seemed
to be rolling in my skull. The little congruence capability made me realize that I was in a hospital.
“Haven’t I told you to take your medicines on
time?” his eyes were glaring with anger. I felt meek and helpless, unable to
utter a word. My tongue was cut, as it happens during Epilepsy convulsions. He
turned back, and went away, probably to see the doctor. I tried to close my
eyes. A fierce pain shot from my eye sockets. This time is was really bad, I
thought.
I limped back home after a few hours. It must
be a muscle pull due to the fall. Last what I could recall, I was practicing
wall climbing in the adventure park, one step towards achieving my dream.
8th
November 2013, Dalhouise, India
Leela pulled the blanket, and rubbed some
mustard oil on my sole. I didn’t like it, but she insisted that helps regain
the strength. Leela was a helper in my school (my dream was fulfilled), where I had been working with the Epileptic patients, mostly children, to regain their motor skills. Soft rock climbing was a part of it.
The boulder was rolling in my head, giving me the same helpless
feeling I have been used to now. I think I drifted off to sleep, because I didn't hear the door open. I felt a familiar, soft but strong touch on my forehead. The
fragrance of my favorite Body Shop calming oil filled the room. I instantly
recognized the musk.
“Don’t say anything, I have put some ointment
on your tongue, it will get better soon”, he said pouring a glass of cold chocolate
milk shake, one hand still in my tangled hair, massaging the oil. He remembers
my favorite drink, I thought. Bereft of emotions, I closed my eyes, and drifted
off again.
“Power, money, fame, name – nothing could make
me forget that day. It was snowing, almost midnight. My body was full of
blisters, probably some sort of allergic reaction. The pharmacies were all closed,
except one. You wore the heavy black boots, pulled the thick Canada goose, and
off you went to buy a soothing ointment for me. That instant of compassion.. I want you back in my life.”
His eyes were moist. Change
was evident.
A few years back, when I was in high school, I went
to visit Tamanna School (www.tamana.org). The visit was a part of the social initiatives in my school, where year 12
students visit old age homes, blind school, and schools for kids with special
needs. I got the opportunity to spend time with children (ages 6 till 16).
Those
two days are amongst the best days of my life. I got to witness humanity, truth,
purity, love, compassion. There was no sign of pity or sorrow. Those moments
were full of empathy for others, respect for each other, friendship and selfless
love. They changed my life.
I was a buddy to a not-so-little boy, 12 year old
Bijoy, an epilepsy patient. He loved sun. His favorite seat was next to the window, which opened
into the lush garden. As he drew the painting, his hands not fully under his
control, but his desire so strong, I could see the sun rays fall over his
innocent yet intense face. When his elder brother, Mr. Roy, picked him up that
afternoon, I could see the pride in his moist eyes looking at the drawing sheet with a yellow circle and some streaks of blue.
Epilepsy is a nervous disorder in which nerve cell activity in the brain is disturbed, causing seizures. Symptoms vary from person to person. There are several types of Epilepsy. The patient cannot drive or swim, it could be life threatening. 65 million people suffer from Epilepsy. Seizures can be controlled, but the disease has no cure. The seizure needs to action, no medicine, no injections. The most which we can offer to an Epilepsy patient is compassion, love and care.
Compassion spreads without any extra effort. A
gesture of love stirs gratitude in us. It costs nothing.
February 20th, 2015 is United Nations World Day of Social Justice. More than a thousand bloggers, across the globe, post today to spread this message, in a hope to spread love. Read my post on "how it all started" here - 1000Speak
Join us. Share your story with all of us and link up here.
We used to sing this prayer in the morning assemblies. These lines remain engraved and evergreen.They cross my mind almost everyday morning, when i open the crisp newspaper. These words form a part if my silent morning prayer. A prayer for kindness, a prayer for love, a prayer for compassion, a prayer for peace.
The recent gory, inhumane, Unbelievable, horrific incidents have evoked anxiety and rage in the society. Pakistan school children massacre, Australia cafe shootings, Charlie Hebdo brutal murders, bombings in Bangalore, uncountable bombings and killing in Syria and Iraq - The list is endless. To top it up, it's all in the name of God/ Allah/ Bhagwan/ Waheguru.
O My holy father, do not cry, for they are ignorant. They don't know what they do. They are trying to please you.
1000 Voices - The initiative
On February 20, 2015 one thousand bloggers from all over the world will be sharing their views and thoughts about compassion, kindness, love and peace. you can participate and be a part of this initiative. Click on this link - 1000Speak and send in a request to join.
To read us, use the hashtag #1000Voices on Facebook and Twitter.
Love is bright, sunny, spring Love is when the cuckoo sings Love is drops of pure rain Love is droplets in your mane Love is rustling green of the pine Love is flowing river shine Love is a blooming fragrant rose Love is "not-so-perfect" jive on toes Love is a heart doodle, or a kiss Love is a smile on your lips
And specially for the newly weds - Love is to hear Nelson chuckle Love is Nelson's bright eyes and hair ruffle Love is when Pontus recalls a loving anecdote Love is Salina's sweet surprise note
07.06.2014
Written for my dear friend Salina, on her wedding with the ever charming Pontus. Nelson is their 2 year old son.
While thinking about writing on letter
F, the first thing which came to my mind, or what would come in any of our
minds would be “friends”. School friends. I am sure we can have a triology
release about friendship tales in school. A small blog post cannot justify “friendship”
memories. Therefore, I tried to extract a part of my memory. A summary of tales
about “Friends and Food”.
As primary grade student, we were
naïve. We started learning about relationships. Friendships. Those were the
days, when I recall having a picnic lunch, a potluck as we adults prefer to
call it. Venue used to be the school playground. A similar potluck was organized
for the Christmas party as well.
As I grew up, and started middle
school, the bonds of friendships grew stronger. There was no inhibition, no portrayals,
no dramatization of the real self. It was pure, open simple, transparent –
friendship. It still is. I am lucky.
In the pic: Class X C, 1995. One of the most notorious, yet loved my teachers. Mrs Rowena Gideon was our class teacher. Much about her in my later posts. :)
Class 7/8, year 1993. The lunch
hours started witnessing commotion. No one was eating their own food. Atleast 8
hungry girls on each lunch box. Potluck became a daily routine. One chappati,
split in 6 bites, fed six different mouths. This was just to exemplify the
extent.
Astha’s mom used to make
delicious tehri/ pulao. It was a plain dish – white rice, chane ki dal, with
zeera and ghee tadka. Amazingly awesome. Astha used to get a big box of this. During
lunchtime, a helping of this delicacy was put in the lunch box cover and handed
over to me. The rest was gobbled up be the rest of the class.
Bharti Agarwal
(love you honey!!) and her yummy bhujia patties – one was booked for me even
before the box opened. And that was the only way I used to eat bhujia (Haldiram
bhujia). I swear I never eat bhujia, neither then nor now. I don’t recall what
used to be the contents of my lunch box, for I have never seen it. It was seen
by my besties. I will ask them if they have any memory of what mum used to
pack.
This food business slowly relinquished.
Instead carrying food was considered oh so old fashioned. Unfortunately, not
all could afford eating in the canteen everyday. So what was the way out. So simple,
eat nothing, just have fun. After all lunch breaks are not meant to waste time.
It is meant to do stuff which makes you famous or sometimes notorious. I
stopped eating lunch from class 9 onwards. All I used to do was – teenage fun. Vandana
Bhatia was my mentor, my guide – “Calling trouble by being naughty: for dummies”.
Bhatia, please spare Sia from the mayhem you put me into so many times.
Bharti used to hand me the patty
twice a week, which was sufficient for my tummy ad our friendship. We are still
good friends, haven’t met for long, oh really long.
Mental note: Need to plan up with
VB and BA soon.
Disclaimer: Astha, Vandy and
Bharti are not the only ones who fed me/ unfed me, they are just top of my
mind. For the sheer love in my heart for the three of you, your name showcases here.
Feel proud girls.
This post is dedicated to the A-to-Z blogging challenge - the largest Blog Challenge in the history of Blogkind. My selected theme is "memories of St. Thomas' "- my Alma mater. This is the sixth post of the challenge, and is linked to the letter F - F for friends and food.
Theme: The first time you told a non-family member that wonderful phrase, “I love you.” The lead up, and what happens after that.
"I'm never gonna dance again
guilty feet have got no rhythm
though it's easy to pretend
I know your not a fool
Should've known better than to cheat a friend
and waste the chance that I've been given
so I'm never gonna dance again
the way I danced with you"
-George Michael
Love, definitions galore.
I believe that the meaning and feeling of love purely depends from person to person. Morover it also depends on the person for whom you feel it. Love is ofcourse different for parents, siblings, friends, and ofcourse lovers.
For me, love is songs, dance and affable friendship..
I have been a tomboy all through my school and college days. Spending the first 14 years of my education in a convent school (St. Thomas', Delhi), and then in a girls college (RCAPS, DU) gave me almost no exposure to boys/ men. This added on to my behaviour of being indifferent towards boys and love and the sorts.
FMS, BHU
Varanasi, Year 2003.
My admission to MBA in FMS, BHU, brought in a lot of apprehensions and excitement, both. I was a little protective girl of my parents, the only child. Living alone in a hostel, some 500 kms away from Delhi, was a tough call for my parents. Even though my father is a BHU alumni, and he has many friends as professors there, still, my parents stayed in the faculty guest house for a couple of weeks to make sure I settle down. My classmates and my seniors ofcourse noticed this. Surprisingly, no one made fun of me, rather, they assured my parents that they will take care of me, and they all indeed did.
Amidst all this puppy love feelings, I started striking friendships. Some in my class and some in my senior batch.
Rahul was my senior. He was a localite, and lived in Varanasi. He was a happy go lucky, free wheeling guy, who was always seen laughing and fooling around. His buoyant attitude made him the favorite of many - peers and teachers alike. Along with his carefree ways, he was noble, generous and benevolent. Politeness and respect was imbibed in him. He instantly became my favorite senior. With a few common friends (localite classmates) in between, we started knowing each other.
Just like all seniors, he would help me with the notes, with books, with presentations etc. We also used to go around the city sometimes, where he showed me the lanes of Varanasi. I used to share my worries, and loneliness with him, and slowly stopped missing home. I was taken by surprise, when sometimes he shared his own troubles. Health of his parents, his business issues, and the likes. Well, trouble stories were just a small part of our fun loving friendship.
Then the time came to bid the second years farewell. Every year, the juniors organized an informal party. And so did we all. And then started the dancing. 5 continuous hours, and still we kept partying, all of us. And then the song of the day -
I do not know till date why Rahul and I started dancing together on the song, and it just didn't finish. After the first few lines, it was only we who were dancing. He was a true dancer, and he bend on his knees, and with me as his partner, danced like crazy, and so did I.
That was the moment.
Even though I was dancing, I had a strange feeling, and a surprised look in my eye, and I kept looking at my best "boy" friend. What was it all about?
Post this, a couple of more songs were played and we grooved to the Punjabi music and Vengaboys numbers. Finally the party wrapped up. Rahul dropped me to the hostel, and we laughed on the way. I will never forget that evening.
When he left college, we used to talk on phone and meet up sometimes. He was the same affable Rahul, but something in me had changed. I had butterflies in my stomach, and a dizzy feeling every time I met him. It was strange, I never knew what it was. I wondered maybe because I don't meet him everyday, I am rolling back into my shell. It was mere discomfort? Was it? Slowly, I used to yearn for our meetings. And whenever they were, I used to be excited as never before.
For a few months, I kept quiet, trying to lie to myself. And then one day, when I was 3 months away from my farewell, I called him up. I distinctly remember the conversation.
"I have something to tell you"
"Yaar, ab tu permission legi? Shoot ladki"..
"What will happen when I complete my MBA and go back to Delhi?"
**Silence**
"Well, we will start with our long and tough journey called life. But why are you asking all this? What is wrong? Padh le, exams aane waale hain. Did you do the case studies of international business strategy which I gave you?"
"Rahul, can we walk together on this long and tough journey called life?"
**Silence**
"I have a strange feeling, unknown emotions. Rahul, I love you,"...
**Silence**
After a couple of minutes of long silence, that seemed like a lifetime, Rahul spoke.
"Shall we meet up? Its 4pm. Shall I pick you up at 4.30 pm from your hostel?" But I told him that I would walk down.
In Varanasi, the ghats of Ganga are the usual evening hangouts. With chai wale bhaiyas and pizzerias around, ghats were abuzz with students in the evenings. That was where we usually used to sit and chat for hours.
"How I wish I could respond to you Arpita, and how I wish I could respond positively."
"I have always loved you Arpita, since I saw you the first time 2 years back", the innocent smile made me weak in my knees.
"But walking together in life is not possible at all."
He did give me some reasons, which I practically I understood well, but my heart didn't accept it, and doesn't till date.
I spent the next three months in the same way as the previous days. Rahul was always beside me, he used to come to the faculty to wish me on every exam day, and he used to be there waiting for me in the afternoons. We did spend those 3 months, in the best possible way, spending a lot of time together, just to soak in all that we could in the short span.
May 2004
"You do not have to cry ever in your life, never ever, till you know I am alive" were the last words he said.
The Shiv Ganga express slowly left the platform, and he stood there waving. And I slowly hummed
Sun gleams, raindrops form a stream, Sure the Vibgyor should be seen; Colors are obscure, the bow not found Because my sunshine, you are not around!! Winds rustles green of the pine, Clouds hover, the weather is just fine; But I don't feel the breeze ruffle my hair, Because my darling, you are not there!! The Koel sings a lovely song, All around me are humming along; Music creates a magical glee But I am quiet because you're not with me!! Come tomorrow I will dance in the rain, Will feel the droplets in my mane; The sun will shine so very bright To let the Vibgyor show alright!!.... The world will sing again with me, Because my love, you will be with me!!
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.
Sun gleams, raindrops form a stream, Sure the Vibgyor should be seen; Colors are obscure, the bow not found Because my sunshine, you are not around!!
Winds rustles green of the pine, Clouds hover, the weather is just fine; But I don't feel the breeze ruffle my hair, Because my darling, you are not there!!
The Koel sings a lovely song, All around me are humming along; Music creates a magical glee But I am quiet because you're not with me!!
Come tomorrow I will dance in the rain, Will feel the droplets in my mane; The sun will shine so very bright To let the Vibgyor show alright!! .... The world will sing again with me, Because my love, you will be with me!!
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