It was A cold and snowy day in Stockholm. The flakes covered the city white. It looked beautiful from inside, but the temperature was hovering around -18 degrees. It was the16th of January 2013. That kind of weather was normal during those months. Mid noon, the sun decided to say hello, shine bright on the white. Trust me, I have never seen a more beautiful sight than that. It's like glittering diamonds scattered across all around me.
In this part of the world, sunshine is taken as an opportunity to go out for workouts, walks, runs (yes, you read it correct, running on snow) etcetera. I was in the need of fresh air, i went out for a walk,
A person like me, a birthday addict (my friends know this fact), just 2 days before my birthday, this one was walk down the memory lane, memories of my childhood birthdays, fun and frolic of the college days, birthdays with hubby darling, birthdays with bobo, and a lot more. I may talk about all that in a post next month, around my birthday ;).
After an hour of day dreaming in the freezing col, walking around the frozen lake, my hands were numb inside the gloves, and my nose was pink and frozen. I decided to walk back home.
Ting tong.. a super excited bobo opened the door for me, and was jumping with joy. Okay, what happened this time? "Moma, there is a parcel for you, with you name “Arpita Sharma” written on it. Open it mama, please…”
I was surprised to see a parcel with my name on it, and there it was, sitting on the centre table, a big brown cardboard box, totally non-fancy, with lots of labels and seals. i started opening it. The articles were wrapped in the page 3 of a top Indian daily, and a part of me was tempted to read the paper before opening it further. Anyways, I tore it open, not one, not two, but three layers of it.
and out came three beautiful books, the latest bestsellers, and a handmade card - from my mom and dad. “Happy birthday betu”, and a few more words full of emotions, and blessings.
This was one of the best gifts I have received on my birthdays, because of the two factors - they were books, the source of joy, and the fact that it was a surprise, and a extremely joyous one.
Thank you mum and dad, for that and everything, always..
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
Theme: You meet a random person and start talking… What happens next?
"Madam ji, last box, best box.. le lo.." The little girl with the tinkle in her eyes, and a box of bright blue glass bangles in her hand, touched my elbow while I was looking at some kurtas in a stall. It was the annual diwali fete at Delhi Public School, Noida. My brother, who is a student there, sold me 5 tickets. So I thought of atleast using one out of them, and headed in the hullabaloo. "What's your name?" And the bright smile wrinkled a bit. "Pia... My name is Pia"... She didnt look like a typical bangle seller, with her neat clothes, and good vocabulary apt for her age. She was 7 year old, as she told me. I was very tired after checking all the stalls, and I had to wait for my brother who was DJ at the disco set up. "Pia, show me the bangles, I have to check the size. Would you like to come over to the bench, I would like to sit for a while" "No problem madam ji..."
That was the first time I met Pia. I bought those bangles, they fit me perfectly well - size 2.6. Blue being my favorite color, those bangles had instantly caught my eye. I gave her the 50 rupee note, and she smiled at me. The same bright smile. Pia, as I had guessed, was not a bangle seller. She was a resident for Noida Orphanage. The children from the orphanage came to the fete to set up a stall. And they sold all kind of stuff, as per the wish of the kid. Pia loves bangles. The music of tingling and jingling colorful glass bangles makes her dance with glee. I met the caretaker of the orphanage, Mrs Anand, who was there with the children, sharing their joy and excitement. I asked her about the utilization of the money they would make at the stall. She told me that the administration had spent money to buy all the stuff the kids were selling. And they were there to have fun, and make the kids happy. They were not making any money. Whatever the children would earn, they were allowed to spend it all in the next two hours at the fete. I was impressed. I could see Pia licking a lolly far away from the stall. I waved her bye, and she waved me back, and blew a kiss. My day was made. I started visiting the orphanage, once in a while, whenever I could find time from work and family. It was a modest set up. I donated some books, and asked my friends to give old books if they had any. Noida Orphanage soon had a small library. I used to read stories to the kids, or help them with their homework. All the kids were enrolled in a nearby government school, thanks to the school principal, Mr Thakur, who was an old friend of Mrs Anand. I started getting attached to Pia, and used to be particularly interested in her school grades. She used to do good, but not excellent. She was addicted to listening to Radio, and could not focus on her subjects.
One day, Mrs Anand called me up, and said that she wanted to meet me away from the orphanage. I called her home, as my home was a mere 200 meters away. After a cup of coffee, and making her comfortable, I gently asked her whether there was some special purpose of her visit. Mrs Anand asked me whether I would like to be Pia's god mother. A smile as bright as sunlight spread across my lips. I agreed. This meant taking care of Pia's all needs - like a family member. Now, apart from Pia's grades I started looking for hobby classes for her. I got her enrolled in a dance and music class. And whoa... Pia had a inborn flare for music. She learned the notes in amazingly short time, and started playing the harmonium. She also started taking classes for Kathak.
Today, I can proudly say, that Pia, the little girl with the tinkling smile, is spreading the tingling of her bangles across the world, as she performs Kathak, and sings brilliant self-composed songs on international platforms. She is a part of the Young Musicians Society of India, who collaborate with World music societies and exchange the music and dance culture across the world. I am so glad, I bought those blue bangles.
