Sometimes all you need to do is to hang in there. Things will pick up as days pick up and soon life will pick itself up and set itself rolling. All you need to do is to hold on. And hold on tight. :)

“You can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid.”

- Franz Kafka

What's the point of running from pillar to post? All your life. Day after day after day!

It all ultimately boils down to which grade? Which School? Which city? Which country? How much? How pretty? How sexy? How rich?

So trivial. So meaningless. What exactly is the point then?

लौ को जलने दो. रौशनी अगर चुभे , तो चुभने दो. बेचैनी अगर हो, तो होने दो. 

पर इस लौ को जलने दो.  

Pic : Diwali 2011 (Home)

Raghu Rai. At the Delhi Photo Festival, India Habitat Centre, New Delhi.

After a day of spontaneous photography and sight-seeing in our own city, Pallav and I casually dropped by at the IHC to glance through the Photo Exhibition. We were thrilled when we got to know that Rahgu Rai would be in a conversation with the audience.

When asked by a young guy in the audience to define a "complete photographer", the witty Rai quickly retorted, " A complete photographer would be one who remains incomplete and carries on. Agar pyaala pura bhar jaaye, toh chaahat kam hone lagti hai."

Needless to say, we came back home encouraged and inspired.

Kal raat bahut der talak main jagti rahi.

Tumhaari jo itni saari tasveerein hain paas mere, na jaane kitni baar unhe dekhti rahi. Kuch tirche kuch dhumil, kuch naye aur kuch puraane.

Tasveeroin mein samaaye na jaane kitne lamhe. Na jaane kitna waqt aur na jaane kitne tum aur kitne hum. Lamhoin mein behti kuch kahaaniyaan, tasveeroin mein kaid kuch yaadein aur un thehre hue paloin mein badalte tum aur badalte hum.

Maano ek arsaa beet gaya ho - tab mein aur aaj mein. Maano kal ki hi baat ho. Ya na maano toh jaise aisi hi rahi ho puri zindagi humaari.

Main keh rahi hoon tumse, main der tak in tasveeroin ko haath mein liye inhe takti rahi. Na jaane kab haath se tasveer chooti aur na jaane kab aankh lag gayi.

Par...

Kal raat bahut der talak main jagti rahi.

Rain-winds

For once the rain-winds will come into my house and sweep away this scorching burden. The wind-chimes will dance wild. The post-it notes shall unleash themselves and free me of all my to-do distractions.

Some parched leaves will fly in. One of them might come and nestle in my stack of dust-gathering unread books. One might come and rest next to me on my bed, where I lay down on hot afternoons thinking of my little home-town by the meandering river where my lonely mother waits and waits. One of them might just refuse to be and fly out of the door, leaving me alone, like always.

Whilst I fight my own angst and learn to bear can I hope for it to rain? Can I hope for the burnt old earth to smell of a new life? Can I hope...dream...lose hope and then dream again?

And as the stench of the burnt earth evaporates, the clouds shall growl and hide away the evening star. In its darkness I shall sit, drawing imaginary roads on the blackened walls of my room which shall some day lead me to you. In the still of the night before the rain comes, you shall drift into my dreams. The pain and the pleasure of this, only I will know.

Everything will end as it had begun. Everything will be lost as it was gotten. Everything will die as it had lived.

For once the rain-winds will come. And I will live.

Lest I misplace it. And lose it.

So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.

-Pablo Neruda.

After an impromptu shopping binge at Connaught Place. With the setting sun behind us and a romantic evening ahead. :)

Kap-kapaate us gulab ki pankhuri mein
Humaari gazaloin mein
Ankahi baatoin aur kissoin mein
Har adhoore khat ki roothi siyaahi mein
Lamhoin ki unchooi gaanth mein
Bikhre baanwre baarish ki boondoin mein
Undekhi khudaai mein
Mayoos simat-ti hawaoin mein
Bhor ki us itraati dhoop mein

Kho diya hoga dil maine apna, shaayad.

Maa...

Since childhood I've been told that I've taken after my dad. Our mannerisms – the annoying and the not-so-annoying ones, our temper, our indecisive nature, and even our nose, they say, are all alike. I had little choice but to smile every time this was brought up. I never really bothered. What no one knew however, was that I always yearned that it were instead my mom, they compared me to.

I always wanted to be like mom. I desired to look like her , desired to be just as poised, firm and self-righteous. I wanted to grow up to be her. Back then, I might not have been too conscious bout this. And now, caught in between life, I sub-consciously let it settle down somewhere inside me, along with all the little desires we grow in us. Those which have no compulsion factor attached, those which are demure enough to just be, those which however, never leave. Never.

With time, I saw mom change. Saw her from being the exacting mommy to being the best friend. I found in her my most loyal friend. Most importantly, I discovered myself to be her most dependable person. She never hesitated. She never kept away. She told me all. We shared our worlds. We still do.

I'm just as old now as my mom was, when she got married. She married with the same dreams that I dream for myself. She was just as nervous then, as I will be when my time comes. It's not very different. She might not have dreamt of living someday in Europe as I do. She might not have dreamt of a PhD as I do. She might not have desired things that I do. But I'm sure she wanted to be loved, to be cared just as much as any girl desires. And therefore, I'm outright furious when my girlfriends tell me how much they dread to live the lives of their mothers. I do not get the whole concept of being “just-a-mom”!! I think what they fail to see is that being just a mom itself requires one to rise to a level which involuntarily exacts inspiration, motivation and love. To be able to reach there I'm sure cannot be qualified as being “just-a-mom”!

Try as I might, I don't think I'll ever be as good a mom as her. And I know that even if I can be half as good as her, my kids would be pretty lucky.

Of late, my mom's learning the nuances of e-mailing. With one kid in US of A and the other in Delhi, my mom thinks she needs to 'update' herself. She therefore mails us, video-chats and also pulls my Dad along in all her ‘upgradations’. One such mail from her touched me somewhere deep inside. It was a very short mail, of about four or five lines. She en quired of my health and studies. The regular stuff. Before ending, this is what she added:

‘Beta, main abhi seekh rahin hoon. Agar koi galti ho toh sirf hasna aur mujhe bata dena. Apna khyal rakhna. Love, Mummy.’

I kept staring at the screen for some time. I did not quite know what to feel.
I wondered if, some time not very long ago, she got irritated when I kept forgetting my alphabets. Or if she ever was annoyed when I mis-spelt or goofed up my multiplication tables. Or did she ever laugh when I wore my sweater the other way round. Or did she just happily correct me and love me even more.

I teased her bout this the next time I called her. Before I hung up, I told her I eagerly waited for her mails. More than anything else. I could imagine her beaming the other side. Nothing more needed to be said. She understood. Like always.

Oh yes, my guy tells me I have these beautiful eyes. You know what, they totally resemble my mom's.

In Reverse

Its mid-January. Too late to write a goodbye post for the year gone by. I acknowledge that. But then I never was a very time-centric person, anyway.

Last year was a very important one for me. In many ways, it marked an important transition in my life. I lost some and got some. And changed the most. For the first time in my life, I began life in a new city. Away from mom and dad. Delhi happened to me. In one quick swap, life suddenly looked very different.

When I first landed in Delhi, I was much happy. It was just what I'd wanted. The courses were right. The teachers were perfect. The University was charming. Everything was just the way I had wanted it to be. Most importantly I loved my work - Economics.

I did explore a bit of the city too. What struck me most bout this city was how enormously different it was from Calcutta. The differences require a separate blog-post altogether. The people too are very different. What's interesting is that neither groups are good or bad. They just are, snuggled comfortably in their own skin. If one is royally lazy, the other is brutally rushed. If one is individualistic, the other is charmingly metropolitan. If one is historically celebrated, the other is pompously modern.

I think its too early for me to establish a love-hate relationship with these two cities. Rather, I think its pointless. There are many more places to live in and many more places to leave out. Black and white opinions only create unnecessary ridges in the mind.

I lost a very important person in my life too. I saw death upfront. I realized loss.

I met by brother after 2.5 years. I saw the happiness in my parent's eyes. It reflected the joy of reunion, the peace of completeness and sheer delight. And with this snapshot in my mind, the year came to an end.

In summation, it was a happy year.