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.

Every time I'm perturbed because of what others said or did, my mom asks me to calm down and to try and flush it out of my system. I cannot begin to explain how difficult that becomes at times.

It is easier said than done. When our friends seem to be climbing the success ladder faster than us, it does bother the inner self. No, its not being envious. It essentially is not a negative feeling. But it evokes a sense of urgency, a fear of being left behind. And that in a way seems to be instinctive. Blame the society, blame the modern age or blame yourself; you cannot run away from it. Let's face it, we do get affected!

In all these complexities of life, we in a way forget to ask ourselves, what had we actually set out for? It actually becomes difficult to recall what exactly was the sole purpose of it all. After series of adaptations and alterations, the original seems to be lost far behind. And that is sad. What is worse is that after being caught in a mindless struggle for the supreme position, we don't even bother anymore about things which should be primary; for instance love, friendship and commitments.
This sort of creates a loop again. These questions of shoulds and musts are in a way directives to conformity. These again are assembled on the pillars of societal notions. It's like we are stuck in this loop. Moving from one point to another in circles. Basically not getting anywhere.

This age we live in again, is not very accepting. Neither is it inclusive. Either you fit in, force in or be left out. We are again tending towards the jungle rule.
Caught in between the inner and outer self, it becomes difficult to choose between x and y. How do you devise your modus operandi ? And given the above premise, what should a generic protocol be? Should it be conforming or non-conforming?

What's your call?

One day when we’ll be old, we’ll walk ourselves to an empty bench in the park right outside our home to soak in the drifting afternoon sun as the clouds wander up above in the sky.

I will place my head on your shoulders and you will gently clasp my hands. I’ll pretend to look at you while I look at all those years in between us. In absolute sequence, I’ll make myself walk down all the ages spent together, sitting there with you.

I will point out to you some bits and pieces of our lives. You will laugh at some, smile at some and tease me ‘bout the others. I’ll smile along.

And as we soak in the warmth of our togetherness, we will have too many memories to recollect and too many things to put a tick against. We will call ourselves rash for some, brave for some, foolish for some and crazy for the others.

I believe the crazy parts will surely outdo the others. I don’t think we’ll be wise. We have set out to be unwise, haven’t we love?

Like photographs arranged together to recreate the past times, I’ll lay down before you all our factions. Each one of them which we shared together. You’ll do the same. And thus there in that moment, we will have recreated our lives. Piece by piece, layer upon layer, memory after memory…

I wonder if we’ll still need to tell each other how much he or she is loved. I have been told that with love and with companionship, words cease to serve themselves as useful. The customary by and large takes over. But I think, I’ll still hold your arm and while we help ourselves walk back home and whilst you make sure I’m fine, I’ll silently whisper into your ears the words which will have become by then the meaning of life - the soul of our eternity.
I love you.

Education

Last week I watched ‘An Education’. It’s a 2009 Oscar Nominated movie. This movie is about a 17 year old school girl. The movie begins with her mom and dad’s dream of seeing their daughter go to the eminent Oxford University. This dream is instilled in her in a way that she begins to think that Oxford would be the place where she would begin to explore the world. A gateway to all the great French movies and music and books. She would read and learn and live. In a way she has been told.

Along comes this man who momentarily frees her from her cocooned world and shows her a different world. She is escorted into the world which she dreamt of. She’s taken to music concerts, to the English countryside, to Paris and into the luxuries of life. Not only does she find herself falling for this man but she also finds her parents wooed by this very charming person. He asks her to marry him. Before she can say yes her parents hurriedly offer their consent for they know she will be ‘taken care of’ by this rich, charming gentleman. The dream of Oxford University is pushed away. Who needs an education anyway when you know you shall have everything a comfortable life asks for at your disposal?

She unable to comprehend the flow of her life agrees and drops out of school. As was expected the man turns out to be a fraud. He was already married. He leaves without any apologies to her or her family.

Though the movie ends with her going back to school and ultimately making it to Oxford University, it got me curious. What was the purpose of education in this girl’s life? To give her a good life? To grant her, her dream of achieving the arty things she wished for when the other options did not work out in her favor?

Why did she go back when she had dropped out with complete conviction that what she learnt in class was not necessary for a better life? Why was education condensed to a mere alternative? Why is education never seen as something born out of pure love for a certain subject? What exactly is the purpose of education in our life? Is it just an either-or choice that we make?

Somehow at the end of the movie, I felt they belittled the role of education. Education, in my opinion offers a wider panorama. It should not be a means but a way of life. For once we need to segregate education as learning and then eventually earning process and education as a trans formative process. Both are essentially different.