The Train

She was writing furiously oblivious apparently to the fact that she was on The Train with couple of other passengers or of the movements the Iron giant made as it raced on the track. There was a middle aged couple sitting opposite to her, the wife busy with her magazine and her man busy snoring. Then there was the guy who sat in the same berth where she was sitting, bent and lost in the words that were taking shape from her fingers. The guy had been watching her from a long time and wondered what was she up to ? Well, a break up ? A fight at home ? Lay off ? What could it be ? He was tempted to take a peek, felt like reaching out to her and listen to her rather than see her in that status. There was something magnetic about her apart from the fact that she was good looking as any normal next door girl would look. Well dressed, sharp people have problems too ! Well he couldn't resist anymore and moved a little closer.

She didn't seem to notice at all, her legs drawn up in a cross, the writing pad on her thigh, and strands of hair dropping on the page she wrote upon. He thought if only he could be the hair. Is something bothering you ? He finally managed to ask. She was startled and looked at him, not too pleased with the question of course, giving him a look that said,'Please mind your business stranger'. She had never opened up to strangers, could never and of all the moments when she was distressed, trying to put down everything that bothered her on the paper, how could someone intrude just like that ? He persisted, and repeated the question softly,' I know I am not supposed to do what I am doing but a voice inside me prompts me to ask you what is it that's bothering you?'. All sorts of horrible thoughts flashed in her mind. First sympathy, then words of assurance, then luring away to an isolated place and then...'NO', a loud voice shrieked inside her and she said,' Please mind your own business'. Hell ! the same old reaction, why do the women think that all men seek only physical pleasure ? Its o.k. to be cautious, the women have to be, but c'mmon don't they have a better judging sense ? He said,' Fine lady ! I am extremely sorry, I have no right to ask that question but whatever it is that upsets you, it would have been better if you had booked a ladies coupe to do whatever you are doing'. And with that he got up, took out a book from his bag and buried himself in it. 'Fountain Head' the book said. Oh ! gosh ! She thought why does he have to read that book ? There was some very romantic sentence in that...she remembered only the name Roark and the lady protagonist thinks something like 'it was tempting to know that he breathed the same air she did...'

She just kept gazing at the title and when he suddenly sneezed, their eyes met and she couldn't stop herself from looking at him. Then she turned away sighing and looking far away into the sweeping fields, greens from the window. She loved train journeys. You could look beyond at a stretch and the scenes never ended. He doesn't look to be 'that type', she concluded. But still 'Never open up to strangers, Mom had always advised'. Nevertheless she asked him,' Where are you going ? I am sorry if I offended you. I am Pam, Pramila.' Now my turn, thought he, 'Well, you could be on your guard Madam, as you are expected to be, the way your family has 'warned you against unknown Men'. Yes you did offend me but that's o.k. This's not West and I understand. Saying this, he ducked behind the fiction he was reading. She said,' What's your name?'. Strange, these girls, first they will not open up, but when they do, they surprise you. O.k. Pam, Hi, I am Azeem. And I am going wherever this train is going. Now will you answer my question ? She smiled,' No. First tell me about yourself.' He did and what a coincidence ? He lived in the same colony in Delhi where she lived. She became at once all comfortable and they were soon chatting away about the familiar friends they had. Suddenly she remembered what had happened and soon found herself telling him every bit of it. He had moved closer, and watched all the colours her face projected while she talked. She was naive, how could sharp (looking??) girls be so stupid and take to heart certain things so much ?? He put his arms around her, reassuring her with words she needed. Why did it seem so natural to rest her head on his shoulders, slipping her arms around his and feel secured ? He read her pages as she slept peacefully, thinking about the days ahead after having shared this special moment. Well, friendship ? Love ? Don't know. Right now what mattered was the one and a half day's journey that they would share, explore each other...

The Train

She was writing furiously oblivious apparently to the fact that she was on The Train with couple of other passengers or of the movements the Iron giant made as it raced on the track. There was a middle aged couple sitting opposite to her, the wife busy with her magazine and her man busy snoring. Then there was the guy who sat in the same berth where she was sitting, bent and lost in the words that were taking shape from her fingers. The guy had been watching her from a long time and wondered what was she up to ? Well, a break up ? A fight at home ? Lay off ? What could it be ? He was tempted to take a peek, felt like reaching out to her and listen to her rather than see her in that status. There was something magnetic about her apart from the fact that she was good looking as any normal next door girl would look. Well dressed, sharp people have problems too ! Well he couldn't resist anymore and moved a little closer.

She didn't seem to notice at all, her legs drawn up in a cross, the writing pad on her thigh, and strands of hair dropping on the page she wrote upon. He thought if only he could be the hair. Is something bothering you ? He finally managed to ask. She was startled and looked at him, not too pleased with the question of course, giving him a look that said,'Please mind your business stranger'. She had never opened up to strangers, could never and of all the moments when she was distressed, trying to put down everything that bothered her on the paper, how could someone intrude just like that ? He persisted, and repeated the question softly,' I know I am not supposed to do what I am doing but a voice inside me prompts me to ask you what is it that's bothering you?'. All sorts of horrible thoughts flashed in her mind. First sympathy, then words of assurance, then luring away to an isolated place and then...'NO', a loud voice shrieked inside her and she said,' Please mind your own business'. Hell ! the same old reaction, why do the women think that all men seek only physical pleasure ? Its o.k. to be cautious, the women have to be, but c'mmon don't they have a better judging sense ? He said,' Fine lady ! I am extremely sorry, I have no right to ask that question but whatever it is that upsets you, it would have been better if you had booked a ladies coupe to do whatever you are doing'. And with that he got up, took out a book from his bag and buried himself in it. 'Fountain Head' the book said. Oh ! gosh ! She thought why does he have to read that book ? There was some very romantic sentence in that...she remembered only the name Roark and the lady protagonist thinks something like 'it was tempting to know that he breathed the same air she did...'

She just kept gazing at the title and when he suddenly sneezed, their eyes met and she couldn't stop herself from looking at him. Then she turned away sighing and looking far away into the sweeping fields, greens from the window. She loved train journeys. You could look beyond at a stretch and the scenes never ended. He doesn't look to be 'that type', she concluded. But still 'Never open up to strangers, Mom had always advised'. Nevertheless she asked him,' Where are you going ? I am sorry if I offended you. I am Pam, Pramila.' Now my turn, thought he, 'Well, you could be on your guard Madam, as you are expected to be, the way your family has 'warned you against unknown Men'. Yes you did offend me but that's o.k. This's not West and I understand. Saying this, he ducked behind the fiction he was reading. She said,' What's your name?'. Strange, these girls, first they will not open up, but when they do, they surprise you. O.k. Pam, Hi, I am Azeem. And I am going wherever this train is going. Now will you answer my question ? She smiled,' No. First tell me about yourself.' He did and what a coincidence ? He lived in the same colony in Delhi where she lived. She became at once all comfortable and they were soon chatting away about the familiar friends they had. Suddenly she remembered what had happened and soon found herself telling him every bit of it. He had moved closer, and watched all the colours her face projected while she talked. She was naive, how could sharp (looking??) girls be so stupid and take to heart certain things so much ?? He put his arms around her, reassuring her with words she needed. Why did it seem so natural to rest her head on his shoulders, slipping her arms around his and feel secured ? He read her pages as she slept peacefully, thinking about the days ahead after having shared this special moment. Well, friendship ? Love ? Don't know. Right now what mattered was the one and a half day's journey that they would share, explore each other...

Life is too short to think little....

Not me but Disraeli said. Quite a chap he must be ! I thought as I looked beyond the sand dunes. Wide expanse of miles and miles of the golden dust with few thorny pop outs. The sand bashing at De

• • 
  • 
    

sert safari had been exhilarating. For a change had hopped onto the SUV with a group of mix match strangers. Days were speeding by at Dubai and a break of ten days was proving too short. Still a getaway was a reward I had given myself. Reward ? Well not really, I wanted to be me just me...in the desert ? Hell yes, for a change.

Thinking little as the philosopher said was just not my cup of tea but there was Shashank who I was going steady with which was o.k. but marriage ? No, my mind said. Why ? we could 'live in'. He wasn't ready. Knowing Shashank I knew the moment he turned 'husband', he wouldn't allow the same freedom he did now. So ? living together, would he ? Ugh ! questions and more questions. Why does life stop at questions at times ? And why is it that at times you want that there be no answers, let it go on as it is. That was what had been happening till he had said 'Lets get married'. And I had said I need to get away. From me ? He had quipped. Well not really him though, it was just that I wanted to be Me for sometime. But when had I ceased to be Me ? No, I had started thinking more for him and so some things that I did before I met him had just taken backseat maybe because I knew he wouldn't like it. Why doesn't one not do the things the mate doesn't like when one is in love ? Now why couldn't I do just that even though I didn't like it i.e. not get married ? He said its good for me. Its healthy. Well I didn't want to do the things that were good for me at times. Why was shashank being patronising ? Is not getting married akin to 'think little'? Why was that phrase haunting me ? Ah ! the grandeur of the desert curves...It matched my mood. I had become o.k. with ups and downs of my moods. Wonder why they call it moodswings, is it to and fro...up and down no its all around... Hey...you ! someone shouted. I turned around to see a huge fellow, looked like an Iranian or may be an Arab, whoever, was a brand advert head to toe. But I liked his voice. 'Mind if I sit here?' and please watch out, there are creatures coming out at dusk, one you missed just now which could have been dangerous'. The world was full of saviours I thought. I said the customary 'thank you' and proceeded with my thinking mode. Somehow the stranger didn't seem like intruding.

'Escaping ?' He said, lighting a smoke. What the... but looking at him made me answer 'yes'. 'Welcome home'. The dunes have all the answers !! There was this warmth in his tone and his facial gestures had all the right elements to connect, at a go. Not surprising, had met a few like them and we were great friends now. "What are you doing here?'' I asked. Having a good time lady ! Strange it felt really good to hear him say that, for once, there was someone who wasn't undergoing the Q and A session and such company right now was apt for the moment. We talked not bothering to ask each other's names or origins. The pronouns were enough and the 'human factor' sufficed. We got up after a while and walked towards the camp which was all set for barbecue, belle dancing and more. We departed having spent a good time promising to keep in touch. Had I got my answer? Well Shashank will have to be patient. This time I am going to do what I liked and he didn't, but by being by his side, not condescending though...

Life is too short to think little....

Not me but Disraeli said. Quite a chap he must be ! I thought as I looked beyond the sand dunes. Wide expanse of miles and miles of the golden dust with few thorny pop outs. The sand bashing at De

• • 
  • 
    

sert safari had been exhilarating. For a change had hopped onto the SUV with a group of mix match strangers. Days were speeding by at Dubai and a break of ten days was proving too short. Still a getaway was a reward I had given myself. Reward ? Well not really, I wanted to be me just me...in the desert ? Hell yes, for a change.

Thinking little as the philosopher said was just not my cup of tea but there was Shashank who I was going steady with which was o.k. but marriage ? No, my mind said. Why ? we could 'live in'. He wasn't ready. Knowing Shashank I knew the moment he turned 'husband', he wouldn't allow the same freedom he did now. So ? living together, would he ? Ugh ! questions and more questions. Why does life stop at questions at times ? And why is it that at times you want that there be no answers, let it go on as it is. That was what had been happening till he had said 'Lets get married'. And I had said I need to get away. From me ? He had quipped. Well not really him though, it was just that I wanted to be Me for sometime. But when had I ceased to be Me ? No, I had started thinking more for him and so some things that I did before I met him had just taken backseat maybe because I knew he wouldn't like it. Why doesn't one not do the things the mate doesn't like when one is in love ? Now why couldn't I do just that even though I didn't like it i.e. not get married ? He said its good for me. Its healthy. Well I didn't want to do the things that were good for me at times. Why was shashank being patronising ? Is not getting married akin to 'think little'? Why was that phrase haunting me ? Ah ! the grandeur of the desert curves...It matched my mood. I had become o.k. with ups and downs of my moods. Wonder why they call it moodswings, is it to and fro...up and down no its all around... Hey...you ! someone shouted. I turned around to see a huge fellow, looked like an Iranian or may be an Arab, whoever, was a brand advert head to toe. But I liked his voice. 'Mind if I sit here?' and please watch out, there are creatures coming out at dusk, one you missed just now which could have been dangerous'. The world was full of saviours I thought. I said the customary 'thank you' and proceeded with my thinking mode. Somehow the stranger didn't seem like intruding.

'Escaping ?' He said, lighting a smoke. What the... but looking at him made me answer 'yes'. 'Welcome home'. The dunes have all the answers !! There was this warmth in his tone and his facial gestures had all the right elements to connect, at a go. Not surprising, had met a few like them and we were great friends now. "What are you doing here?'' I asked. Having a good time lady ! Strange it felt really good to hear him say that, for once, there was someone who wasn't undergoing the Q and A session and such company right now was apt for the moment. We talked not bothering to ask each other's names or origins. The pronouns were enough and the 'human factor' sufficed. We got up after a while and walked towards the camp which was all set for barbecue, belle dancing and more. We departed having spent a good time promising to keep in touch. Had I got my answer? Well Shashank will have to be patient. This time I am going to do what I liked and he didn't, but by being by his side, not condescending though...

For you Dad !

I would always look forward to sit by your side and listen to the endless stories you narrated. Now this would happen only in the frequent train journeys we made every year which meant total three days of travel, few decades back. You would tell me how the rivers and hills were formed as they zoomed passed the window and I would sit wide eyed and wonder about these earthly wonders. Then there were mythological stories from Geeta, Ramayana and Mahabharata, which would mesmerize me. Your way of story telling was dynamic and I could construct all its elements in my mind.

But my favourite story Appa, was the one you told about yourself, how you were a 'self made man', a phrase Mom always used. Your childhood was very memorable you said. You grew up inBhadravati (where you haven't taken us till now), the eldest of the nine siblings. Grandpa worked for the then British Govt. and by all means was a wealthy man. Granny served food in silverware and in true Iyengar (a South Indian community) style, gifted anything silver to the guests. Grandpa bought six racehorses on his friend's advice, and lost money, had to sell 4 of the horses. You said you were nine years old then and because the circumstances reversed, you had to ferry passengers from the railway station in the horse cart. Well as a young boy, you said you enjoyed riding horses minus saddles, and the hardship never seemed too hard for you. You went to night school too. Once you were shouted at by a school teacher for being late, lacking discipline, and when you could take no more, you told him the reality, from then on he helped you. Once while there was a curfew, you were caught by police for ferrying passengers in the horse cart one late evening. Then you were taken to the court. You were scared, but bold at the same time. Now I know why you used to tell me not to be afraid of telling the truth, no matter who stood in front. Well you were a frightened nine year old boy facing the judge who was questioning but who condoned, when he heard your story. How easily you narrated all your hardships but for me it was a mixture of feelings to fathom. For a moment I would be so proud, and couldn't register at the other moment, a nine year old attending school and earning money for his family and that too after having lived a lavish life ! The fact that my brother and I were totally shielded from hardships because you were now a successful Engineer/Manager in a huge organization, made me wonder. Nevertheless, your stories were always a motivation to excel, come whatever may.

I would get annoyed at times when you refused to buy me certain things I wanted, not understanding the family responsibilities you had, of getting a brother and a sister married apart from taking responsibility of educating yet another sister who excelled everywhere under your guidance. You never took a loan because you hated the word. You educated both of us, bought your own house got us married, with your savings ! Relatives, you took care and still do. Well you had to ask someone for a rupee as examination fee and that put you off so much that you vowed never to take a loan for anything. No wonder the credit card system when came into picture, you just couldn't relate to, and told us not to get into it as well. You took care of your mom in her old age, when she couldn't even recognize you and the younger brother who passed away. You had to visit the elderly relatives, during the yearly family vacation and you took us everywhere making us kneel the Indian style. It didn't make any sense then but talk of networking now ! I could see how everyone respected you and us as "Partha's children'. All the math I have learned is because you taught us the hard way, making us repeat the whole text book three times before the final exam. While walking back home from school, we dreaded if you had first shift because you would be home to teach us. You bought a bicycle when your son who was expecting a moped, when he passed his HSC exam with distinction. Talk of disappointment, but which made him buy his first bike with his own money after he landed a good job later. Me ? you brought me up like any doting father, though a bit conservative not allowing me for school or college picnics if they were held too far, preferring me to study at a college close by even though I excelled in studies and who got me married with a heavy heart, the 'Father of the bride, Steve Martin style' but very happy with the choice I made.

Now as we lead our lives as your children, your life story is a torch that throws light on the twists and turns on the paths we walk upon.

For you Dad !

I would always look forward to sit by your side and listen to the endless stories you narrated. Now this would happen only in the frequent train journeys we made every year which meant total three days of travel, few decades back. You would tell me how the rivers and hills were formed as they zoomed passed the window and I would sit wide eyed and wonder about these earthly wonders. Then there were mythological stories from Geeta, Ramayana and Mahabharata, which would mesmerize me. Your way of story telling was dynamic and I could construct all its elements in my mind.

But my favourite story Appa, was the one you told about yourself, how you were a 'self made man', a phrase Mom always used. Your childhood was very memorable you said. You grew up inBhadravati (where you haven't taken us till now), the eldest of the nine siblings. Grandpa worked for the then British Govt. and by all means was a wealthy man. Granny served food in silverware and in true Iyengar (a South Indian community) style, gifted anything silver to the guests. Grandpa bought six racehorses on his friend's advice, and lost money, had to sell 4 of the horses. You said you were nine years old then and because the circumstances reversed, you had to ferry passengers from the railway station in the horse cart. Well as a young boy, you said you enjoyed riding horses minus saddles, and the hardship never seemed too hard for you. You went to night school too. Once you were shouted at by a school teacher for being late, lacking discipline, and when you could take no more, you told him the reality, from then on he helped you. Once while there was a curfew, you were caught by police for ferrying passengers in the horse cart one late evening. Then you were taken to the court. You were scared, but bold at the same time. Now I know why you used to tell me not to be afraid of telling the truth, no matter who stood in front. Well you were a frightened nine year old boy facing the judge who was questioning but who condoned, when he heard your story. How easily you narrated all your hardships but for me it was a mixture of feelings to fathom. For a moment I would be so proud, and couldn't register at the other moment, a nine year old attending school and earning money for his family and that too after having lived a lavish life ! The fact that my brother and I were totally shielded from hardships because you were now a successful Engineer/Manager in a huge organization, made me wonder. Nevertheless, your stories were always a motivation to excel, come whatever may.

I would get annoyed at times when you refused to buy me certain things I wanted, not understanding the family responsibilities you had, of getting a brother and a sister married apart from taking responsibility of educating yet another sister who excelled everywhere under your guidance. You never took a loan because you hated the word. You educated both of us, bought your own house got us married, with your savings ! Relatives, you took care and still do. Well you had to ask someone for a rupee as examination fee and that put you off so much that you vowed never to take a loan for anything. No wonder the credit card system when came into picture, you just couldn't relate to, and told us not to get into it as well. You took care of your mom in her old age, when she couldn't even recognize you and the younger brother who passed away. You had to visit the elderly relatives, during the yearly family vacation and you took us everywhere making us kneel the Indian style. It didn't make any sense then but talk of networking now ! I could see how everyone respected you and us as "Partha's children'. All the math I have learned is because you taught us the hard way, making us repeat the whole text book three times before the final exam. While walking back home from school, we dreaded if you had first shift because you would be home to teach us. You bought a bicycle when your son who was expecting a moped, when he passed his HSC exam with distinction. Talk of disappointment, but which made him buy his first bike with his own money after he landed a good job later. Me ? you brought me up like any doting father, though a bit conservative not allowing me for school or college picnics if they were held too far, preferring me to study at a college close by even though I excelled in studies and who got me married with a heavy heart, the 'Father of the bride, Steve Martin style' but very happy with the choice I made.

Now as we lead our lives as your children, your life story is a torch that throws light on the twists and turns on the paths we walk upon.

Numberless contact

Elen was upset. And when moods played truant, things 'seemed' impossible, she had found different ways to deal, a voracious reader that she was, she had started to put into practice what she read. And in one of those moments, she had connected to 'him'. Well, 'higher power', 'god' whatever one called, she had her own 'contact' whom she could access anytime of the day, anywhere.

She had started to think about 'life and death'. And she wondered at the silly reality that coming into the world, into the present life, was not 'her decision' ! And no matter wherever she reached or whatever she became, departing will not be her decision too. Well, she had read about so many people who had left the world on their own will, but she wasn't doing anything what they did, like renouncing the 'pleasures', 'the world' or something. In fact in her early years, she had been fascinated by the principles of 'Jainism', 'Buddhism' and the life of 'Siddharth' who became 'Buddha'. She had grown up listening to Biblical stories on the radio and the stories of Jesus and his principle of forgiveness always struck chord. She could easily get hurt seeing the sufferings and miseries of people, but she couldn't bring herself to do what Siddharth did ! Well, she had her own set of worries which she had learnt to pass on to the 'contact'.

And today when her thoughts were a bit haywire, she had her cell in her hand as she had just received a call. She wondered if she could call the 'contact' on her cell ! But then he didn't need any number did he? Then she thought if only she could get some sign of the 'presence' that gave her peace, what was that movie where Meg Ryan goes crazy about signs...'Sleepless in Seattle'. Well something like that. And there it was, the 'drone' buzzing besides here, hopping on the clothes line, common sense said 'run inside else you could get stung' but she held on,'Wait, what if this was a sign and there was this 'connect' thing' then it couldn't possibly hurt right?' And she stood on. The bee swooshed passed her in a moment out into the viridity, of course without hurting her! And once again calmness prevailed.

Numberless contact

Elen was upset. And when moods played truant, things 'seemed' impossible, she had found different ways to deal, a voracious reader that she was, she had started to put into practice what she read. And in one of those moments, she had connected to 'him'. Well, 'higher power', 'god' whatever one called, she had her own 'contact' whom she could access anytime of the day, anywhere.

She had started to think about 'life and death'. And she wondered at the silly reality that coming into the world, into the present life, was not 'her decision' ! And no matter wherever she reached or whatever she became, departing will not be her decision too. Well, she had read about so many people who had left the world on their own will, but she wasn't doing anything what they did, like renouncing the 'pleasures', 'the world' or something. In fact in her early years, she had been fascinated by the principles of 'Jainism', 'Buddhism' and the life of 'Siddharth' who became 'Buddha'. She had grown up listening to Biblical stories on the radio and the stories of Jesus and his principle of forgiveness always struck chord. She could easily get hurt seeing the sufferings and miseries of people, but she couldn't bring herself to do what Siddharth did ! Well, she had her own set of worries which she had learnt to pass on to the 'contact'.

And today when her thoughts were a bit haywire, she had her cell in her hand as she had just received a call. She wondered if she could call the 'contact' on her cell ! But then he didn't need any number did he? Then she thought if only she could get some sign of the 'presence' that gave her peace, what was that movie where Meg Ryan goes crazy about signs...'Sleepless in Seattle'. Well something like that. And there it was, the 'drone' buzzing besides here, hopping on the clothes line, common sense said 'run inside else you could get stung' but she held on,'Wait, what if this was a sign and there was this 'connect' thing' then it couldn't possibly hurt right?' And she stood on. The bee swooshed passed her in a moment out into the viridity, of course without hurting her! And once again calmness prevailed.

Marjawa...

Rhea sat mesmerized as the song 'Marjawa' from the flick 'Fashion' played with all the finer sound effects in the multiplex. How much life gets different when one watches events/people/scenes roll by on the big screen. Its was as if she was on the stage doing the catwalk. In reality though she couldn't possibly wear all those stuff. Why do they look so majestic on the screen..the dresses? And she couldn't bring herself to wear them in front of people who mattered to her. With strangers what the heck ? She could, well yes she could wear with quite a good deal of confidence. And the hills, trees, the lakes they look so enchanting on the screen too. Why couldn't life be the way its shown? Why should it be just for three hours ?

She was very fond of fashion shows and participated in her college. She remembered the first time she did the cat walk in her college. She had been on the top of the world when the crowd cheered and she looked very good in the outfit she wore. Well she would get herself into every dance and song event in the school and college annual days. That's what she liked most. Annual Days when everything else was put aside including studies and all the focus was on the performances and the preperations would be so colourful. The apprehension on the participant's faces combined with the expectancy of looking entirely different in the various dresses that was selected for them. How lovely her 6th std photograph looked though black and white, she in Radha's dress--all red and brocade with red bangles with gold interspersed, the golden thread bordered chunni on her head. Actually she was the 4th girl from the 1st in the group dance, when while practising, one of the teacher had remarked,'Who's that 4th girl? Bring her at the front. Her steps are good and the teacher had whispered into her colleague's ears, 'She looks beautiful too'. Wow! How many times one gets to hear that 'beautiful' word? She had been elated and it showed on her face in the photograph. Then there was the bhangda which she had enjoyed immensely. The beats on the congo were rhythmic and she would dance like she was in a trance. She used to envy the guys playing the instrument. The tabla and like players always impressed her and she was easily swayed by their finger taps. She had understood well when Sonali Jalota had married the tablist Roop kumar Rathod.

Why can't life be one full 'Annual Day'? She sighed watching the film once again. She remembered how much she had enjoyed watching 'Flashdance' with her best pals at one of her best friend's house. They had sumptuous lunch which aunty had prepared and sat on the couch, the three of them, pulling all the curtains creating the soft light effect in the hot afternoon, and the AC cooling the room, they watched and were thrown off by Irene Cara's 'What a feeling'. That's being in zone girl, she told herself. Kash she could get those moments back. Not that she hadn't those kinda moments now. She did but still... Coming back she started enjoying 'Kuch khaas hai...' My ! what a day ! I must watch this once again, she told herself. She was like that. She liked to re-do a lot many things that she liked. The movie over, she left the 'plex the songs humming at the back of her mind, came into the lobby and as usual mingled into the departing crowd. She didn't know about them, but she was on the ramp tapping to the beats of 'ye jalwa'...

Marjawa...

Rhea sat mesmerized as the song 'Marjawa' from the flick 'Fashion' played with all the finer sound effects in the multiplex. How much life gets different when one watches events/people/scenes roll by on the big screen. Its was as if she was on the stage doing the catwalk. In reality though she couldn't possibly wear all those stuff. Why do they look so majestic on the screen..the dresses? And she couldn't bring herself to wear them in front of people who mattered to her. With strangers what the heck ? She could, well yes she could wear with quite a good deal of confidence. And the hills, trees, the lakes they look so enchanting on the screen too. Why couldn't life be the way its shown? Why should it be just for three hours ?

She was very fond of fashion shows and participated in her college. She remembered the first time she did the cat walk in her college. She had been on the top of the world when the crowd cheered and she looked very good in the outfit she wore. Well she would get herself into every dance and song event in the school and college annual days. That's what she liked most. Annual Days when everything else was put aside including studies and all the focus was on the performances and the preperations would be so colourful. The apprehension on the participant's faces combined with the expectancy of looking entirely different in the various dresses that was selected for them. How lovely her 6th std photograph looked though black and white, she in Radha's dress--all red and brocade with red bangles with gold interspersed, the golden thread bordered chunni on her head. Actually she was the 4th girl from the 1st in the group dance, when while practising, one of the teacher had remarked,'Who's that 4th girl? Bring her at the front. Her steps are good and the teacher had whispered into her colleague's ears, 'She looks beautiful too'. Wow! How many times one gets to hear that 'beautiful' word? She had been elated and it showed on her face in the photograph. Then there was the bhangda which she had enjoyed immensely. The beats on the congo were rhythmic and she would dance like she was in a trance. She used to envy the guys playing the instrument. The tabla and like players always impressed her and she was easily swayed by their finger taps. She had understood well when Sonali Jalota had married the tablist Roop kumar Rathod.

Why can't life be one full 'Annual Day'? She sighed watching the film once again. She remembered how much she had enjoyed watching 'Flashdance' with her best pals at one of her best friend's house. They had sumptuous lunch which aunty had prepared and sat on the couch, the three of them, pulling all the curtains creating the soft light effect in the hot afternoon, and the AC cooling the room, they watched and were thrown off by Irene Cara's 'What a feeling'. That's being in zone girl, she told herself. Kash she could get those moments back. Not that she hadn't those kinda moments now. She did but still... Coming back she started enjoying 'Kuch khaas hai...' My ! what a day ! I must watch this once again, she told herself. She was like that. She liked to re-do a lot many things that she liked. The movie over, she left the 'plex the songs humming at the back of her mind, came into the lobby and as usual mingled into the departing crowd. She didn't know about them, but she was on the ramp tapping to the beats of 'ye jalwa'...

The Walk

The greens were tempting

the bouganvilleas hung low

with its paper thin pink petals reaching out

The psyche was content

yet something inside beckoned

'Go take a look'

the path was shamelessly muddy

strewn on it were little wildflowers

in myriad colours

the foliages abound

monsoon is around

the cuckoo never tires of crooning

its melody mingling with the spaces in the woods

which you feel like chasing...

fragrance of the wet earth

merges in the whiff of the misty air

the vault of heaven

loosens itself of murkiness

there... the drizzles

find their way

they are the masters of the day..

earth is a rich carpet

resplendent in her hues

no time to rue

Nature's extravagance

gives a feeling of abundance

I wonder would I feel the same

with a copious bank balance ??

The Walk

The greens were tempting

the bouganvilleas hung low

with its paper thin pink petals reaching out

The psyche was content

yet something inside beckoned

'Go take a look'

the path was shamelessly muddy

strewn on it were little wildflowers

in myriad colours

the foliages abound

monsoon is around

the cuckoo never tires of crooning

its melody mingling with the spaces in the woods

which you feel like chasing...

fragrance of the wet earth

merges in the whiff of the misty air

the vault of heaven

loosens itself of murkiness

there... the drizzles

find their way

they are the masters of the day..

earth is a rich carpet

resplendent in her hues

no time to rue

Nature's extravagance

gives a feeling of abundance

I wonder would I feel the same

with a copious bank balance ??

Housewife ?

As I was getting ready to go for the two hours training session I had to conduct, the cell rang and seeing Kate's number, I sighed. Comb in one hand, the toner in the other, I held the cell to my ears and asked, 'So paaji what's it that's bothering you now ?' And she rattled off. My !! Katie, my best pal from the college days...I still remember the day I saw her-tall, a bit fair but vivacious, talking cheerfully with the girls (mine was a girl's college) and I envied her. That was the phase of my life, I was emerging from my cocoon, not much of a people's person, the books held my fancy for the major hours of my day, I sometimes looked at awe at persons like katie, and a similar brother I had at home. The words had flashed in my mind, 'If you want people, then you have to go to them, they will not come to you'. Fine. I was beginning to change and as I sat on my bench, and looked at her, I muttered, 'I must have a best friend like her. In fact she could be my best friend'. Love at first sight ? My 'self' mocked at me. Till this day I can't remember how our friendship started but it blossomed beautifully and to this day it's as fresh as ever.

Katie rode bikes, drove car and wouldn't mind driving a truck either. To people she was a tomboy and to me she was an insecure girl who needed lots and lots of love and acceptance. Somewhere she felt she wasn't loved enough by her family and when she saw my mom hugging her every time she came to our house, she was totally sold out to us and she didn't feel like leaving us at times. I became her emotional anchor and she was the friend I had always dreamt of but had none in all my 13 years of schooling. A friend who matched all the criteria of friendship, the kind I expected. To me a friend was the ultimate word. I should be there for her/him whenever he/she needed me whatever the day/time, I didn't care none had matched this feeling till I met her. What had happened to Katie after marriage ? She had earned a good name as a teacher in a reputed school and all the high school teens were her fan. She had a girl and then the second kid happened. So ? Off late she had started slipping into self-pity state. Reason ? Though she was an M.Phil, people in her family looked down upon the 'teacher'. And I had told many times 'No one can hurt you without your consent'. Now she was being stuck with the 'housewife tag'. Hey ! No one can tag you without your consent either katie, I roared over the phone.

Recently one of my new acquaintance told me she was sick and tired of the question people asked 'What do you do?'. And she didn't want to say 'I am a house wife'. Why do people want to know what do you do ? To measure your financial status ? Is man defined only by what he does ? And what's this liner in the radio etc. 'Its sexy to be a housewife !!' Now this friend has lived past many years in Amsterdam and now runs her home. Home maker? In one of the training sessions that I attended, one lady co-coordinator said,'Do not use the term housewife, use homemaker.' Does that sound better ? Well as for me if I run my life the way I want to, I could say anything I wanted to like I am a day dreamer most of the time. Then if they ask 'What do you do for a living?' Well cummon Katie, you could say 'Hey ! That's taken care of by my husband so I do whatever I like, whatever I want to for 'My living''. You are an ocean dear, peep inside. Why do you need to define yourself to people ? You be o.k. with what you are, log apney aap jaag jayenge, samajh jayenge (people will understand on their own). Be happy with yourself, for godssake do something for yourself. Put yourself first at times. Be the golden girl you were when we met. Hmm! got to go I said and Katie hung up once again promising to do all that.

Housewife ?

As I was getting ready to go for the two hours training session I had to conduct, the cell rang and seeing Kate's number, I sighed. Comb in one hand, the toner in the other, I held the cell to my ears and asked, 'So paaji what's it that's bothering you now ?' And she rattled off. My !! Katie, my best pal from the college days...I still remember the day I saw her-tall, a bit fair but vivacious, talking cheerfully with the girls (mine was a girl's college) and I envied her. That was the phase of my life, I was emerging from my cocoon, not much of a people's person, the books held my fancy for the major hours of my day, I sometimes looked at awe at persons like katie, and a similar brother I had at home. The words had flashed in my mind, 'If you want people, then you have to go to them, they will not come to you'. Fine. I was beginning to change and as I sat on my bench, and looked at her, I muttered, 'I must have a best friend like her. In fact she could be my best friend'. Love at first sight ? My 'self' mocked at me. Till this day I can't remember how our friendship started but it blossomed beautifully and to this day it's as fresh as ever.

Katie rode bikes, drove car and wouldn't mind driving a truck either. To people she was a tomboy and to me she was an insecure girl who needed lots and lots of love and acceptance. Somewhere she felt she wasn't loved enough by her family and when she saw my mom hugging her every time she came to our house, she was totally sold out to us and she didn't feel like leaving us at times. I became her emotional anchor and she was the friend I had always dreamt of but had none in all my 13 years of schooling. A friend who matched all the criteria of friendship, the kind I expected. To me a friend was the ultimate word. I should be there for her/him whenever he/she needed me whatever the day/time, I didn't care none had matched this feeling till I met her. What had happened to Katie after marriage ? She had earned a good name as a teacher in a reputed school and all the high school teens were her fan. She had a girl and then the second kid happened. So ? Off late she had started slipping into self-pity state. Reason ? Though she was an M.Phil, people in her family looked down upon the 'teacher'. And I had told many times 'No one can hurt you without your consent'. Now she was being stuck with the 'housewife tag'. Hey ! No one can tag you without your consent either katie, I roared over the phone.

Recently one of my new acquaintance told me she was sick and tired of the question people asked 'What do you do?'. And she didn't want to say 'I am a house wife'. Why do people want to know what do you do ? To measure your financial status ? Is man defined only by what he does ? And what's this liner in the radio etc. 'Its sexy to be a housewife !!' Now this friend has lived past many years in Amsterdam and now runs her home. Home maker? In one of the training sessions that I attended, one lady co-coordinator said,'Do not use the term housewife, use homemaker.' Does that sound better ? Well as for me if I run my life the way I want to, I could say anything I wanted to like I am a day dreamer most of the time. Then if they ask 'What do you do for a living?' Well cummon Katie, you could say 'Hey ! That's taken care of by my husband so I do whatever I like, whatever I want to for 'My living''. You are an ocean dear, peep inside. Why do you need to define yourself to people ? You be o.k. with what you are, log apney aap jaag jayenge, samajh jayenge (people will understand on their own). Be happy with yourself, for godssake do something for yourself. Put yourself first at times. Be the golden girl you were when we met. Hmm! got to go I said and Katie hung up once again promising to do all that.

Well...

'Cook food', flashed on her mind screen and then 'look for a maid', and then do what ? She questioned herself. Oh ! is this how my life is going to be ? How strange...in just a moment the whole life had been decided by her. Still she couldn't place herself right. Something was missing somewhere.

But that was few decades back when Anna (as Anamica's friend's called her) had got married. She was working before she tied the knot and that day after Ketan left for work, she had all the time in the world to race her thoughts. Being in a new town, not knowing anybody, which was not much of a bother to her though, but getting to know the place so that she could start giving resumes, that would take time. Till then what ? Be at home ? Stay at home wife ? And when the next stage of motherhood starts, become a stay at home mom ? She got up at once not being able to register all these labels. Yes labels. Why do not the working lot get stuck with labels like that ? she pondered. She had seen Mala, her married colleague tussle between the job and family, when her child had fallen ill. The boss being cocky, had mocked at Mala when they both entered his cabin to take the punch card, as Anna and herself both had taken leave past few days. 'Yes Mala', her boss said,'Who's ill this time ? Mother in law? Father in law ? Husband ? Child ?' Suddenly the job didn't seem lucrative at all from Mala's perspective and Anna thought how difficult it is to make him understand, observing Mala's sullen face made her feel worse. Was a job worth all that ? Sure there must be ways to cope family and work she thought.

She suddenly woke up from her reverie. Her hands had been full in the past ten years with two bubbly kids and a part time job as well. She loved seeing off her children to school and husband to work. What could possibly replace the hugs and 'bye bye's' as the little ones marched off to school? And what about the daily school banter her elder one had with her ? Listening to him reminded her of her own school days insecurities regarding friends, teachers etc. and she could now guide him with what she was not able to do to overcome them. She had been taking tuition's at home when her little ones slept and later had taken up a teacher's job. She couldn't bring herself to leave her offsprings at any day care centre and go for a job. Her mother in law had told her to give herself to the kids for their first five years and it made sense as she studied child psychology books. It was not that she was not tempted to accept lucrative offers but one sentence she had read in an article in 'Woman's Era' always stayed back. 'The mother may not need her child as much the child does, because the mother is the child's world'. Somewhere it had struck chord deep down and she had stayed at home with the tuition's though. Later having served at various other organizations including schools, she had decided to stick to few hours of working. Work outside she had to, connected to the outside world was her need at the same time, she wanted to be there for her children and the person who was earning the major chunk. The Man needed her like the children did, sometimes even more. The vertical alignment made sense: God, spouse, children, work, family. And why not ? He was the one who knew her in and out and who took care of her in a way that no one did. So ? All that gave her delight had no 'labels of important designations' and what gave her a sense of worth was the work she did in whatever post she was in. She had to have them both, to be at peace with herself. And today, she was, while preparing the lunch albeit with the thoughts of what is it that gives a woman her self worth ?

Well...

'Cook food', flashed on her mind screen and then 'look for a maid', and then do what ? She questioned herself. Oh ! is this how my life is going to be ? How strange...in just a moment the whole life had been decided by her. Still she couldn't place herself right. Something was missing somewhere.

But that was few decades back when Anna (as Anamica's friend's called her) had got married. She was working before she tied the knot and that day after Ketan left for work, she had all the time in the world to race her thoughts. Being in a new town, not knowing anybody, which was not much of a bother to her though, but getting to know the place so that she could start giving resumes, that would take time. Till then what ? Be at home ? Stay at home wife ? And when the next stage of motherhood starts, become a stay at home mom ? She got up at once not being able to register all these labels. Yes labels. Why do not the working lot get stuck with labels like that ? she pondered. She had seen Mala, her married colleague tussle between the job and family, when her child had fallen ill. The boss being cocky, had mocked at Mala when they both entered his cabin to take the punch card, as Anna and herself both had taken leave past few days. 'Yes Mala', her boss said,'Who's ill this time ? Mother in law? Father in law ? Husband ? Child ?' Suddenly the job didn't seem lucrative at all from Mala's perspective and Anna thought how difficult it is to make him understand, observing Mala's sullen face made her feel worse. Was a job worth all that ? Sure there must be ways to cope family and work she thought.

She suddenly woke up from her reverie. Her hands had been full in the past ten years with two bubbly kids and a part time job as well. She loved seeing off her children to school and husband to work. What could possibly replace the hugs and 'bye bye's' as the little ones marched off to school? And what about the daily school banter her elder one had with her ? Listening to him reminded her of her own school days insecurities regarding friends, teachers etc. and she could now guide him with what she was not able to do to overcome them. She had been taking tuition's at home when her little ones slept and later had taken up a teacher's job. She couldn't bring herself to leave her offsprings at any day care centre and go for a job. Her mother in law had told her to give herself to the kids for their first five years and it made sense as she studied child psychology books. It was not that she was not tempted to accept lucrative offers but one sentence she had read in an article in 'Woman's Era' always stayed back. 'The mother may not need her child as much the child does, because the mother is the child's world'. Somewhere it had struck chord deep down and she had stayed at home with the tuition's though. Later having served at various other organizations including schools, she had decided to stick to few hours of working. Work outside she had to, connected to the outside world was her need at the same time, she wanted to be there for her children and the person who was earning the major chunk. The Man needed her like the children did, sometimes even more. The vertical alignment made sense: God, spouse, children, work, family. And why not ? He was the one who knew her in and out and who took care of her in a way that no one did. So ? All that gave her delight had no 'labels of important designations' and what gave her a sense of worth was the work she did in whatever post she was in. She had to have them both, to be at peace with herself. And today, she was, while preparing the lunch albeit with the thoughts of what is it that gives a woman her self worth ?

Doing nothing

How liberating it is to just 'be' and do nothing... Be it in the confines of your own dwelling or out there in the open. Home ? When everyone else is gone for work, you shut the door and sit down with the thought that the next few hours belong to you and your thoughts can take a flight to wherever it wants to, like the feathered creatures. I love to watch that pretty two legged, green coloured, red beaked, 'being' called the parrot that I witness during summer- diligently chewing some part of the delicate fir tree, on which it is perched upon, clasping it in its claws and standing on one leg. This goes on for hours with its head moving tick-tock, side ways and down and occasionally the innocent looking tiny black eye balls meet me and I wonder could we be possibly connected?. Then its like a treasure hunt to spot two to three of the species, hidden behind the delicate needle like leaves, beautifully camouflaged. Suddenly a whole new world sets in once the eyes become expert in spotting few more movements and various other animal shapes. The squirrel is a permanent sight, always on the move and I sigh...What are you busy with little creature ?

Gazing at the greens for hours together is a panacea for the soul, with the cool morning breeze taking you in completely. And oh ! to get immersed in a book of your choice or the favorite daily, without having to worry about time, being in a flow with the self, like a plane on an autopilot. Years back I remember, it was scary to be with myself, when all of a sudden life threw me in a small place with little company and no source of books except for the newspaper which would come when the express train arrived from Mumbai. Not now. Learnt to be at peace with the 'self'. Used the sixth sense to know, to understand it. Heard somewhere 'God doesn't make junk'. Cancelled all the then prevailing thoughts 'to be perfect' and affirmed 'Its o.k. to be me' with the follies as well. Someone said 'If you would become perfect, then the place is not Earth, God would want you soon in the heaven'. You have to be comfortable with who you are. And until then, its a constant strife. Has to be.

And by the riverside ? sea shore ? on a long drive ? in a resort ? Not answerable to anyone is a luxury, so the need for inertness in between life's pell mell. Getting lost somewhere...to someone, handing over self by one's own will...doing nothing, in a no man's land.

Doing nothing

How liberating it is to just 'be' and do nothing... Be it in the confines of your own dwelling or out there in the open. Home ? When everyone else is gone for work, you shut the door and sit down with the thought that the next few hours belong to you and your thoughts can take a flight to wherever it wants to, like the feathered creatures. I love to watch that pretty two legged, green coloured, red beaked, 'being' called the parrot that I witness during summer- diligently chewing some part of the delicate fir tree, on which it is perched upon, clasping it in its claws and standing on one leg. This goes on for hours with its head moving tick-tock, side ways and down and occasionally the innocent looking tiny black eye balls meet me and I wonder could we be possibly connected?. Then its like a treasure hunt to spot two to three of the species, hidden behind the delicate needle like leaves, beautifully camouflaged. Suddenly a whole new world sets in once the eyes become expert in spotting few more movements and various other animal shapes. The squirrel is a permanent sight, always on the move and I sigh...What are you busy with little creature ?

Gazing at the greens for hours together is a panacea for the soul, with the cool morning breeze taking you in completely. And oh ! to get immersed in a book of your choice or the favorite daily, without having to worry about time, being in a flow with the self, like a plane on an autopilot. Years back I remember, it was scary to be with myself, when all of a sudden life threw me in a small place with little company and no source of books except for the newspaper which would come when the express train arrived from Mumbai. Not now. Learnt to be at peace with the 'self'. Used the sixth sense to know, to understand it. Heard somewhere 'God doesn't make junk'. Cancelled all the then prevailing thoughts 'to be perfect' and affirmed 'Its o.k. to be me' with the follies as well. Someone said 'If you would become perfect, then the place is not Earth, God would want you soon in the heaven'. You have to be comfortable with who you are. And until then, its a constant strife. Has to be.

And by the riverside ? sea shore ? on a long drive ? in a resort ? Not answerable to anyone is a luxury, so the need for inertness in between life's pell mell. Getting lost somewhere...to someone, handing over self by one's own will...doing nothing, in a no man's land.