The Recluse

                    Niky ( nicknamed for Nikita ) was an unusual child. She brought immense joy for her father especially when she was born. Mom of course doted her. The thing was she was an ultra possessive child. Would wail if any 'uncle or aunt' held her. Only her parents could calm her down. When she was two years or so, the family doctor had a hard time when he visited their house to check her mother who suffering from typhoid. The moment he held her wrist for checking the pulse, Niky started yelling. Deep down she was scared the doc would harm her mother. Her dad had to take her out for a walk to soothe her down. The family friends called her 'Touch me not'.
             Well. she grew up, excelled at school where she was a star, be it studies or any cultural activities. She was the leader leading teams for quiz, music, debate and other competitions. At home she was a recluse. Her mom worried a bit about her. She was unlike her brother who had to blurt out everything that happened at school. Niky wouldn't like if her mom asked questions about what happened at school. She had her own mind which showed up right from the day she started pre-school and this irked her mom at times. Niky never mixed up with the family friends or relatives. There were just two or three cousins whom she was very much attached to, and their parents were her favourite uncles and aunts. Of course she loved her granny to the hilt. That's it. After her parents and brother, she doted on this lot. The strange thing was she didn't have friends all through her school years. Her mom wondered why she was unlike other girls, not giggling or engaging in gossips or interested in clothes or parties. One would find her engrossed in books all the time instead. When her mother wanted help she would clean and dust the house and keep it spic and span. She loved to do the rooms. Dishes / laundry not her cup of tea. Cooking..no, she only loved to do special dishes like 'pulav' or 'carrot halwa' and the likes which took on her mom's nerves because she would lavishly use ghee and oil. She couldn't compromise when she had to cook and the days she cooked, it was a mother / daughter battle field. In short the two women were opposites.
                      Niky just didn't like the womanly talks..like this for example, between her mom and the neighbourhood aunt: ' Rama ji, my dishes are left undone. The maid hasn't come yet. I don't know what to cook for lunch. Its a big question as to what to cook for the three big meals on a daily basis. I have kept milk for boiling and now I thought let me have a chat with you. Have to rush back to add the curd to the milk bowl. Ganesh wants thick curd you know.' 'eegh ! Oogh ! no no no no. I don't want to be doing those talks ! God save me !' thought Nick. She just couldn't fathom her image like her mom or the hundreds of aunts around. She loved the way her school principal managed the school affairs. Then when she went to college she just adored the college principal. She wanted to be that. Her paternal aunt was one of her role models because she was a princi too. Why her sweet granny was a Nursery school headmistress ! Hmm ! the teacherhood sort of ran in the blood.
                  Her class boys didn't interest her though she gorged on Mills and Boons. Oh ! she and her cousins could get engrossed in those novels the whole day. Well like all girls she did get married and found herself cooking like her mom and sometimes mouthing the same dialogues she detested. The difference was she had a job, a niche for herself unlike her mom who was not allowed to work. She kept to her own now also, in the new adopted home. As much as she adored her family she couldn't help being the recluse she was.

The Recluse

                    Niky ( nicknamed for NIkita ) was an unusual child. She brought immense joy for her father especially when she was born. Mom of course doted her. The thing was she was an ultra possessive child. Would wail if any 'uncle or auint' held her. Only her parents could calm her down. When she was two years or so, the family doctor had a hard time when he visited their house to check her mother who suffering from typhoid. The moment he held her wrist for checking the pulse, Nick started yelling. Deep down she was scared the doc would harm her mother. Her dad had to take her out for a walk to soothe her down. The family friends called her 'Touch me not'.
             Well. she grew up, excelled at school where she was a star, be it studies or any cultural activities. She was the leader leading teams for quiz, music, debate and other competitions. At home she was a recluse. Her mom worried a bit about her. She was unlike her brother who had to blurt out everything that happened at school. Nick wouldn't like if her mom asked questions about what happened at school. She had her own mind which showed up right from the day she started pre-school and this irked her mom at times. Nick never mixed up with the family friends or relatives. There were just two or three cousins whom she was very much attached to, and their parents were her favourite uncles and aunts. Of course she loved her granny to the hilt. That's it. After her parents and brother, she doted on this lot. The strange thing was she didn't have friends all through her school years. Her mom wondered why she was unlike other girls, not giggling or engaging in gossips or interested in clothes or parties. One would find her engrossed in books all the time instead. When her mother wanted help she would clean and dust the house and keep it spic and span. She loved to do the rooms. Dishes / laundry not her cup of tea. Cooking..no, she only loved to do special dishes like 'pulav' or 'carrot halwa' and the likes which took on her mom's nerves because she would lavishly use ghee and oil. She couldn't compromise when she had to cook and the days she cooked, it was a mother / daughter battle field. In short the two women were opposites.
                      Nick just didn't like the womanly talks..like this for example, between her mom and the neighbourhood aunt: ' Rama ji, my dishes are left undone. The maid hasn't come yet. I don't know what to cook for lunch. Its a big question as to what to cook for the three big meals on a daily basis. I have kept milk for boiling and now I thought let me have a chat with you. Have to rush back to add the curd to the milk bowl. Ganesh wants thick curd you know.' 'eegh ! Oogh ! no no no no. I don't want to be doing those talks ! God save me !' thought Nick. She just couldn't fathom her image like her mom or the hundreds of aunts around. She loved the way her school principal managed the school affairs. Then when she went to college she just adored the college principal. She wanted to be that. Her paternal aunt was one of her role models because she was a princi too. Why her sweet granny was a Nursery school headmistress ! Hmm ! the teacherhood sort of ran in the blood.
                  Her class boys didn't interest her though she gorged on Mills and Boons. Oh ! she and her cousins could get engrossed in those novels the whole day. Well like all girls she did get married and found herself cooking like her mom and sometimes mouthing the same dialogues she detested. The difference was she had a job, a niche for herself unlike her mom who was not allowed to work. She kept to her own now also, in the new adopted home. As much as she adored her family she couldn't help being the recluse she was.

Mr. Saxena

                        Well, he had two sons and a beautiful daughter. He worked for a reasonably large company, earning enough to provide for his family few luxuries like occasional long distance drives, eating out at select restaurants and the likes. He also entertained guests at home. His wife was a typical homemaker, with her mind totally occupied with her children, husband and of course the house.
                    She had been in her younger days, a very bubbly girl thinking she owned the world. But then 'love' took away that ownership. She liked Manoj whose sister was her friend. The sister would go on endlessly about her brother, how he took care of the family, being the eldest. How after the death of their father, he had taken up the responsibility. Maya of course, was smitten by 'Manoj tales as well as himself'. She used to watch tons of films and old Hindi movies were all about the girl yearning to soak up her hero's sorrow like a sponge and provide him with cushions of happiness in return. And that prevailed in her mind when they got married. However the post marital bliss, like it does eventually, faded off. Reason ? The very responsible nature of Manoj now got on her nerves. Moreover he didn't allow her to work and so she who dreamed in her college days of being 'the working woman with bundle of notes shuffling in the purse', was reduced to housework.  She loved her kids and she loved her home/husband enough to sacrifice her 'career ambitions'.
                Mr. Manoj Saxena, because of his position in the family demanded authority. No one dare disobey him in the family. And he was finicky about how the house was kept. He would walk into the kitchen to find dust on the mixer or the dirt on the switches..He would tell Maya to keep them clean. He would help her too occasionally. But then there would be lectures on how to manage cooking/cleaning/bringing up kids etc. He loved to watch the movies, catch up on sports-stock market-current news etc in the thing called TV, read half a dozen newspapers...daily. He kept the details of every expenditure in the house. He managed his finances well. In short he was methodical and was right most of the times like all 'Men of the house'.
                 Scene change. Both sons get married and the daughter too. The daughter getting married was painful. Two Software professionals in the form of daughter in laws plus his own sons in good positions..what more could he ask for. He retired. Maya was happy taking care of the kitchen while the young generation went out to work. Breakfast in the Saxena house hold was a hurried affair. Riddhi, Mira would gulp down the cereals before they left for work while the sons would eat mom made breakfast. The girls weren't sold on the elaborate breakfast ritual. Mr. Saxena felt disappointed. He would have breakfast with his wife later. Actually she thought he should be happy as they both got to eat together. Not him...because he thought the world about his sons. Though his sons were very loving, they now had 'wives' in their lives.
               Maya and Manoj left for a trip to Simla, with some of their friends for two weeks. The children dropped them off at the airport and came back to the house for a lavish party at home with food and drinks ordered from their favourite restaurants. Oh ! what fun ? Being able to operate your own house felt good thought Riddhi and Mira. Both of them cooked for their husbands, hired a full time maid in the house to help them with the chopping/cutting/kneading/grinding work plus the dusting and the laundry work. Well, the husbands were happy to see their wives happy and secretly felt proud that their wives worked, yet cared enough to keep up the house.
                     Mr. Saxena came back from a fun filled trip to a house he didn't recognise. The furniture had been shifted in the drawing room, curtains changed...His room was left untouched. He was furious but didn't show. Maya's kitchen had turned topsy turvy. What were these girls upto ? They decided to have a word with their sons. The guys had something else to say,' Ma / Pops, cummon, let them do what they want, after all this is the beginning of their married life. If they are ready to take up the responsibility, let them...and you two relax. Enough of running the household all these years. Now we will take care of you. So just chill ok ?' And they went off to their respective bedrooms. 'Relax'..Actually that should have sounded musical to Mr. and Mrs. Saxena but strangely it didn't. No they didn't want to relax. They had run this house all these years and how could they be deprived of it ? Both had a long discussion that night. It was time for their sons and daughter in laws to run their houses too. Maya and Manoj had never felt lighter after they made a decision that night.
                At the dinner table the next day, Mr. Saxena wrote two cheques for both of his sons. He wanted both of them to buy a 1 BHK apartment. That's all he could afford to give them right now. They could start their marital lives in an entirely new set up. Riddhi and Mira could have whatever arrangements they wanted. The children were thrilled with this unexpected surprise and no wonder Maya and Manoj were two most admired persons in their lives ! Their sister too after having a short stint in the joint family, was now shifting to her own apartment.

Mr. Saxena

                        Well, he had two sons and a beautiful daughter. He worked for a reasonably large company, earning enough to provide for his family few luxuries like occasional long distance drives, eating out at select restaurants and the likes. He also entertained guests at home. His wife was a typical homemaker, with her mind totally occupied with her children, husband and of course the house.
                    She had been in her younger days, a very bubbly girl thinking she owned the world. But then 'love' took away that ownership. She liked Manoj whose sister was her friend. The sister would go on endlessly about her brother, how he took care of the family, being the eldest. How after the death of their father, he had taken up the responsibility. Maya of course, was smitten by 'Manoj tales as well as himself'. She used to watch tons of films and old Hindi movies were all about the girl yearning to soak up her hero's sorrow like a sponge and provide him with cushions of happiness in return. And that prevailed in her mind when they got married. However the post marital bliss, like it does eventually, faded off. Reason ? The very responsible nature of Manoj now got on her nerves. Moreover he didn't allow her to work and so she who dreamed in her college days of being 'the working woman with bundle of notes shuffling in the purse', was reduced to housework.  She loved her kids and she loved her home/husband enough to sacrifice her 'career ambitions'.
                Mr. Manoj Saxena, because of his position in the family demanded authority. No one dare disobey him in the family. And he was finicky about how the house was kept. He would walk into the kitchen to find dust on the mixer or the dirt on the switches..He would tell Maya to keep them clean. He would help her too occasionally. But then there would be lectures on how to manage cooking/cleaning/bringing up kids etc. He loved to watch the movies, catch up on sports-stock market-current news etc in the thing called TV, read half a dozen newspapers...daily. He kept the details of every expenditure in the house. He managed his finances well. In short he was methodical and was right most of the times like all 'Men of the house'.
                 Scene change. Both sons get married and the daughter too. The daughter getting married was painful. Two Software professionals in the form of daughter in laws plus his own sons in good positions..what more could he ask for. He retired. Maya was happy taking care of the kitchen while the young generation went out to work. Breakfast in the Saxena house hold was a hurried affair. Riddhi, Mira would gulp down the cereals before they left for work while the sons would eat mom made breakfast. The girls weren't sold on the elaborate breakfast ritual. Mr. Saxena felt disappointed. He would have breakfast with his wife later. Actually she thought he should be happy as they both got to eat together. Not him...because he thought the world about his sons. Though his sons were very loving, they now had 'wives' in their lives.
               Maya and Manoj left for a trip to Simla, with some of their friends for two weeks. The children dropped them off at the airport and came back to the house for a lavish party at home with food and drinks ordered from their favourite restaurants. Oh ! what fun ? Being able to operate your own house felt good thought Riddhi and Mira. Both of them cooked for their husbands, hired a full time maid in the house to help them with the chopping/cutting/kneading/grinding work plus the dusting and the laundry work. Well, the husbands were happy to see their wives happy and secretly felt proud that their wives worked, yet cared enough to keep up the house.
                     Mr. Saxena came back from a fun filled trip to a house he didn't recognise. The furniture had been shifted in the drawing room, curtains changed...His room was left untouched. He was furious but didn't show. Maya's kitchen had turned topsy turvy. What were these girls upto ? They decided to have a word with their sons. The guys had something else to say,' Ma / Pops, cummon, let them do what they want, after all this is the beginning of their married life. If they are ready to take up the responsibility, let them...and you two relax. Enough of running the household all these years. Now we will take care of you. So just chill ok ?' And they went off to their respective bedrooms. 'Relax'..Actually that should have sounded musical to Mr. and Mrs. Saxena but strangely it didn't. No they didn't want to relax. They had run this house all these years and how could they be deprived of it ? Both had a long discussion that night. It was time for their sons and daughter in laws to run their houses too. Maya and Manoj had never felt lighter after they made a decision that night.
                At the dinner table the next day, Mr. Saxena wrote two cheques for both of his sons. He wanted both of them to buy a 1 BHK apartment. That's all he could afford to give them right now. They could start their marital lives in an entirely new set up. Riddhi and Mira could have whatever arrangements they wanted. The children were thrilled with this unexpected surprise and no wonder Maya and Manoj were two most admired persons in their lives ! Their sister too after having a short stint in the joint family, was now shifting to her own apartment.

The Marathi Bram girl / Tam Bram Boy

                              Swati entered the Narayanan household, a brand new Marathi Brahmn bride now married to Srihari, a Tamil Bramhin and her long time beau.
                   It was a picture perfect wedding at Pune with mixture of both side rituals but of course with little confusion here and there. Like for instance when the groom's side landed at the wedding premises, Laxmi and Narayan (Srihari's parents), were amused to see the board outside the hall. It read, 'Purandare weds Narayanan'. Hari (as Shrihari was called), almost choked wondering whether it was him or his dad getting married !
                       The formal welcome ceremony over with the girl's side garlanding the groom's side, the 'Barat' entered the wedding hall. For the uninitiated, Marathi and Tam Brams are simpletons unlike the status conscious North/West Indians aka Punjabi's or Marwadi's, Gujarati's and likes. Mr. Narayanan was impressed, for one that the hall (anteroom) and its adjoining rooms had light pastel colours and were spic and span adorned attractively with roses and the breath taking scented jasmines unlike certain choultries in the south. All he needed now was 'Kapi', a must in the Tamil weddings where how soon coffee was served to the groom's side was an indicator of how well the wedding had been arranged. No 'Kapi' was even remotely seen around. Nevertheless it was arranged from a nearby 'Madrasi' restaurant and the groom's parents were satisfied. They were shown their rooms which had neat mattresses on the floor with sparkling white bedsheets. They were confused. Tam Bram orthodox prinicples scoffed at the bed being laid from the morning, i.e. on the floor. One was supposed to leave all footwear outside the room, wash feet and then sit on the floor mats, not mattresses. Anyways when they had compromised to have a non -Tamilian daughter in law, somewhere they had to begin. So the mattresses were rolled and floor mats laid out.
                 Time for pre-wedding day dinner. Very simple was all that came into their minds. Just one sweet !! How can one relish a wedding feast with just one sweet ? Down South in Bangalore, one had 'Paysam', 'Mysore Pak', 'Chirotee' to name a few. They thought may be in Marathi weddings, they dole out sweets on the wedding day. All of them had good sleep that night on the mattresses unlike certain weddings in the South where one had to make do with floor mats and pillows.Wedding day some of the rituals were similar. But the Southies missed the regular tea/kapi being served continuously throughout the wedding day by men in 'white panche' worn around the waist. The breakfast was ok followed by a disappointing lunch. Only one sweet, something called 'Srikhand' ? Of course there was post lunch 'Ice-cream' with various toppings but...authentic Indian sweets, cummon they are the best. Whatever happened to the 'Puran poli's' that they had heard about a lot ? Well o.k. they might all be reserved for the reception. And reception was lavish to their joy. The hot gulab jamuns were just yummy. The seasonal 'gajar ka halwa' satisfied the palate big time.
               Cut the story short, Swati, mentally prepared for the entirely different set up post marriage, started to settle in. Hari was the only Tamil friend she had, never having experienced Tamilians before. Well the language or the culture for that matter was the last thing on their minds when they dated. Wrong. She realised. She had not only married Hari but also the family and its rituals. She was lucky that his parents were broad minded and didn't force anything on her. She would see her in laws get up early in the morning, bathe and do puja the first thing. Various gods stared out of multi coloured photoframes that hung all around the walls of each room. What is with the Tamils she wondered ? Why do they need so many gods. Back home they had in the mandir few idols of prime gods like the Ganesha, Shiv etc. Ugh ! she didn't like the blue colour on the walls also. The house of her dreams was way beyond from where she had stepped into. Anyway Hari and herself would soon be leaving for Ahmedabad where he had a job.
                               She was shocked the next day to learn Hari had been re-located to Bangalore. 'Surprise wedding gift' said Hari to her. Well she had always liked Bangalore but contemplating living with 'Tamil in laws' at the beginning of her married life wasn't what she had in mind. She loved Hari's family though. So she got used to the daily 'thirpandi' (rangoli) which her MIL drew on the space in front of the house gate every morning at 6 am after sprinkling water on the cement. She couldn't imagine herself doing that day in and day out. She would soon be looking for job of course. Breakfast time and the MIL was taking out hot 'idlis' into a casserole. She asked Swati to pass on the 'tiffin plate' to Ravi her brother in law when she was thinking it was for her. She was famished. Back home 'aai' would make sure her daughter got to eat first. Well she reminded herself of her new status and she was supposed to serve wasn't she ? The next tiffin plate was handed over to her husband, then the father in law and then finally she got to eat. Nothing new..this, aai used to eat after she had served all but Swati had never given it a serious thought. Hmm ! she thought she'll outgrow all these silly things once life settled in. She woke up the next day to 'Suprabhatam' by MS. It was kind of pleasant only that it was a bit loud. She came out on the Patio to hear similar stuff in the surroundings. A morning jogger waved at her and she waved back and smiled. How little things brought smile to one's face, thought she as she returned to her bedroom to be confronted by her loving husband. She forgot all 'Tamil' stuff because the man she loved wasn't religion or culture or language. He was a good human being which was what mattered. Her in laws were also good human beings which was what mattered.

The Marathi Bram girl / Tam Bram Boy

                              Swati entered the Narayanan household, a brand new Marathi Brahmn bride now married to Srihari, a Tamil Bramhin and her long time beau.
                   It was a picture perfect wedding at Pune with mixture of both side rituals but of course with little confusion here and there. Like for instance when the groom's side landed at the wedding premises, Laxmi and Narayan (Srihari's parents), were amused to see the board outside the hall. It read, 'Purandare weds Narayanan'. Hari (as Shrihari was called), almost choked wondering whether it was him or his dad getting married !
                       The formal welcome ceremony over with the girl's side garlanding the groom's side, the 'Barat' entered the wedding hall. For the uninitiated, Marathi and Tam Brams are simpletons unlike the status conscious North/West Indians aka Punjabi's or Marwadi's, Gujarati's and likes. Mr. Narayanan was impressed, for one that the hall (anteroom) and its adjoining rooms had light pastel colours and were spic and span adorned attractively with roses and the breath taking scented jasmines unlike certain choultries in the south. All he needed now was 'Kapi', a must in the Tamil weddings where how soon coffee was served to the groom's side was an indicator of how well the wedding had been arranged. No 'Kapi' was even remotely seen around. Nevertheless it was arranged from a nearby 'Madrasi' restaurant and the groom's parents were satisfied. They were shown their rooms which had neat mattresses on the floor with sparkling white bedsheets. They were confused. Tam Bram orthodox prinicples scoffed at the bed being laid from the morning, i.e. on the floor. One was supposed to leave all footwear outside the room, wash feet and then sit on the floor mats, not mattresses. Anyways when they had compromised to have a non -Tamilian daughter in law, somewhere they had to begin. So the mattresses were rolled and floor mats laid out.
                 Time for pre-wedding day dinner. Very simple was all that came into their minds. Just one sweet !! How can one relish a wedding feast with just one sweet ? Down South in Bangalore, one had 'Paysam', 'Mysore Pak', 'Chirotee' to name a few. They thought may be in Marathi weddings, they dole out sweets on the wedding day. All of them had good sleep that night on the mattresses unlike certain weddings in the South where one had to make do with floor mats and pillows.Wedding day some of the rituals were similar. But the Southies missed the regular tea/kapi being served continuously throughout the wedding day by men in 'white panche' worn around the waist. The breakfast was ok followed by a disappointing lunch. Only one sweet, something called 'Srikhand' ? Of course there was post lunch 'Ice-cream' with various toppings but...authentic Indian sweets, cummon they are the best. Whatever happened to the 'Puran poli's' that they had heard about a lot ? Well o.k. they might all be reserved for the reception. And reception was lavish to their joy. The hot gulab jamuns were just yummy. The seasonal 'gajar ka halwa' satisfied the palate big time.
               Cut the story short, Swati, mentally prepared for the entirely different set up post marriage, started to settle in. Hari was the only Tamil friend she had, never having experienced Tamilians before. Well the language or the culture for that matter was the last thing on their minds when they dated. Wrong. She realised. She had not only married Hari but also the family and its rituals. She was lucky that his parents were broad minded and didn't force anything on her. She would see her in laws get up early in the morning, bathe and do puja the first thing. Various gods stared out of multi coloured photoframes that hung all around the walls of each room. What is with the Tamils she wondered ? Why do they need so many gods. Back home they had in the mandir few idols of prime gods like the Ganesha, Shiv etc. Ugh ! she didn't like the blue colour on the walls also. The house of her dreams was way beyond from where she had stepped into. Anyway Hari and herself would soon be leaving for Ahmedabad where he had a job.
                               She was shocked the next day to learn Hari had been re-located to Bangalore. 'Surprise wedding gift' said Hari to her. Well she had always liked Bangalore but contemplating living with 'Tamil in laws' at the beginning of her married life wasn't what she had in mind. She loved Hari's family though. So she got used to the daily 'thirpandi' (rangoli) which her MIL drew on the space in front of the house gate every morning at 6 am after sprinkling water on the cement. She couldn't imagine herself doing that day in and day out. She would soon be looking for job of course. Breakfast time and the MIL was taking out hot 'idlis' into a casserole. She asked Swati to pass on the 'tiffin plate' to Ravi her brother in law when she was thinking it was for her. She was famished. Back home 'aai' would make sure her daughter got to eat first. Well she reminded herself of her new status and she was supposed to serve wasn't she ? The next tiffin plate was handed over to her husband, then the father in law and then finally she got to eat. Nothing new..this, aai used to eat after she had served all but Swati had never given it a serious thought. Hmm ! she thought she'll outgrow all these silly things once life settled in. She woke up the next day to 'Suprabhatam' by MS. It was kind of pleasant only that it was a bit loud. She came out on the Patio to hear similar stuff in the surroundings. A morning jogger waved at her and she waved back and smiled. How little things brought smile to one's face, thought she as she returned to her bedroom to be confronted by her loving husband. She forgot all 'Tamil' stuff because the man she loved wasn't religion or culture or language. He was a good human being which was what mattered. Her in laws were also good human beings which was what mattered.

The Horoscope

                    'Hey kav's what's up ?' said R, who had just entered the hostel room, throwing her clutch onto the corner table. Kavita had been looking out of the window for quite a time. Romi bent down in front of her, face to face, trying to capture the expressions. Not able to find any, she thundered,' Cummon K. Enough brooding. Either you need him for your life or you don't. Decide. Now.'
                            It was a strange story. Kavita had met Neel while she was pursuing her career in Medicine. Both went steady. Marriage was the obvious choice but both of them had delayed it on purpose. Both were too independent, had contemplated 'live in' but had decided against it. Instead why not let go a few more years before they could have each other 24/7...Somehow the idea of being together all the time didn't look all that appealing. Well finally the day arrived when both mutually agreed to tie the knot. Neel's mother preferred looking at the horoscope and to his horror,  Kavita's horoscope didn't match at all. Not only that, the family pundit said that if Neel were to marry her, he would meet with an accident within an year of the marriage and would be no more. Neel wasn't convinced of course but after showing Kavita's horoscope to a dozen of astrologers, and all repeating the same fate, Neel was perturbed. Days had passed and Kavita sensed something was wrong but he wouldn't tell her. Once when they were having coffee at the Barista, he said calmly,' Kavita we can't get married'. She had been shattered of course. Her mind was covered with all kinds of 'why's'. She wasn't very good looking she knew but Neel knew it too. It was a connection that went beyond face or for that matter anything physical. How could Neel..her Neel- a software guy believe in such absurdities ? No no this can't be happening to her. She had lived in denial for quite a long time. But when Neel got married to another girl of his caste, the world had come to an end.
                         She was no longer herself. Bouts of depression, sickness had followed and she had slowly recovered with Romi's help. Romi had come into her life like fresh air and soaked up all the traces of gloom out of her life. Kavita had sprung back to her usual self, immersing herself in her work, patients, college, clinic. She never forgot Neel. Somewhere deep inside she knew she would have him. Five years had passed without Neel physically in her life. She came to know from a common friend that Neel's wife hadn't conceived. Well, though she listened anything even remotely connected to Neel, she managed to be composed and continued with life nevertheless, having forgiven him. She could never hate him. She would often quote the old song by Sudha Malhotra (Tum mujhey bhool bhi jao, tho ye hak hai tumko, meri baat aur hai mainey tho mohobbat ki hai) whenever Romi fumed. Life was strange indeed. It could go on without certain people whom the heart gets obsessed with.
                   One day at her clinic, she got a call and you might have guessed from who that was. It was Neel. While he spoke to her, she listened as if she was in a trance. He apologised for his stupid fear about the horoscope, said he repented everyday for the decision he had taken. Romi warned Kavita. But K wouldn't listen. Her Neel needed her. She had to know his story. She had to help him. And so phone calls continued and they started meeting too. He wouldn't leave his wife too. Romi's heart went out to her friend. She started praying thinking something divine could take care of this relationship. She even advised Kavita to ask Neel to get a divorce if at all he wanted to be with her again. Kavita wouldn't do that and so the 'staring out of the window sessions' continued. Romil thought, 'Today this has to end'. ' K, will you ask him to get a divorce?' 'No' said Kavita. Romil asked why and Kavita said she was o.k. being the support that Neel needed. What was wrong with that ? She could wait...till Fate decided something phenomenal otherwise life was o.k. as it was. She didn't believe marriage was the end of deep rooted relationship between a man and a woman. Things were fine. She pacified Romi

The Horoscope

                    'Hey kav's what's up ?' said R, who had just entered the hostel room, throwing her clutch onto the corner table. Kavita had been looking out of the window for quite a time. Romi bent down in front of her, face to face, trying to capture the expressions. Not able to find any, she thundered,' Cummon K. Enough brooding. Either you need him for your life or you don't. Decide. Now.'
                            It was a strange story. Kavita had met Neel while she was pursuing her career in Medicine. Both went steady. Marriage was the obvious choice but both of them had delayed it on purpose. Both were too independent, had contemplated 'live in' but had decided against it. Instead why not let go a few more years before they could have each other 24/7...Somehow the idea of being together all the time didn't look all that appealing. Well finally the day arrived when both mutually agreed to tie the knot. Neel's mother preferred looking at the horoscope and to his horror,  Kavita's horoscope didn't match at all. Not only that, the family pundit said that if Neel were to marry her, he would meet with an accident within an year of the marriage and would be no more. Neel wasn't convinced of course but after showing Kavita's horoscope to a dozen of astrologers, and all repeating the same fate, Neel was perturbed. Days had passed and Kavita sensed something was wrong but he wouldn't tell her. Once when they were having coffee at the Barista, he said calmly,' Kavita we can't get married'. She had been shattered of course. Her mind was covered with all kinds of 'why's'. She wasn't very good looking she knew but Neel knew it too. It was a connection that went beyond face or for that matter anything physical. How could Neel..her Neel- a software guy believe in such absurdities ? No no this can't be happening to her. She had lived in denial for quite a long time. But when Neel got married to another girl of his caste, the world had come to an end.
                         She was no longer herself. Bouts of depression, sickness had followed and she had slowly recovered with Romi's help. Romi had come into her life like fresh air and soaked up all the traces of gloom out of her life. Kavita had sprung back to her usual self, immersing herself in her work, patients, college, clinic. She never forgot Neel. Somewhere deep inside she knew she would have him. Five years had passed without Neel physically in her life. She came to know from a common friend that Neel's wife hadn't conceived. Well, though she listened anything even remotely connected to Neel, she managed to be composed and continued with life nevertheless, having forgiven him. She could never hate him. She would often quote the old song by Sudha Malhotra (Tum mujhey bhool bhi jao, tho ye hak hai tumko, meri baat aur hai mainey tho mohobbat ki hai) whenever Romi fumed. Life was strange indeed. It could go on without certain people whom the heart gets obsessed with.
                   One day at her clinic, she got a call and you might have guessed from who that was. It was Neel. While he spoke to her, she listened as if she was in a trance. He apologised for his stupid fear about the horoscope, said he repented everyday for the decision he had taken. Romi warned Kavita. But K wouldn't listen. Her Neel needed her. She had to know his story. She had to help him. And so phone calls continued and they started meeting too. He wouldn't leave his wife too. Romi's heart went out to her friend. She started praying thinking something divine could take care of this relationship. She even advised Kavita to ask Neel to get a divorce if at all he wanted to be with her again. Kavita wouldn't do that and so the 'staring out of the window sessions' continued. Romil thought, 'Today this has to end'. ' K, will you ask him to get a divorce?' 'No' said Kavita. Romil asked why and Kavita said she was o.k. being the support that Neel needed. What was wrong with that ? She could wait...till Fate decided something phenomenal otherwise life was o.k. as it was. She didn't believe marriage was the end of deep rooted relationship between a man and a woman. Things were fine. She pacified Romi

Someone forwarded this message....

JUST  A MUM? A  woman, renewing her driver's licence  , was asked by the woman at  Registry to state her  occupation. She hesitated,  uncertain how to classify  herself.   'What  I mean is, ' explained the woman at Registry,    'do you have a job or are you  just a ....?' 'Of course I have a  job,' snapped the  woman. 'I'm  a Mum.' 'We don't list 'Mum' as an  occupation,  'housewife'  covers it,' Said  the recorder emphatically. I  forgot all about her story until one day I found  myself  in  the same  situation..   The  Clerk was obviously a career woman,  poised, efficient, and possessed of a  high sounding title like, 'Official  Interrogator' or 'City  Registrar...' 'What  is your occupation?' she  probed. What made me say  it?  I do not know.    The  words simply popped out.   'I'm a  Research Associate in the field  of Child Development and Human  Relations.' The  clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen  in midair and looked up as though  she had not heard  right....   I  repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most  significant words. Then I stared with  wonder as my pronouncement was  written, in bold, black ink on the  official questionnaire. 'Might  I ask,' said the clerk with new  interest, 'just what you do in your  field?' Coolly,  without any trace of fluster in my  voice, I heard myself  reply, 'I have a continuing program of  research, (what mother doesn't) In  the laboratory and in the  field, (normally I would have said  indoors and out).   I'm working  for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the  whole family) and already have four  credits (all daughters).  Of course,  the job is one of the most demanding in the  humanities, (any mother care to  disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a  day, (24 is more like it).   But  the job is more challenging than most  run-of-the-mill careers and  the rewards are more  of a satisfaction rather than just  money.' There was an increasing  note of respect in the clerk's voice as  she completed the form, stood up and  personally ushered me to the  door As I drove into our driveway,  buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I  was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7,  and 3.  Upstairs I could hear our  new experimental model, (a 6 month old  baby) in the child development  program, testing out a new vocal  pattern.  I  felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!   And I had gone on the official records  as someone more distinguished  and indispensable to mankind than 'just another  Mum.'    Motherhood!   What  a glorious career!    Especially  when there's a title on the  door. Does  this make grandmothers 'Senior  Research associates in the field of Child  Development and Human  Relations' And great  grandmothers 'Executive  Senior Research Associates?  I  think so!  I  also think it makes Aunts. Associate  Research Assistants.' Please  send this to another  Mum, Grandmother, Aunt, And  other friends you know. May  your troubles be less, Your blessing  be more,  And  nothing but happiness come through your  door!

Someone forwarded this message....

JUST  A MUM? A  woman, renewing her driver's licence  , was asked by the woman at  Registry to state her  occupation. She hesitated,  uncertain how to classify  herself.   'What  I mean is, ' explained the woman at Registry,    'do you have a job or are you  just a ....?' 'Of course I have a  job,' snapped the  woman. 'I'm  a Mum.' 'We don't list 'Mum' as an  occupation,  'housewife'  covers it,' Said  the recorder emphatically. I  forgot all about her story until one day I found  myself  in  the same  situation..   The  Clerk was obviously a career woman,  poised, efficient, and possessed of a  high sounding title like, 'Official  Interrogator' or 'City  Registrar...' 'What  is your occupation?' she  probed. What made me say  it?  I do not know.    The  words simply popped out.   'I'm a  Research Associate in the field  of Child Development and Human  Relations.' The  clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen  in midair and looked up as though  she had not heard  right....   I  repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most  significant words. Then I stared with  wonder as my pronouncement was  written, in bold, black ink on the  official questionnaire. 'Might  I ask,' said the clerk with new  interest, 'just what you do in your  field?' Coolly,  without any trace of fluster in my  voice, I heard myself  reply, 'I have a continuing program of  research, (what mother doesn't) In  the laboratory and in the  field, (normally I would have said  indoors and out).   I'm working  for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the  whole family) and already have four  credits (all daughters).  Of course,  the job is one of the most demanding in the  humanities, (any mother care to  disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a  day, (24 is more like it).   But  the job is more challenging than most  run-of-the-mill careers and  the rewards are more  of a satisfaction rather than just  money.' There was an increasing  note of respect in the clerk's voice as  she completed the form, stood up and  personally ushered me to the  door As I drove into our driveway,  buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I  was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7,  and 3.  Upstairs I could hear our  new experimental model, (a 6 month old  baby) in the child development  program, testing out a new vocal  pattern.  I  felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!   And I had gone on the official records  as someone more distinguished  and indispensable to mankind than 'just another  Mum.'    Motherhood!   What  a glorious career!    Especially  when there's a title on the  door. Does  this make grandmothers 'Senior  Research associates in the field of Child  Development and Human  Relations' And great  grandmothers 'Executive  Senior Research Associates?  I  think so!  I  also think it makes Aunts. Associate  Research Assistants.' Please  send this to another  Mum, Grandmother, Aunt, And  other friends you know. May  your troubles be less, Your blessing  be more,  And  nothing but happiness come through your  door!

The Lunch Box

           'Tara', said Navin, 'I want lunch box from tomorrow. The canteen fellow has changed and the food at the factory is totally unpalatable, with rumblings in my stomach as a side effect......'. He went on for a couple of minutes more about the apathy, the management had towards the employees. 'Goodness gracious ! he doesn't like his clothes being washed in the washing machine and now this...two tiffins already in the morning plus one more !!!', a voice shrieked deep inside Tara. Navin didn't like the mammoth device which just spinned the clothes making loud noise. The maid was much better washing the clothes, but nowadays the maids refused to 'do' the clothes too. Tara had tried washing his clothes but gave up soon as the housework and managing her two kids was more than enough. So Navin did it himself, but food in the morning...no no, that was Tara's department.
                    'Navin-the kids have to leave for school by 6.40 am. I have to prepare breakfast for all of us plus pack their four tiffins (short break and long break). Can't you do something about the canteen fellow ?' Navin was furious, 'Tara, your lot should be called woe-men. Why do you make cooking look like a mountanous task ? Just remember your mother while you were growing up'. 'Please Navin, not again, we have had discussions on this for quite a number of times.' 'Well then Tara, look at Ritu. She's like you, but she packs her son two tiffins and her husband lunch box plus makes breakfast for the entire family which includes her in-laws. Well as far as I know her, she didn't know cooking before marriage as it didn't interest her at all, as she was focussed on her career. At least that's what Ryan told me. In fact it was she who insisted Ryan take home made food as the canteen food couldn't be monitored especially the oil part, even though it was for executives'. Hmm ! lucky Ryan, sighed Navin. 'O sir jee, badee achchee lagney lagee padosan...(..the neighbour's wife is suddenly all the more interesting !) teased Tara. 'She has one son that's all, that means only two...'Stop it Tara', shouted Navin and stormed out of the house that day without breakfast or lunch box'. Tara felt miserable the whole day. Why did she behave in such a fashion ? She had asked herself this question many times but there was no answer. She was simply not interested in the morning hassles in the kitchen. She loved to wake up late and go to the gym, have a word or two with the gals there and do some shopping....I mean who wants to come back to a house full of work. Why can't the house be managed by an angel (like chachi 420?) and you could come home to a loving husband who was well all set to take you out. She was ready to take up a job too. She dozed off sitting on the sofa with these and much more of course pleasant thoughts. 'Om bhoor bhuvaswaha... rang the door bell and she woke up startled. Opening the door she found Ritu standing and smiling...'Oh ! the husband's perfect example of a wife, quipped her inner voice'. 'Hi Ritu ! come inside I just want to tell you what happened. They were great neighbours if not fast friends but basically they clicked. Had to, similar background..working husbands who didn't want their wives to work, kids at home, aging parents and parents-in-laws, house work, maid...and where were they ? They found themselves when they were together or with their lot. Ritu also shared her own experience if not a similar one and asked Tara to accept the fact that she is responsible for her husband's health who earns for the family. Tara felt light. What she like about Ritu was her wisdom inspite of her too independent nature. Ritu had unconventional ideas about life too. Anyway coming back to present, she vowed she would surprise Navin the next day with hot breakfast and home made lunch ready before he leaves.

The Lunch Box

           'Tara', said Navin, 'I want lunch box from tomorrow. The canteen fellow has changed and the food at the factory is totally unpalatable, with rumblings in my stomach as a side effect......'. He went on for a couple of minutes more about the apathy, the management had towards the employees. 'Goodness gracious ! he doesn't like his clothes being washed in the washing machine and now this...two tiffins already in the morning plus one more !!!', a voice shrieked deep inside Tara. Navin didn't like the mammoth device which just spinned the clothes making loud noise. The maid was much better washing the clothes, but nowadays the maids refused to 'do' the clothes too. Tara had tried washing his clothes but gave up soon as the housework and managing her two kids was more than enough. So Navin did it himself, but food in the morning...no no, that was Tara's department.
                    'Navin-the kids have to leave for school by 6.40 am. I have to prepare breakfast for all of us plus pack their four tiffins (short break and long break). Can't you do something about the canteen fellow ?' Navin was furious, 'Tara, your lot should be called woe-men. Why do you make cooking look like a mountanous task ? Just remember your mother while you were growing up'. 'Please Navin, not again, we have had discussions on this for quite a number of times.' 'Well then Tara, look at Ritu. She's like you, but she packs her son two tiffins and her husband lunch box plus makes breakfast for the entire family which includes her in-laws. Well as far as I know her, she didn't know cooking before marriage as it didn't interest her at all, as she was focussed on her career. At least that's what Ryan told me. In fact it was she who insisted Ryan take home made food as the canteen food couldn't be monitored especially the oil part, even though it was for executives'. Hmm ! lucky Ryan, sighed Navin. 'O sir jee, badee achchee lagney lagee padosan...(..the neighbour's wife is suddenly all the more interesting !) teased Tara. 'She has one son that's all, that means only two...'Stop it Tara', shouted Navin and stormed out of the house that day without breakfast or lunch box'. Tara felt miserable the whole day. Why did she behave in such a fashion ? She had asked herself this question many times but there was no answer. She was simply not interested in the morning hassles in the kitchen. She loved to wake up late and go to the gym, have a word or two with the gals there and do some shopping....I mean who wants to come back to a house full of work. Why can't the house be managed by an angel (like chachi 420?) and you could come home to a loving husband who was well all set to take you out. She was ready to take up a job too. She dozed off sitting on the sofa with these and much more of course pleasant thoughts. 'Om bhoor bhuvaswaha... rang the door bell and she woke up startled. Opening the door she found Ritu standing and smiling...'Oh ! the husband's perfect example of a wife, quipped her inner voice'. 'Hi Ritu ! come inside I just want to tell you what happened. They were great neighbours if not fast friends but basically they clicked. Had to, similar background..working husbands who didn't want their wives to work, kids at home, aging parents and parents-in-laws, house work, maid...and where were they ? They found themselves when they were together or with their lot. Ritu also shared her own experience if not a similar one and asked Tara to accept the fact that she is responsible for her husband's health who earns for the family. Tara felt light. What she like about Ritu was her wisdom inspite of her too independent nature. Ritu had unconventional ideas about life too. Anyway coming back to present, she vowed she would surprise Navin the next day with hot breakfast and home made lunch ready before he leaves.

Optimal Health

            Not again, you would say...as if the newspapers, magazines, the TV etc. is not enough. However since I made a promise with myself to stick to Optimal Health, thought, would take you, the reader along. After all what matters is what a regular guy does to his own body (read brain) that he carries till he bids goodbye. When one can tolerate irate customers and many such kinds in job or business just because he knows the outcome-Money, why can't he afford to get uncomfortable with certain healthy practices ( try exercising regularly or control those mean helping of ice-cream that you are so used to).
                So what is Optimal Health ? It is the best health you are capable of, given your past and your genetic heritage (Dr. Duke Johnson, MD). It could also be defined as striking a right balance between physical, emotional and spiritual health. And it starts with (on a daily basis)
1. Right food ( complete with macro and micro nutrients) at right time.
2. Exercise.
3. 6-8 hours of adequate rest (sleep)
4. Supplements (Natural)
5. Positive Mental Attitude.
          With every aricle that one reads, screaming about Indians being pre-disposed to heart ailments thanks to the genes we carry, its high time we really take care of ourselves. We were 'Diabetes Capital' last year and we are heading towards becoming  'The Heart Attack Capital' by 2020. Will keep you posted on these issues..as I've got to rush. 

Optimal Health

            Not again, you would say...as if the newspapers, magazines, the TV etc. is not enough. However since I made a promise with myself to stick to Optimal Health, thought, would take you, the reader along. After all what matters is what a regular guy does to his own body (read brain) that he carries till he bids goodbye. When one can tolerate irate customers and many such kinds in job or business just because he knows the outcome-Money, why can't he afford to get uncomfortable with certain healthy practices ( try exercising regularly or control those mean helping of ice-cream that you are so used to).
                So what is Optimal Health ? It is the best health you are capable of, given your past and your genetic heritage (Dr. Duke Johnson, MD). It could also be defined as striking a right balance between physical, emotional and spiritual health. And it starts with (on a daily basis)
1. Right food ( complete with macro and micro nutrients) at right time.
2. Exercise.
3. 6-8 hours of adequate rest (sleep)
4. Supplements (Natural)
5. Positive Mental Attitude.
          With every aricle that one reads, screaming about Indians being pre-disposed to heart ailments thanks to the genes we carry, its high time we really take care of ourselves. We were 'Diabetes Capital' last year and we are heading towards becoming  'The Heart Attack Capital' by 2020. Will keep you posted on these issues..as I've got to rush. 

Cerebration

                   She had ordered a cuppa tea and was toying with the pen, tapping the table, often making imaginary designs. Her hand bag on one side of the table, palm holding the back of her head, elbow on the glass top, she rested with her legs stretched out. Had quietened the silly cell phone and was totally focussed on the clueless patterns she drew on the tissue. She often frequented 'The Siesta', her favourite joint. The mood there was just right...be it the mornings, noons or the evenings.

          Something pleasant blue was approaching the table in front of her. She looked up to see a man in formal blue attire, a bit bald at the back of his head, rest of it sprinkled with the dyed black hair, dark sunglasses, one of those expensive gadgets (an i pad or its avatar. she couldn't make out) in one hand, he casually deposited the car keys on the table. How quickly the mind takes it all, she mused. He caught her staring and she continued doing so for sometime before looking elsewhere. He appeared amused, perhaps hadn't attracted glances for quite a while, she thought. Just then half a dozen formally attired beings like him joined and the conversation drifted towards some business deal.

           She lost interest and thought about Sujit. He occupied her mind for the next 15 minutes or so. She had met him in one of the Military technical training institutes. She hardly had met anybody from the Army except the chance encounter with an Army officer while returning from Kolkotta. She usually kept to herself, preferring not to open up to strangers. But this guy had gotten her to talk somehow. She had become engrossed in the various missions/combats he narrated while posted at J and K borders. So fascinated was she by his narrative that when he told her about how he felt when he shot a terrorist at point blank range for the first time, she was completely thrown off ! How could he-a young, good looking, courteous man kill a person ? She tried imagining him with a revolver but that image got to the point of making him look macho, just that. She could not think beyond and before her thought process started towards 'what makes a man kill?', a whole platoon of soldiers joined the young man and her thoughts got subdued under their thundrous laughter.
               Here she was interviewing soldiers now. Sujit narrated his story. Kargil. Her knowledge about the place existed as a newspaper memory . A convoy of vehicles carrying heavy ammunition proceeded with Sujit driving the second vehicle. Suddenly the terrorists blew the first vehicle. Splinters flew and pierced Sujit's leg, rendering him limp for the rest of his life. He was shifted from one Military hospital to the other before he made it here finally. While these brave spirits live a physically hard life, their families struggle all alone back home. Sujit was in his late twenties, had a wife and kid. She wondered what motivated them to join the Army. As one of them quoted , he was infatuated with the uniform after his high school. Many join after highschool out of sheer infatuation and still others join for all the facilities they get lifelong...Medical, groceries, travel, education...subsidies everywhere. But this lot was unhappy inspite of all these because they couldn't be promoted in the Army, owing to their disability. How much torture-some the injury should be to them ? The base on which they had been recruited was bravery..courage..which they still had now in ample..but they were rendered unfit for the army. The invisible mental bruise was far more debilitating than the physical ones which was visible. She couldn't bare the feeling of inadequacy she saw way beyond their eyes. She promised herself she would do her best to get them back to the civilian life in the best productive manner and an equally challenging one. They had lived in extremes, now they had to fit in routine. Army promotion was a huge motivation..What reason did they have to move on in daily life ? She didn't have the answer but she would work with them to help find one.
              Her tea arrived and she took the first sip. It felt heavenly.

Cerebration

                   She had ordered a cuppa tea and was toying with the pen, tapping the table, often making imaginary designs. Her hand bag on one side of the table, palm holding the back of her head, elbow on the glass top, she rested with her legs stretched out. Had quietened the silly cell phone and was totally focussed on the clueless patterns she drew on the tissue. She often frequented 'The Siesta', her favourite joint. The mood there was just right...be it the mornings, noons or the evenings.

          Something pleasant blue was approaching the table in front of her. She looked up to see a man in formal blue attire, a bit bald at the back of his head, rest of it sprinkled with the dyed black hair, dark sunglasses, one of those expensive gadgets (an i pad or its avatar. she couldn't make out) in one hand, he casually deposited the car keys on the table. How quickly the mind takes it all, she mused. He caught her staring and she continued doing so for sometime before looking elsewhere. He appeared amused, perhaps hadn't attracted glances for quite a while, she thought. Just then half a dozen formally attired beings like him joined and the conversation drifted towards some business deal.

           She lost interest and thought about Sujit. He occupied her mind for the next 15 minutes or so. She had met him in one of the Military technical training institutes. She hardly had met anybody from the Army except the chance encounter with an Army officer while returning from Kolkotta. She usually kept to herself, preferring not to open up to strangers. But this guy had gotten her to talk somehow. She had become engrossed in the various missions/combats he narrated while posted at J and K borders. So fascinated was she by his narrative that when he told her about how he felt when he shot a terrorist at point blank range for the first time, she was completely thrown off ! How could he-a young, good looking, courteous man kill a person ? She tried imagining him with a revolver but that image got to the point of making him look macho, just that. She could not think beyond and before her thought process started towards 'what makes a man kill?', a whole platoon of soldiers joined the young man and her thoughts got subdued under their thundrous laughter.
               Here she was interviewing soldiers now. Sujit narrated his story. Kargil. Her knowledge about the place existed as a newspaper memory . A convoy of vehicles carrying heavy ammunition proceeded with Sujit driving the second vehicle. Suddenly the terrorists blew the first vehicle. Splinters flew and pierced Sujit's leg, rendering him limp for the rest of his life. He was shifted from one Military hospital to the other before he made it here finally. While these brave spirits live a physically hard life, their families struggle all alone back home. Sujit was in his late twenties, had a wife and kid. She wondered what motivated them to join the Army. As one of them quoted , he was infatuated with the uniform after his high school. Many join after highschool out of sheer infatuation and still others join for all the facilities they get lifelong...Medical, groceries, travel, education...subsidies everywhere. But this lot was unhappy inspite of all these because they couldn't be promoted in the Army, owing to their disability. How much torture-some the injury should be to them ? The base on which they had been recruited was bravery..courage..which they still had now in ample..but they were rendered unfit for the army. The invisible mental bruise was far more debilitating than the physical ones which was visible. She couldn't bare the feeling of inadequacy she saw way beyond their eyes. She promised herself she would do her best to get them back to the civilian life in the best productive manner and an equally challenging one. They had lived in extremes, now they had to fit in routine. Army promotion was a huge motivation..What reason did they have to move on in daily life ? She didn't have the answer but she would work with them to help find one.
              Her tea arrived and she took the first sip. It felt heavenly.

The Stroll

I walked down the pathway, strewn with tiny yellow leaves on the sides. The early morning sunrays kissed the mud that bordered the dirt track, a mixture of grey tar and brown muck. There was utter silence but which spoke volumes. And I liked that. Had never liked crowds..people to be precise I mean not in hordes that is. How can there be that heavenly silence in the morning with Earth's mighty creations, I mused. Man creates huge but which causes nothing but noise/chaos...in the psyche.

Hmm...which was the reason I was here..for a walk. Wished the path never ended. I sort of like the road...one which never ends, one which holds an element of surprise, of what might be at the next turn ? To reach somewhere is the thing that's been going on in the intellect through years...but utter consternation-the joy of reaching was always short lived. What next ? No glory was big enough though it satisfied the ego big time...i.e. at the moment or perhaps like a hang over for few days..After that ? I am my own self. Can one be a glory for oneself self ? I mean an all time one ? Well but I can't be jubilant all on my own !! Reminds me of a calendar of a guy (may be Chaitanya Maha Prabhu) dancing with a tanpura/some musical instrument in his hand. Singing in praise of God and walking with people following him. Our country is full of such stories. Gandhi was like that too...Dandi March, Tagore...Ekla Chalo Re...Well, I thrust my hands in pockets, kick a few pebbles and keep walking...

The Stroll

I walked down the pathway, strewn with tiny yellow leaves on the sides. The early morning sunrays kissed the mud that bordered the dirt track, a mixture of grey tar and brown muck. There was utter silence but which spoke volumes. And I liked that. Had never liked crowds..people to be precise I mean not in hordes that is. How can there be that heavenly silence in the morning with Earth's mighty creations, I mused. Man creates huge but which causes nothing but noise/chaos...in the psyche.

Hmm...which was the reason I was here..for a walk. Wished the path never ended. I sort of like the road...one which never ends, one which holds an element of surprise, of what might be at the next turn ? To reach somewhere is the thing that's been going on in the intellect through years...but utter consternation-the joy of reaching was always short lived. What next ? No glory was big enough though it satisfied the ego big time...i.e. at the moment or perhaps like a hang over for few days..After that ? I am my own self. Can one be a glory for oneself self ? I mean an all time one ? Well but I can't be jubilant all on my own !! Reminds me of a calendar of a guy (may be Chaitanya Maha Prabhu) dancing with a tanpura/some musical instrument in his hand. Singing in praise of God and walking with people following him. Our country is full of such stories. Gandhi was like that too...Dandi March, Tagore...Ekla Chalo Re...Well, I thrust my hands in pockets, kick a few pebbles and keep walking...

For you Reema

She found herself, with tons of hours...suddenly. Years had gone by in the daily commute, office, colleagues, the daily office banter, gossips, the 'chai sessions' and the salary..at the beginning of the month, only to get exhausted by the end of the month. But it had kept her on toes, hardly any time to think at all...which was good in a way as she thought now.
Since last year she had been thinking about bringing some change in her life. But hadn't been able to decide. It was difficult to leave the cosy known territory for an unknown one. She could have got a fat hike..another place, another job. But hey ! it sort of meant re-inventing herself once more, ....right from preparing the resume once again, answering the weird questions in the interview rounds. She thought, 'Why do I need to prove myself again and again and again ?' A voice answered: Yup. You don't need to do that at home and you don't get paid as well. Was there no way where you could do/prove and all that for a certain period of time and then the wicked but very much wanted money kept coming again and again even if you didn't feel like working. The monthly appraisals had started to bore her all of a sudden and questions hidden deep down had started raising their heads. It was time to introspect. She had decided and handed over the resignation letter. Her colleagues had been shocked. She had attained peace. Somehow the salary not coming next month didn't bother her much. That way she had ample to take care of the bare necessities.
She wanted to connect to herself. That had become the top priority now. Question was how ? She had found herself in many friendships she had made. But this time it had to be herself she wanted to be thorough with. Was the same with everyone around her, she found. Wasn't man sane enough to satisfy himself ? Why the need for quest ? For what ? O.k. for now the blue coloured little swallow like bird on the electic wire caught her attention. It hopped from one place on the wire to another. What was it thinking ? Strange...whatever happened to her, somehow she would think , same must be with everyone. She hated generalising. But she had found out she was no exceptional or for that matter neither people around her. Some whom she thought were different, turned out to be copies or somebody else she had met or heard before. Again why the need to be different ? May be god put that seed in all the germ cells before they united to form the Life that the human creature is born with..
She got up to breathe in the freshness of the grass under her feet and steal in the morning view that so captivated her. Questions could rest.

For you Reema

She found herself, with tons of hours...suddenly. Years had gone by in the daily commute, office, colleagues, the daily office banter, gossips, the 'chai sessions' and the salary..at the beginning of the month, only to get exhausted by the end of the month. But it had kept her on toes, hardly any time to think at all...which was good in a way as she thought now.
Since last year she had been thinking about bringing some change in her life. But hadn't been able to decide. It was difficult to leave the cosy known territory for an unknown one. She could have got a fat hike..another place, another job. But hey ! it sort of meant re-inventing herself once more, ....right from preparing the resume once again, answering the weird questions in the interview rounds. She thought, 'Why do I need to prove myself again and again and again ?' A voice answered: Yup. You don't need to do that at home and you don't get paid as well. Was there no way where you could do/prove and all that for a certain period of time and then the wicked but very much wanted money kept coming again and again even if you didn't feel like working. The monthly appraisals had started to bore her all of a sudden and questions hidden deep down had started raising their heads. It was time to introspect. She had decided and handed over the resignation letter. Her colleagues had been shocked. She had attained peace. Somehow the salary not coming next month didn't bother her much. That way she had ample to take care of the bare necessities.
She wanted to connect to herself. That had become the top priority now. Question was how ? She had found herself in many friendships she had made. But this time it had to be herself she wanted to be thorough with. Was the same with everyone around her, she found. Wasn't man sane enough to satisfy himself ? Why the need for quest ? For what ? O.k. for now the blue coloured little swallow like bird on the electic wire caught her attention. It hopped from one place on the wire to another. What was it thinking ? Strange...whatever happened to her, somehow she would think , same must be with everyone. She hated generalising. But she had found out she was no exceptional or for that matter neither people around her. Some whom she thought were different, turned out to be copies or somebody else she had met or heard before. Again why the need to be different ? May be god put that seed in all the germ cells before they united to form the Life that the human creature is born with..
She got up to breathe in the freshness of the grass under her feet and steal in the morning view that so captivated her. Questions could rest.