My Life, A Cocktail

I watched through my window, the couple seated at the park. They weren't talking, simply holding hands, and contemplating Life. The lady gazed at the pretty flowers that covered the park in a colorful blanket. Instantly, a smile appeared on her face. She thought to herself how beautiful these flowers were, he had got her these flowers many a times, and thats why they were beautiful. The man looked at the sun that set behind the trees. The sky was orange with a dash of violet. How beautiful it looked. This was that sky he had flown over, with her many a times. And thats why it was beautiful. I smiled. They looked so beautiful together. I had sat in that park with "my him" many a times. And thats why the couple looked beautiful.

It was like I was dreaming, one of those rare dreams, where you can touch, smell and hear, like real. My dad had just casually made a statement and I sat there, without the tiniest bit of reaction, as my mind struggled to sink in the waves that had just crossed my ears. Dad had said, “Mom’s coming back.” I knew I had finally gulped the news when I caught my mind unawares, already relishing at the thought of carrying a lunch box everyday to work. Well, so, she was going to be back. I thought of the times when she was here, very few memories came to me. It happens all the time, that when you want to picture something of the past, you try to picture it in the physical setup where it had occurred. My mom hadn’t been with us in this particular home for a long time. It made me feel like I had forgotten of how it was with mom around. Had I? Whatever, there was this pang of happiness that filled my heart. Though I knew I had to wait another whole month for her to be back, but then, the past 9 ...

Head high, egoistic and charming. Welcome to the world of Men. A species, strong and pragmatic, curious, confident and secure, a class in itself. Now, why did God have to make them so? To take on the world, lead and help. I have a problem with a few of them. Men marry for different reasons. And there are others who don’t marry, or at least don’t want to. There are a few extremes, who would rather adopt a child, definitely very nice, but talk about marriage to them, and you get an outright No. My problem is with such people. They want to help, so they adopt. They are sympathetic towards the world’s so many poor children, who have no one to live by. These kids are scared, and these men want to help. Understandable. But aren’t women equally impotent? Now, wait a minute, I know a lot of women would want to pounce on me for saying this, but lets face it, aren’t we all a bunch of insecure minds, craving company? Maybe not a very nice way of describing the women community, but considering mys...

I can get real crazy at times. It was a dull saturday afternoon, and I had spent the whole day doing nothing. I hadn't planned anything for this particular weekend, coz I had meant to do nothing. I had had a long week in office, and I wasn't in the mood to strain myself anymore. But, suddenly, a kind of restlessness sunk into me, and the next moment I saw myself, all dressed up and ready, I was gonna go to the near by health and glow. This is one shop, second to the stationeries and book stores, that I love to visit. So off I was. I stepped into the cloud of dust outside my building, and I wondered for the umpteenth time, why we had chosen this place, next to the highway, to live. With loads of sand on my face, as though nicely made up with some compact powder, I managed to hire an auto. In less than ten minutes, I reached the shop. I went in. Beauty is a wonderful thing. I mean, people seem to be ready to do anything for it. Here I was, in this classy shop, where everything lo...

Yes, you could sue me for using an ad line, but the temptation was just too huge to resist. In fact, the very line was what got me thinking to write this piece what I call an article; and this is my way of paying tribute. Anyways, getting down to the point, the first time I heard this string of words dramatized together, I had felt this was just many of those which implored attention. But there came one idle moment, when my mind had nothing much to brood over, and without consulting me it had started its cruise about this particular arrangement of words. I got all set to reprimand, but then my mind, being clever as it always is, worked out this esoteric interpretation and placed it in a finely decorated platter in front me; I was cajoled into it. From then on, my mind took over, bold and straight, with the air of a winner, the mind walked to the center stage, to put its audience in a trance. Listen, it said. Listen to the moment that is passing by; listen to the silence that is slowing...

Seven a.m. on a Thursday morning saw us all, for once together, seated comfortably in a Qualis, the baby shifting arms, all of us in quiet happiness. Togetherness is a wonderful feeling, isn’t it, all NRIs would agree. We raced on the NH4, Pune- Bangalore highway, one of the best maintained ones, I must admit, as we passed through winding ghats and mystic tunnels. It was fun, especially the tunnels, we all waited, we knew the baby would cry at the sudden darkness, we waited thinking about different techniques to console him, we would pass the entire stretch of the tunnel, and naughty little Varun would just wait along with us, in silent amazement, as though he was one enlightened fellow, who knew that there was light at the end of every tunnel! Some more driving, a stop at the usual Hotel Nataraj for breakfast, then taking the diversion for Panchgani, we soon were driving past boarding schools and the near by Vayi village. Enter Mahabhaleshwar. Mapro was our first halt. For those who h...

The D day had come, though not so for me, coz somehow I have always been the one who believes that life gives us too many options. I’ll swear that’s life’s favorite trick! Anyways, I woke myself in the morning, very reluctantly; assuring myself that after all this too was only going to add to my experience. A quick shower, and the necessary stuff on my face (I don’t like to call it make up, sounds pretty artificial!), and my hair done, I picked up the book I had purchased year before last, for my CAT preparation. A glance at every page, and I was all set to leave. My dad wished me luck, and I wondered about the days of school, how cute and beautiful they were, how nice it was to plan time tables for study, how nice it was to feel tense, how nice to be consoled by a wish of luck! Somehow, all these had long gone from my life, I haven’t felt the least tense for exams ever since. I hired an auto, and it sped across the thankfully empty roads, till its halt at the Christ College. A huge cr...

I pass by a busy road on a rainy day, the bus inching its way across the many vehicles whose sole aim was to get ahead, making it seem as though all of them were doctors called for an emergency case. The rain is still dropping, slightly though, it's done with venting all its fury, just the remaining tears that have to be shed, in order to get the desperation out of one's system completely. The trees are swaying soaking wet, with the leaves dripping, the drops falling on the earth, and blending in with the soil so easily and readily, without any thought of change or discomfort. I see several small houses, I don’t know if there are called houses, a kind of tent, which have blue plastic sheets over them, as a cover for rains. They are people who mould clay into beautiful pots that we adorn our homes with. Their tents are open on either side, only a rugged jute carpet serves as their protection from the muddy surface below. I see the kids have long slept, their faces so peaceful li...

It was a bare tree. It stood on its own, in the middle of nowhere, with no sense of dignity or majesty. Birds never cared to sit on the endlessly split naked branches, and only someone totally insane would stop under it for shade. There were no fruits to lure, no flowers to perfume the air, no leaves to shed and crush underfoot. There were no nearby trees, no dwelling. No one ever cared to look at it, not even in sympathy. It was as though its existence didn’t matter. And yet it stood out, with no care in the world, come rain, storm or lightning, unperturbed, it had nothing more to lose. Yet, when you look at this tree, it is not that it has lived its life, and now waiting for some machine to run over it and mark its end. It still sways with whatever is left of it, when the silent wind blows; it still quenches its thirst when the first of the showers fall. We ignore it so completely, yet it breathes, only to let out life, that is known to sustain us.

We are what they call the slum dwellers. We live in a four by five home, with a thatched roof that leaks when it showers. My husband works in the sand repository; his main job being to load and unload sand into the huge trucks that carry them. Today is just another day. I am washing the vessels, after a filling meal, as I watch my husband load sand onto a private truck. They are going to take it out to the city to build tall, skyscraping apartments. My children are playing happily, their voices echoing, trying to catch one another, running and falling on the heaps of sand. I work as a garbage collector, in the near by apartment, and help people dispose their old stuff. People are strange out here. They buy things that they don’t require, keep them for sometime to show and marvel, and then one fine day decide to throw it all out. But I must admit, I have gotten many a things for my household, by digging into people’s trash. That’s where I found that beautiful mirror of mine; I look so p...

For someone like me, for whom life’s just been one day after another, individuality makes no sense. Every day seems like a time table, everything chalked out beforehand by so-called experts, the experienced and the know-all. They are here with the sole purpose to guide and lead, like they had been. And I kept saying to myself, let time tick away, until of course, I was born again. When I opened my eyes, it was a new world that I perceived. The world of reality, the kind of reality I wanted to see, not driven by people, but me. I felt in control, it felt good. I developed what is called faith, in what is called the Lord, and derived faith in myself thus. Suddenly, there was this need to excel, in all that I did, perfectionism came to be my second nature. And I started to know happiness. But, like the phoenix, I died this life too, and emerged back from the ashes, to live again. This new life that I live today, is not going to last long I know. I don’t perceive anymore, I don’t see or he...

I spot a striking beauty On the bus stop as she waited Like a doll, she was just as pretty Here was simplicity, unadulterated. Her hands clasped Her arms long and slender Her breasts slightly heaving Her lips soft and tender. Her hairs were black as the glasses she wore Her eyes concealed within Aloof she stood letting me devour My head went for a spin….. Just as the bus was sighted Far away in the distance She reached for her stick and groped And ended up hitting the fence. People helped her climb I realized she was blind I turned away, never looking behind Oh, the human mind!

Its once again that time of the day, when I come out of my home, and begin my daily journey to the office, where I plan to spend the rest of my day. I notice that it’s a beautiful morning, like all mornings are, the roads are wet with the light morning showers, the tress are glistening green, and the soil is leaving prints. I had been irritated a little the previous day, and was unknowingly carrying the feeling in me even today. The reason for my irritation was that someone was trying to snatch away from me, what was mine. I wasn’t ready to let go. I didn’t realize when I stopped admiring the outside, and was caught up brooding over my irritation. I questioned myself as to what was getting me irritated, and I realized it was my want to possess. Something that was mine….. that feeling of deriving my sense of self from materialistic objects…. And I couldn’t let that go…… Just then something caught my eye. I saw a group of birds flying together, forming patterns, free…. The first thought ...

Tonight’s gonna be real long. It’s been raining for quite sometime now and I am soaking wet. I have to find myself a place to sleep. I am a beggar on the dusty roads of a metro city, and they say I am 6 years old. I don’t really have a name, I haven’t needed it much, people usually don’t call me. It’s dark and creepy out here, no street lights, just the continuously sounding rain. I am tired; I have been walking for quite sometime now, all alone, hungry and helpless. Didn’t manage to gather enough money today for dinner. There’s nobody on the streets, everyone’s possibly inside their cozy homes, looking through the window and thanking the Lord. I really wonder where He is now. Right now, I am really scared. There’s a sudden flash of lightning, and I close my eyes. I don’t care that I am hungry. I don’t care if I sleep in the rain tonight. I just want someone to hug me when the thunder strikes.

I was on my way to a mall, for my weekend shopping, in an auto, on the bumpy roads of Bangalore. I looked outside. Was it something with my eyes or were they real Paradoxes. Tall buildings towering heights next to a long row of slums. An ashram of a well known “Saint” next to where beggars gather for their daily work. Big and bright hoardings that advertised the fastest bike in town next to a sign board that said “Speed Limit: 40”. A hunger strike going on next to Food World. And the best of all. A huge hospital campus, very well known all over the country for specialization in the field you name, boasted modernity. And you bet, they work on latest technology with the best of tools and machines. Just observe a little and you’ll see a devil’s face staring at you from the plush glass wall of the building. Ahem, I thought they said Modern?

As I was sitting on the side of my porch Feeling bored, the sun scorched I saw this brown little bird with a leaf held in her beak She flew into the interiors of the jasmine climber, I wondered what she went to seek. I heard sweet little flutters and then she flew away And as the scene from my mind I cast away I saw her coming back, from a distance With a new leaf this time, she hopped from fence to fence. I knew for once that it was a nest that she had planned to built A sense of joy within me, I suddenly felt For it was my jasmine climber she had chosen to live on Where she would spend her short but sweet life, from dusk to dawn. I watched the bird repeat her chores, again and again And so I got up to leave, I prided myself of being perfectly sane When suddenly a thought struck me I got bored so easily, but why didn’t she? I wondered how far she had to go for her supply And the number of times she went to and fro, without a single sigh I don’t think she ever listened to her mood Her ...

In my little porch, as I rock on my chair, faint memories seem to come back. The vast blue sky, the far away twinkling stars, the beautiful moon, as though beckoning me to that world where I reigned once upon a time. I had just got married, and went over the seas with my wife, for a new job. We settled in with a family who agreed to rent us a small part of their house. Life was so blissful then. The romance that comes with the excitement of a new marriage, the enthusiasm of a new place and job, the carefree life. The family we stayed with was nice to us, and we happened to become best of friends. They had two young girls, with whom me and my wife would love to play and spend time with. When my wife was pregnant for the first time, they arranged a lovely function at our place, with all the festivities, just as though in India. I video taped the entire celebration. Now, I am so glad I did that. Time flew by. It was in the winter of 1992 when I had an unbearable ache in the back of my hea...

Back to work on a Monday, after a 6 day long vacation is tough. I get up early in themorning, and there I was consoling myself saying, this week's just gonna be 4 days long dear, Friday is a holiday!!!! Thanking Lord Mahavir to be born the coming Friday, I shove my blanket aside and forced myself into consciousness. The timetable started to tick. The same usual pampering warm shower, the daily sandwiches with hot steaming coffee. All done, I waved my usual bye to mommy and dad and left, todeal with the long day that awaited me. I got the 7.35 bus, just on time. I settled myself on a window seat, and had the windowswide open, and breathed. Fresh air can make so much difference to one's droopiness. It worked perfectly for me. Today, I decided against my customary book reading practice. I just sat observing. Observation is defintely an art. And I bet its tough. You have to be there. Alive and present. I could feel the jitter of the bus, the sound of shrill horns, the wind that swo...

Due to pouring requests from fans( just flattering myself!) about my Trivandrum trip, here is a detailed account. My reason to go to Trivandrum was basically to attend my sister’s, what you call “Seemantham”, a ceremony performed for the safe delivery of her kid. This particular ritual dates back to the Vedic times, when it started off as a ceremony to please the Gods in order to bestow the couple with a male child. Day 1 : My journey started off at the Bangalore Railway Station at Majestic, bargaining with the coolies. Having settled with an intermediate price( Na Tera Na Mera policy!), we boarded the Kanyakumari Express. We had ordered for dinner from Comesum, and waited excitedly for the train to start, only to hog! The wheels rolled and off we were! Being the youngest in the family, the upper berths in the train have always been easily forced on me. Well, I snuggled up there with Fountain Head to keep me company. I went to sleep only when people started giving me boorish looks for ...

I was inside my shop one day, when a beggar came in. She was clad in a torn, unkempt sari. Her face was dark and wrinkled. Her small kid clung to her hip. She pushed the transparent glass door of the shop, soiling it in the process, and came in. She pleaded in a very shrill and unsteady voice if I could give her something. She started off with the various kinds of blessings that I would be bestowed with, if I could contribute in someway to her cause. I didn’t want to turn her away. My dad wasn’t in, and I had no money with me. I handed her a biscuit pack that I had very excitedly bought for myself to eat. She took it from me, with a look that I couldn’t comprehend just then, and closed the door behind her. Just when she was out, she looked into the pack, said something, threw it on the road, and went away. I cursed my dad for having wanted a transparent glass door.

Marriage. I am sure some of us have always been baffled about this thing called Marriage. There have been endless discussions, debates, surveys and experiences of both love and arranged marriages, with no concrete outcomes. Well, marriage like everything else, means different things to different people. There are some who follow the herd, believing there is the path that their ancestors have set out for them to tread on, and drift they must not. Ask them about marriage and they shall retort, “It’s been done that way, it shall be done that way alone.” They do not question. They accept marriage simply as a part of their “culture”. There are some others, who dare to question, who want to think. They trouble themselves with the question why arranged marriage, or why love marriage, usually the former being the case nowadays. They reason out and follow, according to their needs, whatever suits them best. But marry they do. Then, there’s this very small percentage of people, among which I hav...

It was around 8 in the evening, and the night shadows had already fallen. The sky had turned a deep navy blue, with millions of stars gleaming glory. We entered the gates of the very famous and supposedly powerful abode of Lord Padmanabhaswamy, in the heart of Trivandrum. No, maybe that ain’t the right way to put it. I would rather say, Trivandrum is built around the temple and not vice versa, that would more appropriate. People in Trivandrum have a lot to say when it comes to the temple. Their lives revolve around this temple. They have memories, experiences, all attached in some way or the other to this Lord of Trivandrum. Working in this temple is the dream job for many kids here. They know ever inch of this temple. The temple has a more than thousand year old history, but the rituals are being followed with the same promptness even today. Today, when I entered, apart from the usual serenity and beautiful architecture, I could sense something special. It was the start of the ten day...

Once again, India gets defeated against the best of rivals, Pakistan, in cricket. And here come the brickbats. The captain should be thrown out of the team happens to be the cry of the mob this time! People will always keep blaming other people. Well, doesn’t everything have its ups and downs. If I happen to score less in my exams once, don’t I tell myself that I’ll do better the next time? Don’t I console myself that its ok, and go on? Don’t I say just let it be? I don’t stop going to school, do I? When I can accept failure when it happens to me, why cannot I accept it when it happens to someone else? Why is there this constant want for other people to be perfect, when I ain’t perfect myself. If the flaws in me are acceptable, then why isn’t it acceptable in other people? Can’t we just let be?

I never knew what it was to be a Woman. Yea, I respected and admired a lot of them though, the most being my mom. I had always been a kind of tomboy, had more friends who were guys than gals, both in school and college. Needless to say, this was one of the reasons why I was one of the most envied of the whole lot! It had always been considered as a privilege. I hated it when people asked me why I never wore bangles or why I cut my hair. I would freak around with guys coz I liked that, as in I could relate to them more easily than gals. I found girl talk quite unbearable and silly. So well, there I was, and I was happy, with no regrets. The first of the realizations came when one of my friends asked me this, “Is there nothing about being a Woman?” That’s when I realized that all this while I had completely ignored my own true self, busy proving myself to be someone I was not. Yes, maybe I had a kind of thinking vision as that of a guy’s, but I was a Woman. I could not be detached from t...

We were sailing on a boat The two of us, alone In the vast sea of hope In search of oneness, the urge to be whole. Rowing our way meticulously We sat at extreme ends Giving each other the space, letting ourselves be Our minds rested, we became friends. Whether it was he who rowed better or me The question never arose Coz judgment or comparison wasn’t allowed to be For mind games, we had closed doors. Egos seemed to melt away And we got new eyes to perceive It was total acceptance, powerful and deep I could see the here and now freeze. I could listen to stillness The sounds that arose from and died into silence I could see space, the vastness From which objects acquired their presence. The moment was so alive I lost track of time I wondered about this unusual affinity This was both Eternity and Infinity. I felt his presence through mine I could see myself shine….. In search of Love I went nowhere Coz Love is in the air.

The moment he said good bye That very last glimpse I knew he would never come back My heart knew this was his escape. Perhaps he was waiting for this moment To get rid of me But what had I done I felt so silly. It feels like a pipe dream I had happily towered heights And now the sudden fall To reality. Maybe it was all for the good Like what everyone says What good I cannot see Without him I cannot see. Perhaps it was my destiny Or maybe I wasn’t worth his love It was all my fault I should have taken care I could have stopped it all I could have let it not happen I could have….. But why do I blame myself For this broken relationship If it was my responsibility Was it not his too?

What does it take to be a Woman What’s so unique about her, comparable to none? A repository of strange qualities Sincerely going about her duties. Years may have passed since the knot she tied And yet today when he casts a look, or holds her tight With a blushing smile she lowers her eyes She breaks free, and away she shies. You may have done the same crime Perhaps for the tenth time And yet you can expect her to forgive So compassionate, love is all she knows to give. Even dressed simply, she can kill Seduction is her finest skill A beauty so magnetic The Gods have definitely been creative. If ever you want to try hurting her Just say goodbye and look at her Tears will stream out from nowhere And I bet, you will find that heard to bear. Even in the frost, she’s always warm Her touch’s so reassuring and so very calm It knows how to cheeringly comfort Easily enough, with very little effort. She’s an amazing actress, so versatile She plays so many different roles at the same time. She c...

All it takes is an ‘expectation’ To get started in life, an intense anticipation Just a vision into the future and you’re ready Walking towards your goal, careful and steady. Soon you open doors to the world of the ‘enthusiastic’ To touch the zenith now seems so pragmatic Filled with zeal, energy and pep You unknowingly drive to the next step. You stop dreaming, ahead you shoot It is this phase of ‘effort’ that bears the fruit Painstakingly you work, like the ants You go on and on, till your heart pants. The work done is now presented To the world, to be evaluated The time for applause and ‘appreciation’ It definitely calls for a celebration. Everything is merry and gay A ‘tentative happiness’, for a short while to stay The ultimate fruit which was so keenly sought Just for this, the battles were fought. But the heart, after all human, is not satisfied ‘the desire for more’ is certified. From this desire stems once again a new expectation And so goes on the vicious circle of life, an e...

A faithful friend, whom I thought I could always trust My mind, on whom all problems and decisions were thrust The splendor of which always fascinated me My mind was a limitless sea. To think was my finest skill If no one sows me the way, it definitely will Where thoughts and emotions originated I thought this was Me, unadulterated. But now somehow this mind, this Me Seems so hostile and unfriendly It seems so out of control The master of my soul. My mind is a pandemonium of thoughts I don’t choose what to think, I seem lost Who is this thinker within me Who am I if this isn’t me? I realize I am not the mind My being, my self I have to now find Unleash the energy within, the brightest kind The knower in me is about to unwind!

Alone, I came into this world Crying my way out, I was hurled. Parents and relatives then took charge They became my world, by and large. I grew up to make friends People on whom I could depend. All was merry till then And suddenly it happened. I had to go away All alone, a long way. Leaving everyone behind I had a path to find. But now a new emotion gripped me It just wasn’t like me. Excited though I was to break free Why did I long to go back, I didn’t see. Confused, I looked above and asked the Lord What was going on, why did I feel lost. Suddenly, a stranger appeared Tall and stiff, he neared. Nostalgia was his name He spread a lot of pain. Vehemently, I asked Why did a snare he cast. He said he was here to teach How to be strong and not beseech. He would first give us a relationship Then mercilessly he would rip. Thus, we would learn How to go on in life and be firm. I was just pondering over all that he said When Nostalgia retraced his steps. Never did I see him again Or experien...

Descending the ancient hill, the abode of Lord Gomateshwara, me and my friend were astounded having seen such a splendid work of art. We had come all the way from the City of Palaces, Mysore and we prided ourselves for that. Indeed we had been blessed to be fortunate enough to visit this place of divine sanctity. On our way down, we spot an old man being carried up the flight of stairs in a ‘palkhi’. The ‘palkhi’ was no more than a cane chair with four men at the corners bearing the weight of the old man. I had read about this service earlier in a travel guide and knew it was to help the old and disabled who were equally enthusiastic as us, to experience the same bliss that we had just experienced, inspite of their physical weaknesses. As I cast away the scene from my mind, my friend drove my attention towards something that bowled me over. I realized that two of those who were carrying the old man were much more aged than the man being carried! Talk about irony! I was overwhelmed with...

We were on a usual month long vacation to India. It happened only once in two years, and we were all equally excited about it. We had planned to settle down in Bangalore, whenever we would return and so were busy constructing our house there. This happened then. Dad’s colleague happened to invite us to his place. He had recently returned for good to India. We went. Theirs was a small family of four, just like ours. But there was a difference. The elder son was mentally retarded. I had always been frightened of mad people. Well, unusually for me, and perhaps very usual for this family friend of ours, the main topic of discussion that day happened to be their son. The aunty went on telling us of how brilliant their kid actually was, and the high hopes they had had for him, like every Indian parent has for their son. Shakuntala devi had visited his school and had said he shall replace me, after I am gone! He always ranked first, until the day he had his stroke. He had to be escorted to wh...