Pune diary

Pune diaries:

Friday evenings, for me, is usually a rush rush affair these days. No no not TGIF, it's about the trudge back from Pune to Mumbai city.

I need to leave office in respectable enough time, take a brisk walk to Pune station, wait in a  small line to book a  general ticket,( some compulsively slumming  tardy person Inside me simply refuses to book my tickets in advance each time
. Next time for sure!) and  still be in time enough,  to catch a seat on my regular train.

This Friday, however,  things went a bit more  wayward than usual,  and by the time I reach the station, the train had already pulled in, and all the doors overflowing with people trying  to push their way Inside the general compartments.

My heart sinks, cause it seemed impossible  to push in, and the next train is a cool one hour later,  till i spy a less crowded entrance. I rush in,  and to my utter surprise I even find an empty seat, which of course I  capture in a blink.

Once settled, i look around  and observe a middle aged woman  sitting on one seat, her feet placed on the opposite side, obviously guarding the seat.

She makes fierce wierd shrieking noises when another woman tries to remove her legs, and then the penny drops... This was the reserved  handicapped compartment, and the woman is yelling cause she can't speak.

I immediately cross my fingers, and though I feel guilty, I feverently  hope no TT checks my ticket and throws me out... ( no way I am  leaving the compartment at this late stage.).

The middle aged  guy, in front of me observes the shrieking woman with disdain. The other lady gives in to sheer lung power, and goes to hunt some other seat.

While I am, finger crossed, desperately waiting for the train to start,( once it starts next stop is Lonawalla and some part of the journey is over at least) I see a strange transaction.

A man approaches the shreiking woman, who then immediately gets up to offer her  seat to him,  with notes discreetly exchanged!

The guy, with the disdainful expression (who I then understand is a Police Walla)  says angrily,  I knew it! that's what she was upto...she sells seats.. and just creates a rukus.

I am amazed! The victim look on her face now  has a 'I know nothing' look.

I on my part heave a sigh of relief, as the train starts,  and I feeling a lot less guilty too.

All the people in the bogie, without any exception, I decide, including the dumb woman  are tied by a common thread..we  are all regular Indian travellers,,  simply trying to  survive one more regular grind in an over populated country!

Liberation

What are you hiding, dear child?
I am hiding my glory, I answer,
In modesty lies my virtue,
or  so I've been taught..

Whats there to hide? The mind taunts,
Is there any glory
that needs to be hidden at all?
style is no substance, you know..

Teach  me, my mind
to  hanker not
for substance or style,
without both, I  are still uniquely  me
that is the  liberation I dream about
that is the freedom I seek..

Bliss

And then there are some tiring tedious moments, lurking in some days, when nothing, absolutely nothing works.

You feel lonely, In a crowd,  In a bus or a train or even a lift  filled with people. In a room filled with 'friends'.
You have exhausted the mandatory 7000 words, but the heart is vacant. Alienated alone. All alone.

Mainly because the heart still  feels empty. It wants to feel something.....something strong, something moving, as in something not static, like something  hmmm something blooming, something vibrantly alive!

Or Someone who makes you feel. Feel all that, or at least some of it. Some one who makes u feel as if you belong, who makes u feel wanted in  the world's scheme of things. Someone who makes you feel camouflaged, safely hidden, harmoniously blended, all things miraculously in place.

Some one who reminds you that you are not a sore thumb!

And then sometimes, breaks the bad spell!

At times, its just a familiar smile or look from a stranger, other times a rude awakening by daily trivia, but it pulls back to routine, and sometimes  makes you feel replenished all over again.

At well at least Till the next bout!

And then there are those other moments in other days, which ordinarily should be have been as drudgery, but surprisingly are not.

The break in sleep the previous night, which cause a ten minute delay in all aspects of the morning,  which then translates to ten minutes late, every where,  including the tube train which forces you to take an un regular, more crowded train, and the struggle to wiggle yourself into the sardine tight  compartment, with an added worry of protecting  a very loose almost, but not fully shed, thumb toenail on the left foot, from being  permanently pulled out, through unintentional yet expected trampling, and then you stand waiting thirstily for the ten odd stations to glide by to your work place, as you  remember you have forgotten to carry your water bottle, and yet,  somewhere the magic begins its work.

You are not sure when it  starts rubbing off on you. Is it while you were watching three brown  happy tribal teenage girls with their numerous ear piercings  (which would have been maddeningly cool in different circumstances ), gaily chattering on the now relatively empty footboard, or the uniformed blue collared employees diligently oiling the railway tracks, in the piercing sun, but u feel a burst of life.  Like  some new budding  leaf still folded tenderly.

Your inner child is suddenly floating free, and she looks empty minded, at the railway tracks, winding and quant, bordered by concreted bricks, imperfect and yet fitting the scene perfectly, the green in the grass, the exact shade it should be, the tiny wild flowers growing around, swaying the exact speed they should be swaying, u feel unfazed by anything, at that moment, not because u r brave, but because there is nothing to feel fazed about,solitude never felt so warmly embracing!

every thing of everything is a perfect part of a perfect whole, and you too are a perfect part of the same perfect whole.  And life is beautiful!.

Wings

She falls
into the cold deep waters
gasping for drowning breathe
desperately flapping her wings,
trying to swim furiously,

O wise one
Teach her that wings
are made to fly!

Cynical love stories

Cynical love stories

The  perceptive eyes
had long back seen
the road far far ahead,
And the weak heart
had been afraid,...
the mind too
had bravely tried
to hold on
to excuses
to externate thee
From the deceptions
you  had  perpetuated,
it just didn't work.

How does one get over
this current bout
this  hump of
unloving you
for seeing in you
more colours
than  one  had
ever wished to see?.
and go back
to loving thee
like the very first time?

One for Deepika

I have always liked Deepika Padukone.

She is in fact,  a person, whom I liked from second(as in time) one, ( other being SRK and Mohanlal).

There she was, smiling away, on my TV screen, twinkling eyes and all, in a regular toothpaste advt, and I was all at once in love with her. The sense of fun, her eyes gave away, was simply infectious.

For a woman, who is the daughter of a famous personality, in his own right,  Prakash Padokone (for the uninitiated, a famous international level badminton player of his times) she is very grounded.

That she chose to make her name in moviedom, on her own standing, instead of piddling on her father's shoulders, for whatever it must have been worth, is largely commendable.

Her immense beauty, has of course helped land her first advertisement assignment (Atul Kasbekar, no less), and then straight into the lap of the big big Khan, SRK.

But here too, she held on her own, and didn't use the SRK shoulders to win the game, as tempting it would have seemed to any lesser person.

Like, there are these Amisha Patel, Gracie Singh, Sonakshi Sinha types who had great first and second movie hits, but simply could not live up to their first / second movie hypes, mainly because they sailed on the charm and charishma of the lead actor. Deepika managed to steer clear of that.

Her choice of movies, shows her, as a rather unintentionally naturally street smart ( in a nice way) kind of a person. She did not need real author backed roles, like Vidya Balan to make her mark. She climbed to the very slippery top on the much tried and travelled 'hi, I am Rita' roles that ever other regular heroine had tried before her.

Each of those movies she did ( except perhaps the Chandini chouk thingy) gave us a chance to notice her, for herself ( Cocktail, Love Aaj Kal, kartik calling kartik, that one movie with Aamir khans's nephew) and not for the story line or hero or her makeup or her outfits. She stood out on her own.

The X factor was clearly loud and shinning.

From these early movies, she easily managed to create (and combine) the persona of the girl next door types, graceful, elegant, yet a high flying corporate type girl, single, knows her own mind, go getting, and definitelyselfish enough, but for her own good, no body's doormat, ie not at all a self sacrificing heroine, and yet kind heartedly extremely warm and humane enough, and lastly not leastly, proud and standing (six feet) tall, and all on her very own. …a difficult cocktail combination, ( Maybe that she is exactly like that in real life must have helped.)

And after creating this winning personality, she still opted for rather unsafe movies( for the kind of hits she was giving) like Finding Fanny and Piku, which speaks of a certain warmth in her selection of roles along with sheer hard nosed business sense.

Another thing I liked about her, early on, and I always quote to any youngster who is ready to listen, is her extreme sense of discipline.

Given the profession she chose for her self, and the city she settled in, it would have been so so easy for her, to get lost in the glamour and false sheen of late night wild partying and drink binging and so on and so forth, but she did not, and it's more so commendable, because she did that with no guardian figures around, keeping tabs on her.

Instead she chose to remain grounded by exercising an hour daily, which ever part of the world, and tucking good girl self to bed at nine pm, in order to be ready for work next morning bright and shinning.

That she chose to make her depression public was a brave move, and though some seemed to think, it was just a publicity stunt, but if look it this way even if it was ( which I personally think it was not) …… it was a high risk game, which could have easily gone both ways, and she managed to come out a winner here too.

Her love affairs..given the sheer number of men she has been with ( dumped a few, and got dumped by a few) , it must, I guess, have been tempting, and, she could have easily played the victim game, but she chose not to.

Which again speaks volumes of elegance and inborn class.

Yes, that's what Deepika smells of…

A sheer elegantly classy tall beautiful single woman, who made it all on her own, in a world known to be dominated by chauvinistic men!

PS. Even Aishwarya Rai, with her equally formidable world class beauty and middle class upbringing, couldn't do it as much elan, as Deepika.

An unchartered Journey

It was
an unchartered
journey
no rules kind

long, adventurous,
voluntary, sometimes involuntary,
welcome, unwelcome
some easy, some hard
learnings galore

as we trudged together,
your happy  hands,
in my happier ones,
on the winding  roads of life,

wasn't it always
strewn with
shrill songs of childlike laughter,
and love?

where the only rule was,
and is....
abundance.

On your new journey,
Where I am not there,
to hold  your strong  loving hands,
Off you go, my love,
and come back soon,
for I already miss you, man!

Online Friends

Met an old friend today.
My first online friend in fact!

Then he was around 18 and me 38!

Cant believe almost 9 years passed us by!

Thats one thing about online friendships!
We dont need regular factors like, age, backgrounds, looks, status, class etc to start a friendship online! They just click , and remain, if wavelengths match!

About gratitude

Thought for the moment:

What must be worrisome to people about being 'in gratitude', is the conditioning, that it has to be based on a favour received, and hence a favour that needs to be reciprocated.

If being in gratitude didn't involve such mental mathematics, people would be more in gratitude, than not.

Iife?!

So what's life?

It's something which goes on, all around you, within you. Like in the instant minute, you are pushing querty keys, breathing and yawning, lazily wondering whether it's too cold to begin your daily walk, or make yourself that perky cup of tea, to get started, or wait till your spouse returns from HIS walk, so that you can have that added bonus of getting to share the warmth of a shared cuppa.

Elsewhere you are vaguely in constantly underlying awareness of your now rather aged parents, your even more older in-laws, their siblings, your siblings, their spouses, their children, their lives, their stories, .....All living their individually wonderous or torturous lives, whichever way they are letting you perceive it.

Somewhere far away, your only child is striving to find his bearings, as you watch from afar, sometimes fingers crossed, sometimes with an owner's pride, as he is walking life's streets alone, unchaperoned,  and outside your immediate control, where as elsewhere some old dead friend's teen children are now entering into adulthood, which you are sure is going to be fine, and yet some where else,  friends making buildings, friends running ports, friends battling tumours, friends lunching with you, friends working with you, the list is just endless.

And then there is this whole wide Web friends, in different stages of their life..,some who have retired from the prime of life, some still in their prime, some students, some new parents, ..All people who let you  share snatches of their lives with them,  through their posts and pictures, their likes and comments....

Yes that's life for me......A caravan of people. and their lives, which glides on, today,  tomorrow, even when the date on the calendar on the mobile changes to 2017.

Good morning to the last morning of 2016.

Imagine

Imagine,

women tying  rakhis to all random men on the roads, offices streets, just about anywhere.

wow...the men will be forced to remain home,hide their faces, never come out,  just so afraid to walk in the streets!

and hey pestro, no rapes no eveteasing..

come on women, we have nothing to lose  but our chains!

Elphinstone Road

June 1987: me wear 'working woman' shoes.
Temporary vacancy kind. Me love WWS

me discover love for local trains too!  Also, a love forthe quaint railway station I alight. Actually, for most part,  its British name.
Elphinstone Road. Apparently
Named after Mountstuart Elphinstone,Governor  of (when it was still) Bombay.

What follow is a daily routine......A quick look to the left, hurriedly Cross the tracks, slip through a hole in the railway wall to reach the other side. In short, a short cut.

1995 to 1998: back to alighting at Elphinstone road for another job.
Same short cut!

2001to 2003 and 2006-07: nothing has changed.

15.01. 2015: as my eyeS seek the familiar short cut, i see a whole over bridge carefully constructed by the railway authorities, where the hole was.

Well, have to admit,though late, very late, things do change in India( other than the mandatory change of names of landmark places of course) and sometimes for the better!( and that too in this case, unlike some other unlucky guys,  managing to escape  a change of its' british heritage' name!)

Mothers day

It really started on 17th, at about 11.30, after all around had settled for the night .

But inexperience made me think it was indigestion, By 3 am, I was worried it was the thing..

My sister who woke up , to see me agonising says..., oh poor you, didn't you sleep? .Wait, il call mom.

Mom had an anticipatory smile, yeah..It's time she says.

My fast asleep bro, irritated, to be awakened so early, cries, of course not, it can't be time, don't be silly ..Let a guy sleep for God's sake.

Dad's away on work,  hubby at his place, so neighbouring uncle steps in, and off we all go, to the hospital, as precision planned.

A small hitch....  my regular doctor is on vacation.
Oooops, its a  male doctor who walks in.

But at least, he looks nice and comforting..I'm shivering with cold,( the huge matron scared me into keeping the fan on, after I had switched it off twice..Who is switching off the fan, she had roared, while I had pretended not to hear).
Right now all I  want is it off..Badly ..Very badly...If only somebody stood up for me and switched it off, right into the matrons face, I would be fine,  I think..

My new doc, asks me what's wrong..I'm cold, I whimper,  and she won't let me switch off the fan.

She is stupid, don't mind her, he says brightly, switching off the fan for me.

I am glad..I have my saviour..Now nothing can go wrong, I decide.

Three or maybe five hours later I'm not so sure..The struggle is just not ending..I remember the pact me and hubby had...If it's a boy, we opt for another, or we stop at one.

To hell, I  decide unilaterally, boy or girl, this is the last!......I'm through with making babies for a life time.

As if on cue, the imp  pops out, victorious!

HBD AB!

Batman and Joker

Flash:

What the soul yearns most is the need to communicate freely effortlessly with another bare soul, without pretences, without prejudices, without fear, without conditionings.

Which is why I think  Batman and joker can never let go of each other.

Games people play

As a kid, I was rather good at this game of langadi...trying  to one leggedly  catch other kids running on two legs.

In fact, third grade, I was so good, that I soon had kids bribing me before PT class with chocolates and felt pens, just so that I would spare them.

One day it reached a stage, where all the five in the ring, had bribed me, and there were no Indians to cook, so as to speak,  and I had to leave the ring half way, shamefacedly much to the total amazement of the other kids. My reputation of course lay in tatters. I was no longer infallible in their eyes.

It was a lesson well learned.

I realise this when I see FB throw old posts every morning at me. How much I used to write my candid thought in those days.

It's only now, that I've stopped writing my deepest thoughts and fears because I fear it be recognised by the people who have caused the thought to occur, and maybe create unsolvable ripples in the relationship.

I realise it is entirely my loss. I need to write more often without fear of fear.

Memories

Life is all about memories!

I  am a kind of memory keeper.
That means, whether I'm in touch with a person or not, I keep their memories safe with me. When I miss them, all I had to do   is dust the memory box out of the closet.

This system proved useful when one of my  friends expired last year, around this time. He was one of those in the  'thick at one time but no longer in touch' list!

His now adult daughter, when she knew we had worked together at one time, wanted to know all about him as a colleague! The place where he spent almost 8 hours of his life daily, according to her.

I  gladly upturned my memory box, and handed over all those gems I had  collected over 7 odd years, and stored for another 12 years.

Sometimes the best gift you can give any body is these precious unknown memories of their loved ones.

I love  the  memory keeper part of me.

Validation

There are so many people in this wide  world, to love....One of them is we ourselves.

How many of us can take a deep look at ourselves and describe ourselves, the way we see ourselves.

Without our excuses, alibies. Just the way we are.

Like I am a person who doesn't like my mom., Or my dad..Or whosever we r supposed to be in awe of....Without the immediate rush of justifications.

Once we isolate the person that we are without the justifications, we can love our pure selves..

Then maybe we won't need anybody to love us. Cause we already have someone who loves us dearly. And that is none other than ourselves.

Once we ourselves validate our selves, we are self sufficient.

Celebration

Today's jumbled thought:

Is being happy dependant on life being a daily celebration, or is life being a daily celebration dependant on being happy?

If we think about it, on festival days we are happy inspite of our so called life situation, because we know we are supposed to celebrate the day, as it comes only once a year.

Why can't we celebrate every day in the same Spirit?

What say Ram?

Our babies

The first time they are out of sight, (am not counting the ten odd hours where you yourself  are out of sight, due to your job compulsions) for long continuous hours must be when they first go to play school.

Once it's proper school, you get to see them for regular hours  only on weekends, which is again taken up by homework and ever present, and never complete studies.

Then begins those night outs, those over night picnics , those weekend treks, and they keep disappearing for longer and longer hours.

And so time keeps flying.

Until one day they go far far away  for further studies. And now you measure the 'distance time' not by weekends or weeks,  but by a year or two.

And finally, when they find jobs in cities other than the ones they were born in!.

You automatically assume,  it's still temporary like all the other times! ( Unlike daughters where you at some level know they have to leave you some day).

Until, one day it hits you, like it hit me today. This time it's permanent. More than less. They have finally flown the nest! And you are now just consultants, advisors, well wishers in their lives.

And you just hope you have given them enough skill sets to fly high to their own version of what their life is!

Dedicated to all those Indian mothers from all ages whose sons end(ed) up staying in cities not their own!

Never say die

It never said die!

This kadipata shrub, which hubby had brought and tended with great care more than a year ago, (he is a natural nurturer of plants and animals), shriveled due to neglect from my constant forgetfulness to water it daily, when he was away in Kerala, with his dying mom, for more than a month.

It somehow survived. With new shoots today.

I feel  greatful, releived, (as also  guilty) towards both, it and hubby.

Desire

Desire

Problem with desire is that it is a double edged sword. First that it sends you on a wild good chase, until the actual fruitation of the said desire.

Going on a wild goose chase by itself is harmless, but if you are fixated on the object of your desire, you have lost all peace and calm of mind in striving to achieve it. Along with dejection of varying degrees if you don't achieve it.

But even acheivement of desire creates it own problems, because even when you get what you desired, or are sure of getting what you desire, you are suddenly surrounded by the fear of losing, what you got,  or what is well within your grasp.

You then start fearing or worrying about each shadow that threatens to take away the object of your recently won desire. Until of course,  you lose interest in the said desire.

The whole process is wrought with worries that don't let you be in harmony.

So what's the solution?
In my case I am normally ok with easy  reconciling about not getting my desires fulfilled, as somewhere I am sage enough to leave it to time.

However I am not able to be  free, once the object is achieved. So what's the solution? Remembering that even Kings and emprors have not been able to fortify their winnings?. Or believing in carp diem?

How can you not fret about not recognizing that tipping point, where proaction on your part would have prevented the said loss, and your failure to recognise it, before it got too late?

That's i guess is the worse part of desire.

The not knowing when to stop....

desiring!

Clocks and more

And then, for all those times when a single image captures a vague shadowy truth running around in circles inside your tired sleeping mind( oxymoron  i think).

One of those mornings, when I wake up early, read a bit of Frued  and Jung, ( for goddamn Sunday's examination)  only to fall asleep on the couch and wake up an hour later, with a slow motion image of the workings of a tiny wrist watch!

As a kid I had countless times stealthily checked out the insides of  watches of all kinds.. Time pieces, wrist watches, wall clocks( dad  repaired watches  in those days), and if a clock was on the road to mend, it was a real visual to watch, for a week at least, cause then it would hang on the wall ,  a naked, de-dialed skeleton, all  secrets open and bare.

Back to the image I woke up with! That  of these  various wheels of all sizes, of the wrist watch,  some big, some small, some moving clockwise, some anti, some with fast ticking ferocity, and some so slowly that you could easily stare for an hour before it showed some semblance of moment.

And then the realisation! . arent the Insides of a watch a reflection  of our interaction  with each other also?  We are all wheels, some big, some small, some moving clockwise others anti, fast, slow, but all of us rubbing and grinding into one another for certain lengths of time depending on our speed and size groves snugly fitting into groves,  all of us on our individuals  rotations.........we think we are together, but in reality we are just rotating on our individual axis, moving on from one circle to another, with clockwise precision, in order to keep a particular system robust alive an d ticking.

Loving you..

Loving you.

Loving you
Made me realise
that to love you
I had to love
all bits of you
including parts
I was not okay with.

And once I learned
to love
those pieces
a wonder happened......
I learned to love
those parts in others.....
and   in myself too.

and
thus loving you
taught me,
mostly
to love me for myself...

Love Transactions

This business of love,
It's tougher than I imagined,
The price you quote
Is beyond me,
Never mind,
I had wanted you at any cost.

Goodbye

Ive only guessed,
Not  seen,
the immediate fork
in the road ahead,
and here I'm practicing
already,
furiously in my head,
my polite good bye lines
to you,
non challant, no tears,
Ever smiling as ere,

I don't wanna 
be caught unawares,
British Stiff upper lip
is how it has to be!

The heart's song

And the heart break into a song

The chains are man made, al
be it hate, happiness, even love,

The journeys
were always meant to be alone,

We confused it
with rigid community compulsions,

the day you know, you know,
the heart break into a silent song
and then  you walk free, burdenless in gratitude!

Abandoned

Abandoned

Today
she let herself weep
gently
for a little girl
of five
who had sat
everyday
On the last bench
of her classroom
waiting for her guardian
to pick her up
always an hour later
from the now empty class
which would be teeming with life
just a little while ago..

Today,
she permitted herself
To  acknowledge  the bravery
Of the little girl
who had refused to cry then.

Pune diaries

Pune diaries

Having lived in homes for the best 50 years of my life, keeping everything, important, or not,  under lock and key, in hostel living,  turns out to be not so easy a task! Needless to say, I gave up after a week ( it's easier to trust blindly).

And locking  the room door everytime, you leave the room,  even if it was just to visit the  common washroom, is a bit tedious.

I thought I was the only one who must keep forgetting  things, whole climbing down to the mess.
Either I've forgotten my glass or spoon or water bottle, or soap  or like today I even forgot my  plate.
I had even started worrying if it isnt onset of dementia.

So  just now, I was secretly thrilled to see a young girl first  truge down the stairs and then immediately the same head bobbing in an upward climb.

Forgot something? I ask with a kind maternal look.

Sheepish reply: I think I may have locked my roommate out of the room. She was in the washroom..

Yaay,  not dementia at least for sure !