madness

what i want i dont get

what i get i dont want

in this rigmarole of giving receiving

and constant expectation

happiness has gone missing

wud a call make me happy?

or is it smthing deep i desire

why do i feel im having to hold on

clutching smthing that isnt there

just so that this moment passes

and i realise that the time is gone

fooling screaming shouting inside

smiling loving accepting at fore

you be yourself all the time

but was it you, were you like this before?

why expect whats not there

why i want to share it all?

i dont get pleasure diary

all i seem to find is pain

i want to be thankful

but inside im insane

im not ready to ask

no no no no no no no 

i dont want to ask

and to get smthing that way

i want to be honest

and to be my best

i manage to be good 

but what about the rest

its not about me, 

im not to blame

i should make the efforts 

but i cant seem to face

im sad

im sad

i dont want to be this way

this aint a poem

the last thing it is is a song

it is an unrhyming bunch of words

woven together forcefully,

trying to resonate 

my life that makes no sense

to my emotions which run amok 

nor there's any rhyme to this prose

there's not even a name you can give to it

just like you don't name a road that leads no where

i leave it abandoned without a trace

School chalein hum!!

Busy with the humdrum of my life.. taking along inside me a heart full of perplexions and reflections, i was walking along the road i take everyday to reach the mainroad from where i take a rickshaw to the metro station. After a lot of days i was feeling light as well as right, my walk reflecting my state of mind- calm, but resolved. I waved to a rickshaw and boarded it. As happens daily, i passed by a school on my way. But unlike everyday, today i couldn't hear the drums and a band being played at its morning assembly nor was there a mêlée of students entering the school premises in their usual fashion. But what i saw brought an instant smile to my face and my mind hurled back to my school days and all the good things it lead to. That's when instantaneously this post took birth in my head. 

There were students outside the school some of them dressed up in their school uniforms, accompanied by their mothers and fathers. They were either going in or coming out of the big black iron school gate. Oh yes, i said to me, it was a PTA meeting, aka Parent-and-Teacher Meet (i've never known what the 'A' in PTA stands for.. 'association', is it?) 

But this was not what made me smile. It was the report cards and fresh stack of books being carried by the students and their parents that brought back sweet memories of the PTA meetings in my school (Kulachi Hansraj Model School, Ashok Vihar, pbui) and how we looked forward to these meets..(err.. ok till primary school we really did look forward to reportcards, ok?) The smell of new books, all bound in transparent book covers and all kinds of practical files and drawing stuff and art books and what not! Stationery material continues to tempt me till date, but the craze to open newly printed school books was surreal and oh! darn me if i let even a crease befall on the spine of my precious new book..NO SIR! Hehe.. it's fad i am yet to overcome! 

Getting the list of books and then ticking all those which were needed for the class i was promoted to..handing it over to the guy across the make-shift bookshop and waiting for my beautiful beautiful stack of books to be placed before me on the table. (later we would count the books and check if all are as per the 'list' ;))  Reluctantly though, but agreeing with Mom's reasoning not to shell money to buy more practical files, colourboxes, notebook covers and other material which wasn't really essential.but was thrown in the list JLT. She would say, "Last year's were still untouched weren't they? Or, sure those could be used again! Or anyway, the neighbourhood shopkeeper sold the same files and stuff at half the price, why not buy from him?.." would go on Mum's explanations. :) It didn't really matter! As long as my books were new and spotlessly clean..who cares about other stuff! Of course the fetish for having uncreased, untouched-looking books always wore out within a few days of study.....

And the Parent Teacher Meet! How nice! To have the teacher say nice things about you to your parents! Nothing like it! I remember i used to beg Mum to visit ALL my subject teachers (english and social sciences one - always. Math? never!) but that never happened cz we were always in a hurry! Wonder why! But we never left without meeting friends and introducing their parents to our parents and getting introduced as well. It was like a mela! Kids of all shapes and sizes (i was in size mouse category, if such exists) leading their parents to respective classrooms to introduce the mata pita to the guru and fir daant shuru! Scenes of some students getting scolded by either the parents or the teacher were usual on these days, their (the student's) imaginary tail between the legs..idher kuan udhar khaai.. PTM par jaan par ban aayi! haha (chuckle!)

Sometimes one would also find teachers being subject to criticism or questioning by a zealous parent, his kid standing horrified..petrified..!!  He now knew his "chandrama".. what future lectures of this teacher would do to him.. the teacher would take his/her revenge in times to come...he knew! 

Me? I was a good student i guess.. except for in eleventh standard.. i don't think any teacher of mine really hated me. Nice marks, good overall score.. ofcourse my name was always innocuously missing from the list of school toppers but i generally secured some rank in class till 8th std and after that it was usually 80 % and above. Now, that was some contentment, rank was never into our list of coveted things in higher classes!.. we had better things on our mind! 

:)

Coming back to the books part.. i remember what a treat the English Interactive Reader used to be! So many new stories! The session wouldn't have begun and i would have read the whole book..such zest! and when in class the teacher would ask.. "Has anyone cared to read this text?".. Up went the hands of those who had! Mine included.."Yes, ma'am, i have".

 

Random Express

Emotions.. why do they loom large over all of us? Those of us who are in touch with our spiritual side as well as those who just touch the surface, never taking the plunge. I keep diving in the abyss of good old thinking about life. I keep doing that.. reading people.. trying to picture life on a chessboard and trying to place people, situations in on it.. trying to see from up above.. trying to know why where what. 

I wish things were different. I wish my life was fuller, happier and greener. The plant of life has withered away.. no leaves no fruit just a dried bush it has become. (Too many metaphors?) This does not mean I don’t value what I have.. 

I want to be happy again. How did it feel? Do I remember? I hate it if/when someone calls me a pessimist.. I think I'm not, but I won't plead my case.. I have been told it is important to do it..so i am trying these days.

Pessimist is one who can't see the greener pastures even if they are there; Optimist is one who thinks he is on the greenest patch, Realist is one who realises there are better grasslands when he misses softer grass and tries to do something to make better this one?; Dreamer the one who wants the perfect meadow, complete with the horse and the hound.. rain and the cloud..with a stream nearby and the gushing sound. I think Realistic and Dreamer have a purpose..the other two are pitiable but yes, they are happier. (btw what happens if you switch the analogies for the Pessimist and the Optimist above? They still fit perfectly don't they? Same difference.)

Is dreaming too bad? They say you should dream but when you do what happens? Nothing really, till you channel your dream into actions and conviction that it can be done. And even if it leaves you saddened, don't give up as long as the rein is in your hands cz dreaming is the next best thing to achieving. 

Most successful people are those who sell dreams, the most lauded bunch of words are those that motivate you to dream (remember, "I have a dream"- speech or "You can win"); the most enjoyable moments of our lives are when a dream comes true. However tiny-winy it maybe. Even if it’s of the same ilk as eating an icecream at midnight.

But let’s be honest, dreaming is dangerous too. 

 

no words

Little hands

Tender and soft

Her body fragile

Asking to be aloft

 

Her eyes shine

darkbrown like mine

Look up at me

talk silently

 

Tiny fingers

Slightly clutch

My finger, and I,

Love the touch

 

I leave the work

And lift her up

“My baby’”, i say

“I love you so much”

 

The baby had felt

this love before

unsaid, unspoken

even in the womb

But this was special

my eyes turned moist

my bundle of fulfilment

a lifetime's trust

March 2, 2009 

I met a month old baby today. She is my friend's niece. (it's her pic) It felt as if this child was magical. She is beautiful. Coincidently when going about my documents folder i stumbled upon this poem i had written long time back. Reproduced above. 

When Law meets Psychology

Criminal Law class at college some days back left me feeling dejected, helpless and confused. It unfurled a thread of thoughts that have been doing the rounds in my mind for sometime. The topic was Exception to Murder and we were doing the first Exception to S. 300 IPC pertaining to something called 'grave and sudden provocation'. The basic ratio of this exception being that no person should be punished for murder if his action was a result of a grave and sudden provocation by the deceased ie. he should only be punished for Culpable Homicide.

The uninitiated should suffice to know that killing of a human being may be of two types: Murder or Culpable Homicide. The difference between these two is very slight and a good lawyer always tries to bring down the sentencing of his/her client from Murder to at least Culpable Homicide in case no other defence is available. In order to understand the relation between murder and culpable homicide, it is enough to know that while Culpable Homicide is the genus, Murder is a species..just like a circle within a circle..well that's how I picture it.

However, this defence, mentioned in Exception 1 to S 300 IPC, cannot be taken for any kind of provocation. In many of the earlier Indian and English judgments it has been settled and widely accepted that the terms grave and sudden means that 1.) the provocation should be grave in nature and 2.) should be sudden as in the time gap between the provocation and the act of killing should be minimal otherwise it would come under the category of killing with an intention to take revenge, which has no defence in the court of law. What kept my grey cells working was, however, not this. The immediate topic was with regard to the killing of an abusive husband by his wife after a prolonged period of physical and mental harassment, beating and assault by the husband. 

In various Indian and English cases, it has been proved beyond doubt that where a husband sees his wife in a compromising position with another man, it is enough grave and sudden provocation for him to kill the wife or the man, as he is seen to have been provoked by the act of is wife and her paramour. There are also cases where a sentence of murder was not reduced to culpable homicide because provocation was not considered sudden enough as considerable time (even a few hours) had elapsed. It is presumed in such cases that a reasonable person should have regained his cool or composure to have thought about the consequences of his act and to have harboured a guilty intention. Thus, the defence is out of his reach.

A case in point is K.M. Nanavati v State of Maharashtra (1961), which is one the most high-profile cases on this subject. In this case, a young naval officer Kawas Nanawati killed his wife's lover in cold blood after he got to know about their illicit relationship. It was held that since the accused had dropped his wife Sylvia and children to the cinema hall and then went to the deceased office, then to his home and shot him dead thus it could be inferred that he must have regained his self control by that time. The case got much media attention and close scrutiny.

It was in fact such a landmark case that though the jury pronounced Nanavati not guilty by a verdict of 8-1, the judge referred the case to a higher court. What is more noteworthy is that after this case the system of jury trials was abolished by the government as it was widely felt that the jury had got biased in this case because of media attention and public support that the case had generated over the duration of the trial.

Moving back to the defence of grave and sudden provocation with regard to women who are physically abused, I was shocked to find that we in India have not yet accepted or acknowledged the battered woman syndrome as has been done in various other countries. If you have seen the movie 'Provoked' you would definitely know what i am talking about. Battered Person Syndrome is a kind of ailment that leaves a person devoid of all self control. The patients of this syndrome are those persons, mainly women who have been at the receiving end of regular beatings, thrashings and whipping of their husband or other family member(s). Out of fear of further abuse or to simply rid themselves of the aggressor, such persons may kill the abuser. In various other countries such a syndrome is considered to be a defence, but not in India where cases of domestic abuse are much higher in number. However, we do have a Domestic Violence Act 2005, which i hope has provisions to cover such cases, as of now, i am unaware. 

Now, as law sees it, if a person has had the mens rea to kill a person and he/she does so in a premeditated manner, there are chances that the act would fall under the crime of Murder (S 300) AND such an act would not be covered under the Exception of Grave and Sudden Provocation. But are things the same for a man and a woman?

Between a married couple, the woman is generally the weaker person (physically) who can easily be overpowered by her husband. She has already been subjected to lots of physical abuse since many years and now fears for her life. Does such a woman have any other way out than to premeditate something? Had it been the husband at the receiving end, he would be thrashed the wife back or killed her on the spot and would have easily availed the provocation exception. But the woman who has had the fortitude to be a silent sufferer, and also the limitation of her physical weakness over that man, has no defence left than to keep bearing the brunt, laps and kicks of her abusive husband.

Here, we see a lacuna in the exception which ought to be covered under some case so as to provide reprieve to such battered women who attack their abusers in the middle of the night when the husband is sleeping. This is not because of some sudden provocation but as the result of an accumulated amount of gravest provocation that over the years manifests itself inside her and comes out at a time and under those circumstances when she thinks she CAN physically overpower the abuser, because otherwise he is sure to beat her up even more mercilessly. No marks for guessing who would end up beaten in case a wife, in a fit of loss of control, and under sudden and grave provocation, decides to physically hurt the aggressor. Had it been the case, she would have done it long ago and not been the sufferer for so long a time.

In R V. Ahluwalia, the case on which Provoked was based on, raised a very pertinent issue about what is a provocation for a woman and what for a man. All throughout the IPC we read about "what a reasonable man would have done in similar circumstances". Why don't we ever stumble upon what a "reasonable  woman" would do. Agreed that in the IPC the term "men" is inclusive of women too but in cases such as these where a woman is already a victim, how far is it right to hold her guilty of one more crime which she very well may have done to save herself from further assault or a a natural reaction to the repeated provocation by the abuser. While considerable time may have passed but it is important to appreciate the fact that the way men and women react are very different. While men act more in the "spur of the moment" and don't usually emotionally attach themselves with someone who is giving them pain, women, on the other hand take time to react and are so emotional so as to not even leave the husband readily because she is married to him and the social stigma that of being a deserter is too much for her to take.

A still from Provoked

This made me wonder, how easy it is for a man to dodge his conviction under murder as he can take the defence of "grave and sudden provocation" (this he can take for his wife's unchaste behaviour or illicit affair with another man). While a woman, (who instead dodges that provocation and keeps tolerating the heinous acts of the abuser) when faced with a situation of utter hopelessness and fear makes an effort to save herself from further hardships, uses basic common sense not to try to try the impossible act of confronting the husband physically (because she will lose the fight anyway), is considered to have had premeditated the attack and thus, cannot take the defence of provocation. So should we say the man who kills under grave and sudden provocation is less guilty than a who kills under graver but continuous provocation? Because if we go by the law, such a man would get a lighter punishment than such a woman.

A few questions of this unsettled mind, seeking answers

Is it possible to draw that thin line that separates a female mind from that of a male? Would Indian law take into account social pressure, fortitude, restraint and fear that such a woman succumbs to? Should it or should it not?? 

Why is it that for him unchaste behaviour is considered provocation but for her at times constant abuse cannot be? Is such a woman left without a defence because she is more mindful than she is impulsive? A man acts in impulse because deep down that loss of self control he KNOWS he can physically overpower the woman. But

unlike a man, a woman does not act on impulse in a majority of cases because she has the fear of her incapability to overpower the man she waits. Can such awareness in the subconscious be of any significance in a court of law? Finally, how sudden can sudden be?

Having poured these questions here, I suddenly recall one dialogue from the movie Spiderman when his grandfather gently tells young Parker, "Just because you CAN beat someone, does not give you the right to do so". 

Hope Dog

"Aaj mast din hai bhai.. Aaj hamara time badal gaya hai bhai", said a young Jamaal in Slumdog Millionaire in his childish voice full of hope. Unaware of the tragedy that was to struck him, unaware that on the pretext of making him sing, they wanted to take away his vision by pouring acid in his eyes. I didn't have the heart to see that scene through.. i flinched at the right time just to know that the tragedy had been averted. Anyhow, this isn't about how the tragedy was averted, how his eyes saved, it is about the false hope in his heart, the hope that his and his brother's lives were about to change for the better. But it was not to be. 

How many times in our lives we just hope and hope. Our fingers crossed, our mind not ready to even 'imagine' what's unimaginably gruesome, we keep going on. Just when things are about to settle down, a storm comes and sweeps it all away. Like a bird that never tires of making his nest again and again even after seeing it fall off a tree so many times, we also cling on to our beliefs only to see them getting broken. By us and by others at times. What should be the right thing to do? To stop believing or to stop living in reality all together? Stopping to believe would mean giving up happiness and ceasing to live in reality would make us a nobody.

Pessimism is the study of a sad heart, its students are losers, its teachers villains. They should have told us it's out-of-syllabus.  

Papa

Remember the Pursuit of Happyness? Will Smith, the father of a 5-6 year old kid tries to get them both a better life through sheer determination, grit and hardwork, or Kramer V Kramer where Dustin Hoffman, a busy father, learns to enjoy his little boy's company and eventually realises what matters most to him is the kid and later fights a legal battle to get the child's custody only to lose it. The wife (Meryl Streep) leaves the kid in his custody in the end though. Beautiful movies.. must see. Or even the video of that ghazal by Pankaj Udhaas called Sach bolta hu main.. i found it so touching.

It hit me when i read Gone With The Wind for the first time. It was Rhett's love for his daughter Bonnie which had millions of readers turn into his fans. I read almost whole of the latter half of the book at a go during my school days. It's something i love to recall.. i laughed and i cried with it and i dreaded that it would come to an end. By the time dawn broke, i was hopelessly in love with the book for reasons more than this post can encompass. One of those reasons i am writing about today.


I have always found it very sweet when men shower their little daughters with bountiful affection and listen to their blabber with utmost attention as if profound words were being spoken. Whenever i watch a man playing around innocently with his daughter or taking her in his arms for a walk, i feel it is a scene straight from heaven. [You can say i am a little gender biased here that it has to be a daughter..but that's MY fantasy you see..it has to be jusst perfect ;)]


Coming back to the point now. I started this post to pour out here things i feel or have felt for my father..i call him 'Papa' like most people my age. He is a businessman and like all businessmen he has lots of stuff in his "to-do" list everyday. While growing up I didn't like the fact that it took him considerable time or help from my mother to tell which standard I was studying in. The task of getting me and my sis ready for school and then to drop us off to the bus stop was always my mother's job. As was going to the Parents and Teachers Meeting at school and other such events. I don't remember a time when my Dad came to school, not that it was a big deal for us back then but I would have liked if he had come sometime.


He is one person who's had quite a strange importance in my life. He matters to me so much that i cant even begun to write about it; most children feel the same i am sure. He has always been concerned about my career but never have we agreed upon the choices i made! He is so much there on my mind that when i meet a stranger his happens to be the topic i speak the most about. And i always surprise myself when i realise how much his approval matters to me. He doesn't much cuddles me (I would say once a month, to be very very very generous) and with whom i have inhibitions cuddling or clinging on to like i do to my mother all the time (to her annoyance or happiness i know not!), but even writing about him overwhelms me and i have to drink some water to compose myself.
I remember in December last year when i was to come home one early morning in an auto, he kept repeating and reminding me to pull down the curtain in the auto so i don't feel cold. He must have said it 5-6 times and i felt so close to him then. Even now when i get late, he never fails to call me and ask where i am. He might scold me for getting late but i know how to get around!


But still, all through my growing up years and even now, i used to feel i'm not very comfortable whenin close proximity to him. His anger could be one of the reasons. I have always held the grouse and an eternal complaint that he treats us (his daughters) like his employees. I have never been comfortable doing anything useless in front of him like watching television or reading a book or stuff like that and it has been the same with my sisters (im the youngest of three, i call me the stocklot! heh). Seeing my friends and cousins going about their casual lives with their fathers, joking with them, teasing them or simply ignoring their presence has been a mystery for quite a long time now. Even now i don't feel comfortable if he comes home and sees me watching television or chatting on phone. It's as if it's been engrained in our minds that wherever we may be, we have to make ourself useful and not to waste time. Having said all this, i cannot say he is the strict type of dads who yield an iron fist. Nope. He is cool when he has to be. When out with him he is the one more generous about money than mom and whenever short of cash i go to him and ask for money which he easily gives, not many questions asked.


I'm seeing him change over the years and it is a welcome change. Much of it is also about the fact that in this time I have grown up and i now understand things better than i used to. He is taking over my mother's role in the mornings now that i have to go to my college quite early as Mumma is not in the best of health. Not only does he prepare breakfast for me but also makes sure i eat well (or he threatens he won't let me leave the house). Some days back (may be a month or so) when i went downstairs to fix myself something to eat before college, what i saw on the dining table had me bragging about it for days after that! On the table was a fine spread of all the breakfast and non breakfast healthy food you would have ever imagined. On it one could find: tea, nuts, amla candy, banana cut into slices, papaya all sliced, carrot, other kind of nuts, ome mithai i mean you name it the table had it. He had also prepared some paranthas for me and as i came in looking at the table and trying to sink in the mixed feeling of happy shock and guilt that he had to do it for me, he quickly got up and said "I have also made tea for you, lemme just reheat it again. And i have made some Paranthas for you. You can have it with the raat wali sabzi. I will get it for you, sit." Goood Lord!!! and this when he was reading his newspaper on the table and having his morning cuppa dip-dip tea. Was i surprised or what! Overcome with guilt that HE, MY DAD had to make these efforts for me, I quickly motioned him to keep sitting, that i would help myself, but to no avail. He went to reheat the tea in the microwave. I had to rush to the bathroom to let the feeling sink in. Papa ne mere liye breakfast banaya!! To many it would seem "so whats's the big deal", but to me it was something so extraordinary and impressive that i am still gloating in it!

Since that day he is in charge. Mum ofcourse also chips in but i like it that he lets her take rest in those early morning hours when she wants to sleep a little longer. He doesn't prepare paranthas for me everyday but i see him sitting on the table with newspaper in his hands keeping a check if i'm eating right, or sometimes he would ask me what would you like to have while i am getting ready so he can get the breakfast ready for me.. and he would pester me to take a water bottle with me and to pack something for lunch and to take oranges and bananas and what not to college. I have to tell him i go to college to study and i am not a monkey and all sorts of things! hehe.. it's good fun actually! and then i ask him for the car keys and he is quite accomodating, gives me the car whenever possible. :)

"Love you Papa!"

I have never said it to him and i won't be saying it in near future so directly! But i do love him a lot and though he doesn't know about this blog or this post or anything.. i am feeling good i wrote this all down. Why don't we do it often? Tell people how much we love them? Why do we feel inhibited by our own emotions..or is it the fear that it might not be welcome? Don't know the answers yet, but i wont cease any opportunity to hug him and tell him he's a wonderful father..when i can do it..may be when he is going on a trip or something..when it wouldn't look so cheesy! I think i hesitate because he is unaware of all that i feel and because i feel it i wont be able to say it all without crying--which i wanna avoid. Who knows, those happy tears might help rubbing off those sad childhood memories. Reaching out can be such a wonderful thing.

Circa August 14, 2008

This is an old post which never saw the light of the day cz of my busy schedule. Here it goes.. the day is August 14th, and I am barely a fortnight into Campus Law Centre, Faculty of Law, Delhi University.

-----------------------Curtains Rise----------------------

"Sure?" asked the lady officer at Campus Law Centre (in short, CLC, the law school I was enrolled in). "Yep", I replied. She made me sign somewhere and another officer handed over my original documents to me. Finally, I was going to withdraw admission from Law and get into MA Political Science, the course I had dreamt of taking up for so long now. The admission wasn't easy and I could bet it was a miracle that I got through not only through the first selection round but also through the second one. After having collected my documents and clinging them close to my chest, I rushed out of the building to go on to the next step -- deposit the documents at Shyama Prasad Mukherjee (SPM), the college I was affiliated to in order to secure my admission. Aaha.. MA Political Science.. I was finally coming!

I reached SPM with my brother whom I picked up on the way. We didn't know the way so it wasn’t that easy driving to an institute situated bang in the middle of a residential area like Punjabi Bagh where one hopes to find a garden full of women and kids anytime. Anyhow, it was a college all right. Went in.. completed the formalities and here I was.. a bona fide student of Delhi University Art Faculty and no more a Student-Advocate, the term I fell in love with when I heard it the first time from a teacher.

Walking out of the building, I didn’t feel half as excited as I thought I would be. After days and days of having weighed both the options, that of law and pol sci.. I had finally chosen the latter.. Something I thought would help me more as a political writer. BUT I wasn't happy. No I wasn't.

With a heavy heart and a busy mind, (it was busy telling the heavy heart that MA Political Science was a better option any day), I went back to DU, dropping off my cousin on the way back. There was a panel discussion on the Amarnath Yatra issue at the Department of Political Science, which I had wanted to attend. In I went. It was the same room where I was to attend the Political Science classes for the next 2 years. Sitting on a seat while waiting for the panellists to arrive, I found my self unsettled. I was not fine. My heart was telling me I made a mistake. I kept telling myself that it is a matter of hours and I will be fine soon but the feeling wouldn’t go. The discussion was excellent and I even took part in the question and answer session, which generally makes me feel good with myself. But this time it was not to be so. On way back again I was in jitters. As time passed the sinking feeling metamorphosed into a drowning feeling. Now that the damage was done, I ventured to do some damage control. I tried to take refuge in the usual "it is just the fear-of-the-unknown" excuse, but the feeling would just not go away. Sitting in the car, I called up people who I thought could help. I made frantic calls and as if the weather was privy to the storm in my heart, it even began to rain heavily. But I found myself incapable of absorbing the beauty of the greenery all around or the rain falling on my head, something that I never failed to devour. It was now that the truth of what I had done with regard to the next couple of years of my academic life hit me. The reality struck my senses and I prayed that the clock would turn back by a few hours and let me be a law student once more!

On coming back home I logged on to the internet to read more about political science but found myself running away from it, this had certainly not happened before! I shut my computer and tried to sleep but couldn’t. I kept tossing, turning. The thoughts of having taken the wrong decision kept haunting me. In fact a time came when I couldn’t believe I had actually withdrawn from the Faculty of Law. "Why? Why WHY didnt you follow your heart?", I kept asking myself. Finally I asked myself, "Should I try going back to Campus Law Centre tomorrow and beg them to take me back?" Once such ideas started churning, there was no looking back. I decided to plead, beg, reason, talk to the dean, do anything if they would just take me back.

I again logged on to the net. Found a friend. Told him my problem and we again discussed the ideas. Must say he helped me clear my mind and supported my "sudden change of mind". Then, I tried to sleep, my plan was to get up early the next day and reach the CLC office before the officers would. But sleep wouldn't come. To kill time and to torture my eyes further, I switched on the television and watched "My Wife and Kids".. a nice programme. At last I felt my eyes watering and I slept about 3 with the dialogues I was going to say going around in my head. Now that I think of it, it was much like the mathematical formulae that wouldn’t let me sleep the day before mathematics exam in school days!

Night passed. 7 am and I was up. Didn’t utter a word while getting ready, as if the momentum would break. Declined the offer for breakfast, even water wouldn’t go down my throat that morning! Finally, I took an auto and rushed to CLC. "Cluck Cluck Cluck", went the pen in my hand showing deep anxiety. I reached the office building and found two sweepers cleaning the floor. One of them asked me "What happened madam?", as it was way early for classes to begin. I told him my problem and was greeted with a broad mocking grin and thus came the first of the lectures I was to encounter all day. "Soch ke karna chahiye tha na.. ab to koi chance nahi. Aapko sochna chahiye tha pehle." There went my hopes.

"Kis se baat karu?" I managed to ask him.

"Ab to Professor-in-Charge (PIC) se hi baat karni padegi", came the reply - a suggestion I wanted to avoid since the PIC is the last authority on matters such as these and his NO would mean the end of all further discussion. Then came Mr A, a jolly looking chap who, I presume, takes care of the administrative work for second-year students. After much deliberation, I decided to talk to him since he was the only officer present. I walked up to where he was rummaging through some papers and in a near crying tone, uttered, “Sir.......” and related my sorry tale. As expected, I was greeted with another set of teeth laughing and smiling at me and saying “Lo Kallo Baat.” He then told me to wait as the concerned Madam would arrive soon and I should talk to her. Hitherto began another hour of mind-boggling wait.

The ‘madam’ did not arrive, rather something unexpected happened. The PIC, (saakshaat) was coming towards the office. Mr A greeted him and answered some questions he asked. Thereby he told him, laughing his silly laugh, "Sir, inki problem suniye. Kal admission withdraw karaya tha. Ab vaapas chahiye." Such a sentence, I was sure, would have blocked all doors of reprieve for me, but his smile was such that perhaps the PIC also forgot to acknowledge the seriousness of the issue. (Or as it seemed to me). Government officials and specially college officials are known to 1. Create problems for you 2. Make u wait endlessly 3. Pay you as much attention as an attacking shark would to the pleadings of a helpless swimmer, so any help was good help.

Coming back to the office scene, the PIC then looked at me and asked, “Kya hua?” I repeated my plea.

“Kyu bhai, Political Science kijiye na fir”, he said.

“No Sir, I want to do law,” I said.

“Hmm. Kab withdraw karaya?”, he asked.

“Yesterday, Sir”.

“Hmm”, then he looked at Mr A. and told him to take back my documents. (Yipeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! My heart did a somersault and the clouds of fear parted to let in the warmest of sunlight of a winter morning!)

I couldn’t believe it! As the PIC walked away from the room, I profusely thanked Mr. A, a man whose smile I would never forget! He told me, “Madam, don’t get so excited! Let the other madam come.” “Yahoooooo!!!” I cried in my heart! And outwardly asked him , “So, should I get all my documents?”. “Yes, its better you get them ASAP,” said the noble soul. (!)

Thus I sprinted towards the road. The burden of having erred on such a large scale seemed to get lighter by the minute. Taking a deep breath I took the first auto I laid my eyes on and told the driver to take me to Punjabi Bagh . “SPM, I am coming, to get my documents and bid you good bye!"

------------------------Curtains Fall--------------------------

 I am now in second semester.. happily so! Loving the law I learn and enjoying my stint at the campus. Hope the magic continues :)..cheers to my college!

Valentine's Day --!!

Isn't is funny how moments pass and how feelings we believed would stay forever, leave us and move away, making place for newer emotions. What happens to the way we felt earlier? Those feelings vanish or do they remain dormant hidden in the recesses of our heart for the rest of our lives? Just saw some pictures of mine with some friends.. the time, the place, the state-of-mind..how drastically it has changed..boggles me. Then what is it that we say "always"..what is it that remains always when even the way we feel for someone is subject to change over time? 

I know.. not a very nice thought to delve upon on a bright Saturday morning.. a Valentine Morning to be precise. Recently i've come across many people thwarting this day (though not in an ABVP sort of a way) saying that it really doesn't matter to them and strangely enough, all of these people claim to be in love. I really don't understand it. No, i don't preach that V day is to be celebrated no matter what. It is a matter of heart and how you currently feel. But if, even because of a stupid reason, you think you can bring about a smile on the face of the one you love, or go one step ahead in showing you care .. what is the harm? They say everyday is a Valentine's Day.. Hell, I don't believe it! How can it be? Just like Diwali, Holi, your Birthday aren't celebrated each day! Is it everyday you give some gift to your partner? Is it everyday that romance is in the air? Aren't you always hurrying here there everywhere? Yes, ofcourse, there are many other occasions people celebrate as they would a Valentine's day .. but then what crime did Feb 14 commit? If you are against all days, Children's Day, Environment Day, AIDS Awareness Day then it is another matter really.

As i see it, i love this concept, what's wrong in having one more day to celebrate love? Have you ever seen someone not get happy on receiving a gift, a card, a flower a sweet little whisper declaring your love? Then why this sudden estrangement with this day i don't understand.  I like to think of it as a day for lovers.. just a day earmarked as a token for the concept of love.. nothing more. And if you wish you may join the bandwagon, declare your love for the umpteenth time and celebrate in any way you prefer. But this negativity about this day .. only cynics can thrive in it.. We should collect happy memories as they help you in time when you are down and out. Valentine's is just another reason. 

And on this note a confession: I wish i had a Valentine this year.. i wish i were i love.. not just for this day but for all the year round!

Rain Divine

When clouds rule the sky

And blows wild wind,

It is ecstatic how the first drop of rain

Rests itself on my bare skin

 

Soft and clear

The droplet shines

I look upto the sky

Saluting the rain divine

I lie down on wet earth

My eyes open no more

The clouds are thundering past me

Little drops tickle me to the core

 

My mind travels back in time

To all the wondrous moments of past

Like the rain, memories shower on me

I collect as many ..aah fast

 

When life was not so serious

And problems so small

This rain takes me back there

When nothing mattered at all!

 

-Like a kid gazing up at the trees,

Trying to climb and dreaming of a home among the leaves

-Like a little girl, studying her face in the mirror

with eyes full of little dreams

-Like a youthful lover, craving for that one glance

Imagination running to the extremes!

 

In no time, the sun goes back into hiding

Behind a cloud so grey

Droplets have become heavier now

With the ground below its prey

 

It’s dark, deep and lovely

The sky’s dancing in mirth

Thus begins a love triangle

Of rain, wind and earth

Tiny droplets sitting on leaves,

Waiting for a few moments, then come sliding down

look to me like a group of friends

gliding together on a slippery slope!

Coming down they meet the earth

The life of a droplet coming a full circle

 

 

 

 

He was little

He was little

a child of three

with Big black eyes

Which wanted to see.

His eyes kept rolling

Trying to find

A speck of light

In deep design

He felt tethered

Shackles abound

Arms twisted

Knees on ground

But still he wouldn’t

Make a sound.

Questioning mind

Looking harassed

Where to go

To seek solace

And mothers touch.

“Mother o mother”

All he could think

“Where’d you go

Im here still”.

The little child

Confused and numb

Felt up his mother

Climbed up her lap

Therein lay his world

Closed in her warm clasp

god knows wat

Trying to solve our lives,
we are trying to devise
a way a road to go forward

Trying to find a pattern
trying to analyse our fights
we are trying hard to be together

trying to listen
trying to comfort
trying to give what we want for ourselves

but in our quest for reaching out
we lose ourselves
moulding oneself in other's cast
feeling disgusted all the while

I am banished, dejected
lost and neglected
but trying is all that comes to my mind

trying is the key,
so say philosophers
it's perseverance that matters
so say the wordlywise
try go try thats the advice
but trying is trying so says I

Not Often

It’s not often that I tell you
You mean to me so much
And I frequently forget to mention
That I really love your touch

Those strong arms seem to tell me
You want to hold me forever
Your warm embrace confirms
We’ll always be together

I like to steal a glance or two
Of your face when you ain’t looking
I love to catch you unawares
And pretend something’s cooking!

You seem to know me better
More than I could have guessed
You understand and still you’re around
Tells so much that’s left unsaid

Promises, keepsakes, bundles of joy
I got, but still want more
I’ll never tire of you my love
We’ll stay connected, my heart to yours.

untitled

It was this sadness that i was evading
when i said i cannot be with you,
The melancholy love i was running from
when i said i cannot continue.

I was running way from emptiness,
but i feel it all around
I wanted to escape this sadness
this sad invisible sound.
It surrounds me from dawn to dusk
this pain is profound.

It isnt a broken relationship i lament
it the faith that i mourn,
I thought we didnt need to name it
I presumed it was known.

With a simple nod of your head,
or a twinkle in my eye,
we conveyed without a word
answers to how where and why.

Let's try and freeze those moments
and nor endeavor to live them again,
perhaps that magic got dissolved in time
both lost to no one's gain.

In you i found a confidant
a friend, a guide, a fellow maniac
but all that is wasted
(we would better be alone)
our common dreams rested.

August 14th 2008

This is an old post which never saw the light of the day cz of my busy schedule. Here it goes.. the day is August 14th, and I am barely a fortnight into Campus Law Centre, Faculty of Law, Delhi University.

-----------------------Curtains Rise----------------------

"Sure?" asked the lady officer at Campus Law Centre (in short, CLC, the law school I was enrolled in). "Yep", I replied. She made me sign somewhere and another officer handed over my original documents to me. Finally, I was going to withdraw admission from Law and get into MA Political Science, the course I had dreamed of taking up for so long now. The admission wasn't easy and I could bet it was a miracle that I got through not only through the first selection round but also through the second one. After having collected my documents and clinging them close to my chest, I rushed out of the building to go on to the next step -- deposit the documents at Shyama Prasad Mukherjee (SPM), the college I was affiliated to in order to secure my admission. Aaha.. MA Political Science.. I was finally coming!

I reached SPM with my brother whom I had picked up on the way. We didn't know the way so it wasn’t that easy driving to an institute situated bang in the middle of a residential area like Punjabi Bagh where one hopes to find a garden full of women and kids anytime. Anyhow, it was a college all right. Went in.. completed the formalities and here I was.. a bona fide student of Delhi University Art Faculty and no more a Student-Advocate, the term I fell in love with when I heard it the first time from a teacher.

Walking out of the building, I didn’t feel half as excited as I thought I would be. After days and days of having weighed both the options, that of law and pol sci.. I had finally chosen the latter.. Something I thought would help me more as a political writer. BUT I wasn't happy. No I wasn't.

With a heavy heart and a busy mind (it was busy with telling the heavy heart that MA Political Science was a better option any day) I went back to DU, dropping my cousin on the way back. There was a panel discussion on the Amarnath Yatra issue at the Department of Political Science, which I had wanted to attend. In I went. It was the same room where I was to attend the Political Science classes for the next 2 years. Sitting on a seat while waiting for the panellists to arrive, I found my self unsettled. I was not fine. My heart was telling me I made a mistake. I kept telling myself that it is a matter of hours and I will be fine soon but the feeling wouldn’t go. The discussion was excellent and I even took part in the question and answer session, which generally makes me feel good with myself. But this time it was not to be so. On way back again I was in jitters. As time passed the sinking feeling metamorphosed into a drowning feeling. Now that the damage was done, I ventured to do some disaster management. I tried to take refuge in the usual "it is just the fear-of-the-unknown" excuse, but the feeling would just not go away. I called up people who I thought could help. I made frantic calls and as if the weather was privy to the storm in my heart, it even began to rain heavily. But I found myself incapable of absorbing the beauty of the greenery all around or the rain falling on my head, something that I never failed to devour. It was now that the truth of what I had done with regard to the next couple of years of my academic life hit me. The reality struck my senses and I prayed that the clock would turn back by a few hours and let me be a law student once more!

On coming back home I logged on to the internet to read more about political science but found myself running away from it, this had certainly not happened before! I shut my computer and tried to sleep but couldn’t. I kept tossing, turning. The thoughts of having taken the wrong decision kept haunting me. In fact a time came when I couldn’t believe I withdrew from Faculty of Law. Thereafter this mind of mine started working. I thought to myself, "Should I try going back to Campus Law Centre tomorrow and beg them to take me back?" Once such ideas started churning, there was no looking back. I decided to plead, beg, reason, talk to the dean, do anything if they would just take me back.

I again logged on to the net. Found a friend. Told him my problem and we again discussed the ideas. Must say he helped me clear my mind and supported my "sudden change of mind". Then, I tried to sleep, my plan was to get up early the next day and reach the CLC office before the officers would. But sleep wouldn't come. To kill time and to torture my eyes further, I switched on the television and watched "My Wife and Kids".. a nice programme. At last I felt my eyes watering and I slept about 3 with the dialogues I was going to say going around in my head. Now that I think of it, it was much like the mathematical formulae that wouldn’t let me sleep the day before mathematics exam in school days!

Night passed. 7 am and I was up. Didn’t utter a word while getting ready, as if the momentum would break. Declined the offer for breakfast, even water wouldn’t go down my throat that morning! Finally, I took an auto and rushed to CLC. "Cluck Cluck Cluck", went the pen in my hand showing deep anxiety. I reached the office building and found two sweepers cleaning the floor. One of them asked me "What happened madam?", as it was way early for classes to begin. I told him my problem and was greeted with a broad mocking grin and thus came the first of the lectures I was to encounter all day. "Soch ke karna chahiye tha na.. ab to koi chance nahi. Aapko sochna chahiye tha pehle." There went my hopes.

"Kis se baat karu?" I managed to ask him.

"Ab to Professor-in-Charge (PIC) se h  baat karni padegi", came the reply - a suggestion I wanted to avoid since the PIC is the last authority on matters such as these and his NO would mean the end of all further discussion. Then came Mr A, a jolly looking chap who, I presume, takes care of the administrative work for second-year students. After much deliberation, I decided to talk to him since he was the only officer present. I walked up to where he was rummaging through some papers and in a near crying tone, uttered, “Sir.......” and related my sorry tale. As expected, I was greeted with another set of teeth laughing and smiling and me and saying “Lo Kallo Baat.” He then told me to wait as the concerned Madam would arrive soon and I should talk to her. Hitherto began another hour of mind-boggling wait.

The ‘madam’ did not arrived, rather something unexpected happened. The PIC, (saakshaat) was coming towards the office. Mr A greeted him and answered some questions he asked. Thereby he told him, laughing his silly laugh, "Sir, inki problem suniye. Kal admission withdraw karaya tha. Ab vaapas chahiye." Such a sentence, I was sure, would have blocked all doors of reprieve for me, but his smile was such that perhaps the PIC also forgot to acknowledge the seriousness of the issue. (Or as it seemed to me). Government officials and specially college officials are known to 1. Create problems for you 2. Make u wait endlessly 3. Pay you as much attention as an attacking shark would to the pleadings of a helpless swimmer.

Coming back to the office scene, the PIC then looked at me and asked, “Kya hua?” I repeated my plea.

“Kyu bhai, Political Science kijiye na fir”, he said.

“No Sir, I want to do law,” I said.

“Hmm. Kab withdraw karaya?”, he asked.

“Yesterday, Sir”.

“Hmm”, then he looked at Mr A. and told him to take back my documents. (Yipeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! My heart did a somersault and the clouds of fear parted to let in the warmest of sunlight of a winter morning!)

I couldn’t believe it! As the PIC walked away from the room, I profusely thanked Mr. A, a man whose smile I would never forget! He told me, “Madam, don’t get so excited! Let the other madam come.” “Yahoooooo!!!” I cried in my heart! And outwardly asked him , “So, should I get all my documents?”. “Yes, its better you get them ASAP,” said the noble soul. (!)

Thus I sprinted towards the road. The burden of having erred on such a large scale seemed to get lighter by the minute. Taking a deep breath I took the first auto I laid my eyes on and told the driver to take me to Punjabi Bagh . “SPM, I am coming, to get my documents and bid you good bye!"

------------------------Curtains Fall--------------------------

 I am now in second semester.. happily so! Loving the law I learn and enjoying my stint at the campus. Hope the magic continues :)..cheers to my college!

reminds me of you

Well, am no poet.. i can only pen poems when emotional or when it is raining.. and well, this one was a mixture of both. I dont care abt rhythm, or stanzas or rhyme.. and well.. when u do that, u end up with smthing like this..! have a look.. js dont discourage a "poet unborn"!

Reminds me of you…

The falling drops and rustling leaves
Leave my heart wanting to be loved
It’s the scent of moist earth
That reminds me of you..
Of the moments spent together.

Hands entwined and heaving breath
We thought of times so far
We thought we’d sustain
We’ll show them we were..
Made for each other

I left you I confess,
Because I could not say a lie
I could not be with you
And bid my happiness goodbye
You were a treasure
You still are my dear friend
I miss you and need you
But I know I’ll be of no help

I’d enter your life
to leave you again
I don’t trust myself now
In matters of love, heart and pain

The scent of moist earth
Still reminds me of you
And my long lost love
It will never rot, it will never stink
Your memories are frozen
In my heart

I wish I had waited
I wish I didn’t love you that much
I wish I could see you crying
I wish I could change the person I am.

But the scent of wet earth still reminds me of you
And the times we spent together
When my happiness knew no bounds
It was just you you and you all around

I wish I could love someone that way again
I wish someone would love me the way you did
We drifted apart .. never to meet again..
Im sorry for all the pain

Now now now.. an apology to make.. for not being quite an active blogger. Just the other a friend asked why didnt i blog regularly and i found myself answering quite matter-of-factly, "well, whatever i write goes to print". The moment i typed it and pressed enter, i realised what i had just uttered. I was surprised, happy, sad and amused at the same time. It was not just the enormity of the fact that i was actually writing professionally and getting paid for it..it was the fact that i had actually taken a step towards where i wanted to be. That was actually such a profound statement.. nice eh?

ok, now getting back to what happend today.. i well, eh.. resigned. not formally though.. but i did. Finally i have decided to study and study nice. In the mean time reading more and more books, writing more and more on issues, and enjoy myself to the hilt with things and ppl i love.

A New Room
Yep, i finally got my way .. the guest room is going to be mine now.. i am going to make it look more like a study room and make sure i get some real good shelves for my books, all my books to sit on.. i am thinking on devoting the whole wall to just books! wat say?
Will write more on the new room as and when things shape up. okie, gn