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

Being a woman

Do you often look at yourself in the mirror and wonder what sets you apart? Given a chance, would you again want to be born a woman? I most definitely will.

You are a woman, a giver, a creator, a being, an inspiration and unique in every way. Feminity is so special, makes the world look beautiful and, in a way, cosy!

Being a woman is not only about living a feminine life, getting married, managing a family, running a household and making everyone happy. It is about enjoying it too. We see many examples in day-to-day life, but how many women are truly happy? Our mothers and sisters and scores of women like them continuously strive hard to be perfect. Why they want to be so is unknown, but they never cease to try. They will leave no stone unturned in their quest for being the best mothers, the best sisters, the best wives and the best daughters, and if they fail a little to fulfill all these roles, guilt overtakes all emotions. It is then that they have to kill their dreams and live their lives for others.

This Woman’s Day I salute all such women but would like to add something to that. Please- you too can err; there is no need to push the boundaries beyond a limit. We want you happy, because you are so special.

ghalib

Oh I'm lost

Some place

Somewhere

From which place

I have no news

Nor can i hear

Even about
Myself

---
Ghalib

How to write

I wanted to know how to really get down to serious writing.. won't say the ideas are all original.. bt yes, an extension to what has been said abt writing.

“Words, once they are printed have a life of there own,” said Carol Burnett. Many of us have a burning desire to write, what wouldn’t we do to see our name in the list of great authors and our work read by readers worldwide. But in reality we don’t get down to the act of writing.

Gertrude Stein wrote, “To write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write”, so well the most important thing to get started with writing is doing just that – write.

According to Judy Reeves, the author of Write Alone, Write Together, it is most important to first accept that you are a writer. “Until you name yourself Writer, you will never be a writer who writes. Speak your name out loud followed by, “I’m a writer.” Let yourself experience the sensations you feel when you sound out the words.” Whether you are published or not is not the question. Take pride in saying that you are a writer, and write.

First, find an idea for yourself. Don’t write thinking how much you can earn if it gets published. Instead, think of why this story must be told. Think of a basic plot and the major characters. Jot that down. Give life to your characters by giving them a face, a body-type, a personality, and some flaws. It may sound like painting but then, writing is like painting, you keep stroking the canvas with a brush and soon you’ll realise it has taken shape of an image. That image is your story.

Think of the city and the country the story needs to be set in. Carry out some research about the history of that place, the timeline of your story and major events that occurred in that period in history, because your characters will be affected by those events.

Another, important thing would be to observe people, at your workplace, college, in the bus or at the market, anywhere. It’s well-known that J.K. Rowling used to write her books sitting at a restaurant. Observe people and their dialects, their movements, actions and reactions. It could give you some good ideas to work on.

Now start with a rough draft. Never for once imagine that your first draft would be the last one. Writing comes with a silent suffix called rewriting. So keep up with writing and improvising.

Writing and keeping up with it is not as easy as it sounds. What with so many other things going on in our lives. So it is advisable to set some timing for when you write and sit down with your computer or notepad and write during that time. Three or four times a week will be fine. Slowly you will form a routine and it will not be difficult.

At other times, continue with your reading. Read good books, old books, great books and not-so-great books. Go for walks when you get tired of writing and come back with a new idea.

Perhaps John Hersey, American writer and Journalist summed it up when he said, “To be a writer is to sit down at one's desk in the chill portion of every day, and to write; not waiting for the little jet of the blue flame of genius to start from the breastbone – just plain going at it, in pain and delight. To be a writer is to throw away a great deal, not to be satisfied, to type again, and then again, and once more, and over and over.”

To play or not to play

What does one say when the country’s only female Tennis superstar refuses to play at her home turf in order to skirt further controversies? And what if it gets her into just that – another controversy? Sania Mirza’s backing off from the Bangalore Open, one of the biggest Tennis events in India, has left her fans disappointed and grim.

Mirza, who is currently ranked 29th in the world and dubbed Asia’s No.1, said she was advised by her management to skip the US$600,000 tournament, the richest in India. “Everytime I play in India there is a problem. Considering all that, I thought it would be better not to play in Bangalore”, Mirza was quoted as saying earlier this month.

The event, which is scheduled for 3rd March, will see world-famous players like Venus Williams and her sister Serena Williams participating. Later, however, she made her point clear by claiming that Bangalore Open is an individual event and it is not like she has refused to represent the country in Olympics.

Saurabh Menani, a tennis lover and Mirza fan says, “I think she should not have said no to this tournament. Now that she is not playing, whom do we root for? It’s like Sachin saying no to Wankhade. Instead of saying no to the tennis event, she should have made her views public in some other manner.”

But there are many who support Sania in her decision. “If, as a nation, we can’t tolerate minor things and keep pestering her with fatwas and lawsuits, then how can we expect her, a twenty one year old girl, to put up with everything and not let her game get affected? Everytime she plays in India, she is surrounded with controversies, which affects her game. She has all the right to play or refuse to participate,” opines Sukrit Singh, a sports enthusiast.

However, Atul Wassan, former Indian cricketer and cricket commentator, thinks that though “it is slightly immature of her to opt out of the whole tournament, but it is understandable taking into account her age. Sport stars like her have to ignore such things and concentrate on the game. This is the price one pays for being a celebrity. I hope her advisors don’t misguide her in any way.” About the media and bigots scrutinising her every move, Wassan adds, “The media will scrutinise her anyway. There are some factions in the society, which are less tolerant towards her. But again, she has to ignore them.”

Sania has had a long haul with controversies surrounding her right from the beginning of her career. Earlier, Muslim bigots besieged her for wearing short skirts and sleeveless tops while playing. Her remarks, comments and dressing sense have also been making news along with her sports achievements. In yet another controversy, a lawsuit for shooting at the Mecca Masjid Mosque for a commercial advertisement has already been filed against her and the ad agency she was working for.

For Box:

• Targeted for wearing short skirts and sleeveless tops while playing.
• Her partnership with Israeli player Shahar Peer kicked off a controversy, as Muslims do not recognise the state of Israel.
• Made to retract her statement on pre-marital sex.
• Legal notice sent to her for illegally trespassing Mecca Masjid mosque in Hyderabad for which she later apologised.
• Accused of abusing the flag in Australia, in an allegedly misleading photograph.

Till now she braved it all and kept up her spirits but how long can a 21-year-old endure constant criticism and near-insane judgments being passed on her? “It does take its toll because it's not easy to deal with that kind of pressure,” Mirza said in an interview. “It's not normal for any youngster to block such pressure all the time and keep performing.”
Perhaps the accusation against her of abusing the Indian flag in Australia, in a photograph (whose credentials are still under doubt), served as the last straw. It is reported that she was so upset after the flag ruckus that she even contemplated giving up playing tennis altogether.

To many though, it seems that Sania would not have played anyway because of her fitness. But because she blamed the controversies surrounding her as the reason for not playing, all these debates sparked up. Amidst all this speculation whether she will play in India in the coming tournaments, there is one thing for sure, Sania has been hurt time and again. It would do her criticisers good to judge her by her sporting abilities than crying foul over trivialities.

an article i just wrote..got published in asianage

Union Health Minister Ambumani Ramadoss’s recent appeal to stars like Shah Rukh Khan and Amitabh Bachchan to keep away from smoking onscreen or publicly, as it encourages youngsters to smoke, generated quite a stir recently.

In a quick rejoinder to the health minister, Shah Rukh Khan said that, “I am grateful to Dr Ramadoss for being concerned about our health, but at the same time I must mention that whenever I am seen on television, I always underline that smoking is injurious to health." The actor maintained that he was "trying to quit smoking in real life too".

But the issue was not over yet. Adding to his reply, Shah Rukh said, “I think there is a huge amount of creative freedom that should be allowed in cinema and arts, and one should not go around picking on little things - because that's just cinema, it's make- belief and we should not have huge censorship on that.” The tussle between the health minister and celebrities smoking onscreen and in public has been going on for quite a while now.

Apparently, in India 40 per cent of all health problems occur because of tobacco. Despite the fact that tobacco kills over 2,200 people every day in India, over 5,500 youngsters initiate tobacco consumption every day. The age group from 10 to 25 definitely falls in the vulnerable age group. Half of these youngsters will eventually die because of tobacco consumption. According to the health minister, 52 per cent of children have their first puff of a cigarette because of movie celebrities.

All this brouhaha over onscreen smoking, but what does the law say? Although there is no provision in law that bans celebrities from smoking, there are, however laws that ban smoking in public. Says Nandita Rao, a lawyer, “The truth of the matter is that there is no legally defined term called a ‘celebrity’. One man’s celebrity can be other man’s villain. Celebrities are also human and their personal lives should not be encroached upon.”

Hemant Goswami, the chairman of a Chandigarh based NGO, Burning Brain Society, contends that most of the propaganda which relates “smoking” with the issue of “artistic expression” is a creation of tobacco industry for commercial interests. There are hundreds of tobacco industry documents, to prove this contention.

Even though violence and sex form part of the Navrasa, (the nine flavours of acting) tobacco use has no role in acting or depiction of emotion. “Tobacco is purely a commercial product which is highly addictive in nature. No acting manual in the world prescribes tobacco as a tool for acting or film making,” he says.

As far as freedom of speech and expression are concerned, the opinion is divided. While people like lawyer Nandita Rao believe that no such ethical code of conduct should be implemented and “it is the responsibility of the parents to see to it that their children do not get addicted to these vices”, there is also a strong lobby which believes that freedom of speech is not an absolute right giving one a right to spread adverse practices. Freedom of speech and expression is governed by many other concerns and the welfare of public is at the heart of it.

Movies such as Swadesh, Bunty Aur Babli, Yuva, Musafir and Lucky were seen projecting smoking as stylish and cool. Hemant Goswami emphasises that, “Movies not only project tobacco as something glamorous and fashionable but also promote the myths that it reduces stress, makes one brave and helps look good and trendy. All these projections invariably promote tobacco, specially among the youngsters.”

Another argument that often crops up is that if tobacco has to be banned in movies, then why not put an embargo over murder, rape and drug abuse as well?

But there is a major difference between the two. Children do not see their parents, friends and teachers killing someone, while they do relate smoking with their parents, peers, neighbours, teachers and thus, are more susceptible to the ill-effects of smoking.

Although the health ministry’s plans to put pictorial warnings and photographs of oral cancer patients and babies affected by passive smoking on all tobacco products are yet to see the light of the day, what can be done, however, is to ensure that the horrific numbers depicting the increasing tobacco addictions do not escalate further, and celebrities take up the mantle and do their bit for the society.

Journalism was what i always wanted to do.. infact took admission in a Journalism Institute here in delhi, after Schooling. But it turned out to be a dud because they taught everything but journalism. Now that i am in my final semester and about to go for a PG course.. i am again getting jittery seeing so many courses .. my interest in so many of those, and stringent selection procedure. And more than anything, i wish someone could guide me.. about the good, better and best choices that i can make. Going abroad for further studies is another option i am contemplating.. but frankly, it is such a big dream that it needs time to sink in. More so, because it costs a lot and i still am not sure what exactly to do.. there are so many courses.. gosh..and day by day the deadlines are approaching. No one from my family or friends have any idea about studies abroad.. so well, no help from that sphere either.
And when i tell people about this.. some either look at me as if i am demeaning Indian Universities and others can't offer any help.
What do i do?

Sad, but don't know why

This post does not have anything for anyone. Just thought of rounding up stray thoughts and put them in place..
1. Lookout for Universities abroad.. International Politics, Creative Writing, Political Science, Journalism.
2. Get some work experience here
3. Get real.
4. Prepare for entrances.
5. etcetra

Gujarat Riots: an old post

I was moved by what I saw. So many faces, so many stories, so much agony , pain, insult, anger, revenge, senseless barbarism.. no reason no rhyme. Pure hysteria grips people in the name of religion.. Sitting afar we cannot even imagine what is it being a liberal while being a victim. Pain makes one forget one’s beliefs, revenge overpowers all other feelings…the revenge is taken.. not again the actual perpetrator but against similar victims of similar crimes with similar stories as their own. I watched a movie about Gujarat Riots, it is called the Final Solution.

One has no control over one’s birth I was born a hindu, I could as well be a muslim. Being a hindu has not changed my identity, my thinking, my stand in society.. being a muslim wouldn't have done that either. I would sure have hated all these torch bearers of the safforon brigade.. who are so wrong yet so strong had I been a muslim, but I do so even now. The chilling concoction of religion and politics has worked well for them. Inciting violence, garnering support by abusing Pakistan, an easy target, has been easy as well as effective. Modi and his ilk are trying to make sure, Hindus and Muslims never live in harmony. Either they are so clever, that all this is being masterminded by their foolish brains, or they are so insecure that they have to safeguard their religion as if it were an entity, not a sentiment.

It is hard to imagine the plight of a person, whose family has been wiped off the face of this earth because of someone else’s beliefs. These women, children had no political role to play. They would have never understood the meaning of politics, they would have had nothing to do with anyone, except a wish to live peacefully with their families.. the families which were taken away from them, burnt alive in front of their own eyes, their daughters being raped, their sons being lynched.

They saw it all. And I salute them..because they are still waiting for justice. They still believe there will be justice. These are true Indians, not those with a saffron bandana on the forehead, shouting insane slogans, trying to built a Hindu nation. These Muslims had a choice to either stay in India or go back to Pakistan. They stayed back.. showing allegiance to India. And what did we do? Flaking Pakistan has become fashionable.