The Story till now :-Rishav and Shree - Part 3

As the day dawned, Sheeru began to get ready for the “meeting” as she liked to call it in her head; afraid to call it a date, for the fear of disappointment. Rishav, on the other hand was battling jet lag. His soft plush bed at the hotel was calling to him. An urge difficult to resist after the arduous journey, but one that he had to. Sheeru had chosen the café. A quiet place in the plush corner of the city, decorated with paintings by upcoming artists from across the city. A place that was just enough public, enough private.

Sheeru discarded 15 outfits before finally settling on the Rani pink saree. She knew that she looked great in sarees. This one, especially, was becoming to her very much, complementing her dusky complexion. He would like this very much. Rishav, stood in front of the full length mirror in the bath, holding a shirt in each hand. Blue or Brown; Brown or Blue. What would she like? He picked the blue one. She couldn’t get herself to eat even a bite before heading out. Her stomach was full of butterflies. She would throw up if she even thought of food right now. The only thing she could think of right now, was if Rishav would like her.  The drive was 30 minutes from where she lived. Thirty long onerous testy minutes in the city traffic. He was having a tough time keeping still. What if Shree wouldn’t like him? He wanted to push that possibility out of his head, but couldn’t think of anything else. He had to wait ten minutes for the cab to arrive, and thirty more to get to the café she’d picked. Had to be the most anxious forty minutes of his life. He had to remind himself to breathe.

As He got into the cab, he received a text. “I’m almost there.” Damn. His data had just run out. He couldn’t reply. He was now going to make her wait. Damn it! Way to go, first impression. She worried as the blue ticks appeared, but a reply didn’t follow. Was this guy going to stand her up after all they had spoken about? Perhaps not. She would wait some more to find out. She kept fidgeting with the end of her saree, glancing repeatedly at the entrance to the café. What if he showed up, and a look of disappointment flashed across his face? She didn’t know what she would do then. He spoke to Rashid the cab driver, to keep himself from tearing his nails out. He was more nervous today than he had been on his first job interview. He visualized happiness and unhappiness in alternation, reflect across her beautiful face. He couldn’t deal with the latter. Everything would be in vain.

She memorized the menu as she waited. She ordered a Latte for the want of something to do. As she looked up from the menu, He walked in, across the pebbled path, into the café; not taking his eyes off hers, locking her in his gaze. And that’s when Rishav and Shree knew. This was it. This was fated. This was something. This was great and more. This was other-worldly. This was Love.

As the moment dawned,

Dawn it did upon my being,

This was to be cherished. For safe-keeping,

Locked forever, key lost to the world.

The fleeting thumping,

The soaring highs,

The laughter ringing in my eyes.

Laugh I did, in yester-years,

Falling in love? In a moment?

Hah! A thing for the movies,

And myriad dramas, only for novels.

Today withal, I saw the light.

Love knew no reasons,

Love knew no checklists,

Love knew no boundaries,

Love knew no symmetry.

Love is to love, just to love.

And fall, I did as hard as they fell.

The Story till now - Shree :- Part 2

SHREE

I don’t get even a wink of sleep before the night of the travel. I lie awake with all sorts of morbid thoughts running through my mind about how awfully wrong my journey could go. This not only goes on when I travel, but also when my loved ones do. This was one of those nights. I couldn’t stop thinking of all the different ways in which we wouldn’t meet each other’s expectations. Perhaps it would be hate at first sight. I had been obsessing over this ever since he had confirmed his trip to seal the deal.  My mind kept racing back to the first time my father had shared his profile with me.

“I’m sick of all these NRI engineers Papa! They’re all the same. Not an ounce of grey matter and boring as hell.”

“Come now Sheeru. Just speak to him once. If you don’t like how he sounds, we’ll politely decline their alliance. Ek try toh banta hai beta.”

And that is how it all began. I reasoned that I had nothing to lose by speaking to the guy once. What could one harmless conversation do? I found out the very next day; I was floored the first time I spoke to him. There was something the way he spoke. It seemed so easy to let go and say whatever was really on my mind. If you knew me, you’d understand how difficult it was for me to open up to new people. I mostly feel like I am speaking in a language different from the one that people around me understand. It felt great to have someone who finally got me! Somehow, he didn’t feel new. He felt vaguely familiar, and I took to him quite easily. I sometimes felt like he could even read my mind. I connected to him at a level that I hadn’t with anyone else before. It felt perfect, may be too perfect.

However, I had a very ominous feeling about this whole affair. It seemed too good to last. I was hoping against hope over here, for this to pan out. The last couple of years were easily my toughest ones. I had tasted failure with everything that I had touched. I wasn’t unhappy with my life, don’t misunderstand me. I was every grateful for everything that had been bestowed upon me; I just felt like I wasn’t ever enough for it all. And somehow, this incredibly familiar stranger had made me feel enough and more. He brought out emotions in me that I had kept locked up for years now. The ease that I felt around him had made me even confess my deepest darkest desires to him. He made me happier than I had ever been, and this was even before I’d laid my eyes upon him.

“Don’t worry Sheeru. It’ll all go well beta. Just have faith.”

“I know Papa. It’s just that everything seems so perfect. I feel like this is it. This either makes it or breaks it. I cannot even picture the emotional consequences for me if this doesn’t work out. And that scares me.”

“Sheeru. Calm down. Don’t think that just because the past has been tough on you, things will continue to be that way. Things, situations and times are constantly changing. Every day is not going to be a bad one for you. Trust your gut beta. Trust your heart. They will never lie to you about how you feel about someone. Take my advice: stop fretting about the decision, just look forward to enjoying the time you have with him. Some people come into our lives to stay, others just come in to bring us happiness, and leave. Don’t worry about which one of the two he is. Just go with the flow, and trust me your heart with take the decision for you.”

I jolted back to the now, as the hot water turned tepid. The day to take the call was here. Today would be our first date. Would it be the first of many? Would our online chemistry take fire in reality? I’d soon find out.

The Story till now - Rishav:- Part 1

RISHAV

I have severe travel anxiety. I absolutely hate flights. I am someone who hates the journey in an elevator from the ground floor to the first floor, a flight journey was so much more than what I could endure. Imagine being shut in an aluminum tin for 26 long hours; the noise, the turbulence, the bad food, lack of sleep- all deterrents. Not to mention my hatred of airports; loud noisy places, too crowded for my taste. I couldn’t wait for this arduous journey to come to an end. A small voice in my head kept asking me if all this was worth it.

“She is perfect Rishav. I can’t see one thing in her that should make you think twice. You’re the one who told us that she’s one of the few people who gets you. Trust me on this. She’s the One.”

This argument, accompanied by an anxious stare from my mother, made me plan the trip to go meet her and take a decision once and for all. There could be no more dilly-dallying. I had been speaking to her almost every day for the last 2 months.

Talking to her was immensely difficult, and exceedingly easy . I constantly felt like there was an impregnable wall around her, as if I was not getting through to what she really was. Every conversation with her was the same. It wasn’t that she wasn’t intelligent, interesting or articulate. She got me like no one else had in the past. She had a great sense of humor, and the ability to turn even the most boring conversations into fun. However, the wall around her bothered me. She seemed too cautious, why? I had no clue. I felt connected nevertheless. There was just something about her. The mystery was too alluring to pass up.

As much as I hoped, against hope that this was it; this was the girl I was going to marry, my past kept holding me back. The pain was too much to bear. The pain of expecting and then being let down. The pain of loving with all your heart, only for It to be torn to shreds. The pain of giving everything you had and more, only to receive nothing in return. The pain of watching the one you would die for, not even flinch as you bled out. This was what I had been through. It had been a rough couple of years for me. I had been beaten, bruised and battered, so much that I felt mostly empty. A shadow of the person I used to be. This was a time when I was beginning to worry if love and companionship were for me. A commitment such as marriage seemed almost alien.

“Rishav, The past should stay where it belongs. Don’t let it ruin whatever life has in store for you.  It has been three long years since then. It is time to move on. We fall in love many many times in life. Some of which is workable, sometimes not. When we do, and the other person also does, and when it is workable, that is a long term association. That is called marriage. You need to give yourself and life a chance.”

“I am aware.”

“Your actions however, don’t suggest so. You have turned down every proposal in the past one year, without even bothering to speak to any of the girls properly. This cannot go on forever. Life is about trying and failing, and then trying again till you succeed. What are you punishing yourself for? Everything that happens to you is not always in your control. You need to let life take you places at times.”

“I cannot be like a dead fish in a stream, Dad. You know that.”

“I am not asking you to be a dead fish in a stream. I am just asking you to swim with the current at the moment, instead of trying so hard to swim against it. We want you to be happy Rishav, and this is clearly not making any of us happy, and we know it. Let us not kid ourselves. You are miserable, and seeing you like this makes us miserable. Just sitting here and mourning the loss of something long gone, is not going to help you. You need to pick yourself up and do something about it. Things don’t mend themselves, you need to put in the effort to make it happen too.”

“I know. But, I am not afraid to make things work. Perhaps, I am tired of trying; of staying strong.”

I got jolted back to the now, as the flight thudded onto the runway. I gathered my thoughts and grabbed my bag. The D-day was here. I would know for sure by the end of today.

The Sop

So, all of last week, like every other Gult-Bram (Telugu Brahmin), I was on my yearly temple hopping trip with my family. This is one of the two trips of the year we embark on together as a family. Though I am not an overtly religious person, I do believe in a Higher power, and the relish the beauty and architecture of the temples. I enjoy the positive energy vibes that I get from the place. I also feel like I am accumulating a little bit of punya this way!

When we usually visit one particular temple in South India, we usually choose to ascend the temple perched upon the hill, by foot, using the staircase built for this purpose. The journey uphill usually takes between an hour and two. It's quite an arduous task, as the steps are quite old and high. On most days they're also slippery with all the haldi and kumkum pastes that people who wish to fulfill mannats dab upon the face of each step.  We started early, by about five in the morning, fearing rains afterwards. By the time we were finished with the darshan, and were going down the stairs it was about seven in the morning.

As I was descending the stairs, I noticed an old lady. She would've been about my grandmother's age. Her long silver white hair was tied into a fierce knot upon her head. She was dressed in a crimson saree, and resting upon the step, midway to the top of the hill. She looked haggard, and as if she was in some sort of a trance. Her eyes focused upon the destination ahead. A boy, sitting next to her, was pouring water from a bottle into her mouth,and dabbing at the beads of sweat upon her forehead with a paper towel. 

I had seen these kind of scenes many times before. People would get exhausted on their way uphill, and stop to rest somewhere in the middle. However, this time around, there was something fierce about this lady. The determination in her eyes was somehow different. It kept me rooted to my spot. I felt like watching her some more. As I watched, I realized why this lady had drawn my attention. The steely gaze, now made sense. She was ascending the steps on all fours. She was actually crawling up them on her knees and wrists. I had goosebumps prickle upon my skin. I had not seen something like this before. I watched her for a bit more, and quickly withdrew my gaze. 

This was stirring something inside me. Some unknown mixture of horror and awe. So many questions raced through my mind. Why? Why would someone do something like that? 

As I finished the descent, I joined my family in the car. Once inside, I relayed this entire event to my mother, and asked the same question. My mother told me, that every year, lots of people made the journey uphill in this fashion. This was one kind of a mannat; reserved only for some of the toughest people, who had gone through even tougher situations in life. People would make such mannats as sops to the Lord, their savior, in return for prevailing over an impossible life or death choice or situation in their lives. My eyes teared up for the old lady, as I comprehended all this. I let out a small prayer to the Lord, to ease her journey. I also let out another prayer in gratitude, for this life that I'd been gifted.

Letting go and Finding oneself

(Source:http://upliftconnect.com/letting-go-of-attachment/)

As I lay awake one night, tossing and turning in bed as I often do when I am unable to fall asleep; a thought struck me. Was letting go such a bad thing? What if as I let go of a person or a relationship, and in the same moment, get a glimpse of myself, an epiphany? Would that be a win or loss ?

The answer I came up with, was a surprising one.

Firstly, What is the need to let go of something or someone in life ?

In order to answer this question, I'd like to think of people as energies. Some people enter life like a breath of fresh air, and stay on without becoming stale, while others end up becoming stale and suffocate. While others, enter it with rain, gale, hail et al, and take it by storm, teach me the lesson I am to learn, and leave as suddenly as they came. To put it plainly, some people bring about a lot of positive energy with every interaction. Time spent with them makes me feel good, and helps me grow, while others sap me of energy. Without any disrespect to any person living or dead, I'd say that there are many people who drain me of all energy. Time spent with such people makes me miserable, and I find myself dreading every encounter with them, absolutely toxic.This is when I know that it is time to let go.

Letting go is a painful process. Trust me. It pains me a lot to let go of people; some of whom I loved (or love) dearly. I feel like someone's wringing my heart with all their might, with the intent to pulverise. But, I realised the hard way, that letting go is a process one must indulge in.It's not a place I'd go to willingly, but it is one that I must visit periodically. And as cold and heartless as it might sound, once a person stops aiding the path to growth in life, they must be let go. True, that it is not kind to hurt another person in that way, but there is no greater sin than self harm. Self preservation is of prime importance over here.

So, it is safe to say that letting go of toxic people and things in life is a win.

Secondly, What is knowledge of self ?

In my opinion, the knowledge of self is the most coveted knowledge of all. Knowing oneself propels a person onto a path of grown that is of incredible clarity. It maximises the person's purpose in life, as well as an instrument to serve society. As much as I'd like to believe that most of my actions are emotionally driven, it is true that there exists a rational root behind every emotion. Identifying this rational thought behind emotions and subsequent action, helps to understand oneself better. Once a person knows themselves well, the path forward becomes exceedingly clear. Acceptance of oneself, and identifying the shortfalls, helps a person know where they need to correct themselves.

I believe that knowledge of the past prepares us for what the future has to bring. Thus it is imperative to introspect upon the happenings of the past, and keep the lessons learnt close to the heart. There is no formula as such to win in life. However, the lessons of the past coupled with the knowledge of self, help dispel at least a fraction of the uncertainly of how to take life by the horns.

Thus, knowledge of self, even a glimpse of it, is a win.

Lastly, What if the letting go of someone, leads to a glimpse of oneself?

Once I let go of people who hold me back in life, I feel like the roller coaster of emotions that take hold of me, spin me into a spiral of thinking and introspection. I get to understand what I crave for in life. I feel like a small part of the path I am to take in life, has been uncovered. I understand clearly, what it is that I want ( or atleast don't want), both from myself and the people around me. This once again puts me onto the path of self discovery. A win once again.

So to conclude, letting go is painful, but it is something that needs to be done nevertheless; if it comes with a glimpse of self discovery, it's worth it. So a win, through and through.

Just like Waves

Like every other poet-ess of my time, I believe that the best expression of my thoughts is through my poetry. So, here is one to talk about my state of mind at the moment.

Just as waves do,

They surge, they ebb.

High and mighty,

Ascending to dizzying heights,

Low, and down below,

Drowning to the sinking abyss.

Such is the journey,

Called Life.

Just like the sand.

A clean slate,

Waiting for the imprints,

Of the myriard laughs you bring.

As your feet dig in,

A memory is sown.

Such is the journey,

Called Life.

Just like the shells,

Scattered about.

Some oyster like,

Holding pearls of happiness within.

Priceless.

Others hollow and empty,

Worthless.

Ensuing one misery,

After the other.

Such is the journey

Called Life.

Just like the Sun,

Sinking for the day into

The black depths of the ocean.

Ascertaining, the value of every ray.

Soon to be extinguished.

With the promise of a come back,

Once again,

Again and again.

Such is the journey,

Called Life.

A Friend in Need

 I had just showered. As I dried my damp hair, I walked into my closet. I ran my hand over the various ensembles I could put together. I studied my reflection in the mirror as I had done every morning.  An off white blouse, with a dark grey skirt, or perhaps a mustard yellow blouse with a navy blue skirt- one of them would surely do the trick, for the client presentation today. My clients were all I lived for after I’d started working as an Analyst for a financial firm. Don’t get me wrong. I loved my job. It kept me on my toes, and still excited me after four years. The downside was my dwindling social life. I hardly had the time to keep in touch with my old friends, let alone, make new ones.

 The mustard yellow blouse appealed to me today. After a quick breakfast, I examined my final look in the mirror. I hurried down the stairs; I was running late, again.  As I approached my car in the parking space across the road, I noticed that something was not quite right. I could see flies hovering around on the inside of the car. That was not possible; Unless, the window of the car was broken! Indeed, the passenger’s the side window was broken. Powdered glass debris lay scattered all over the seat. I moved cautiously towards the driver’s side of vehicle in a state of shock, prepared for the worst. That’s when I saw the worst of it: the dashboard had been vandalized! The custom made stereo system, along with the speakers had been pulled out- wires et al.

 I was dazed. I had only heard of car theft. I had no idea what was supposed to be done when confronted with something like this. I could feel the tears flowing down my cheeks, and the sobs escaping my mouth in between gulps of air. I felt defeated, alone.That’s when my neighbor, for the better part of the last one month approached me. I remember him handing me a bottle of water to drink, as he patted my back, uttering reassurances of “there, there”.  He then proceeded to take a look at my car, taking in the damage.

 “Is your car insured?” he asked me, “Oh yes! It is.” I answered, suddenly realizing that I could put in a claim for more than half of this damage. I heaved a sigh of relief. The situation was redeemable! He then proceeded to ask me whether I had reported the theft to the police, and then explained the procedure with the insurance company. He even offered to drive me to the police station and the insurance company office in his vehicle. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you wrap this up. I know a couple of people down at the station”, he said.

 I felt blessed to have him beside me on that day. He was true to his word. He not only drove me to the station and insurance company, but also took care of all the other paper work, just taking my signatures on the dotted lines. We even grabbed a pizza along the way; he had turned this adversity into a picnic! He was an angel in disguise for me that day. He spent an entire day helping someone he hardly knew; to ease their distress. He made me believe that humanity wasn’t dead, that all the world needed to become a better place was more people like him.

 “Hey! I completely forgot to ask you. What’s your name?” I asked him as we just pulled up into his parking spot. “I’m Krish”, he said extending his hand to shake. “I’m Siya”, I said drawing him into a hug. I’d made a new friend.  

The Birthday

Tomorrow would be a very special day for me. A day that came just once every year; my birthday. I would finally turn ten years old. I would be a big girl! I could almost taste the excitement on my tongue. I would wake up to the sound of the puja bell as usual. Alka didi would bring me the set of colourful new clothes that I had picked last week. Kaka would get ladoos for all of us. Best of all, I would go to the mandir to pray, and meet my grandmother for some time. She was the only one who had wanted to know that I was well.

Alka didi had taken me and Munni to the bazaar so that we both could pick the colours in which we wanted our birthday kameezes. This was a very special outing for us. New clothes were a privilege, bestowed upon us only once a year.

I had relished this special outing for as long as I could remember. Alka didi would walk us out onto the main road, where she would hail a three-wheeled rickshaw. We would scramble onto the rickshaw, and breathe in the sights, smells and sounds of the city around us. The ice lollies from the carts came in so many vivid shades, they had to be very tasty. The corn on the cob, roasted golden made my mouth water. The deep fried potato curry stuffed samosas yanked at my growling stomach, and the puffed rice masalas, took my yearning to a different level.

However, Munni and I had long learned that, these were just like our new clothes: privileges. We had learnt not to clamour for them.  We were taught to be grateful to our Didis. We were taught that we were lucky to even be alive, and well. Nobody had wanted us. Our parents had either thrown us into dumpsters, or left us at the doorstep of the House. Since then, the Didis had taken care of all our needs. We had enough to eat, we were educated at the school, and were taught skills to help us survive in the world outside. There were forty-five of us altogether in this house. Unlike most people who celebrated their birthdays on the days that they were born on; we celebrated our birthdays on the days when we were found by the Didis.

 This day, this year, was indeed very special. It was the day I was wanted by someone. My grandmother finally came for me, and took me back home.

Even today, 20 years later, when I think back to that special day, I grow misty eyed. I was one of the lucky ones to have been found by the didis, who had been adopting and supporting orphan girls, in the city. Those first ten years of my life could have gone horribly wrong if it were not for them.

Glad to see ya again!

So, it's been (quite) a while since I've put anything up on this blog. I have many excuses (busy at work, busy with life, was studying); all of which shouldn't have stopped me from writing over here. However, throwing all those excuses into a bin, I am back here writing once again! Glad to see ya again :)

Here's a poem I wrote recently:

The Gift.

Sorted. Wrapped up.

Tied with a bow.

All clear. Set to go.

Such was the gift,

Served up in gold.

Watered, nurtured.

Pampered and praised.                                                     

Abundant glory, joy galore!

Why then do

I face this day?

Burnt, blistered and charred away.

Eyes gouged out,

Tasting ashes upon my tongue,

mind bruised, body battered.

Heart in pieces, stripped to the bone.

Tears bountiful, crawling with sorrow,

Lay afire in shreds.

The agony, the woe.

The pangs and throes.

Peals of laughter, echo.

Real or feigned?

Fact or Mirage?

Insanity beckons.

Just then, It calls.

Deliverance. A voice,

So sanguine, I cry!

I rise, where I lay.

Bit by bit, limb by limb.

No fib this is, I catch on.

Light floods my being,

Carrying me away.

Phoenix like, I Rise.

Dusting off the ashes, born anew.

Staring into the,

The rising Sun.

Rigged to take life,

By the horns.