Its easy to walk away

Its easy to bring a tear to an eye that loved...
Its easy to walk away from a shattered heart…
A falling tear does not cry out, neither does a bleeding heart

baby

Some decisions are so harsh….love for a baby is so pure and so intense that the prospect of separation punches a big hole in the heart. If the separation is for the good of the child, you have no option but to bear it. But it seriously hurts. When you bring up a child, seeing her make sense of some more of the world every day, it kills you to let her go….does this happen to everyone? don't know….

No phone!!!!

I lost my phone, or so I thought. I had just forgotten to take it out of the car when i came to office. But unlike before, i did not get anxiety pangs when i found out I did not have the phone. I did look around for it, but it was more because it seemed appropriate. Otherwise, i felt lighter. Having this mode of communication cut off was so relaxing.
Dry runs have started and life is a pressure cooker. My brain is trying to keep pace with the roller coaster life i have now. But it sometimes leaves me worn out, mentally. After two days of intense anxiety (for stuff that wouldn't have made me raise an eyebrow sometime ago), screaming at people and getting screamed at, I am now feeling stupid. Why do we become pawns so easily? Why do we take on so much nonsense and trouble ourselves with things that don't matter? This is not an excuse to not work, no one can live without work but why cant we work constructively. This is a creative medium, why make it a destructive one. I have one life, one mind and one heart. I am not about to waste these in meaningless issues. Its important to be centered in the middle of chaos. That's what I will try to be.

The price; My life

Truth comes with a price and sometimes the price can be too dear. That is what i realized when I stuck to my own truth, knowing fully well that every syllable i uttered would unravel the carefully knitted fabric of my life. Then again, i wondered how loose the knitting was for it to unravel so easily.
With every word, the light faded out of my life, throwing me in a frightening darkness. But that darkness asks me to kindle the light of my spirit.
I see no one around me right now, I am alone with the truth i defended valiantly. So I will learn to stand alone.
There is more to loving than winning and losing. Loving truly is an end in itself. Caring about the result of love is belittling it, making it a business deal. Love can wound you but those wounds are what set you apart from the multitudes who've never really lived, never really stood up for someone or something. The cross is heavy to bear, but it does strengthen your shoulders….

Can u help being unconditional?

Much to my chagrin, I learnt to be unconditional at a rather late age. It looked insane to people, well wishers for the most, who were worried about where this would lead. Nowhere, was my confident answer. An answer I did not mind in the least. But to those who heard it, it sounded pretty fatalistic. Well, what can one do? The raised eyebrows and wounded looks were usually followed by an exhaustive list of reasons meant to stop me from being unconditional. As if that is a choice I have. Have people really forgotten about the basics of the heart? There are no reasons. The heart has its own skewed logic which it follows with a fierce tenacity.

mad mad mad life

Read these words of Kahlil Gibran today...
We guys can be such egoists at times, thinking everything is under our control...
We look at events from our limited perspective and think we can explain whatever happens...
But life can shatter that ego in one second...
Not everything has an explanation..
not everything is logical....
sometimes, you just have to watch yourself in this mad drama they call life
sometimes, explanations are not forthcoming...
maybe things will make sense one day...
till then, just have to yield, go with the flow...

Gibran

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep,
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,
that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart,
and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say,
'God is in my heart,' but rather,
'I am in the heart of God.'
And think not you can direct the course of love,
for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night,
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.


Kahlil Gibran
1923

A wounded puppy

Someone fell for a friend recently and as soon as he realized this, a host of issues cropped up.
He claimed he was in love, while i watched, bewildered, amused…
Is that love? I thought you don't harbor any expectations in love, none whatsoever…
How can you feel resentful? What can the other person possibly give you that would match up to the devotion that you have?
Nothing actually…so you just celebrate the feeling and get distressed only when something goes wrong with the one you care for.
Love is heady, beautiful…it makes you selfless, giving, caring…
Love is not a means, its an end in itself…Its a sign that you, as a human being, have attained a higher level of evolution…
I could not explain any of this to the heartbroken romeo, because even this is so inadequate. You cant explain love…
You just feel it, silently…and gracefully accept whatever this greatest of teachers has to teach.

The newsroom

Drawn faces, slightly accusatory glances and barely suppressed anger…this is what the newsroom has to offer these days…
When work becomes punishment frustration sets in. When i came here, after years in print, i was thrilled about acquiring new skills. I was clueless at first, going out in the field all day and coming back vague about the story or the footage.
While i am far from being professional, the joy of learning something new is still intact.
How can you work like corporates in a creative field? They say all TV newsrooms are war zones, TV people are typically rude….
But i guess more than 50 per cent of the newsroom tension stems from the simple fact that they think they need to be tense to be efficient. If you look happy while working, you cannot be working at all. And then, if you are not tense, you try to look tense to fit in. A professional needs to have a permanent frown pasted on the forehead. What trash!
People are at their productive best when they love what they are doing. This is a simple lesson forgotten by so called professionals. If you have fun, you churn out a masterpiece…I don't deny pressure. But pressure can be lots of fun too! Here there are a whole lot of youngsters getting prematurely aged. What a pity…

Being a parent

A bad mood and a teary spell strengthened the bond between me and my two and a half year old. She toddled up to me, put her tiny arms around me and said, "kya hua?" Then she walked up to her father and asked, "mere bacche ko kya hua?"
I was weepy, but something blossomed in my heart. I know for sure that I can never be alone as long as I have my daughter. I don't know what it would have felt like with a son, but a daughter makes you feel special almost as soon as she figures the world out. Mommy is mommy, even if she is called an irreverent but loving "mishu." One hour after this incident, I read about the honor killings in Delhi. I am no stranger to the darker side of our strange society but God help me understand the psychology of parents who have it in them to actually hurt their kids, no matter what the provocation. Honour seems to be closely related to religion and caste. Hinduism is all symbolism. We have characters who set an example in the way relationships are to be managed. Krishna, Vishnu's most powerful avatar, bows to the mother in the form of Yashoda completely. Hw can people who have worshipped this relationship be foolish enough to believe that the rules of man are bigger than the rules of God? Anyway, forget divinity and its symbols. How about simply being human? Children will never tow their parents' line blindly, unless they are mentally retarded. Its up to the parent to simply express his opinion, list the pros and cons of the child's decision and then be there, unconditionally, when the child needs a shoulder. Being a parent is the height of being human. As far as giving birth is concerned, all animals can do that. You just need to have sex. But parenthood takes a lifetime to perfect. Its the purest form of worship. I thank God for my baby. She is a miracle i witness everyday. Her large eyes, so much like deep pools, her perfectly formed mouth, her soft curls, her peaches and cream skin, her dimples, her honeyed voice and most of all, her instinctively nurturing demeanor make life so rewarding. I don't know what i did to deserve her. But here she is. She'll be a lovely woman one day and I will watch with a smile as she soars high…

The passing away

It had been forming for a long time. Part to part, breathing inside me day in and day out, waiting to come out in the world.
I nurtured it inside me long before my body told me i am a woman.
Even then, I knew something was kicking inside me, yearning for the light of day,
As time drew nearer, it grew stronger, eagerly looking for a way out.
I longed to see what i had nourished inside myself for so long
The time came, it peeked out, opened its eyes and held my finger,
I was just about to pick it up when the eyes closed, the finger slackened,
No one came to know and I just let it's lifeless form float into oblivion,
I shed a few tears, constricting my throat tight so no sound escaped,
around me, the world went on,
That's how it is with a dream,
It dies a silent death,
No one mourns its passing away, except the mind which was its womb for years,
Life goes on but the part of the mind, its womb, feels betrayed…

To save a sacrificial goat

Life has a way of making you learn and then testing you on whatever you have learnt. The tests keep getting tougher. I had my baby in 2007. I also found a "maid" the same year. A fiery teenager with loads of attitude. When i looked at her for the first time, i felt nothing other than the usual expectations and apprehensions of a new employer. Thereafter, life became a roller coaster for me, at the end of which i found myself in Chandigarh, alone with my baby and Poonam. Anyone who knew me for at least a month at the time would gawk at the very idea of me being left alone with a kid. I don't know how to drive and public transport in Chandigarh is a rare commodity. This made me all but a vegetable here.
But we managed, Poonam and I. I put food on the table while Poonam, with her abrasive street smartness, took on many an unscrupulous shopkeeper or auto driver trying to fleece me. Somehow, she could not be indifferent towards me. It was never the relationship of employer and employee for her. In fact, she never asked for her salary, never had to, because we became family. We fought like wildcats, cried, made up and celebrated by going shopping or eating out. We also got movies to watch at night. I generally worked night shifts when i was with HT and used to come home at around one, one thirty. She would often wait up to watch a movie with me.
I made it clear that education is top priority. We made plans of school, getting her elementary education along with a vocational course. She wanted to be independent one day. Whenever she saw advertisements for jewelry, cars or gadgets, she would tell me she would buy me something like that one day.
There were pitfalls too. Poonam and I got so close she forgot how to behave like a maid and ended up rankling anyone who visited me. People would expect her behavior to be servile, while she was the spoilt but well meaning brat. There were many scenes. I faithfully defended her. Besides, i also knew where such brashness came from in her case. She was made to do hard labour in singularly inhospitable conditions at a very young age. She was 15 when she came to me. Before that, she worked at a stone quarry in Leh at barely 11 or 12. I shuddered when i pictured her hammering at boulders in a place where the thinness 0f the air makes walking a feat. She was beaten up till she fell unconscious for refusing to do hard labour under the blazing sun, she was accused of theft….et al. It left her bitter. Her family only called when they needed money. She knew that but missed them all the same. But her life with me more than made up for her parents' absence. She is a deep sleeper. You would have to fire a cannon next to her ear to wake her up. If i forgot my key while going to office, i would be stranded outside the door after my night shift, banging the door like a maniac.
But now Poonam can't sleep. Its been that way since she went home for a week recently and came back unusually silent. After much probing, she told me her parents want to marry her off to this guy who is physically challenged. That came as a crushing blow to this feisty girl. She has become an insomniac. Her spunk is now replaced with the look of an animal about to be slaughtered.
I don't know how to stop this, but i will certainly try. When i think of people like Poonam's parents, who constitute much of this country's underbelly, i feel all our progress is negated precisely because of their attitude. They keep having babies, each one a source of income and when it comes to daughters, they are made to earn all their life and are married off while still kids. I am a mother and i know how passionate i am about my daughter's future. I don't think "peer pressure" would force me to take a step inimical to her welfare.
I asked myself if my indignation stemmed from the fact that i would lose the person who takes care of my daughter while i am away. After lot of soul searching i can confidently say the answer is "no." My kid will be taken care of even if i am not there. The family network is strong. What hurts me is the pain this teenager is going through after she placed her trust in me. I want to do something. For Poonam first and then for others like her who are regularly made scapegoats by an insensitive, feudal social set up. I want the fire back in her eyes, whatever it takes...

for a selfless father

I just went through my brother's blog, my difficult elder brother who i want to kill and save at the same time. I don't know about blood ties, but there is a great bond in sharing the formative years of life with someone. To face the same forces, both inimical and beneficial. He recalled how dad defied a perpetual financial crunch to provide us with the very best in terms of education. We were made to attend the kind of events and interact with the kind of people many of my journalist colleagues don't dream of still. But thanks to dad, that was the world we knew. Ashish was the self assured one. The genius, the prodigy. Mom used to carry a big bag to the youth festival to collect his trophies. There was immense burden of expectation on my rebellious, mercurial brother. But at the nick of time, he defied everyone's expectations to follow his path.
Dad saw his son as an emerging doctor or at least an IAS officer. Knowing ashish (curiously called shalu), neither was difficult for him. I vividly remember how he announced at home that he did not want to be a doctor, a wink away from the entrance and dad tore his examination card in frustration. All hell broke lose. No one in my family is adept in self restraint. But ashish stuck to his guns and dad came round. He is a very respected teacher today and i can confidently say he has moulded quite a few minds. In a system where many teachers sleepwalk through class solely for the salary at the end of the month, ashish is part of a heartening change.
Come to dad. I wish, i pray that i have 10 per cent of the devotion he had to bring up my daughter the way he brought us up. He was no angel. (He had an extremely volatile temper we were all dead scared of). But with all his failings, he is a great father. Dad never saved money in the course of his long career with Punjab Agricultural University. Whatever he earned was spent in providing us with an unbelievable environment. I have visited many rich people over the past few years and i don't remember seeing their kids soaking up lenin at age 11. Our modest home was filled choc-a-block with books. Books overflowed from cupboards, racks, trunks, they were inside beds and on top of them…they were everywhere. i was in the habit of reading in the loo as well. (Was never the most sophisticated). Our outings were to conferences for scientists, anthropologists, politicians, what have you. And while we flourished in the environment dad painstakingly created for us, his bank balance dwindled. Our neighbors sent their kids to modest schools while we studied in the best Ludhiana had. They made houses, my dad took more loans…many from a private financier at exorbitant interest rates. Among the people who visited our house, there were many moneylenders seeking repayments.
Finally dad retired. Mom and dad are old today and they live far away, in kerala. Both of us are inexpressive about expressing affection. But there's not a single moment i don't think of them. They are permanent fixtures in my mind. My selfless, temperamental father and my frank, headstrong, loving mother. Today, i have a daughter and a blueprint of her journey to adulthood and independence. I am looking forward to grooming a woman of substance and then letting her loose, free to live her life. I want to see my daughter take her own decisions and accept the responsibility, i want to see her fly. It comes from my parents, i know and i am so grateful. Love you always.

Healing

I love emotions. Its the capacity to feel intense emotion that differentiates us from less evolved forms of life (Like unicellular beings). But recently, i noticed that emotions were getting the better of me. There was a phase of intense grief, then frustration, then anger….it went on. Till one day i noticed that my mind had become enslaved to negativity and eventually, i was the one getting hurt.
Emotions are essential to being human, but mastery on these is important. That's different from being calculative. I have started consciously tracking my thoughts, checking myself when I take a turn for the negative. There's still a long way to go. But at least i know the direction. Self control takes a lifetime of effort, but a small start can be made. In my case, i just want to do away with anger, fear and insecurity. I certainly don't think love needs self control. Serenity and optimism are great healers. Blind ambition, bitterness, jealousy and anger corrode you. They never let wounds become scars and then disappear altogether. With negativity, wounds fester, becoming gangrenous in the end.
I want to be an oasis. Someone who can touch herself and others with love. Dont know if i will get there. Its not a small desire. But if the journey is so uplifting, imagine what the goal would be like.

Silence

I love the first half an hour or so in the office when i come early and not many people are around. This is a time of meditative silence and i use it by trying to dive deep inside myself. This time is far from chaos and stupid issues. Listening to deep silence has the same effect as standing alone on a beach, feeling the strength of the ocean belittle every meaningless issue festering inside your mind. When you come face to face with a force so pure, you are purged. Sadly, I hunger for more such moments, when I can delve into the silence and feel my heart slow in tune with its rhythm. Life (and to some extent laziness), does not let me enjoy it as much as I'd like to. The push and pull of duties cannot be ignored. But I want to find a silent core in the midst of the confusion. I don't know what this feeling is called. There are many who would call me a nutcase for thinking on these lines. But still, i cherish that calm solitude.

men are really from mars

Thank God for girlfriends! No one else will understand you like a girlfriend would. When we were around 15 years of age, the word "opposite sex" came to have a thousand connotations and as many dreams. For me, it symbolized a knight in shining armor, as brave, as gallant and as romantic as my imagination would allow. It took more than two decades to realize the sexes cannot understand each other on the lines of our childhood dreams. (Some happy exceptions notwithstanding). So we have the man and the woman, who really are from different planets for all practical purposes, looking for the kind of complete acceptance that is just not possible to come by (not where they are looking). So as we finally go back to that warm circle of girlfriends (and boyfriends for the men), baring our hearts in the assurance that we will be understood, authors try to bridge the gap with books like "Men are from Mars, women are from Venus." Some titles are really intriguing, seeking to explain why women cry and why they cant read maps…Let them be na!
So there are couples who spend a lifetime trying to figure out what the other partner wants. Soon, one or both is frustrated and wants to opt out. Wouldn't it be much better if we just let each other be and satisfy the hunger for understanding with girlfriends? Get a life beyond the partner? It would certainly save a few marriages.

rain rain rain!!!!

Its raining!!!!!
The coffee and tea vending machine in the canteen conked out at the wrong time. Can we stay away from a steaming cuppa in the rain? So we picked up two umbrellas from the lobby, without bothering about the identity of their rightful owners and sauntered out to the "Khoka" in the corner.
The overly sweet cup of chai in the downpour tasted better than the best of wines I have had (not that many actually). There we were, beneath a big pipal tree, its leaves dripping droplets on us and into the chai…the fragrance of rain drenched earth and the refreshing aroma of the tea made it a heady experience.
We stood there and chatted, smiling at people making a dash to the small shanty and the stoic chaiwala, who looked more an aristocrat than a tea vendor. We went into the air conditioned office soaking wet, but happy. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm……the flavors of life.

Bhopal, who's responsible?

Two years jail for the top brass of Union Carbide India Limited. Two years for making a pleasant December night a nightmare of pain and death. Can anyone imagine what that night in Bhopal must have been without a shudder going down one's spine? What it must have felt like to have your own breath suffocate you and to watch helplessly as your kids and parents exhaled life with every breath?
Is two years enough? Anyway, who is responsible? Why did the tank burst? Who was really responsible? The one man who failed to make sure the valves and water tanks were maintained or the one who decided it was okay to clear pipes with water…completely disregarding the fact that the water could leak into the tank which stored the lethal MCI.
Or is it the top officials who decided to use the more dangerous but cheaper MCI for their pesticide?
Two years or 20, can justice be done without fixing accountability….real accountability?

what's betrayal anyway?

Everything needs to be balanced in life. There's a positive for every negative and a negative for every positive.
But in the end, everything is relative…even betrayal. Now that's a greatly misunderstood phenomenon. Who betrays who?
I suppose, it's all a matter of choice, trusting someone is a gamble and having that trust broken is a risk we have to take.
I guess no one plans to hurt someone. I mean, who would get up in the morning and think, "today's a great day to hurt a friend…"?
No one…people do what they feel is right in a particular moment.
If that turns out wrong (For someone), too bad.
What's most needed is the toughest thing to do, at least when the wound is fresh----reacting with understanding and forgiveness.
Negativity hurts more than anything. When reaction to something or someone is anger or hurt, it is you who is tormented.
It's essential to let go…move on, to save your own skin.

For one moment of freedom

How would it feel to forget everything for sometime? Name, profession, so called obligations, hurts and debts….everything?
How would it feel to start over on a clean slate, wiping off the dust of years…
How would it feel to have to confirm only to the heart, peeling off that stifling mask forever…
How would it feel to free everyone from grudges, hurts, expectations and to free yourself in the process…
How it would feel to drop the heavy load of pain and feel the lightness of joy and love?
How would it feel to just let go…..

contenment

Some sights percolate into the deepest recesses of the mind. The other day, I saw a woman selling something on the road divider of a busy highway. She had her baby next to her, who was fast asleep amidst the vehicles whizzing past. The way he was sprawled out on the narrow divider, with mud as a mattress, showed he saw no discomfort in the situation. His face was immensely peaceful, deep in slumber. There was no fear, no discontent, only peace. In that moment, the baby achieved what most of us cannot even think about all our lives. He had the treasure of contentment. Nothing, absolutely nothing could take from the kid his delight in the company of his mother and the chance to catch a wink ---- regardless of where. I am sure my face does not look so tranquil when i sleep, even though i have a bed and an air conditioner.
I may be happy at the sight but that does not absolve me of the responsibility to do my bit for those who are in a tighter spot (Can't call them underprivileged. Privilege is a relative term). Its not right for our women to be forced to work on roadsides, carrying their babies to eke out a living. We are all responsible.

terrible sundays

Forget the poetry. I am coming straight, at least with myself. Memories can be so painful at times. Sundays, to be precise. That's when i have time to think. Its offending how the past plays itself out in my head with devastating clarity, throwing me off balance. Sundays are days of resignation, because i severed my links and others topped it up by burning bridges. There are no questions. Which is strange. There should have been anger, hurt and heartache. But i maybe i did not feed my ego so much as to ask why i should not be important enough for people. Why should i be? I am not Helen of troy for one, I am not Mother Teresa. I am just, me….
The important thing still is, if, through everything i face, i can still bring about a light moment for someone, if i can be responsible for a smile on someone's face. Life is bittersweet. You cant escape it. But now that I am here and have been through highs and lows, i pray it does not go in vain.

Ganga, Yamuna need help

Nothing is as symbolic of the Indian ethos than two rivers, the Ganga and the Yamuna. Religious importance aside, they have been the cradles of the civilization we are so proud of. They facilitated agriculture and settlements which went on to be big empires. Their waters were used for life functions ranging from births to deaths. Besides of course myriad details like bathing, collecting water, washing etc. With the coming of the industry, these two iconic rivers have become sewers.
During my stay in Delhi, I passed by the Yamuna everyday. The sight of the river often transported me to the time when she thrived. I thought of all the people who must have depended on her over the centuries, looked at the river banks and wondered what these places must have looked like all those years ago…This was followed by sadness at the plight of the river today. Parts of it look like the nullah that flows across Mohali, where I live now. I do feel happy about industrialization and development, but cannot help feeling that the price has been too dear.
Both the Ganga and Yamuna are in desperate need of help. Again, religious significance apart, the rivers of a country are the bedrocks of its culture. Abusing them does not augur well for the country and its people. Are we so drunk on power and wealth that we cannot see we are still dependent on these rivers? They are still great reservoirs of energy, which we need badly. Millions of our people do not have access to electricity and basic amenities of life. We can tap these two great resources like our ancestors have been doing.
Respect is not about singing aartis on the river banks and throwing in offerings (which only contaminate the waters further). We need to understand that these rivers, that are being used as sewers, hold the key to a better tomorrow.
On the brighter side, there are many who already understand that. The IITs have set an example by initiating the Ganga Basin Management Plan. This ambitious project of IIT Kanpur seeks to enlist the other IITs and clean up the Ganga at a cost of nearly Rs 40,000 crore. Several NGOs are also engaged in cleaning the rivers of the unsavory symbols of ritualism sans awareness. These include clay idols, poly bags, corpses et al.
We need sewage treatment plants where both industrial and domestic waste can be treated, we need to ban certain rituals, though that step can meet stiff opposition, defecation here should be banned, dumping of solid waste into the river should be prohibited and trees should be planted along the banks.
People should also pitch in along with scientists to rescue the rivers. In that context, their religious significance can be a hindrance as well as an advantage. So people need to be made aware of how rituals like dumping of half burnt corpses into the Ganga can ruin them.
The sorry state of the rivers often led the government to consider taking help from foreign companies to clean them up. While I am all for global brotherhood, I still feel we have the capability to clean up our own mess.

For a friend

I had a friend, known to be a brash person. He was anything but. He did not start out as a friend, exactly the opposite. I would make a U turn as soon as I saw him at a distance. The brusque manner of talking he had felt like sandpaper against my skin. Then i got myself into a whole lot of trouble. When he came to know i am stuck, the usual imperviousness turned to concern. What amused me was that his eyes were always tender, but his tone had the same "I don't know why i am wasting my time" edge. With that strange duality, he stuck with me through thick and thins, never demanding anything in return. (Except to be left alone. He needs more personal space than a python). Invisible, he remained on the sidelines, moving in when he saw i was about to crash. Then when my life sorted itself out, he disappeared. I make the occasional (if i turn it into often i risk triggering a backlash) call. The response to any such nicety is generally, "Kya hua?" The same question and the same tone i know so well. One which says he is ready to act if i am in a situation but if all's well, he'd rather be left undisturbed, thank you very much.
He taught me what being unconditional is. He taught me how to be a good human being without making a fuss about it. Because of him, i know i would do the same for someone who needs it, without congratulating myself.

potholes and peaks

Ah, the ups and downs of life at Day and Night. I travelled the tricity looking for one Dikshant School for a morning shoot. By the time i realized there were several Dikshant Schools at different locations, the morning shoot became an afternoon shoot. Eventually, the shoot happened, with the producer clenching his teeth back in the office. I came, looking sheepish, tape in hand. Anyways, wrote four scripts, two mine, two someone's. All the while the producer was looking at me with a quiet desperation in his eyes. I tried to return reassuring glances for sometime, then decided there was no point. Just when i was getting down to work, a senior chose the moment to talk. Ten minutes gone. All hell broke lose in those ten minutes. A new editor had joined and he tried his hand with one of my stories, completely destroying one voice over…By the time the show rolled out, i was so stressed that tears welled up (Why are my tear ducts so hyperactive)? Then when the show rolled out, i was so relieved i started laughing. Its done, over, phew…thank god…
Some days, things conspire to throw you off balance, other days they fall in place to make a perfect picture. In the end, all this makes a life worth living.

I Am

I Am. I came across these words at a function organized by Sushmita Sen showcasing her hunt for the future Miss India and Miss Universe. I went expecting this to be your typical glossy, page 3 event. One that i was reluctant to attend. But whatever Sushmita said touched me to the core.
This was not your usual run of the mill beauty pageant in which the contestants are decorations. This time, the prospective candidates made eyes ogle and also commanded respect. They were BRILLIANT. One woman, Sangya Lakhanpal, could recite the Bhagwad Gita verbatim, while another, Anuradha Naidu, is visually impaired in one eye. They were all fit, of course, but not technically beautiful. They were smart though and that was plainly visible. Even where Sush is concerned, her beauty is greatly enhanced by her warmth. Her smile touches her eyes.
Here is what i got out of this. What Sush said and what the others said reinforced my belief in the solidity of a woman's determination. I looked at myself and saw everything that is and can be beautiful in me. In my soul actually. I know what i want. Getting it seems like a difficult task, but i am just going on. One day i will get there.
Because 'I am' is not just about a beauty pageant, it is about a woman. Every woman.

Intelligence

No man is a fool. No living creature is foolish. When we talk about intelligence, we are generally taking a very limited view of that word. Consider the body. Every cell communicates with the other cell, every organ with every other organ, every nerve with the others (the network is deeply intricate too). Every breath we take is a miracle, a manifestation of perfect teamwork and a great degree of intelligence. That applies for the simplest of things, like lifting a finger. So how can we call anyone foolish?

judgment

In relationships, the judgment is usually one sided. A friend told me about two former colleagues who were talking about another close friend at a party and not in very kind terms. The thing is, one of the silent onlookers happened to be a person this woman trusted blindly in some of the toughest times of her life. He had supported her and encouraged her, triggering a host of tender feelings. Understandably.
So far so good. But what happened eventually was a ruthless postmortem…one in which the said benefactor became the judge…It left me wondering why.
To string things together, a dear friend turned up with a book on Paanchali's version of the Mahabharata. How many people would have viewed the epic from her point of view? I may sound cliched when i say "gender discrimination" but what else is this?
The people i am talking about here belong to the liberated, elite, educated class. But beyond drinking at parties with women, they are still stuck in the medieval age. The rules which apply to them are not the same as those which apply to women, especially the ones they have been involved at some level with. Why? They'll spend years winning someone's trust and when the person is won over…she'll become a slut. Why?

camera woes

My first experience with TV comes with downslides. Went for a human interest story very close to my heart today. I was to interview kids with either visual impairment or very low vision whose paintings had been displayed at the government museum and art gallery.
What a story it was. When i first chanced on the said paintings, i was moved…a thousand questions popped up in my head. What is the world to these kids? what do colours mean to them? how do they compensate for the loss of visual sense? what do they want? I was pretty sure about the depth and brilliance of their imagination. Equally, i was convinced i would bring it out beautifully in the story. I would have, had technicalities not gotten in the way.
Every time I would try to talk to these kids, reach out to them and make a connection, the cameraperson would make a rude intrusion. "Madam mike hill rah hai" "Frame theek nahin hai," "sound theek nahin hai." To make it worse, he would do it right when the kid in question began to warm up. The hapless kids got much too unnerved to come up with a decent byte and i was too furious to think straight. One poor girl simply clammed up….mum, she stood like a statue. I had to put the mike away and soothe her back to normalcy.
Well, the end result is, i have to shoot tis again. But frame or no frame, this time, i am not letting camera issues get in the way of a worthwhile story. TV can actually rob a human interest story of humanity. Hv to learn to work around it, will do so.

looking for myself

Change is the only constant, what a funny law! We move on, we have to move on, sometimes we move on for the sake of moving on….breaking a comfort zone and plunging into torrential unknown waters. I am in the company of many wise people (not meant sarcastically at all). These days, there are many people i look up to and try to emulate. I am also happy at this discovery i stumbled on - myself. In the last few months, i saw i am capable of a lot, not just professionally, but as a person. i respect myself more.
yes, i have moved the bar a little further - set higher standards- but on the whole, i can see what this great change has brought about. Success is never just about the professional arena. Life is so big it cannot be confined to the office. Every area is important and there are no excuses for lagging behind in any field. You start out with being a good person, then as you fulfill your role in the office, you have to fulfill your role everywhere- i have to, i mean.
So that's what the switch from HT to a whole new life made me learn.
I feel like a student again, trying to learn the ropes. Most of all, i am looking for my centre. Once i find it, i want to stay connected with it.
In the past few years, my life had a shaky foundation. I had lost my individuality in an effort to confirm to the expectations of the people who mattered to me.
People who mattered to me then are still important. But i no longer want to confirm. I want to find out who i am.
This is a gamble, but its a gamble i chose.

memories

Your eyes will always caress my face,
your hand will always touch my cheek, tenderly, furtively…
your arm will always wind across my shoulder, wanting to pull me close but shying away….
your lips will always find mine and it will always be the first kiss…
you will always say a million things without saying a world, making me blush...
"Say it…" you will always keep demanding, in response to the love in my eyes…
You are not mine, but i borrowed some of you from life….
My body will go on, but my soul has found peace in those moments…

surrender

It catches me unawares at times, refusing to go till it has possessed me completely…
The signs are unmistakable, my eyes feel heavy, a languor makes its way through my shoulders,
slowly sighing into my fingers, I resist for some time, but i know it is futile…
I don't want to yield, but my struggle loses its edge with time….
Till I lie back, conceding defeat.
I float into infinity, mindless, carefree…
That's what it does to me, Fatigue….that friend and foe, which is at once a hindrance and a call for renewal….
The force which makes me realize i am a mere mortal….I dread it, but i relish the black nothingness of surrender, the comfort of letting my body take over, the spark of life that enlivens me at the end of it all.
I cannot go on with it, but i cant go on without it....

parting

The nightmare was bad. My hands and feet hurt, i was bleeding, i couldn't move and the dark night seemed solid, heavy on my chest, robbing me of whatever breath i could drag into my unwilling lungs. I felt eyes glowing in the bushes around me, and i felt them closing in, shadows in the darkness, but i couldn't move. Surrendering seemed to be the only option. It would be over in a few minutes, I thought.
Then suddenly, the bushes rustled. Past fear, i listened to footsteps advancing towards me. So it will be over, I thought, with relief. I was tired and death was release. But the footsteps did not have the timbre of a predator. They were not calculated. Surprisingly, the eyes that searched my face were warm, drooping at the outer edges and even naughty. The ivory tone hand that rested on my cheek was tender and his smile warmed my soul. I felt the blood coursing through my veins---again, bringing life into my dead limbs. Who is this man? I thought, but i did not care…all i cared about was the fact that he would not hurt me. That i could rest in his arms. You want to get up? He said, that warm smile crinkling his almond eyes. One hand slid under my shoulder and he lifted me effortlessly. As if the years of grief which weighed me down counted for nothing. He put me on my feet, never letting go of my hand---calloused now, i noticed. My life was spent on a battleground for the most part and that had taken a toll on my body. My hand, i noticed now, was rough against his angelic fingers. Suddenly self conscious, i tried to extricate my hand, only to have him hold tighter, look deep into my face and smile again. Which simultaneously gave me strength and made my knees go weak.
I did not know who he was----but i gave him myself, in the conviction that he would never harm me….The first light of dawn slowly pierced the black curtain of the night. The pitch black brightened into a soothing blue. He walked with me, leading me on and a splash of orange washed the sky in gold. After an eternity spent in the frightening darkness, i saw the flowers, lush greenery, butterflies, i closed my eyes and basked in the sun. With him around closing my eyes was not fraught with danger.
I did not know who he was, but i knew i could rest my head against his chest….
The daylight was refreshing, but i had forgotten it fades into the night. As the darkness crept back, i ran to him, or where i thought he would be…
To find the place empty...
I looked around. By then the darkness was complete, i could not see…but i called out….silence….deafening, maddening silence…
It took me awhile to realize he was gone. But he left me strong enough to walk, to face the night…
I don't know who he is, all i care about is the fact that he is no more….
I can move on, i can face the night..but his touch is everything, still…
I don't know who he is but i love him…if he hurt me, i prefer this predator to the others...
I can walk, but i am waiting, still...

balance

Life is a tightrope i walk with a staff in my hand,
taking tentative steps, i veer wildly from side to side…
the rope is thin and my steps are slow, but i have to reach the other side soon...
Often i am on the verge of falling into the abyss below….the treacherous rope threatens to snap,
my feet falter, but something makes me hold on...
I want to let go, to let the earth pull me down in a crushing embrace
But i cant, the trusting smile of a baby reminds me i have to walk…
i don't know what is on the other side...
but it is one place i have to reach to stop the abyss from swallowing the pretty child…
So i walk, veering wildly, staff in my hands, on a treacherous rope….

Two hours of life

Someone’s beautiful almond eyes make my knees go weak, even though I know their tenderness is not for me
I long to caress someone’s ivory fingers, even though they are not for me to hold
I long for the embrace of those sinewy arms, which are not mine to rest in
But still, for some brief moments, those eyes were mine
Those ivory fingers were entwined in mine
I melted in those arms
I held that beautiful face
I lived my entire life in those fleeting moments

I will rise

Like the phoenix rises from its ashes, I know I will too some day.
I don’t have the fiery colours of the phoenix or the brute strength,
But my spirit’s strong. Nothing will break me, I am sure of that.
I know who I am, I know what I stand for.