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….