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On the 20th anniversary of our marriage this year -
“You had me at the first “hi”..
From trying to muster courage to ask you out..
To backpacking together across the globe..
Has it really been 2 decades of joy and tantrum..
Beneath skies - blue in time some, gray in some
The tune of love you never fail to hum
Let’s keep that shit up, the best is yet to come..”
#20on20 #blanketsnatcher
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It couldn’t have been more tumultous
When he frantically turned around looking for something
She appeared out of the blue and offered to help him out..
Demure and curious, her eyes radiated a spark of mischief; as if they had something to tell or maybe they themselves were a never ending story
The go-getter that he was, he wanted to unravel it..
But little did he know; by then he was no more himself..
Putting up a confident demeanor, his knees - weakened and his line of thought - shaken
As he carried the sweet wound on his voyage across oceans
The dusk would bring mystic clouds of anxiety that enveloped his soul
While the dawn would wash it away with a glimmer of hope and clarity
This continued until after a gush of ‘Sameer’ whispered - “You have found yourself by losing yourself”
That’s when he realized - It couldn’t have been more tumultous..
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Fallen, crushed and burnt in longing for you....
Tormented, torn and trialed by the longing
All I do is scribble ... for words know no bounds and the mind nurtures baby hope ...
Maybe Sameer carries a piece of me with it across the seas and sands of place and time
Crazy am I? Or is this the real me..well what do I know cos I lie scattered in pieces... fallen, crushed and burnt in longing for you...
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Sometimes the inability to express how much you miss your dad, breeds in an imperfect manner; but one in which he would endorse it.. or would he? In your thoughts, papa..I scribble -
Silence is Wisdom classified
Anger is Love classified
Smile is Hope classified
Cry is Release classified
Laughter is Health classified
Love is Respect classified
Kindness is Ego classified
Care is Expectation classified
Patience is Strength classified
Rain is Life classified
Friendship is Wealth classified
Death is Relevance classified
Destruction is Rennaisance classified..
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During the attack on Pulwama, before we created history in URI.. I had scribbled some lines, found them as I was digging up archives, so here -
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Threatening times that we live in
Not bcos our mothers get robbed of their children
Or kids get deprived of their fathers
Or wives turn into widows overnight
And sisters weep, for the brothers are not going to return ever....
But we fail to strike upon our aggressor
Are we really human then, I wonder..
Taught to always care for the greater good..
And never be the one to make an onslaught
Realization befalls on me that ultimately
The teaching was not complete after all
For it has often kept the fury in my heart
Human is after all, an animal soaked in wisdom, bound by chains of humanity
Times like these do beckon striking the aggressor and stand up not only for the self
But also for all the mothers, children, sisters who lost their own..
As Mother India rests in hope..
To see its sons unfold the savage, churn out mayhem, and she shall once again breathe in the tranquil of order and harmony..
And erase impressions of the threatening times that we live in
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2
My first conversation with her was over the phone. Year 2000. Ashwinee and I were in courtship, and I had just left for London for another year. Cellphones no, Social media, what was that? Personal computers no, the web wasn’t cast that widely on the globe except for either Hotmail or Yahoo mail. In what seems like a communication nightmare in today’s times, I had fully exploited the landline, public telephones across the Britannia suburbs had been diligently made use of, and as I think about it, I feel how, sometimes there was a kind of delight in the lack of, in the depravity of, in the inadequacy of, certain means. The want for something takes the better out of you. Anyway, I digressed there, and shall recoil back to the topic of her.
She was Ashwinee’s favorite aunt – Sharu maushi. And so was Ashwinee, her favorite niece. In order that Ashwinee’s parents do not find out and question about me, about ‘us’, especially when I am not around, we had decided I call Sharu maushi’s home number when she would be there. Which started happening almost every day or every other day. Sure enough, maushi used to answer the phone first and then we would exchange pleasantries and small talk. After which, it would be handed over to Ashwinee.
In her sixties then, I think, maushi was one smart cookie! It didn’t take too long for her to decipher what was going on. But that wasn’t all – the gutsy lady confronted me once, and because yours truly wasn’t really prepared to be on the hot seat, had to muster courage on the fly and put up a rather brave front. Her questions were few, but meaty. I have no recollection of what I answered but it probably made sense to her. Little did I know then, that she would be my best friend-in-law 😊 Hadn’t seen her, but her elderly voice perfectly balanced parental order with motherly affection. Months later, at my wedding, I saw her and was it mostly a formal meet-and-greet.
A traditional, saree clad, short, slim structured, slightly slouched, old lady, a sparkle from the eyes cutting through glasses and boy, the voice of a captain. With a laugh, so infectious to light up the entire room and the agility of a hare, nothing escaped her notice. Few seconds into a chat, and you found yourself wrapped around her wide smile. Always leading from the front, she was forthright in her views.
After we moved to Bangalore, she and kaka (her husband) came to visit us. And we all got along like a house on fire. Playing cards, frequenting cafes, tasting local cuisine, chatting for long hours became a routine. There was some kind of a cheerful boldness, a positivity, and a lively mindset that made all the difference. And this was most suitably complemented by kaka’s patient outlook and rather studied viewpoint. While she could go on for hours discussing a regional TV soap opera, kaka’s preferred interest was books. International history, to be specific. And they both found an active listener in me. For me, it was the marvel of the way they conducted their lives. Maushi had an uncanny way of making suggestive comments. Without offending, she could convince the other person and have stuff done her way. I have always believed that in order to articulate effectively, communicate powerfully, it is critical to listen. And listen actively and naively. Interacting with her, just reinforced my belief. That she did not let the other person speak is a matter of discussion for some other time 😊
I also observed that she could manage to hold the attention of a 3-year old as much as a 60-year old. And anyone in between those ages. Inside the stern exterior was a stream of love, running unabashedly. Her intent was always one of connecting, attaching, relating. A personality in totality, I wonder, every so often, she could have led a corporate quite successfully.
A particularly disturbing incident in our lives was when we were involved in a car wreck. Me, wife and our 9-month old son. In the middle of a move, we were lying on an interstate highway, before being airlifted to a hospital. With paramedics all around, the world was crashing down in front of us. And guess who played God’s angel. Sharu happened to be in New Jersey visiting her son and family. “When do you want me to be there?” – she asked. That one simple question wiped us of all the pain and suffering. Almost instantly. For those who aren’t used to staying away in a foreign land, let me tell you – hearing this from your own folk, especially at a time when the roof above you is blown, is a huge respite. If I recall correctly, she dashed to our comfort, the very next day.
Whenever we met thereafter, I could sense her heart held a special place for me. Her detailed attention, specifically to what I liked to eat was evident in her action, not just her talk. So much so that I brag to my wife that I have replaced her ‘position’ in Sharu maushi’s heart. Despite belonging to a generation earlier, she was contemporary. And comfortably so. On a family evening, she would be game for a shot of tequila or a glass of wine. And more recently, a selfie 😊 and in all this – kaka played her perfect partner in crime!
Mentioning her in the past tense is tough, and her pragmatic side runs through the mind. At my brother-in-law’s wedding ceremony, we both were having our usual chat in the corner of the busy wedding household. And she said that a confusion was bothering her. “I have led a very happy life, seen my children grow into fine human beings, experienced the love of grandkids, completed all my responsibilities. And I am still around, why? Why is god not calling me?” – this, she said in a very matter-of-factly expression. Brushing it off, I had remarked – “You are around because we have yet to experience you”. To which, she had clenched my hand with both her hands, and wore that wide grin.
As I heard the news of her passing, I thought to myself - maybe this was the time that she was done, content, complete, by all means, and ready for the big ride. Only this time, I clenched my own fists, as a smile and a tear made their way for each other.
From that first overseas phone call, until now raising the last toast with the shot of tequila, and further, she remains. My best friend-in-law!!
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1
As the world gets more and more grappled with technology, the internet to be specific, anything and everything we consume, think, analyze, express, and even feel, is inherently and unconsciously through this portal of relevance. The gates to the internet be of order and rank. If you are on the “net”, you are “in” otherwise you alienate yourself from your own environ. More often than not, our profession always tries to rob ourselves from the things we always desired to do. So, they say – pursue your hobby as your profession and you will never be out of work. It wasn’t too late in childhood that I realized I was drawn to anything worthy of a read, a habit that got cultivated almost unconsciously. As time passed, and “awareness” seeped in, I was taught about the types of reading. A book or a journal, fiction or non-fiction, technology or philosophy, etc. And the more I realized that, I could devour anything and everything that can be read. And now, not too long ago, a realization dawned upon me that there is too much collected, learnt, and processed over time that is waiting and wanting to come out. Just like all means of expression have sought refuge under the web, I shall oblige too. But before even I start putting pen to paper.. or punching keys on the board, I cannot help getting intrigued by how has this medium called the internet has transformed us. From the many, many roles it plays in our lives, to me, what strikes the most is its role as a neutralizer. Distances are shrunk when we enter our parents’ living room in another continent. Happenings across the globe almost always get fueled by someone’s intent, but are instantly countered by facts and we start seeing things through neutral waters that would have remained muddled. What has been so far enveloped by the dark of the ignorance, of belief, of opinion, has been lit by the online encyclopedias. Those that I’d like to believe are neutral and do not belong to any one side. The side of the self and the other. If there is self, there is the other. Else, there won’t be any self. The enormity of long distances is neutralized by the book, the gram or the tweet. In short, the deal is that the whole enchilada of information is out there, it is up to the human to conduct within bearings of his or her self that enable the quest for the truth with accurate results in hopefully, a neutral manner.
The sun was shining rather bright, as if it had mopped that enormous roof with the blue, getting rid of each and every cobweb of a dark cloud, sprinkling a generous, radiant smile that only stems from a pride of sorts. A pride one takes after a home scrubbing job well done. And I felt, taking the motorcycle out for a spin was something I owed to the sun. To it’s housework. Times have transformed all of us into a “selfmaid” person 😊 and we marvel at those workers, those maids, those helps that labor every day. To make someone else’s house a home, and when the “work” is bestowed upon us, we swiftly resort to the cushion of sour complain, of grumble, of protest, to the self. Sometimes, to those around us. Funny is it not? Anyway, so the clear skies and light breeze were calling. My backseat rider readily jumped on the offer. Denim, jacket, sunglasses, bandana, helmet, gloves, all checked.. and soon the heavy metal on two wheels was combing through the greens. Cruising along, humming my favorite song, a notion started taking shape. The notion that the mind is a body in itself. It feeds, it grows, it decays, it repairs, the only difference perhaps is that unlike the body the mind never starves. At times when food is scarce, it ruminates. Like a cow. Swallowing, un-swallowing, re-chewing and re-swallowing on what is already consumed. At a high-level, food can be classified into two main categories – healthy and unhealthy. Typically, healthy food is boring, bland, definitive in proportion, and unhealthy food is exciting, spicy, interesting, and disproportionate. The more the body consumes the former, the fitter and stronger it gets. And if the latter is preferred, the body rots. Not immediately, slowly but surely. Now, drawing parallels to the mind, it gets excited and stimulated, if it were to be constantly fed with gossip, opinion, judgment, negative connotation and the like. On the other hand, feed it with constructive thought, subjects that challenge the emotional intellect, even a professional challenge for that matter, it may feel worn out in the beginning, but it thrives, prospers in the long run. That be the notion.
“Khaali dimaag shaitaan ka ghar”
“An idle mind is a devil’s workshop”
So there, my first scribble of hopefully a series of more such. And the retirement to the pillow beckons, the morrow shall ring in with the fresh and ring out with the old, for that be the cycle of time. Of life. Of everything. Until then… love and more.
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