Sunday, February 18, 2018

The Waves

It was 6 am. And still completely dark. Everyone else was sleeping. And on the beach it was just me and the waves awake. I was the calm one... And the waves were the noisy ones. They splashed and danced and sang. They frolicked and foamed. They crashed and played. Like little children who didn't know how to be quiet.

I sat on the chair and heard them playing. Sometimes I would see a white wave crashing on the shore and then the darkness engulf it. And I waited. For morning to arrive and wash everything in light. I waited to see that happen.

And it happened. I watched the darkness melt. I watched the light creep into crevices. I did nothing, said nothing. And it was beautiful. Just me and the waves.

And when the darkness melted enough, the waves seemed to beckon me. They asked me to take a walk with them. And I did. I strolled on the beach with the waves. The waves were playful, as usual. They came running, tickled my feet and by the time I could catch them, they would run away. I wrote my name on the sand and as I turned to look the other way, they would come and wipe it off. I chased them to the sea. But they always beat me to it.

They always beat me to it. Always.

Friday, October 11, 2013

Muqaddar Ka Sikandar

I was going through some old folders on my hard disk trying to clear off space and came across the movie "Muqaddar Ka Sikandar". So, I watched it (Fast forwarding). And once I had, I couldn't help narrate the story to you all. If you are unaware of the plot, please continue else you could skip to the ending scene in the last paragraph.

The Plot:
For those who haven't seen it, it is about a poor orphan(Amitabh) who was first taken into the household of a rich family, where he was loved by the little girl (Rakhee) of the house, whom Amitabh called "Memsaab". Later on he was blamed for stealing and thrown out of the house. Since then Rakhee hated him. Later on, Amitabh meets Vinod Khanna (in yet one more dramatic scene, where Vinod Khanna held a suitcase which was a time bomb and it exploded while still in his hands, and yet he hurt only his abdominal region. Vinod Khanna held his stomach while Amitabh took him to the hospital and he "got well soon")

Amitabh was always in love with his "Memsaab" but never had guts to tell her. Memsaab continued to hate him. Vinod Khanna keeps asking Amitabh, who his Memsaab was, but he never answers. In the meantime, Vinod Khanna and Rakhee (Amitabh's Memsaab, unknown to Vinod) fall in love. When Amitabh came to know about it, he sacrificed his love for his best friend and arranges their wedding. The villain Amjad Khan, abducts Rakhee (because he thinks Amitabh loved his love interest, Rekha. That is another hell of a part of the plot so I am skipping the details. Oh and, Amitabh changes Amjad's heart.). Amitabh saves her and in the meantime hurts himself badly, and we (the audience), realize that he is about to die.

The ending scene:
Amitabh is wrapped in a shawl (to hide his lethal wound near his abdomen) and is standing at a corner attending Vinod Khanna and Rakhee's  wedding. As soon as the the "Saat Phere" is over, Amitabh collapses to the ground. Vinod Khanna rushes off and holds Amitabh in his arms. Everyone is crying. Vinod Khanna keeps saying (in between other dialogues), "Nahi tu mujhe chhod ke nahi ja sakta. Mai tujhe nahi jane dunga.", but doesnt rush Amitabh to the hospital. Everybody is crying. And then Amitabh asks Vinod Khanna to sing and so Vinod Khanna starts singing.

I wonder:
I kept wondering, why didn't Vinod Khanna take Amitabh to the hospital. If Vinod Khanna could survive a bomb blast while holding the bomb in his hands, I am sure, Amitabh could have survived the injury of the iron rod.
Hindi Movies, eh !!!

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Guys who "were" Friends !

Point to remember before and after you finish reading: Whatever you believe in or observe, there will always be exceptions. And in this particular case also, I know people who are exceptions. So, I would request you not to take this personally.

I have always had more guy friends than girl friends. Not because, I hated girls or anything, but I have been more comfortable around guys.  I was never the girlish type. And also, I have always believed that guys can be better friends than girls could be (And I blame guys for that. We could discuss that someday later. *wink* ).

Well, there were exceptions there too. In short what I am trying to say is, I have had very good friends who were guys. At least I believed that way before I got married.

Things changed once I got married. It is funny when I think about it. I remember the first time I realized how things were. I had been calling people inviting friends, colleagues and family to attend my marriage.

There was one guy who I had called up and when I told him, "I am getting married on 17th Feb, this year. Do you think you could make it?"
Instead of congratulating me, the first thing he said was, "Ab tumse baat karke kya fayada?" (What is the point of talking to you anymore?)
For a while I couldn't say a word. And then I laughed. And that was the first time I realized that things are changing. I talked about this with my husband.
And he said to me, "Men are not comfortable around married women. One of the reasons is that husbands usually do not like their wives to be friends with other men. And men usually stay around women (though not all of them but many), because they have that one teeny tiny hope that maybe she would start falling in love with them sometime. Men are pretty selfish."

He had laughed. I didn't believe him then. Not quite. But yes it got me thinking.
I got married. Happily married, and am still happily married for the last one and a half years. Over this period of time, there are only few men friend of mine, who did not change. They still talk to me the same way they always have, they still call me as frequently as they used to. But except those very few, everybody else changed. The first noticeable change was that they stopped calling.

So, when I asked them, they said, "You are married now. You must be busy. We cannot call you whenever we want to."
I genuinely appreciated their concern.
So, I told them, "Hey, don’t worry. Even though I am married, you still are the same people and the same friends. You can still call me just like you used to. And in case I am busy with something, I can tell you and call you back later."
The next argument they gave was, "And what if your husband doesn’t like it?"
"He is not the typical jealous type. He knew about all my friends before he married me and he is okay with all of it."
"Really? Then it’s great. Now I won’t think so much before calling you up again."
“Happy Ending!” I thought.  It’s just that they didn’t change and most of them stopped calling. All my husband did was laugh, and his eyes twinkled that said, "Wait and watch."

I remember this one guy. He was a good friend. We used to talk for hours on the phone. We stayed in the same city. We would sometimes meet up, have a cup of coffee at the CCD. We went out for lunch sometimes. After my marriage, he never called.  Not even once. He congratulated me on my Facebook wedding album, and communication from his side ended there. I called him up a few times, and then stopped. From then on, I wish him on his birthdays, and he doesn't even bother to reciprocate that on my birthday.

The other guy, we were the best of friends. He came down to my city once and proposed to me as soon as he went back. I had told him that I am marrying Manish and that I don’t have any such feelings for him.  He almost cried. He said, he could make me happier. I told him that if he wanted a break and stop being friends in order to get over me, I would understand. In return he told me, "Please, never ever stop talking to me. You are my best friend and I don’t want to lose my best friend over this. Let’s stay friends."
I didn't break our friendship thinking that he meant it. I stayed normal around him. He was a very good friend of mine, and he assured me that he would be okay staying friends. My husband was not happy with the idea.
He reminded me once, “Men keep having that teeny tiny hope that someday she will fall in love.”
 But he trusted me and he never had the habit of imposing his decisions and wishes on me and so, was okay with it eventually. This friend was okay till the time I was not (yet) married. He would call me the way he used to, and talk to me very normally. Things seemed good. Then I told him that I am marrying on so and so date. He smsed me back saying that he needs to get some fresh air. Then that evening I got a huge mail from him, which mostly said, that till now he had that one hope that maybe I would leave my fiancee and land up with him. I was surprised. I asked him not to hope since that is not going to happen. And in return he said, I have the right to do whatever I want, and he has the right to keep hoping till the night I get married. And when that happens, he will make peace with himself, and we will be good then. And I still believed him.
After my marriage, he all of a sudden became a sarcastic retard. Everything I said, he had a sarcastic reply ready. In the beginning, I didn't mind much. I tried to give him time to settle down things. But his sense of sarcasm went beyond my ability to handle. I told him that on his face (the straightforward person that I am), he agreed and said, that it won’t happen again. Ever since that day, he stopped calling. He came to my city and didn't inform me. It was odd because, remember we were great friends. But I guess I understand his erratic behavior. What I did not understand, was when he blamed me for all this. How was it my fault, I could never fathom?

Another funny guy was a man from my college. I won’t explain much about him because his girlfriend is on Facebook and his girlfriend's friends are all over my Facebook friend list and I don’t want him to be pin pointed (That is my goodness speaking. The evil side of me wants to tell everyone the name of that guy. *wink*). So, let it be that he was a funny guy, and there have been incidents about him, that made him stand out from the other boys in class. We were good friends once, he joked about proposing me now and then. He then found the love of his life. And because his girlfriend was the jealous types and did not like me much and that was made clear to me, I didn't mind when he preferred not to be seen with me much. He had asked me to accompany him to get a gift for his girlfriend. I went, and things were good. Eventually we lost contact.
One day (after my marriage of course), I saw him online. With the intention of a friendly chat,( the kind when you meet after a long time in a, say, departmental store and stop to chat a little), I pinged him, asking him how he was doing, what about his girlfriend, when do they plan to get married, so on and so forth. He replied to all of these and in such a gentlemanly fashion, that it surprised me how he had changed.
So, I said, "Yaar , tu to bada sharif ho gaya hai. *smile face*" (You have become a gentleman)
He replied, "Kaise?" (How so?)
"Pehle teri har baat majak se shuru hoti thi. Kabhi kisi ko seedhe muh jawab nahi deta tha. Ab dekh bilkul tameez se baat kar raha hai." (Earlier, all you said were mostly jokes, you never made a straight answer for anything that was asked to you. And look at you now. All gentlemanly. )
"Tum shaadi shuda ho. Tumko ab aise nahi bolna chahiye." (You are married now. You should not say such things.)
For a moment I did not know what to write. And finally I asked him, which of my above sentences sounded offensive since it was coming out of a married woman's mouth? He somehow managed a "Nahi nahi, majak kar raha tha" (Was joking).
I never tried to talk to this person again. He kind of disgusted me.

When I shared these experiences with my husband, he would first laugh hard, then hug me and say, "Welcome to the Men's world dear!"

What I find odd is, (I realized) most of them were actually not my friends. Because, if they were we could have stayed that way. And I cannot think this is normal, because I do have a friend who is a man and he has not changed one bit. We still are the same friends we always were. And he does not even make my husband uncomfortable with his friendliness.

I am not sure what I am trying to get at by posting this on blog. I guess I just wanted these out of my system. And to all those who had tried to warn me that most men cannot be good friends with women, I am sorry I did not believe you then. *grin*

P.S. Remember the "Point to remember" in the beginning? *grin*

Monday, December 31, 2012

Rape !

I shiver from inside when I think of the torture she endured before she died. And then people blame the Govt, the system, the law. They ask for punishment. People post their anger, their disappointment on facebook. And every time I see such a post, I wish to tell them to start at home. I wish to tell all the men, treat you wife as your equal. Don't take decisions for her. Help her decide for herself and respect the decision she takes for herself. I wish to tell the women to learn to respect themselves and instead of pampering their sons, teach them that their sisters are equally important. I wish to tell every parent, that stop giving dowry, and stop accepting it. Send your daughters to a place where they will be judged by the qualities she has, and not by the amount of money she is bringing.

You know what, the thing that bothers me the most is dowry. Because that is where the evil starts. You are sending your daughter to a home where she is supposed to be a family, where she is supposed to be loved. Why does she have to take money with her? I don't get the concept. How does money decide the amount of love she is going to get. And the funniest part is, women take part in it. The mother-in-law will give costlier gifts to the daughter-in-law who bought in more dowry.

And then comes the children. Girls are taught to endure, to adjust, to accept, ever since they are a kid. The brother is given the larger piece of cake. The girl is taught to wait till the men in the family have eaten properly. Whatever is left out, the girl manages with that. And the father is not even bothered. It somehow becomes the responsibility of the mother to decide. And the mother teaches the daughter to let go. Dont get me wrong. I am not asking the mother/ father to teach you daughter to revolt. I am asking to teach both your children to let go sometimes. I am asking you to teach your son and daughter to sacrifice for each other. I am asking you to teach both your sons and daughters to learn to give the other an equal share of what you have. And instead of making yourself proud that your son is manly, be proud that you have made him human. Be proud that you have taught him to respect his sister. Be proud that you have taught him not be a part of the male chauvinist world.

I have seen people commenting it was the fault of the girl and her parents alone. Why was she allowed to go out at night. Why do women wear provocative clothes? I have a question for all of these people. Whatever the situation be, why were those guys not taught to be "Not Animals"? Why did no body refrain them from doing something that was wrong?
For arguments sake, it was the girl who was out at night, or maybe it was the girl who was wearing provocative clothes. But did she spoil your life? Did she kill someone with her actions? No, she did not. What kind of clothes are to be worn by a woman is not your problem, not your business. You are free to wear anything you want. And so was she. But your actions killed a person. You hurt her. You raped her. Your actions harmed someone else. You don't have the right to harm someone else. Please go ahead and harm yourself. Nobody would come to inquire !

I sometimes feel so angry. No, not with the system. Not with the Govt. But with you my friend. Because, you dont do anything except light candles and shout using posts on facebook. Make a difference to the life of the woman you have in your life. Learn to treat her as a person and not as an object of your pleasure. World will automatically be a good place to live in !

Thursday, April 26, 2012

The Blind Man

I was out of office, walking down the street to a small ice cream stall. Manish was with me. As we walked on the pavement, we heard a man say, "Dada, ektu bus stop e pouchhe deben? " ( Brother, Could you take me to the bus stop?).

Both of us looked back. There he was. Standing right in front of a huge banyan tree. He was facing the tree. A small middle aged man, hair white around the corners and bald on the top, a little plump, blind. He held a small bag in his left hand and a stick in his right. He stood there saying the same sentence over and over again. People passed by him. Manish walked back and held his left arm. The man made a weird sort of a grateful noise and walked alongside Manish. I followed them behind.

All my life, I have hated being helpless amidst people I didn't know. Even if I had been scared and tired, I have always put up a brave and strong front. And I imagined myself blind, standing, facing a tree and calling out to strangers to help me walk down to the bus stop. Being blind didn't hurt. What hurt me was his helplessness and his loneliness. I wondered,if he had no one at home, who could have walked with him. Or maybe they were too busy and this man had to come down all by himself. I don't know what could have been a perfect explanation and I do not want to judge anybody. I do not have such a life. I am not blind and I have nobody in my family or friends who is blind. So, I am not the right person to judge what was right or wrong.
As I watched the man trod along in front of me, holding Manish's hand, it seemed so sad, so cruel. I am sure if I am being dramatic, but for some reason it didn't feel good.

A few days back, I was waiting for the metro train at Garia (Kavi Nazrul) Station. There was rush. As we saw the train approach the platform, people waited ready to board. And that's when it happened. A man jumped on the tracks right in from of the train. The train ran over him. I didn't see the man. I did not see him jump either. I was talking on the phone and had looked the other side right at that time. People shrieked and moved away. The train came to a halt and waited at the platform for the next twenty minutes. People curiously tried to find out what happened to the man. Through the window, he could be seen. People said, he had jumped too far. He missed the track. The train did not kill him. It ran over his legs. People who had looked out of the window to see, said his body was thrashing. He was a man not very old.

I wondered what made him jump. I wondered, how painful his life could have been, that he wanted to end his life this way. That day on, everyday I watch the train approach the station, it reminded me of that day. And I realized, that jumping on the tracks in front of an approaching train would take a lot of courage and however hard I had seen life, it was always easier to live. Life must have been real cruel to him.

And what surprised me the most was how people move on in life. How people gathered together on the same platform every day and travelled. How people had discussed, that the idiot should have chosen some other time because the train was 20 mins late and we all were 20 mins late for office. And I realised, that even I did not bother. I did not bother to know what happened to the man. All I could do was wonder.

Life just moves on. Players on stage. Play your part and get out of the stage. Re-appear when you need to. Seems like a proper explanation. And the worst part is, right now I am not liking my part in the play.

Saturday, March 10, 2012


As you glide through life, you change. As you soar up high, you look ahead and you dream. You dream to touch the clouds above. And you flap your wings hard, and harder to reach that place. You thrive with all your might to touch that fluffy little piece of cloud. But one little moment when you look down to feel the pride in your heart to have soared so high, you see the ground. You see the little houses, where men live. You see the green and the line of blue cutting through it. You see the stream, but fail to hear the gurgle which was so clear when you were sitting on a rock by it. And then you realize, maybe it was not the clouds that you sought for. Maybe, you had it all wrong. And you longed to get back there, sit on that rock and close your eyes and listen to the water gurgle by your side, to God knows where. And you feel, life might be about achieving. It might be about dying proud. But it also means to be happy, to be free, to be lazy, and to die peaceful. And when you look deep into your heart, you might find a feeling whispering to you, that you don't want to die proud and meaningful. You just want to die smiling and peaceful.
So, you decide, that you touch that piece of cloud, and turn back as fast as you can, to return back to that place where you heart belonged. So, you try harder, you tire our wings more, you flap them faster. As thousands of thoughts zoom through your head, you miss that place on the earth, you miss the green and the stream, and the noises. And then you ask yourself, "What the hell am I doing? I need to get back there." Yeah, you realize that you are a lot impatient. So, you turn back and with a smile on your face, you fly back to the place that sits down there.
Your dreams change.
But then one day, you wish you could have flown a little more. And maybe you could have let your feet rest on the clouds. And maybe you would have liked that. But now you will never know. Time doesn't come back to you. And it doesn't leave you enough time to retrace those paths.
So, you sit by the favorite stream of yours, listen to all the noises around it. You feel peaceful. You feel happy. Life has been good to you. But you die with that one dream unfulfilled. Do you regret? No, you don't. It was a choice you made out of all the dreams you had. And the unfulfilled dream, you can always come back for that. Ask Him, to send you back, so that you can fly away on your dreams over again.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Insomnia makes philosophers

Last night I couldn't sleep for a long time! I tried breathing in and out, did not work. I tried to count, started at 1, went upto 490 and then decided that I couldnt be so pathetic to go any further. And then I thought about a hundred things, till I could go back to sleep and decided that life is all about companionship.

Insomnia (Just as a one night stand... I am not a patient) can make philosophers, I guess. I thought about hundreds of things, about people, friends, crushes, mom n dad. Memories breezed by as I kept counting. Sometimes I did find loneliness standing around the corner.

I remembered one winter afternoon under Naini bridge, sharing choclates, and later photographing birds in Company Bag, the same evening.

I remembered a late evening, fourteen girls, a hostel corrider, no electricity and laughter.

I remembered one long drive down the Barasat-Barrackpore road, street lights and black silhouttes of trees, a cup of tea from the roadside dhaba and butterflies in the stomach.

I remembered a day when mom slapped, rolling tears and a hug just 5 minutes later, and a nap with my head on mom's lap.

One evening when I cried on the phone and the friend explained how special I could be.

The college quadrangle, a bunch of friends, where we loved to listen to the music on the mouth organ.

Long letters to a best friend, I wonder how I wrote those pages after pages without tiring myself.

Early morning, 7.30 am, 14 girls, tears rolling down sleepy eyes, seniors and ragging.

Pictures of a carraige, and a blue long flowing gown, the fiction of a first date.

A little poem, scribbled into paper, and loving it all the way.

And the most, I remembered a few promises made to me, and a pair of eyes That I hurt just because I was so damn tired to fight back.

Hundreds of thoughts went by and I wondered... we met, we parted, what remained was memories. Some of them had been so painful, yet when I think of them today, I smile. With every memory exists a person. A wonderful person in his/her own special way. Sometimes these memories hurt not because they happened, but because they ceased to exist. But everytime I stopped at the lonely corners, I wiped off a tear. Corners deviod of people, devoid of company... what existed was void. People say I am strong, emotionally. I handle the mental downphases well by myself. But you know what I am really scared of? Being alone... that is what scares me the most. I need to talk, to listen, to know that I have people around me to whom I mean at least something if not a lot.

P.S. : Please dont take this post very seriously... This was written by a philosopher made by an insomniac sleepless night ! Sometimes you are allowed to get a little emotional.... *wink*