Inspired by "A Trip To Shimla"...

Its been really long since I could find some time to pen down my thoughts....I cant blame anyone for this apart from myself for not being able to balance life while juggling between work and self indulgence....Its Children's Day today and the very thought of it early in the day made me go back few years down memory lane and remember what I had and what I now crave for-no nothing materialistic but more of being child like in the present state of life.

I chanced upon viewing some photographs of one of my friend when she posted them on facebook. The pictures were of her visit to Shimla along with her mom and dad. The moment I saw the pictures and was going through each of them I couldn't control my thoughts....In a spur of moment I had a flow of emotions.I went back to the days when I as a child used to wait for my vacations to start so that we could explore new places together as a family. The caption that my friend gave to her photo album made me realize how much fun it is till date to have quality time spend with your mom and dad. We may have advanced a lot in life, may find solace in a friend rather than at home but still am happy that we have been able to keep the burning desire to spend time with our family alive.

The first picture in the album was that of the train chugging along the turning landscapes upon the hilly terrain...The mesmerizing sight along with your family members shows the quantum of happiness that we can derive upon executing the family vacation together after fighting our daily battles for existence. I have been longing for such a vacation for long and the pictures gave me a new inspiration to plan one with my family.

Also the child like innocence that such trip brings out of ourselves is quite amazing. The different pose that we give to capture them on the camera is an embodiment of such supreme pleasure derived out of simple and uncomplicated things in life....My friend to who's trip the blog is inspired would agree when I refer to her picture where I commented "brand ambassador of Shimla"......The simple joys of exploring new places, getting up early in the morning to capture the dew on the flowers, the sipping of hot tea, the road side shopping, the memorabilia's from such trips for near and dear ones, the happiness of seeing your parents turn child like is just amazing and priceless....As they say you can buy a trip but you can never buy the smile on the faces of your mom and dad and I think they deserve such breaks more often for they have slogged and given us more than we deserve....

There's always a child inside everyone and such occasions brings out the child uninterrupted, unconscious of worldly worries and lets the person just be what he/she is.....So this piece of my thoughts in the from of words is a tribute to my friends "Trip to Shimla".....Have many such trips in the future......

The Story Of Fried Bhindi....

Bhindi the vegetable is a common source of some quick green nutrition in almost every household....The name "lady's finger" makes it all the more seductvie and probably is the only vegetable to have a name from woman's anatomy, but I sometime wonder how this simple seductive (name wise) vegetable can ever become the only food item in someones lunch box...I taxed my brain to the best of its abilities to come to a desirable conclusion but never came accross a convincing answer....Many would wonder what makes me think this way..but the simple fact remains that I could never digest it that just some bhindi fry and two chappatis can be a wholesome lunch or dinner for someone...

I frankly can never have such simplicity in my food habbits and I aplogise whole heartedly to all my fried bhindi eating friends and their family members for this remark..I could never understand this phenomenon where people work 8 hours a day, travel almost 4 hours to and fro from office to earn handsomely and live a life of content and luxury...Then a simple question why the compromise on food?? Dont we all earn for the very basics of food shelter and clothes??Then why a compromise on this?? I am sure many would have their points to argue that they have substantial amount of fruits and milk so a lunch like this is immeterial but I somehow cant buy this point...Others would say that "thats what we like to have" but if they ask themselves deeply then the answer would be very simple...We all love to eat well, relish good things but are so busy with life that we try to just some how fill our stomach rather than have a contentfull platter of food...Yes thats the truth...may be a slightly bitter one..

I have no issues with what others have or like to have but it pains me to unimaginable extent when I see these people indulging in other luxuries but become restricted on what they eat and how they eat...I have no personal enimity with Bhindis but at the same time only a bhindi dish can never ever satisfy my develish taste buds and I never restrict myself to appease them for I know at the end of the day I slog for 12 hours only to earn a decent living.....

To all my friends who still make Bhindi fry the staple diet, a humble request- look beyond the "ladys finger" after all its not where you want to slip in a ring and try some other delecacies when you all can afford it...Tease your taste buds and not just your other desires for material possesion as at the end of the day it all comes down to having two fully satisfied square meal a day...Then why just the BHINDI???????

When Elsa came to my dreams....

Its been long since I had a dream...I attribute it to the fact that off late I have'nt had the good fortune of sleeping sound...But last night was different and I was quiet happy to have been able to break the jinx...Yes I finally slept sound.The cool breeze that blew all night helped my otherwise hot room cool down by few degrees making it comfortable to sleep in....

Elsa my 2nd possession from the canine family when I was a child suddenly made an appearance in my dreams after nearly a decade and half since I last saw her...I was excited as ever to have seen her and she kept wagging her little brown tail as soon as she sniffed me...Her wet nose was rubbing on my palm and it was a reunion that we both cherished for sometime.....

But strangely Elsa started a conversation to my utter disbelief....But she told me that post her death she went to the other world and got this powers to speak in all forms of languages of both humans and animals alike...I was dumbstruck..I asked her how it felt to be in the other world and immediately knew that I made a mistake by asking her this...I could see her twinkling black eyes getting moist and she almost started choking as she tried to speak...She said she still couldn't forget the day when my dad picked her up in his arm and brought her home as a gift for me...She would have otherwise died much before in the December cold of Shillong...She then went on to say how she liked when mom made her a comfortable bed of old rugs and how she liked when we served her food as an extension of our own family...This made me also go back down the memory lane....I remembered how I used to get restless in the last period of the school just to be home and take Elsa for a stroll....How we used o play hide and seek with each other me spotting her by seeing her tail constantly wagging....How she once didn't let a ruffian enter when we were not at home and mom was all alone....She showed her faithfulness very early in her life...

We then discussed our present state of affairs...i wished how she could come back to life and be with me here to give me company and she smiled and I knew deep in her heart she too wished the same.....Suddenly I heard a noise and Elsa was no where to be seen.....I realised after a good minute or so that the noise was my maid announcing her arrival in the morning and it was time to get up.....I got up but with a prayer on my lips "Rest in peace Elsa"........

The story of my ash tray...

I wish things could talk and if they really did someday I wonder where it will lead to...The conversation would go on for ages as they would be eager to let their feelings flow and let us know how they feel when we use them and take their existence for granted to solve our selfish purposes...The other night just the same thought came into my complicated mind the moment I lit up a cigarette and took the ash tray in my hands...

I stared into it for a while and while blowing out smoke rings kept thinking what would this fellow talk to me if ever he could do that or what would it be like to read his mind and go through his countless emotions since the day he came into my life after I purchased him off the shelf from the neighbourhood shop??? But I knew that there were few things it would have definately told me...and most of it would have been complaints about the callousness in the way I handled him...

My ash tray has been a silent witness of my moods, at times my solitude and sometimes a forced participant in the weekend parties...I have vented out my anger through countless cigarette stubs often putting them off by violently rubbing against the ash tray and the poor fellow took all this without being able to utter a word in protest...Even at times when the mind was tensed or preplexed with uncertainties that life offered it was the ash tray who took the pains of getting submerged in constant heaps of ash falling shakily from my fingers...

All through this he took it silently as I was his master and he dared not do anything or as if he could do anything at all...But I can sense how he must be feeling when he is taken in hands by strangers and passed around like an object of lust while I have guests over the week ends...I am sure he feels intimidated and at times harassed and tortured at sitting on palms, laps and even bellys of my guests...Its equivalent to sexual harrasment if thought from my ash trays point of view...

But inspite of all this sufferings that I dole out to him from time to time he has remained faithfull in delivering his duty...Always putting off the flame from the stubb and ensuring I get up alive in the morning and not turn into a heap of ash myself.....

Tribute to Dada's Stall...

Dada's tea stall for years has been a symbol of attaining manhood...Every teenaged boy in the small sleepy town dreamed of his date with the rickety wooden benches of Dada's stall.The thought of having your own small group of guys and sitting with glass full of tea and samosas along with a cigarette was the dream of many who felt exercising such rights made them have a brush with manhood much early and gave a sense of recognition amongst his peers that he too has ultimately come out of the shadows of the parental care and restrictions...

It was also a place where rivalries ran high almost at all times, at times over the girls of the town but mostly because of the group you were associated. Some like us were lucky not to have got any blows but many went back home with swollen cheeks and bleeding lips often guessing what alibi to offer at home...But that did not deter anyone from experiencing the life that the stall offered..People from all walks, the older generation, the generation that had people like elder brothers, our contemporaries and the younger lot who waited their turn to take on the wooden benches all had their fair amount of tryst with Dada's stall...

The entire day was divided into slots that were meant to be frequented by particular group of people...The mornings were meant for the daily wagers, the afternoon for school students who cared little to attend schools, the evenings with guys like us fresh out of school and enjoying college life and at night by people back from offices and on their way back home...

I especially enjoyed a steaming glass of black tea with samosas and few drags of ciggrette hiding it form the view of passerbys and the charm of all this increased many folds on a rainy day..So many things were discussed on those benches that even today it makes me nostalgic...The first crush on someone, plans to help a friend propose his love to the most sought after girl at those times, or discussing where our career was heading..it all happened while squeezing ourselves for space in those benches at Dada's stall...

Even now when I go back home I make it a point to atleast visit Dada's stall once and relive those days...Also it gives me an oppurtunity to salute the spirit of Dada's stall that has lived over decades now.....

The art of shopping...

Shopping for many may be a way to spend time and relax from the hectic day to day routine but what many of us forget is the fact that its also an art and can be mastered through years of experience put into it....Thats the very reason that in Indian household we have a select few amongst our friends or relatives who we like to take along while shopping...A point in case would be while shopping for a marriage at home..We all have a bua whos good at selecting sarees, another massi who can get the best jewellery at affordable prices, a mamaji who knows all about the knic knacks required and a hip hop cousin who can get you the right accsesories to pair with...These are the times when we value their presence in life more than ever.

I was introduced to shopping very early in my life by my dad who always believed that we should be independent and capable of doing everything that normally requires to be done in due course of our life..I remember embarking on such shopping expidetions as early as when I was 5 years old and could understand instructions.Much to the horror of my protective mom I was sent regularly to the neighbourhood shop by my dad to get may be a packet of shaving blades, or a maggi at times and even bread and eggs..He once told my mom that this experience would help me judge the finer aspects of shopping form a very early age, and I thank him now that he is no more to have inculcated it within me.There were many things that I got to understand, first the value for money when buying things, the art of bargaining, and finally getting the best out of the lot displayed by the shopkeepers...Now I am a sought after companion for my friends in their shopping spree especially form flea markets like Sarojini Nagar and Janpath where bargaining is your birth right.

It also helped me a lot when I decided to leave right after high school to persue education out of the comforts of my home and since then its been 10 years now that I have stayed away from home.But never ever have I faced a situation where I was lost in my mind while shopping or have been duped by the shopkeeper for my early exposure to the art of shopping always came handy...

The other aspect that it taught me and is also essential for others to teach their kids is economics...You learn to utilize your limited resourses in turn to get the best deals for yourself and yep it gives a huge amount of self satisfaction...Finally the next time you all embark on a shopping spree try sharpening your skills and be self satisfied..Till then happy shopping!!!

Lets get back to childhoods house!!!!

Just went through this quote "my childhood may be over but that doesn't mean playtime is..." and it set a flurry of emotions running accross my mind..This can be easily attributed to the fact that I make a concious effort not to let the child within me die and I proudly admit that I have been successful on many occassions.One of my favourite one liners have been "there's always a child inside everyone...we just need to bring it out" but alas how many of us do that.

Some genuinely want to do that but refrain from the fear of being rediculed...others silently go back to behaving childlike far from the eyes of any one..I never refrained from behaving like one whenever I felt like...Be it getting excited after seeing the first monsoon clouds hovering over my head, to the smell of good food being cooked somewhere, to the excitement of attaining something long desired, I have always let my emotions guide my behaviour and not anything else...Probably thats the reason that every child finds me a sought after companion who understands them and their mind well.This is because I step into their shoes at those moments and be the one with whom they can identify themselves...

I see many parents behaving in a strange way with their kids as if expecting the little ones to grow over night and understand everything..But little that they realise that they themselves have taken up the entire formitive years to have become sensible...Why cant they behave like the child and relive their childhood with them...I do that with every child I meet...My previous neighbours 4 year old son has an amazing remote controlled car..In my growing up days those were not the stuff that we used to get...so what did I do??I relived my growing up days playing with the car every evening once I was back home from work...The child got a company and I got to play with the car that I never did in my childhood....

We are all grown up these days with a lot of responsibility both personally and socially but even then a significant effort can be made to bring out the dead child burried inside many of us and not be ashamed of it...If only we can do this I am sure happiness and contentment will be knocking at the door.Small moments can be seen as lifes biggest events and troubled times can be easily treaded over but only with a child like innocence and ability to adapt to situations.....As children lets get back to childhoods house!!!!

Take on the Boss....

Sincerity for work is good and always appreciated but I as a person never encourage anyone to take dictats from your boss just because he/she is your boss.After all my belief always has been that we dont work for any individual but for the organization and no individual is bigger than the organization....Now this very theory of mine gets twisted like an bedsheet in the washermans hand before one of my friend...She was born to work for the organization that she works for and her bosses are the rightfull owner of not only her life but her heart and soul..Calculation of work hours is a must for her although every tom dick and harry in her office takes the liberty to work for just the stipulated time for which they get paid..

A recent illness did not bother her of her health or that it was not being detected but made her hairs grey by a few strands because what would they think of her in the office as she was not reporting to work for 3-4 days...That there is a clause of availing sick leave and other such HR policies makes no difference to her as she is ignorant about them and at the same time not bothered to exercise her rights...And people in her organization take advantage of this and grind her day in and day out...I wish she was in the west where people charge for their services based on the man hour that they have put into work...She would have been a millionaire by that rate.

But all said and done I like her dormant detremination to fight back...Its like a volcano ready to errupt but sadly which never errupts at the right place and at the right time..How many times has she assured me that she will take everyone head on but its just that the day never came at least not as of now and I dont know about the future.

I know for a fact that the inner strength that she carries is beyond comparison but at the same time I wish she could fight for her rights and give back the ones who think she is muted....I know you will read this my friend so it remains for you to ponder over these facts pointed so that you to realize it sonner or later.....

A tribute to Maggi!!

I sometimes wonder what most bachelors and students at large would have done had there been no invention of a particular kind of food-yes the Maggi noodles....Ever wondered how difficulat it would have been.Even the thought of it being non existant or extinct makes me creepy as for decades now it has been the staple diet of thousands who stay away from home or those who have not put their culinary skills at test....

I remember as a child it was not a routine thing to have maggi and it was only in weekends that I got myself treated to a platefull lovingly served by my sister...Some half literate aunty even put it into my mother that too much of maggi is bad for the brain...I dont know where did she come up with this theory from...I still cant forget the chicken flavoured one which is rarely available in Delhi thanks to the domination by vegeterian diaspora. Again as a kid when you want the liberty to enter the kitchen and try something on your own I am sure many would agree that the maggi was their first tryst with cooking partly because it required nothing but two cups full of water to be boiled and everything thrown into it....

From those days to the days when we drifted from the safe heavens of home to distant lands in pursuit of better education it was always the maggi noodles that was a constant companion anytime anywhere to feed the hungry souls who missed the home cooked food by mom more than anything else.The long nights when hunger cramps came suddenly in between studies or coming back form the college hungry and tired it was always the faithfull maggi that healed the nerves and soothed the stomach flat in 5 minutes unlike the commercial which boasts of 2 minutes.For a fact it takes more than 2 minutes to prepare.

From days as a kid to the days as a student and now that we are professionals slogging day in and day out only one thing remained constant-the relationship with maggi...Its been faithfull all these years just like a wife and I dont know how many years more to come but whenever it was called for duty it never failed to deliver.Always there to kill those insatiable desire to munch sumthing and that too in quick time...Maggi my friend you rock and for me you are immortal!!!!

The insane landlady....

Hunting for a house can be difficult more so when you are looking forward for a house that you can call your "home" and not just a mere four walled worksmanship of cement and bricks....I know this for a fact as I have been staying at various rented accomadation since the time I decided to move out from the safety of my own home in persuation of a career 10 years back. Luckily I always encountered such landlords who never interfered in any matters as long as I was on time to give them the rent but not all are that lucky and this I found out yesterday.

One of my very good friend just recently shifted and took up a house with an old lady in karol bagh.Now everything was fine and they shifted in the first week of May till my brave friend discovered that the house was infested with numerous house lizzards that kept crawling out of every nook and corner of the house.I dont blame these little reptiles as the locked and unkept house provided a safe heaven to live and breed freely...Little that they themselves knew that soon their freedom would be robbed by my friend who hates them just like a cat would hate a mice...But strangely I found that this runs into the family as her younger sister is equally terrified of the lizzards...Well who could assume the lizzards would ultimately have the upper hand and soon my friend and her husband were house hunting again.

This time the lizzards acted as a boon as the present accomadation is far more better comapared to the lizzard infested one.An apt comparison would be a suite in a Taj vs the rooms in an yatri niwas.The happiness could be measured from her excitement everytime she called to tell about the new house...I too thought "alls well that ends well" but no all was not to be well and here comes my protagonist the "insane land lady"...They vaccated the house on 22nd may hardly living in it for a week or so and that too in parts.Ideally it should not have been considered at all but the lady insisted on keeping the full months rent as well as the next months and to top it the electricity and water bill that they never used...

I too accompanied them last night hoping to get some sense back into the lady but hats off to her as she remained insane even after three sane people tried their level best to see her sense and talk the same.Her insanity can be used as an example as she didnot want to consider a security deposit as a security deposit God knows why???

Her constant dialouge "humara toh yehi tarika hai" made my blood boil but I kept my cool considering 20 thousand rupees was at stake.A settlement was nowhere in sight and ultimately we even threatened to take her to court and the police but that too failed to bring about any visble signs of the lady crumbling...Finally a call form the broker and some soft talk made her give back the money post deduction of 15 days rent which was nothing but a compromise to get the larger sum back...By this time I had become her most hated enemy and she even commented that I was not the cousin as I was pretending to be...

I admire the guts that the lone elderly lady displayed and her calmness in handling the situation but even then I can only consider her insane as she never goes by the law of the land but only by her disgusting "apna tarika".....Stay alone without a tennant old lady thats the silent prayer that I sent once we came out partly victorious and partly exhausted.And the celebration was over garma garam plate full of "rajma chawl"......

The Invisible Passenger...

A lot of people curse the autorickshaw drivers for being errant with their passengers but trust me not all are of the same breed...For a person like me they are the life support system as I usually dont prefer travelling in buses.(My this particular habbit also got me rebuke from a friend who believes in travelling by buses even if its absoulately necessary to reach home early or even if she is too tired)...This gave me the chance to experience the good bad and the ugly side of these particular breed of homo- sapein who run from one end of the city to the other day in and day out..Sometimes the irritation in their tone or behaviour can be attributed to the fact that they themselves are a harassed lot-by the traffic cop, by unusually long jams in the heat and low wages all culminating together to make them take out their venom at the passengers...

I experienced different kinds of auto drivers, some exceptionally good and informed about the political scenario or the current affairs, some good at describing the laws of the road and traffic, and some discussing how they missed out on education but thier children are studying in the best institutions of the city...I generally start a conversation with them if the guy looks friendly enough as it kills time in the snail paced traffic of Delhi and also gives you some serious peek into others mind and their thought processes....

Now you must be wondering what has all this got to do with the title "the invisible passenger"..well it so happened that I was on my way to my office in south ex from lajpat nagar.I was as usual on an auto hoping he would make me reach on time as I was late on that particular day, but as luck would have it we got stuck up in the moolchand underpass for almost 20 minutes as a sand laden truck gave away unable to bear the weight or so I thought...This made us talk about the situation on the roads these days and so on and so forth..But soon he narrated an incident that happened with him just the previous evening.He was on his way from panchsheel when the auto was stopped by a lady of around 30-35 years as described by him.She waved her hand near sirifort auditorium and asked him to take her to lodhi road. He asked her 40 rupees for the same and she sat without any argument unlike the "delhi passenger".... He caught her glimpse in the rear view once or twice and saw that she was bearing an expression less face staring at the traffic as it passed by..Soon the auto crossed the defence colony traffic signal and was climbing the flyover when suddenly he saw his passenger was no more sitting behind...She just vanished into thin air and there was not a trace of her...As he narrated this both of us had a shiver running down our spine as it was something very unusual...He stopped the auto and started thinking all possible things that might have happened like the girl jumping out of the auto etc..but he could not believe his own theory as he did not even sense her movement out of the autorickshaw...

There was nothing that he could do but only sent a silent prayer and returned home earlier than usual to narrate and discuss it with his family...On my part I became suddenly aware that I was now sitting in the same space shared by his invisble passenger and didnot know how to react...I finally reached my office and paid him his due thanking him silently in my mind for sharing this amazing experience and making the otherwise routine journey a little more exciting....

Half a day with the girl next door!!!

Middle of the week that is wednesday's and thursday's are usually those days where you are exhausted after woking and wait eagerly for the weekend.This thursday I had no such feeling as I was suppose to spend half a day with "the girl next door"...The anticipation turned out ultimately as a great experience spending time in the sweltering heat of Delhi...In my earlier blog I had written that I hope will get the chance to know Miss.N better with time and this is exactly what I got to do on Thursday...

A visit to Jamia for submitting Miss.N's form made me realize that whatever I had written in my earlier blog was actually cent per cent true..The hesitation in filling up the form, the making of small mistake while writing the year 2010 and the child like eagerness to learn how to calculate the age in terms of years, months, and days all together fortified my intial belief and perception about Miss.N....She is innocence personified...

She made sure that she asked questions atleast a couple of times to the guy taking up the filled up forms so that there was no chance of any mistake in the submission.Also the special yellow water flask served chilling cold water and made me learn a new thing-the water remains cold if wrapped with a newspaper-Wow what a learning experience.Who said taht learning and fun cant go hand in hand...

Later spent some time at the south ex market joined by Miss.N's sister who was rather more worried about going back to office rather than spending some quality time...Never mind thats how she is during last 3 days of her month's closing...I have started accepting it.

How a rickshaw is stopped by merely waving the hand and without uttering a single word amazed Miss.N..Probably she didnt know I was capable of doing that as well...Her facination for bags came into highlight when she stopped at two places just to check the bags and then declaring that she must posses one of those....

After almost spending four hours it was time to say goodbye to Miss.N as she had to go to a cousins place over lunch...It was fun being with her and the heat of the summer sun seemed less threatening in the company of Miss N....

The Sunday Afternoon...

A sweltering sunday afternoon...The only sound worth mentioning was the steady rumbling of the old ceiling fan desperately trying to keep the temperature down, but all in vain as the might of the summer sun out side was no match for my poor fan...Still she gives enough comfort to keep both nerves and the brain calm-at least enough to keep me sane....

Having nothing to do constructive I kept tossing from one side to the other of the only comfortable luxury item for me-my bed...Staring at all the four walls like a maniac I kept thinking how another week passed away and it was time to start toiling again.The time duration between a sunday and the approaching monday sometimes seems so less that you actually repent why its a sunday at all...I thought I will sleep off the afternoon and rejuvinate myself but realised soon that was impossible in the present condition..Next I thought let me think of all the things that I like the most and make a list of them in accordance to priority.I failed horribly in doing that as well since it seemed I could not prioritise or zero in on anything other than good food...

I even went to the window once or twice hoping to catch a glimpse of my attractive neighbour but guess she was tucked away in the comfort of her ac not bothering to loiter in and around the window...plain selfish people..

The idiot box in such days is not of much help either as the repetetive programs and movies gives you anything but respite.Suddenly the power went away and all hell broke loose.I sent a silent prayer to the Almighty to restore back the power immediately or He might loose an opportunistic believer of His who remembers Him only in times of distress..But I guess I am not an exception in this case, I consoled myself...But He was busy listening to others as the power was away for good 30 minutes and I was half baked half roasted and partly fried and steamed by the heat and in my own sweat...I treid imagining all sort of things right from being in the beach to lying dwon beside a swimming pool to help me forget about my misery but was unsuccessful in getting the forced "Nirvana"...

Finally the power was back and so was I to life...I finally gave up all the fantasies that I was drooling on and decided to do the best possible thing I could under the given circumstances....Yes I made a cup of my favourite black tea and spread out on the chair....The first sip made me realize that even such small things can sometimes give a lot of rejuvination....I attained peace of mind at last!!!!!

Deceived in the hills...

The road was winding up the hills giving mesmerising view of the valley being left behind with every turn...It was a huge respite form the chaotic life of Delhi as we headed on Jammu - Katra highway. Four of us were packed inside an old ambassador hired from Jammu railway station. It was relatively early in the morning and the wind was still chilling as we gained altitude. Our heads could not remain steady for too long as the fresh gush of air swept past our tired physical being. Soon I noticed that my companions at the back were oblivious to the beautiful sorroundings and were quite happily tucked away in deep slumber. I guess this is infectious as soon I too realized that keeping my own self steady was becoming a tough exercise.I dont know when I passed away. The faint sound of the driver humming an old hindi song was the only noise that was coming to my ears apart from the occssional horns of the army trucks passing by.

Suddenly all of us were awaken by a noise that made us go dry by the throat. I hurriedly caught a glimspse of my co-passengers in the rear view and saw that they were too confused with dishelved hair to understand anything. Finally the driver made us realize what had actually happened. Our tyre had a burst and we had to get it done before resuming our journey. Luckily it happened at a place which had a road side tea stall few meters away. Since it will take a good 15-20 minutes to get the tyre fixed, we decided to freshen up to a cup of steaming tea.

The tea stall was decent enough with wodden benches laid out in the sun for the travellers to bask. I also discovered by chance that it offered some of the best pakodas I had ever tasted. We finished one platefull and ordered another as we all had an early dinner before boarding the Rajdhani from Delhi the previous night. The feeling that a replinisehd stomach gives is always heavenly no matter wherever you are and in whatever situation. While having my tea I noticed a small boy of around 10-12 yeras, shabilly dressed smiling at me constantly from some distance. As we got ready to depart after our driver came and informed that the tyre was fixed, the boy approached me and asked for some money to help him buy his breakfast. I do not encourage giving money to kids but somehow could not refuse this little boy. Now this may be due to two reasons, one the boy had a pleasing smile and two I herad of legends that Mata vaisno Devi often visited in differnet forms to test her deciples in different ways. I dared not have taken the risk of erring the Mata. I gave him a fifty rupee note so that he could buy his breakfast and may be take some back home for other members of his family. He looked surprised at my genorosity and instantly took the note and ran away. I was taken aback by his behaviour for I thought he would atleast smile in appreciation if not anything else.

We resumed our journey in a couple of minutes after our driver too finished his cup of tea. Suddenly I saw from the window of my car that the same boy was coming out from behind a wooden house. He now had a mobile phone in hand and was talking to someone. As soon as our eyes met he gave a smile which conveyed to me that I was deceived by his behaviour.

I kept thinking on the entire way to Katra what a fool this small little boy made of me. But I had no one to blame but myself as I was moved by emotions and superstition and the combination of both has never given anyone a fruitfull result. At the end I consloed myself by forcing me to believe that I did an act of charity just before a piligrimage.Yes that was the only consolation I could offer myself....

The girl next door....

Hmmm...Its difficult to pen down about someone but never the less an effort made honestly can actually turn up well than imagined.This is exactly what I am trying to do and the points highlighted will be from what I observed and could know from few candid conversation.It is in no way intended to be judgemental but merely an effort to describe someone as vividly as possible. Since this content is available to the public hence I would not use names but instead would like to call my protagonist "Miss. N".....

It was a cold afternoon of January that me and my family who were visiting Delhi during the winter vacation was invited over lunch at Miss. N's place.Although I had met her once for a while it was that day that I could actually know and observe Miss. N better.Later following few posts on facebook also added to the advantage of mine trying to describe her to the best of my abilities..

Miss. N is the youngest of her siblings preceded by two elder sisters the eldest of whom is a very good friend of mine and hence the invitation for lunch that I just wrote above.Has a profile and demeanor that would easliy help her slip into the shoes of the proverbial "girl next door". Fond of good things in life and likes the latest in electronic gizmos.Is an extrovert and has an uncanny innocence that compliments everything else.

Likes being and also is pampered by everyone at home.Fond of taking her own pictures in different styles and likes comment on each one of them.Particularly fond of the colour pink. Given a choice between a pink Puma jacket and a holiday in an hill station might probably choose the pink jacket over the holiday:-)...Crazy about shoes so much so that even thought of a career in shoe designing though recently changed her mind after not getting desired backing from the family on the same.

An amulgumation of innocence and childishness, a little confused about self yet more or less focussed.Knows how to give a style statement and carries almost everything perfectly and is fond of gorging on chinese delecacies.

Well thats in a nutshell of whatever little I know of Miss.N and hopefully will know better over a period of time.This description comes just as a tribute to the attitude of Miss. N which makes her perfectly the "girl next door"...

The thirst of the Godman!!

We as an individual and even as a society have the uncanny demeanor to fall back to someone when in distress and trouble.The only problem is that "this someone" is often a self proclaimed Godman who is usually reffered to us by some one who has a blind faith on his abilities to liberate us from our troubles.

Right from the troubles of not bearing a child on time, to marriage woes and problems finding a desirable job, everything is believed to be cured by the ways and means the Godman shows.It is more often the emotions of a worried mind that plays the trick leading us to the traps laid by them.We dare not disobey his prescribed solutions for the fear of something more adverse happening to our already depleted condition.

But what is the genuineness of such Godman needs to be given a thought. I for the record know the fact that in rural areas the women are subjected to such extreme points where the God man actually fathers her a child on the pretext of giving the family an heir, and its not a case which happens once in a blue moon but is rampant everywhere whereby the Godman gets a chance to quench his physical thirst.

Families are sometimes even made to handover their last piece of possesion to appease the Gods through his medium in the forms of these hungry wolves. I know how Mr. Das was forced to believe that his daughter was not getting married due to the spell of a black magic done on his family. His already tensed mind was played around with numerous ceremonies that was performed at the behest of the Godman. Everytime he ended up spending huge amounts of money but his daughters woes never seemed to end. Good sense prevailed upon him sooner than later and it saved his daughter from the clutches of the Godman as he even suggested she might need to spend a night with him.

I believe and it is my personal opinion that we are born with our own destinies and no one claiming to be a middleman between us and the Almighty can change it what so ever.Mr. Das's daughter just got married at the age of 45 and is leading a happy married life.No it was not because of any Godman but it was written in her destiny.

Aloo Muri Wala!!

Having met with an accident recently and being confined to bed for almost a week made me tax my brain a little more than usual as I did not have the liberty to carry out any physical task apart from the very necessary ones. This condition of mine made me go back to my growing up years spent in the beautiful abode of clouds- Shillong. I kind of remembered small little insignificant things that are somehow no longer cherished here.

We (all our contemporaries) were particularly fond of a street side food called aloo muri. Now this was made with small pieces of sliced boiled potatoes mixed with bhel which is refferred to as muri in the eastern part of India. Also the combination of different spices and raw mustard oil complimented handsomely with few spoons of tamarind water made it heavenly in taste.If permitted I could have offered it to the Gods as prasad. Even as I write down about it now my mouth has already become watery. All we needed was two rupees to buy this delicacy brought in by migrants from Bihar.

Now this was something which was not either appreciated or encoureaged at home to indulge in.There were many reasons that they gave to make us refrain from having it but the foremost was the cleanliness and hygiene factor of both the food and its seller. But believe you me the same dish if offered at a good restaurant or even prepared at home will never ever give you the taste that it gave when made by these street vendors. Thier black sweaty hands peeling the potatoes, in between scratching at different body parts, sometimes digging gold from the nose simulteneously or even preparing with a running nose-the combination of all these or even any one of these was actually responsible for giving it the unique taste.

I still remember the guy standing with his wooden box filled with all the stuff near the street corner and how we used to see him make the dish with our tounges sticking out.At times the dog nearby was put to shame seeing the length that our tounges come out in anticipation. We plainly ignored all other facts about him but concentrated only on what he offered as an end result of all his preparation.The guy did not change all these years nor did the taste that he generated out. I could not resist trying it out on my last visit.Different people liked it in different ways and he customised it accrodingly.I usuallly just liked the aloo without the muri or bhel as you may like to call it.

Why I remembered this suddenly is simply because lying on my bed on a hot summer afternoon I had nothing to do but stare at the walls around.I let my imagination and memories loose for some time and it moved around everything before finally resting on the aloo muri wala and immediately made me have the sudden urge to have the dish. But being immobile and confined to bed I only had the option to think of it but it was still enough to be able to make my mouth watery.

Long live aloo muri wala!!!

Journey with a FRIEND.....

I had the good fortune of sharing my days in Delhi with my childhood friend and have seen many ups and downs in life together.No I have not shifted my base to another city but have merely moved to a new accomodation as he gets ready to take his life to the next level by getting arrested in matrimony.It was a good 5 years spent together shuffling between houses in old double storey-Lajpat Nagar. I still remember the day I landed in Delhi.It was peak of summer in July 2003 and my Rajdhani from Guwahati was delayed by 4-5 hours. I found him waiting for me at the station from 10 in the morning with the temperature hovering at 45 degrees.I moved on with him after completing my MBA in 2005 and since then we shared the days of our life together.

Be it hiding from credit card recovery agents to drinking every evening whenever he came home early the memories are deep rooted for ever.I may not have expressed such feelings earlier but recently meeting with an accident and being confined to bed for almost a week made me think in solitude about each incident.Although some people say that staying alone has its own charm and you have the liberty to lead your life the way you want I still felt within a few days that it actually had no charm. Your intial feeling of independence soon turns out into lonliness. This feeling further gets mulitipled many folds when you see something hilarious in the TV and have been so used to share it then and there.But now have to fall back to the mercy of SMS to share your thoughts and feelings...Although we never emoted very frequently but still there was a sense of understanding for each other which probably made us see through 5 good years together without any rift.There were days when we even did not utter a word with each other but shared the same space.

As he moves on with his life and I with mine, the memories of the days spend together will be etched in my mind forever.....It also reaffirms my belief in the saying that the childhood friends you choose are the one who are your actual friends as the time when we choose them we are devoid of any other motive other than plain selfless friendship....

Good luck with your life ahead friend....

Realization with a stiff neck...

Every part of our body if not in proper working condition makes us realise the value of it...This I realised very recently when I had a stiff neck due to a muscle pull cpomlimented handsomely by sitting for hours in front of the computer.It was so bad that I could only lie down straight on my back and stare at the ceiling.Some people even told me that this particular positon is infact good for the back and is actaually called "shav assan" ...I was wondering lying down that if the pain aggrevates I may actually turn into a shav waiting for my room mate to discover when he returns back from work..Fortunately am still alive to be writing my experience and enlightenment about certain things in life after the stiff neck...

First the free movement of the neck is of what importance can only be quantified when you cant move it freely any longer.Your vission is restricted only to seeing staright and nothing beyond that.This actually restricts you to see and appreciate certain beautiful objects on the streets of delhi and with this untimely arrival of summer these objects have become absolutely necessary to be seen and appreciated.

Also the second thing that I immediately realised was that its very difficult to hold your head upright for very long when you have a stiff neck. This meant that the idealistic few that we have in our society who always believe to portray holding their head high will find it difficult to do without the free movement of the neck.

Most importantly you should never be a pedestrian on the road in that condition. The probabality of you being turned into a squeezed tomato is much higher.Reason being you really can't see what's heading your way while crossing the road.I narrowly escaped being run over.Thankfully it was only a ricky and nothing heavier or bigger.

I also now respect those who tie a strap around their neck.Earlier I used to laugh at the thought that how patehtic it looked with their attire.Now I sympathise with thier communtiy.Also the pain in my neck made me give a little attention to my favourite food item- yes the chicken.Some of my sympathies goes for it as well when I think how cruelly it's neck gets twisted so that it can come up cooked in my dish.No don't get the impression that I have turned a veggie.It was a momentary thought suprned by rising emotions due to the stiffness of my neck.Last night I had chicken as a mark of respect.

Now that I am ok and the movement is significantly free I still think we all need such situations to sometimes understand the underlying importance of each body part of ours.

Thankfully I can now move my neck freely again and can still appreciate the beautiful objects in the street.....

Thank you Sridevi!!

I was reading a blog by a friend where one of the comments reminded me of the kind of opression a child has to go in a family.No these are not physical opression but its sometimes taxing the child's carefree mind so much that he doubts if he was your child or a puppet to entertain others...Yes entertain sometimes by dancing, or singing and not to mention by getting good grades.Good grades are something that the parents think is their birth right to demand from the child where else they forget that they themselves might have not been able to go to a regular college to get their degree.Add to all these a few classes of swimming or salsa or even rock climbing....Lets make the child a better human rather than try and make him/her a superhuman or a machine who is ready to functionally work on commands without the slightest display of emotions.Don't blame the child if he does not emote-you just robbed him of that quintessential part of his.

Whenever there's a party or a get together invariably the child comes under the scanner...All his skills are on display that day and judged by fools who only comment either for the sake of doing it or just to prove their expertise in each subject.I am sure as you read you too would be reminded of your childhood when you were asked to recite the poem or show the latest dance moves that you just learnt-often in front of complete strangers and worse sometimes at equally unknown households on your very first visit.

I remember one of such incident where I was the scape goat. My dad always believed that I had to showcase my talent to everyone.Not that I was born talented but he somehow thought I was better in displaying certain things. Those days I used to do quiet a few moves of break dance.A form made popular in India by the combination of Mithun's pelvic moves and Bappi Lahiri's stolen music.We were on a visit to the place where my dad was posted.That day he had called few of his collegues and their family for dinner as its was their demand to have food cooked by my mom when she was there.

I had got a scolding earlier in the evening over my choice of dress and was in a bad mood which became even more evident from my cheeks which swelled to unequal proportion.Just when the guests were seated and having the initial round of tea my dad summoned for me.I knew what was in store for me next.He proudly declared in front of the gathering that now I will dispaly my break dance much to their delight.What I did next is something I will never forget the rest of my life.I am still laughing at the thought of it when it happened almost 22 years back.What I did as a result of my mood was no where near to describing it as a break dance. I almost ended up doing a Sridevi like naagin dance the only difference was that Sridevi was on the floor gyrating like a snake and I was standing but doing the same.Eventually my dad made me stop on some pretext but the poor audience had no option but to clap to show their encouragement.

Well they left after dinner and so did my further public dispaly of talent.That night it also left through my dads mind out of the door and I was at peace in future whenever such gatherings happened. I still thank Sridevi for those moves or else I would have been doing break dance in front of every tom dick and harry....

The Kapoor Household...

Disclaimer: "This piece of my creativity is not meant to offend any particular community but dedicated to the happy go lucky nature of my neighbours-The kapoors"!!

The Kapoors have been my neighbour for almost 4 years now and now as I am ready to shift to a new house I will miss the Kapoor household the most if not for anything but atleast for the wholesome entertainment that they provided to someone like me...It is a typical punjabi household with lots of noise and gungho about everything.The decibell level of each member of the house was enough to serve as an alarm clock in the morning.But they have always been very warm and cordial sometimes even asking me for sharing the lunch with them on sundays.

Mrs. Kapoor was totally into herself and quiet boisterous about everything.Showing off was her passion and she will not miss any oppurtunity to let you know about any of thier newest possesion. Now she had a particular way of doing it and it was not directly said or showed but the way she projected it that was enough for even a chicken headed person to understand. I remember the day when Mr. Kapoor got her the latest model of 230L double door refregirator. It was placed nowhere but in the living room such strategically that anyone passing by would have surely got a glance of it. This made the other ladies ask her and her mission was accomplished.

I had over the years also observed that they used to go out when their kids had summer vaccation. Even after returning back and that too a good 3-4days later her hand bag still carried the baggage tag. This bag was taken everywhere for the next 10 days only to attract questions about her air travel and vaccation.

Mr. Kapoor was forced to make his youngest son sit on the car hood while he was coaxed to have his dinner.No not because the kid wanted it but because the new i10 cannot be shown off otherwise to the neighbour who was still struggling with his maruti 800..

Thats Mrs.Kapoor and her ways of leading life but I was always welcomed in their sunday lunch specially since it offered me to have chole which was Mrs.Kapoors speciality.That day the entire household wore a festive look.Kids would get up early with the aroma of the spices moving around their nostrils, Mr.Kapoor would be dressed in his sunday best having got his shave done at the saloon.They even had relatives coming from other parts of the NCR just to get a taste of Mrs.Kapoor's famed chole...

The lastest possession of theirs is a pug influnced by the vodafone ad.Now every evening Mrs.Kapoor takes it out for a stroll wearing her nike shoes horribly complimented with heavy silver anklets.

Just another week to go and then the Kapoor household will remain only in the figment of my memory...

Asking the obvious...

How much I hate those who ask the obvious is inexplicable and I really cannot quantify the hatred for such people.Now this hatred of mine if I recollect started way back during my school days and got fortified over the years once poeple started getting more interested in knowing my future than me or my family. I blame our social system for this and too some extent ourselves for letting people trespass our privacy and taking the liberty to dig deep into our personal lives...Boss why can't you lead your own and let me lead mine???

It all started with bumping into people on the road while going to school...On one hand you are rushing down the road to catch your school bus and on the other you find the so called neighbourhood uncle with a wicked pan stained smile asking you "so going to school"? Now this question is asked inspite of seeing me in the school uniform and having himself dropped his son to the bus stop for school...I felt like replying "no uncle am just going to the fancy dress competiton dressed as a school student" but the forced respect that our social and family system taught us made me refrain from answering him this way..

Then when you would have just reached 12th standard you will have a host of people visting your house and then asking "so thinking of a career now"?...Obvious yet they ask it so that the moment you say yes they have their advice ready for you on how to choose a career although their own son had to ultimately open up a shop failing to make a career for himself...This is not all though as at every step of life you will encounter such persons and the stupidity of their questions is direclty proportional to your moving forward in life..The moment you finish your higher education comes the inevitable question "now must be looking for a good job"? At this point you feel like replying back "no I only got this degree so that I could ask your daughters hand in marriage instead"...Offcourse someone who has invested time and money both to get his higher education would definately have a career goal in mind and its nothing to be asked but no we cannot stop poking our nose into others asses...

How I wish these people would change but no they have their clones everywhere and I suppose all of us have to tolerate them at some point in our life as they are thick skinned and would probably never change...What an irony!!

Hum Bhaat Khata!!!!

Our national language is one which is not spoken with ease in most parts of our vast country baring the hindi speaking belt..Its an irony that its significance as a national language is marginalised in most parts specially the south.Elsewhere it has been adapted in a unique fashion often getting blended with the local dilect in the process making it amazingly hilarious..

The bongs for example have their own way of conversing in hindi whereby the gender of a person gets invariably misinterpreted (using "thi" in place of "tha" etc..)..My hometown Shillong is packed away in the far most corner of north east India.Sometimes in our growing up days we often felt secluded from the civilized and modern world.Just an example to highlight this would be getting any national daily a day later than the actual print date..Although it had a cosmopolitan diospora of citizens the national language was quite beautifully customized to suit the khasi speaking tribe. "Aap kutta hum khaya" meant the dog having bitten the person and not other wise...And the innocent souls never understood what they actually were saying but tried their best to be at par with others who were slightly better in comparison to them while speaking in hindi.

I remember the Kong Rani (kong being sister in khasi)who's hindi was nothing less than a postmortem of the language. (Munshi Prem Chnad would have died a thousand deaths more hearing her or her fraternity speak hindi).She had opend up a provision store in our locality....The store was well stocked up and had everything that you may require in day to day life...Right from maggi to nails and hammer it was all available with her.She later even diversified a bit by stocking up cement and selling it to local building contractors..Inspite of such a variety of goodies being available in her shop we (a bunch of young lads) were frequent vistor to her shop (not to catch a glipmse of her)but to get our cricket balls as it didnot require going too far to get them sometimes even in between games.

It was not always a pleasant experience buying things from her shop partly because of her attitude.At one point of time I was forced to think that the shop was a mere way for her to pass her time looking at the street that went past her shop.I dont blame her totally for this as most of the businessmen in the east and north east are more particular about the timings of their lunch and afternoon siesta than maximising profits.She was rude at times but in her worst self if you by chance happened to visit her while she was having her lunch(cold rice cakes and few pieces of fried meat)...I relate this with her hindi speaking ability because at this very precise moments you could find her hurling a few abuses for stepping into her shop.I casually went to get a ball not knowing she was taking an early lunch that day.What greeted me was both shocking and hilarious, shocking because you will never find a shopkeeper shooing away a customer like this anywhwre else and hilarious because of what she uttered in hindi. What she said goes like this- " hum bhaat khata".Now this will need some bit of expalnation and translation into actual hindi. Bhaat is basically rice as its called in that part of the country.So what she actually meant was "go and let me have my rice in peace" where as most of it remained in her heart only because she must not have known how to say the rest of the words (go and peace and placing everything together to form a sentence thereby).

I bet if you can find such characters anywhere else but in the tiny city of Shillong. Each street, each person, each corner has a tale to tell and I will try my best to bring them out in front of the readers as and when they hit my memory and makes me nostalgic.... Till then happy reading!!

My Very Own Casper-The Friendly Ghost..

Living alone for most part of my life so far has given me chance to experience a plethora of situations and events. If some day I decide to jot them down it may well take up a form of a book.Each time I recollect the experiences I wonder in amazement at the sheer variety that they have offered.

A swiltering hot afternoon of July in Delhi. The sky started getting overcast and in no time it felt as if a blanket of darkness was slowly engulfing everything. The window started banging so fiercely that I had the fear that my glass pane may come crashing down anytime.Within ten minutes the first monsoon showers started pouring heavily drenching every corner of the perched up earth beneath.Naked kids could be seen dancing on the terrace and the women of the household's welcomed the season by partly letting the rain run through their shapeless contours.The smell of the wet earth that rose slowly was a refreshing change to the senses from the loo that was blowing even 4 hours earlier.

I decided it was a day to have nothing but hot watery Kichidi with a huge omlette to compliment my satanic taste buds...A good hour and a half past by the time I prepared and had it to the contenment of my hungry soul, the temperature dropped by atleast a couple of degrees and just the fan revolving over my head was enough to keep the room cool.I laid down with a book and began turning its pages often peeping outside to see the kids still playing in the rain which by now had become a drizzle. Within five minutes my eyes started feeling heavy and trying to keep awake was a herculean task to me. I had to blame the lunch that I devoured fifteen minutes back for forcing me to take a quick nap and the weather was too good to even resist and I ultimately gave in to the temptation.

I woke up in between to pull a sheet over me as the temperature further decreased.I had no idea how long I was in my slumber but when I woke up I had cold sweat running down my spine.I dismissed it as a bad dream that I must have seen.But repeated encounters of it and even when I was awake made me believe that it is something that cannot be ignored or brushed aside jokingly.

I will just narrate my first days experience instead of telling you what I went through every day

as that will make this too long.While I kept sleeping I suddenly felt the mattress of my bed slightly sinking the way it sinks when someone comes over and sits.I did not bother much and thought I was dreaming.Slowly I found my sheet being slowly pulled and I was being pushed as if someone was trying to make room for himself in the bed.My left side got considerably heavy and I was unable to move. I kept sending silent prayers not knowing what to do or how to react.After few minutes everything was back to normalcy.I woke up my throat dried up and goose bumps all over.It took quite a while to get back to my own self.I thought of what had happened but could only relate it to some bad dream sequence and nothing else.

But that was not all as from then on I started encountering this sequence every now and then some times as frequent as once in two days.I slowly stared feeling that it cant be a dream or a mere figment of my imagination but had something to do with the beings of other world.Later my belief got fortified when one night a steel bowl was thrown twice from the kitchen to my living room even after I had picked it up and kept it away.

I had got myself no harm done from the so called spirit and hence from that day whenever I narrate my this patrticular experience to anyone I call him my very "Own Casper-The friendly Ghost"...

An evening down memory lane....

"Memories behave in a crazy way...they leave you alone when you are in a crowd.But when you are alone they stand around you like a crowd"......

Last evening I was lost in my own thoughts.....Yes the unusual tranquility that my otherwise noisy sorroundings gave me was hugely responsible for me going into a state of deep trance for how long I cannot recollect. Memories came flashing past the eyes as if I was an anudience to some 3-D flick going around.Memories of childhood, the first crush, the growing up days, the final days of school, the first heart break and then the struggle to establish oneself......

With these were also some unpleasant memories related to death of near ones the sufferings of some from ailments and the struggle of existence that life kept doling out on a dish from time to time..it was retrospection at its best.I was wondering at the same time how many people we used to get influenced in the growing up years.Just because someone cleared the NDA made me look for excuses to convince my family to let me join the decorated service.Or just because someones son was having a lavish lifestyle in the west made me dream of taking up something as a career that will ensure the same for me, not realising or even bothering what did I actually want to do....Now when I think it sounds insane but that's actually what most of us did.

The first crush on someone or even a faint smile from the girl next door made us architects of our fairytale love story even committing to ourselves of a journey of lifetime with her later realising she was actually smilling seeing the unzipped trouser.The amount of chivilary that was on display would always put the knights of the 17th century at shame.You could just do anything right from shooing away the stray dog to directing the visitor to her house just about anything and everything that would ensure you of a place in her good books.

Memories of the sudden urge for social responsibility also came in front of the eyes and brought a smile to the otherwise dry lips.Remembered the day when our club decided to pay a visit to the elderly and sick in the locality with a bag full of fruits...The innocent souls never got to know till date that the fruits were plucked and stolen from their very own and fiercely gaurded gardens.I hope they will pardon us at this age even if they come to know.

I went back a good 17-18 years back on time and had a rollacoaster ride with my memories and the emotions attached with each incident that was dancing in front of my eyes.

I now hate the neighbours even more as its was their pressure cooker and its noisy whistle that made me wake up from my trance and come back to reality.And the reality was I had two blood sucking mosquitoes feasting on me while I was oblivious to the loss of the few drops of precious blood of mine ...

Social Recluse...

An unknown city an unknown world, new faces staring at you everywhere, just the safety of your one room accomadation and only your bed and the pillow with the pillow cover made by mom your only comfort....Wondering what am I trying to say? Well thats how eaxctly people feel when they are dying every day lonely deaths at a distant city away from home chasing a dream...Not always the dream comes true but many also burst like the bubbles we used to blow out as a child...

So many aspirations, many more expectations to live upto of those who have given their everything to make sure you reach here to chase your dreams..You too are prepared to fight the battle but soon a thought ponders-were we not better off in our small town lives? May be the moolhas we would have taken back home would have been less and insignificant but at the same time would'nt it have given a good nights sleep...

We get up every day not to live the day but yes more to survive it. Jostling for our space amongst the millions of unknown faces, some look friendly others dont even bother your existence. We try hard to call some acquintences our friend just to prove that we too know people in the mad mad city..Some turn out to be just oppurtunistic being your friend more so for what your designation is or how good your lifestyle is...But even then you will find the odd one who cares for you, becomes your admirer at the same time your worst critic, your guide and philosopher at the same time also confides their deepest secrets with you.I have been lucky to have met someone exactly like what I just described.This kind of a relation that you encounter in an unknown place with a person whom you never knew-you just cant give a name to it.You find glimpses of every human relation in such person..caring as a mom, loving as a soulmate, critic as a friend to name a few...

Others treat you as if you have been banished from some other planet to lead the rest of your life in earth...Families in the neighbourhood think you are the biggest threat to all members of the fairer sex in their household..the landlord invariably has the impression that you always have a wild weekend night although nothing beyond a bottle of beer and few drags of ciggrette was your only companion.The maid shows that you are at her mercy to get your sweaty wardrobe washed and the distant relative finds your one room accomadation nothing less than a suite of the Taj whenever on a visit just to save the hotel bills...

This goes on year after year and the only respite that this lonely heart gets, when the annual homeward journey is undertaken.Days are counted right from the day when the flight ticket gets booked, shopping spree happens almost every weekend prior to the visit and sometimes when the mind is tipsy after few bottles of beer a rebel takes birth inside pledging not to come back ever and do whatever possible to stay back home and lead a happy life...

The next morning is a monday morning all the previous nights hangover quickly disappears over a steaming cup of tea and in half an hours time you get ready again to fight the battle for existence and mental bliss!!!

Welcome to the life of a career pursuing social recluse!!!