Dil, Dosti Etc.

Watched Class of ’84 yesterday. And it was, like they say, “Paisa Vasool”.

The play begins when seven friends meet up as a group for the first time in twenty-two years after their eighth friend dies. And they talk, reliving old memories, burying old hatchets and digging up new ones. Although it has no storyline in particular, it tells many stories in that short span of ninety minutes. It talks of adjustments in marriages, of unconsummated love stories, of prolonged singlehood, of successful and unsuccessful careers and their vices, of secrets untold, and a lot more. But most importantly, it deals with friendships. Not just how they start off and end, but also all that happens in between.

And, as always, I was forced to think.

I am twenty-three, and not thirty-nine, like the characters in the play. And yet, I know I don’t have to wait for sixteen more years to witness the ups-and-downs in friendship. But, when I look back sixteen years later, I will definitely ask myself how much of a role I had to play in keeping, or breaking, any relationship that I experienced.

People say that I ‘nurture relationships beautifully’. That I do the best I can to keep them intact. The general idea is that to maintain a bond, one needs to give unconditionally, and give happily. What bugs me is that this is exactly what I have been doing, for all the relationships that matter to me - and yet, not all of them have turned out successful. In fact, sometimes when I think of all the ties that soured in the last two years, I actually start questioning myself, and my integrity in them. It pains me like crazy when I think of those friends…of Ally, of Aalap…and…maybe even Ron. I don’t understand why, despite my best efforts, these bonds withered away. Sometimes I wish, like a stupid little four-year old who lives in the world of fairy-tales, that a beautiful fairy would come down from the heavens, and set things right with a simple swish of her wand.

But then, I wonder…have I ever, ever done anything, to initiate this disintegration? No matter how hard I struggle to find a ‘yes’, I always fail. And I know that when I look back, at the age of forty, or even earlier or later, this ‘failure’ to find an answer in the affirmative, is something I’ll always be proud of. Because somehow, despite being an only child, and having most of…heck,let’s face it, ALL of my whims and fancies fulfilled, and sitting like a queen on the lap of luxuries, I have been lucky enough to value everything and everyone in my life. I do not build relationships for my own vested interests – I build relationships with those I love, because they deserve to be loved. And if they turn away, yes, it does hurt really badly, but I have a feeling, that someday, when Ally, Aalap…and…most definitely Ron…look back on their lives, and think of me, they will wish that it was one bond they had kept, and not allowed to wither. I am not saying I will have the last laugh; friendship is not about laughing at someone when you know you are right and your friend is wrong. But I know that I will never feel guilty.

I know all my blog posts are, and all of them in future will be, stuffed and encrusted with emotions. To many, I probably sound like an emotional, idealistic idiot. Maybe I am one. But my absolute loyalty, obstinacy and genuineness go hand in hand with my emotions, my idealism and my idiocy – like it, or lump it. I’ll admit unabashedly that at times when my relationships go sour, I feel like I am a very wrong person. But that feeling passes in a while. What remains, is the confidence that some years down the line, when I look back on all the people in my life, I will not be the one harbouring guilt. Because come what may, I will remain the person who knows how to value relationships and people. Forever.

Much Love,

Me.

Just Sometimes...

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could erase it all. Like the delete function in a computer. So that there would be no memories, none at all. There will only be Bliss.

Sometimes. Just sometimes.

The Helping Hand

When you think life has given you a good reason to cry,
Find a reason to Smile on your own.

When others pull you down and low,
Think of every single time you shone.

When your days are Cloudy and Bleak,
Go in search of your own Sunshine,

Whenever you feel you’re going through the Blues,
Think of all the times you were on Cloud - Nine.

When bad times rain down on you,
Create your own Rainbow Bright,

When everything around you is pitch dark,
Be your own Beacon of Light

Because what they always say is true…
You have the ability, the strength and the charm,
So do not wait for someone to pull you out of gloom,
For “The Best Place to Find a Helping Hand, is at the End of Your Own Arm”

Much Love,

Me.

Slides and Joy Rides...

One of my earliest childhood memories is that of sitting in the darkened drawing-room of my grandparents’ house (henceforth referred to as ‘that’ house) with my whole family and watching a slide-show of old photographs. My ‘whole family’ consisted of my parents, my uncle, my aunt, my little cousin and of course, my grandparents. These photographs were usually clicked on out-station trips that the family had made; someone had come up with the priceless idea of converting the pictures to slides. And thus had started the ritual of sitting down for these ‘trips-down-memory-lane’. Every once in a while, post-dinner, the compact little projector would be brought out, placed on a table and my uncle would play narrator. One-by-one, he would guide us through the slides, offering brief descriptions of each of them.

The years passed by and the constitution of my family changed. After a prolonged illness, my grandmother left us at the age of seventy-five. I can’t place a finger on how things changed after her death, but they did. Somehow, somewhere. Three years ago I lost my grandfather too. Like any other family, we moved on. But our busy routines snatched away the pleasure of those frequent visits. And, needless to say, of the slide-shows that had formed an integral part of my life.

Recently, some relatives happened to visit us and we had a family-get-together in that house. Post dinner, someone came up with the idea of a slide-show. And all of us readily agreed. In a few minutes, we were all ready. After a gap of six or seven years, here we were, sitting in the same darkened room, our eyes glued to the wall. As images of the yesteryears flashed on the wall and disappeared after the respective narration, I experienced that same childhood thrill, that same excitement; for a brief period, it was as if my grandparents had come back, that they were sitting in the same room and reliving their pasts as well.

In that span of forty minutes, the family vacations of long-long-ago became tangible realities - my grandparents, both young and spirited; my father and my uncle, men in the prime of their youth; their trustworthy blue ambassador, a dependable companion who took them wherever they wished to go. And decades later, in the present day, we all sat face-to-face with the yesteryears.

Why those lifeless bits of film are so important to me, some may ask. And I have my answer ready. There is so much about the past that I have witnessed only through these slide-shows, for instance, my father’s pet rabbit, Bunny, who died when my father was in doing his MBA, our palatial house in Nainital, which is today practically in ruins, birthdays that were celebrated with extended family and friends, and so much more. To me, these slide shows are like time-machines, or, more precisely, like the ‘Pensieve’ in the Harry Potter Series.

Tomorrow, the constitution of my family is bound to change further – some people will leave forever, and some will come in. And someday, when we are having another get-together, with both old and new family members, I will ask, make a special request, for the projector to be brought out again. So that we can, as a family, relish another beautiful rendezvous with the yesteryears.

Times Like These Make Me Believe That Mr. God Exists...

Don’t get me wrong; I believe in God just as much as chronic alcoholics believe in alcohol or chain smokers believe in cigarettes. (Stupid analogies, but they communicate the intensity of my faith). But then in one’s life, there are times when one questions the existence of that Power. Regardless of the strength of one’s conviction in Him.

I had been questioning Mr. God for quite some time. Maybe it was escapism; I refused to take the blame for all the things that had gone wrong and therefore comfortably shifted the charge to Him. These ‘things’ included Papa’s moving away to Hyderabad for an assignment, my post-graduation plans still being on hold, MICA abandoning me and a lot of other stuff.

And soon, miraculously, God did take heed. He saw me sulking and pouting and He heard me questioning Him. And He took action. No, He did not stop Papa’s shifting to Hyderabad, He did not get me a (magical) call for a post-graduation, and He DEFINITELY did not get me shortlisted for MICA. Instead, He made me win a prize on Zapak.com. A Garnier Gift Hamper worth about six hundred bucks. The hamper arrived three days ago, during one of my ‘über-low’ phases. And it was pretty loaded…there was their new ‘Mattifying Fairness Cream’, their new ‘Pimple Zapper’, an ‘Exfoliating Facewash’, a ‘Deep Clean Gel Face Wash’, a ‘ Pore Purifying Astringent’ and a ‘Daily Treatment Crème’.

And you know what? For a few hours, I did forget all those potential downers. For a few hours, I was all smiles, proudly displaying my new acquisitions to everyone who was around and calling people up and telling them. For a few hours, I was a child again, basking in the glory of having won a contest. And I thanked Mr. God for having taken some time out from His busy schedule just to gift me those broad grins.

Looking back, I can think of a lot of instances when the grins have come in at a least expected but most needed time. This one time, for instance, when I was really low, I decided that the only thing that I could do to feel better was to go to the temple. There, in those peaceful surroundings, I prayed and prayed for the peace to somehow enter my mind too. I wished desperately for one good reason to smile. (Yes, I know I sound terribly defeated, but that is precisely how I felt back then.)

After I finished praying, I got up, and with my eyes transfixed on Sai Baba, I started walking out of the temple. Backwards, mind you, for someone had once told me to never turn my back on God. And suddenly I felt my leg getting caught in something. In someone else’s leg, actually. And before I realized it, I had fallen REALLY REALLY CLUMSILY on top of this really thin man (poor soul!). Needless to say, the entire lot of devotees there started staring at me. And the next few moments were filled with sincere apologies from both of us (strangely the man asked me if I was hurt) and dollops of embarrassment. I hurriedly walked out. My face must have been red with embarrassment.

The funny thing is, once I started walking back home, I began seeing the funny side of the whole situation. And before I knew it, I was grinning. And I couldn’t stop grinning. Passersby on the road must’ve thought I was crazy or something. But the very thought of the atrocious way in which I had fallen only minutes ago was way too hilarious for me to control myself. And then I realized: I had asked God for a smile, and He had given me a grin immediately, probably as a stop-gap arrangement. The purpose of visiting Sai Baba, therefore, had been temporarily served.

*************************************************

Sometimes, when you are going through a similar phase when you want to scream and shout out to Him that you don’t deserve what you are getting, and you aren’t getting what you actually deserve, wait for some time. For a LOT of time, if necessary. But trust me on this one: He will gift you your broad grins too, all in good time. Your grin might not be for the reason you desire, but it will be good enough for that moment. As for the real reason, that will come your way too, in some way or the other. I know it is still too early for me to comment on this so confidently, but something prompts me to. Because some days when I am low, and questioning the existence of God, I either happen to spot puppies, or see a rainbow, or get an unexpected phone call from some one close, or find some other reason to smile. And then I know. I know that He exists, and will watch over us ALL the time.

Much Love,

Misha.

Pixie and Me

Inspired by ‘Marley and Me’ (refer previous post), I decided to dedicate this particular entry to my dog, Pixie. This morning, I sat indulging in my favorite activity – thinking – and I thought yet again about how similar Pixie and I are. People usually tend to draw comparisons between themselves and their siblings; I draw comparisons between Pixie and myself. And even though we aren’t quite the same species, I am amazed at how much we have in common.

Both Pixie and I love people. A house full of immediate family members or guests delights both of us equally. The only difference is that Pixie wants to gobble up all the attention by seating himself strategically in the middle of everyone.

We both love going out with Dad - he on long walks or drives and I on book-shopping expeditions.

Both of us gorge on sweets.

Both of us are EXTREMELY fussy about our eating habits.

Both of us love to sleep.

Both of us are pretty demonstrative about our bad moods.

Both of us love photography – I do the photographer’s job and he does the modelling (and HOW!!)

Both of us love pillows.

Both of us try being adventurous and return with dog-bites.

Both of us love being pampered.

Both of us find the same people irritating (it’s true!!!)

Both of us can get extremely obstinate.

Both of us love Public Displays of Affection (to a certain extent, however) on ourselves.

Both of us love acting like kids.

And finally:

Both of us love Parle-G biscuits!!

That’s all for now, Folks!! See you later…..

Much Love,

Me.

Of Dogs And Humans

Dear all,

I just finished reading a book called ‘Marley and Me’. Authored by John Grogan, ‘M & M’ is all about the experiences of the Grogan family with its Labrador retriever, Marley. Now, Marley is all the things a pet shouldn’t be; he is destructive, disobedient, messy and in serious need of tranquilizers most of the time, but as you read on, you realize that everything apart, one thing that doesn’t change is Marley’s loyalty. Despite thick and thin, despite good and bad, and despite the changing behaviours of his caretakers Marley the dog continues to stand by his best friends-his family.

The Grogans, John and Jenny bring home a little yellow ball of fur shortly after they get married. What encourages them to bring home a puppy, apart from the fact that they are both dog-lovers, is that neither of them has taken up the responsibility of ‘nurturing’ a living being per se, and they both feel that before they start a family, raising a dog would be ‘good practice’. Shortly after that the subject of the book comes home. And from there begins the story of ‘the world’s worst dog’. A MUST read for all dog-lovers.

The book isn’t only about the unforgettable canine, though. It is interspersed with the life of the family; of the tough phases the couple’s marriage goes through, of blood-curdling incidents in the neighbourhood, of the author’s career…in short, the author has compressed about thirteen years of his life beautifully in this three-hundred page creation.

The book touched me in many ways, so much so that towards the end, when Marley is about to die, I started crying. I remembered the time my first dog Candy had died and realized, yet again, the value of my present dog Pixie, who is also in the evening of his dog-life.

Speaking of the book and giving in to the emotions that are surging within me now, I really want to share this little something with you. In today’s times, when you have such few people you can actually, seriously count on, undying loyalty and unconditional love are synonymous to heaven. When I look back on my twenty-one year old life, I see many things, both good and bad. I see people who have stood by their family and friends no matter what. I see people who have left them right when they needed them the most. I see the laughter and I see the tears. But what I see most is the need for loyalty and love. In everybody.

Some days when I am really low, I try and feed biscuits to stray dogs. Or else if I am broke or feeling stingy, I simply call out to them and stroke them affectionately. Either way, they accept my gesture with all their heart and soul, not once demanding anything more than that love and concern. And the best part is, the next time I walk down that same road, even if I don’t see them, they see me. And they come to me on their own wagging their tails away to glory. They recognize me, and tell me in their own special way that they love me because I have spent a few minutes of my life trying to make them feel loved and cared for. They always have time for me, and when I don’t have time for them, they understand. They come back another day, all prepared to forget my lack of attention and finding no need to forgive because I have committed no crime according to them. In other words, they harbour no spite. And that is the basic difference between them, the ‘silent’ species, and us, the ‘intelligent’ species. This might sound funny, but if even a fraction of the humans in this world can be as clean at heart as these ‘dumb’ animals, the world will become a much more beautiful place to live in.

Thank you for your time.

Much Love,

Misha.