One Little Story...

We met over our blogs. While looking for bloggers from Mumbai, he randomly happened to chance upon and comment on my work, and, just out of courtesy, I read his. It struck me as simple, nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, there was a startling, fresh hilarity in his posts. 

I think that is how our journey began. He would comment regularly on my blogs, and I, on his. Then we chatted online, and soon, added each other up on FB. The first time we spoke on the phone, I found his way of speaking a little gawky, and it actually surprised me, this incongruousness between the polished English he used on his blog, and the tapori Hindi he used while talking. 

Our phone conversations were effortless. He heard me out when I needed to speak, I lent him a ear when he needed one.  Sometimes, I would try to get him to reveal more about his girlfriend, but he would keep mum. "Some things you say, some things you don't," he told me.

One day, I saw his girlfriend's photograph. "She is sooooo pretty!!" I told him. "Haan, I know," he quipped. 

We bonded over F.R.I.E.N.D.S, How I Met Your Mother and a number of tiny little stories. The day we met for the first time,  I gifted him a chocolate. He lent me his pen-drive, which contained a few F.R.I.E.N.D.S bloopers, and some Animax cartoons (another of his passions). "Tell me if you like them," he said. 

I once asked him who his best friend was. (That is a childish question I ask a few people even now, just to get to know them better). He told me he'd never had one, because no one he knew came close to his definition of the term. 

We met another time. I wish I'd known that my second meeting with him would be my last. 

The last time we spoke on the phone, he was happy...deliriously happy. He wanted to share something with me, but I wouldn't let him. "It's too special," I said, "Keep it to yourself". And then, he said something that will remain with me forever. I don't remember his exact words, but he told me that his 'special news' was something he didn't want to share with anyone...but if at all there was one person he could say it to, it would be me. I think that was the best thing he ever told me. It was also the last.

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

We had a funny friendship, you and I. You aren't the kind of guy I would fall in love with, but my friendship with you a was sweet little phase that will always make me smile. Sometimes, when I think of our last conversation, part of me is annoyed, because you never did say goodbye. But then, I look at the larger picture. I think that is something life has taught me. And when I look at the larger picture, I can see your happy grin. And then, I tell myself, that one little sacrifice was totally worth it.

 

Blah Blah...

I start work on Monday. Frankly, I am super-apprehensive. (I would have used a more politically incorrect term here, but I still want to look like a good girl, atleast to my fellow-bloggers who have still not met me ;-) ) Anyway, so I do not know what to do at work. I will be in Banking; Banking, which is a word that has always, always turned me off. I do not know how the people will be, I do not know what my job will actually entail (beneath the flowery, impressive job description, i.e) , and I do not know if my work-place will be at Vikhroli or at Parel. Yes, I am looking at that too. I don't want any more exhausting train travel every morning and evening.

And the truth is, I hate times like these when I am so confused. I do not like being unsettled. But like R once told me, I am perenially confused.  I don't know if I will ever stop being unsure, frankly. But I believe I've shaped up fine this way, so while I can handle it, I'll let it be.

You know what I really, REALLY want to do, like never before? Go back to learning music. Which means, classical music as well as a musical instrument. Maybe the guitar, or even the piano. I want to sink into these activities whenever my work-life permits me, and drown all my worries in them. Really.

Speaking of music, I've missed it big time. But you know what, I just realised, Life is like a game of Musical Chairs. You run, you run to get to a place that you fit in, and even if you don't, you just have to force a fit or else you are out of the game. Sometimes, you are so taken with the idea of finding a place for yourself, that you forget to listen to the music. You stop enjoying it. It is only when you are temporarily out of the game, that you are able to listen to it again. And you want to start running. 

I have no clue why I wrote this. Does it even make sense? Confusion doing its bit again. 

I'll see you later.

Much Love,

Me. 

Just so I can start writing again...

For weeks now, I have been giving in to what someone artfully labelled 'Writer's Block'. Sometimes I had nothing special to say, sometimes I wasn't very happy with what I'd written, and sometimes I just didn't have the enthusiasm to go on. But right now, there is a burning desire in me to just come back. Get back to this passion of mine. I don't care if this isn't good work...I just want to know that I have triumphed over a bad frame of mind and done what I should have done long ago.

I think I'll just put in a few updates here, since I still need to get some thoughts structured before they can assume a form on this virtual space. 

To begin with, this week started off on a HORRIBLE note - I lost one of my batchmates in an extremely tragic car accident. He wasn't a close friend, but he wasn't a stranger either. We had worked together and were the hi-bye type of friends, and I don't think I ever saw him minus his genuine, warm smile. His death made me want to re-connect with friends all over... I wanted to ensure that everyone was okay. Also, in the last ten months, I have lost three of my batchmates very, very suddenly, and it makes me so uncertain about life. How do we forget that the only certainty in life is that it will end one day? Why do we not make the most of our time with everyone around us? Why do we not hate less and love more? WHY ARE WE SO STUPID?

I had to abandon Whiny. Whiny is a stray I have taken care of for years. But things were getting unpleasant with her in the colony...she had attacked Lily, another stray I have pseudo-adopted, and if I hadn't reached the scene in time, Lily might have died. After a brief stint in hospital, Lily came back to the colony, but lived in constant fear of being attacked again. So much so that she was afraid of leaving the building premises, and had started answering her calls of nature inside itself.That would eventually have caused the residents to revolt. I was given a choice: either abandon Lily, or let Whiny go. For the first time, I felt like a mother would, if she was asked to choose between her babies. And I am not exaggerating or trying to sound noble. I am just saying it like it was. So anyway, I had to choose, and  I knew Lily couldn't survive on her own; she was too timid and too bulliable to manage. And so I chose Whiny. When I dropped her off, she seemed so terrified of the new place that she didn't even come to me for what was probably the last time. I wanted to hug her, tell her I was very, very sorry, but she wouldn't come to me. I did the only thing I could do - leave. I want to go back and make sure she is okay, but how do I know I'll find her the next time I go there? Whiny won't hate me, will she?

On the good side, Oscar started his sessions as a Therapy Dog. The kids loved him. And it was lovely spending time with the little ones. Spending time with innocence. I had actually forgotten how innocence felt. How do we forget something that we are all born with? I can't wait for his next session.

Purvish moved back to Bombay this morning. I'm so happy for him and Ritu. Distances may make the heart grow fonder, but not everyone is wise enough to use that cliché to their benefit. Purvish and Ritu are, but I'm still glad they can meet often now.

I shopped for Shwetu's shaadi. Damn, I can't believe my best friend is getting married. But she deserves every bit of the happiness she is getting. And I'm so happy for Asha Aunty, Shwetu's mom. Things were really difficult until long after Uncle's death. I wish Uncle had been around to see his princess getting married...but I guess he will be there, it's just that we won't be able to see him. After all, I'm pretty sure he made Prasad come Shwetu's way. God bless them all.

I went to Mahim Church for the first time today, thanks to Jenny and Judy and Aunty. Churches are so beautiful - they remind you that there is a thing called serenity. Sometimes the chaos around you  does its best to make you forget that, doesn't it? And it is always lovely to see Jenny and her family. Looking at Judy makes me wish I had a little sister, really. And I love the person she's turned out to be. Also, may I proudly add, I'm glad I'm one of her sister's friends she likes! :-)  I met Ruffles and Apu too (Jenny's dogs). They are sweethearts. And something about Ruffles's eyes remind me of Whiny, I realised today.  It's not just the fact that they are honey-coloured, like Whiny's; the same trust, the same unfaltering love oozes out of them, too.

I am going to Shirdi on Monday. FINALLY. It's a beautiful feeling.

I am trying to catch up with a lot of friends this week. Once HDFC begins, I doubt I'll have the time. Besides, friends and family are always therapeutic. I need to see them, and I'm glad I'll be able to soon.

Oh and yeah...I saw Shai's dad on TV. I feel nice to know that I am friends with a celeb's son! 

There... I think I've emptied my system quite a bit. I feel better now. And this time I'll make sure I don't stay away for too long from blogging. That's therapeutic too, you know, just like family, friends, dogs, books, chocolate - and a few other things.

That's about it for now...I'll see you soon, people!

Much Love,

Me.

"Nani"

Her old, shriveled face bursts into a delighted grin as we walk in. First she engulfs Mamma in a humongous embrace that reeks of motherly love. Then I feel the two frail arms snaking around me, squeezing me into a tight welcoming hug. Over the next few minutes, I witness an old lady metamorphosing into a little girl – her delighted shrieks, her adorable enthusiasm, her joy on seeing my mother, and my mother’s daughter – me.

Nani, I am asked to call her. Because that is how her grandchildren address her. Almost immediately after we have entered their cozy duplex apartment, Nani begins her journey down memory lane, recounting little anecdotes of how Mitali (Mamma) and Dolly (Mamma’s best friend – and Nani’s daughter) were always inseparable. How often the families met, either at our ancestral home at Colonelgunj or at the Army Headquarters, in Allahabad. How both Mitali and Dolly had beautiful hair – and how well Mitali has managed to maintain it. How much fun those good old days were. Nostalgia, nostalgia and more nostalgia.

Then, over dinner, she asks me what I like to do. How I spend my free time. I tell her that I write. Her eyes light up, reminding me of a little girl once again. “Tum likhti ho, beta? You write?”, she asks me. “Main bhi likhti hoon. Maine kuch kavitayein likhi hai, tumhare Nanaji ki death ke baad…Tum sunna chahoge, beta?”

I nod, partly because I am genuinely interested, but more because I see an earnestness in her eyes that I cannot refuse.

The next morning, as I enter her room, her face brightens up again. “Can I read my poems out to you now, beta?” she asks, almost as if she’s been waiting to do that since our conversation at dinner. I smile, nod, and sit down on her bed. At once, she pulls out a sheaf of yellowed papers. Then she pauses. “Beta, tumhare Nanaji mujhse bahut pyaar karte thhey. Jaan dete they mujh par. Jitne din wo thhey, bilkul mujhe Rani banake rakha unhone. Kabhi mujhe koi taqleef nahin hone di unhone. Main unko bahut miss karti hun, beta. Unhi ki yaad mein maine yeh kavitayein likhi hain. Zyaada kuch nahin hai, tukbandiyan hain bas”, she says. I ask her to go on.

Then, one after the other, she recites poems that are simple, but straight from the heart, and therefore beautiful. For those few moments, she isn’t just Nani anymore; she is a woman, a wife, who is still very much in love with her husband, who still dreams about him from time to time, who is probably waiting for the day their souls will reunite in heaven. At one point, she is overcome by his memories, and her voice breaks, and I am worried she’ll begin to cry. But she regains her composure, and finishes reading all the poems. “How did you like them, beta?” she asks, reminding me again of the little girl who asks for approval for one of her childlike creations. I tell her I loved them, genuinely meaning what I say.

Over the next two days, I witness Nani in her different moods. Nani when she is worried, Nani when she is annoyed, Nani when she is lovable, Nani when she is ecstatic. One day, I catch her baby-talking to someone on the phone. Curious, I ask Mamma who it was. Mamma smiles, and tells me that it was Rosy Mausi, Nani’s younger daughter, who is due to arrive that afternoon. Why the baby-talk, I want to know, when Rosy Mausi is a mother of two grown-up boys. “Because she is Nani’s youngest child”, Mamma explains. That strikes me as funny, but also very endearing. Then Rosy Mausi arrives, and once again, I witness that little girl in Nani taking form, this time at the joy of meeting her “baby” after a gap of one year.

The night before we leave, all of us – Nani, Dolly Mausi, Rosy Mausi, Mamma, Dolly Mausi’s son, Saurabh, daughter-in-law, Sakshi and I - get together in Nani’s room. Saurabh Bhaiya and I bring out our video-cameras, all set to capture those moments for keeps. We coax Nani to sing. She obliges us, in her aged but still surprisingly melodious voice, with Geeta Dutt’s “Na jaao saiyaan”. Thirty seconds into her performance, she bursts into peals of laughter, remembering some incident about Nanaji and the song. Then she sings a number of other songs – most of them Punjabi folk numbers, and Rosy Mausi sings along with her while Dolly Mausi makes funny faces to entertain us. Then, when Saurabh Bhaiya plays the video on their TV, Nani gasps at how old she looks. The day ends, amidst feelings of love, captured memories and laughter.

The next day, Mamma and I are scheduled to leave Ahmedabad. Nani feeds us one spoon of curd each, as a good-luck gesture before we embark on our journey. And she asks us to come down for her grand-daughter’s wedding. We say our good-byes, and leave.

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

I do not know when I will see Nani again, because schedules are tight, and times, uncertain. But I do know one thing – for those three days that I was in Ahmedabad, I witnessed an old lady on one end, a little girl on the other, and a young woman somewhere in the middle of them; all three of them blended into one person - Nani.

Much Love,

Me.

Quotable Quotes...(9)

"Abhi tera 10th season chalu hai kya? To TV pe aate rehne ka"

                            -Shai-guy, 9th March 2010

Emni...

All good things must come to an end. Because better things must come your way.

Much Love,

Me.

Then and Now - A Journey Through The Years..........

Flashback 1 - Junior KG. 

We are an assortment of noisy four-year olds. And we are practising for a play. Lalita plays Bobby, a girl who falls asleep while studying, and then meets Emperors of historical significance in her dream. Sahil plays Emperor Akbar. Anirudh and Nachiket play two more kings (I do not remember who). 

Flashback 2 - Class 4.

Omkar sits behind me, and Sahil sits behind Omkar. Sahil is tall, lanky and nerdy. Somehow he reminds me of a clown, I'm not sure why. Anyway, I turn around, grab the notebook on Omkar's table, scribble some gibberish in it and give it back to him. Omkar looks up at me, and shouts - "DRAKY, THIS IS SAHIL'S BOOK". I haven't a clue what 'Draky' means, but I'm embarrassed and a little freaked out about writing nonsense in Sahil's book. But he's nice enough to not yell at me.

End of that academic year, Sahil leaves school. Someone tells me he is moving to the US.

 Flashback 3 -Vacation after Class 10. 

Online chatting is the new fad. All of us are exchanging e-mail ids and chatting online morning,noon and night. 

One day I get a request from someone called Sahil. I have no idea who it is, and it simply cannot be the Sahil I knew from school, but I still add the guy up. A little while later, he springs up online. And as it turns out, it is my former nerdy classmate. Except that he doesn't seem so nerdy anymore. I'm surprised he still remembers me, and a host of other people from school. 

Then we both get into the same college - R.A.Podar. We become classmates once again. But this time, I'm the nerd. I am inside the class all the time, sitting through b-o-r-i-n-g lectures, while Sahil, under the able guidance of his older brother Nikhil (a senior well-aware of Podar rules and regulations, and how easy it is to break them) royally bunks one lecture after another and hangs out in the numerous eateries nearby.And he has an uncanny penchant for Idli-Vada-Sambhar, I don't know why.

Flashback 4 - Vacation after Class 12.

I am leaving Podar to pursue Mass Media. At his end, Sahil is recovering from a nasty bout of dengue. Somehow, during that period, we begin chatting on the phone frequently. Both of us are nursing our own broken hearts - those that are born out of childish crushes. And in those three months, former-nerd Sahil becomes a very good friend. Very often, he asks me, "Yaar Tanushree, mere ko koi kyun nahin milti? What is wrong with me?" I always laugh it off one way or the other.

In June that year, I join KC. Sahil stays on at Podar. We are in touch off and on.

Flashback 5 - Final year of Graduation. 

I am at a gift-shop, trying to pick something up. Sahil has met a wonderful girl - Simran - at the gym, and has really started liking her, and I know he will ask her out that night.

My phone beeps. "It's a yes", says the message. I am so happy for him.

Flashback 6 - Vacation after Graduation. 

Sahil decides to do his MBA. I decide to do it too, but more because I can't figure out what else I should do with my life. We both enroll in the same coaching classes. And go write those horrid mock-exams together.Neither of us make it the first year. The second year, both of us do. Two different colleges, but both in Mumbai.

The Present

4th February, 2010

The day before Sahil gets engaged. I ping him. "Kaisa lag raha hai last day of bachelorhood?", I ask. "Bahut Bura", he jokes. "All the best", I say. And then I add, "N I love you, okay?" "Yes, I know - I love you too", he says.

And then, I ask. "Sahil, will I ever find someone, just the way you found Sim?" (And in my mind, I smile at our role-reversal.)

"Of course you will, sweetie. It'll all happen at the right time.I don't know when, how, but there will be a time when everything will automatically fall into place - effortlessly." I thank him. "God bless you", I say.

5th February, 2010

Sahil and Simran just got engaged. When I went up on stage to congratulate the couple, I said to Sahil, "From Junior KG to Engagement!" Sahil grinned. "Arre, this is still Junior KG only!!" Then we posed for a photograph, and I left the stage.

Even as I write this, I smile, constantly. It's been one heck of a friendship, this journey of ours, from being four-year olds to being twenty-four year olds. It is funny how our paths kept crossing - but I'm glad they did. 

And oh yes, now I know the answer to Sahil's question - "Yaar Tanushree, mere ko koi kyon nahin milti?" And I am sure Sahil knows it too. ;-)

Much Love,

Me.