Au revoir, Arrivederci, Goodbye...

As I turned around to check whether he was behind me, I saw a grilled gate come between us. Scared and alone I did the only thing I knew to do then. 'Big pearls of clear fluid' - he would call them - dropped to the ground. It didn't matter if my new uniform got spoilt or that I was given a new water bottle to hand around my neck, I didn't like this new emotion I was feeling! But before I could do or say anything, a tall woman took my hand and took me to my first classroom. 


I put my head outside the window, the car slowing picking up speed, I had a big smile on my face as I waved my small hand as hard as I could as we drove away. They were sad, the faces and hands waving back. They were sad. The air was cold and it was almost dusk but I was looking forward. A new colony. A new home. New friends and a new school...


I sat in my loft, surrounded by all the boxes. Almost 10 years it had been since we had moved. I couldn't bear the thought of letting my friends, school and colony go. My house! My room that Ma and I had re-arranged at least a billion times! My balcony where my best friend and I watched the stars in the middle of the night, simultaneously being bitten by numerous mosquitoes! The court where I attempted to learn tennis! The lawn where we had so many parties in... I couldn't let go...
I closed my eyes and took a deep breathe...


I sit on my bed, folded legs, a cool October breeze caressing my face and I feel suffocated. I think of the days to come. I think of the time that I would have to move again. Leave this comfortable place. This place where I finally let go and became me. Where I discovered so many different aspects of myself. Where I had found true and false friends. Where so many more memories were and are still being made. Memories that seem stronger because I am older and cling on to them harder. I look outside at the empty ground and I wish I were 5 again. When even the goodbye at the end of the day didn't matter and think why should a goodbye after 3 years matter! I wouldn't see these people again. Sure, we would keep in touch, maybe even meet the first few years... then..? Then Life takes control. She changes you. She pulls you away from this wonderful time. Creates a new world, a world that would mean more, that would mean as much as this world means to you right now. I know. Because I've been through it once already.


No one is to blame. Not even Life. Its a cycle, I suppose... I like to think of it as a chapter in my personal diary. Actually if I were writing my journal regularly, then these wouldn't just be chapters! They would be parts of a huge series! Series bigger and greater than the Harry Potter or Famous Five series! I am sure there are others whose lives are better.. but this is my life, my time, my friends, my chapters, my moments, my memories, my goodbyes and I will make each of them worth it! 


I disliked and disapproved of my dad's preaching's about not feeling anger and other negative emotions. I believe each emotion is developed to be felt and dealt with. How else would you enjoy the positive ones? If you don't believe in philosophy, science has already proved it! It's called the Principle Of Relativity.


I dread the day I say goodbye to my new made family here, I dread the change that I myself will go through again, but I console and promise, as I had done years earlier, that I will never leave a moment un-lived, a memory not made and I will never keep anything to regret in my years to come. I will write a story so wonderful that my grandchildren would ask me to repeat every phase over and over again... 


But for now, I live with the dread and suffocation, awaiting my next transition.The next train. The departure.  I live with heightened senses and receptors, receiving and preserving every single silly thing as an important token.


As I stood outside my new home, I waved and smiled with mixed emotions as my family drove away. There had been tight hugs but no tears. I didn't want them to know I was sad but also glad. I felt guilt but was excited. I turned around, that September evening, and walked into the hostel doors and started a new chapter.

The Italian Tour - Rome.

Bags packed, batteries charged, hats worn and our energy levels at the 100% mark! We were all set for our 10 day journey through a new continent, a new country.

Most of our journey was pre-planned and pre-booked which made the trip more enjoyable and relaxed and thus less troublesome and hectic!

We began our trip with an international flight to Rome. Landing there, we were escorted by our star world traveller Mr. Papa through the crowded airport and out on to the lobby with our luggage to meet our airport pick-up man-from the travel agency-who then drove us to our hotel and gave us our first sights of the roman empire! It was like we were watching a film being played outside our car windows!
The hotel room was atrociously tiny but hi-tech and cosy. We spent the rest of the day with a not-to-the-scale map walking through the streets along the river tiber, visiting near by monuments, taking billions of pictures of the alien place, shopping for souviniers and tasting new food!

That pretty much described the schedule that we followed through the whole tour!

On our second day in Rome, we visited the Vatican city. I could bore you with all the history, geography and architecture but I'll spare you and tell you how it felt to be inside the autonomous city in the italian capital. The Monuments and buildings were breath-taking of course but the best part was the gigantic St. Peter's Basillica. Despite all the crowd and rush-that was well felt and experienced inside The Vatican Museums and Sistine Chapel- the enormous church had a strange tranquility amongst all the chaos. A must visit spot for all spiritual and religious seekers. Unfortunately we couldn't get a glimspe of the Pope as he was out of town.

On our third day in Roma, we were guided through the ruins of Rome. Great monuments like The Colosseo, Churches - St. Peter In Chains and lots of Piazzas. What we learnt that day about the beautifully maintained city was that 1) all the fountains had drinkable purified cold refreshing water. Available free for the public.
2) Architecture of the Romans is considered state of the art and no contracter or constructor can destroy any building to make a new one. Strict regulations are followed. If Dubai is for the modernized buildings, Rome and rest of Italy is for the preservation of history.

That night we fed our hungry tummies with wonderful thai/chinese food and lovley gelato, returned walking through the streets of Roma to finally put our tired throbbing feet to rest and charge our bodies for the next day that would take us to a brand new place!

The Story Of The Rain And The Wind.

You control the wind,
And I control the rain.
Together we always produced a hurricane.

Strong and ambitious we both are.
You brought gushes of powerful air
And I'd destroy everything to a minimum bare.

You reethed of positivity,
While I expected the negative.
You vanquished all darkness,
While in all of it I lived.

I poured down hard,
On a river that had long died.
You tried to stop me,
After you changed your direction and said goodbye.

Puddles and canals I slowly filled,
My clouds I painfully killed.
You could only direct me away,
Powerful enough just to make me sway.

Soon the rain will dry off,
And alone you will blow...
But the rain needs her wind,
For all her sides to show...

You control the wind,
And I control the rain.
Without us there wouldn't have been
Such a beautiful hurricaine.

The Story Of The Cyanosed Heart.

Hopeless he was in love,
And many a time he has fallen.
Unconditionally he always gave,
Yet many a time he has broken.

He had a type, he supposed,
Proud, popular and ever so confident.
One like himself, he propsed,
Silent, strong and never dependent.

They did return his love,
With letters, kisses and gifts uncountable.
But then they always left,
Hazy memories and broken hearts innumerable.

Hid in a shell he did
To block the pain and cold of the world
Completely blind he was
To his true love in front of him who swirled

Sad and lonely he became,
His heart tore to see the others.
But he pushed her away,
For pain he could never suffer.

His heart got no air,
Blue it was starting to turn.
For love is oxygen,
And without it no fire could burn.

Finally he let her in,
The blue heart she dissolved away.
Gave him all her love,
And threw his shell deep in the bay.

Happily they forever lived,
The fire always kept burning.
Joyful and delighted,
With no more sadness or yearning.

Heartbeat

As she lay there quietly in his arms,
She heard his heartbeat whining like dying alarms

She knew his time was short
And wondered how much of it could be bought

For she had never felt so complete
As she did then silently listening to his heartbeat

She didn't have the strength to say goodbye
All she wished to do was to hold him tight and cry cry cry

He smiled at her, as if she were a child
Disobedient, unkempt and wild

He loved her with all that was left of his heart
Kissed her softly as he recalled the bullet that had caused his world to fall apart

He had to defend his country
Injustice to his motherland he just couldn't see

So off he had gone
To save the land he was born on
Paying no heed to all the danger
He was taught to shoot and scream 'yes sir!'

Now as he painfully bled
He remembered the last words she had said
'My love... Please don't go
There is no need of bravery to show
A beautiful family we'll make
But without you the dream would just break'

He felt her crying into his chest
And said, 'I wish you nothing but the best.
Always be happy' he blessed

'Though our baby I cannot see
Beautiful I know she will be
Just like my silly darling crying for me
Don't you understand
From above I shall watch over thee'

She felt a last kiss on her head,
A final goodbye the heart shuddered and said

Without him she learnt to live
To the baby she gave all she could give

Many nights drifting into a sleep oh so complete
She would dream of his arms and feel his heartbeats...

The Temple.

It might be the white tiles or the secluded location or maybe it is just His presence... I don't know what it is about a temple that brings the peace and tranquility it is surrounded by but it is breath taking and very soothing.


Few years ago, I stopped praying and believing in Him. It was a trend. It was so much cooler to be an athesist. To fight with the believers that He doesn't exsist and that everything could be answered by Science. Honestly, I had no opinion. I just enjoyed the false superiority it gave me. It was not that I didn't believe in His exsistance, I was simply indifferent to it. I went on with my life, calling Him when I required Him, asking for help, for forgiveness... and making sure I thanked Him every time something good happened in my life. 


But I had forgotten the sweet prayer my mother taught me to say every night before bedtime. I had forgotten to give Him the gratitude He deserved for giving me such a lovely and fortunate life. I remember now how ma had, I suppose, modified it and added a "Thank You God For Everything" in English to the original Oriya orison. I remember giggling one night when ma taught my little sister the prayer and she couldn't pronounce the words right! 


It has been a couple of months now that I've been visiting temples and churches. It began as a favor to a friend. He told me he needed to go there and he went there for it was peaceful... to cool his mind... sometimes because He called him... Though I had never consciously  believed in God, I understood what he said. I always believed in super natural forces, inner peace and the 'call' although I had never experienced them. 


The first temple I felt serene at was a Kali Mandir a little away from the main road, surrounded by lovely lush trees, cool and quiet despite the noisy cars rushing past and the mighty sky scarpers built  few hundred meters away from it. I followed his movements for it had been long since I had visited a temple and had buried all the rituals that I might have learnt in oblivion. 


We did not sit outside after all the rituals and prayers were done, that particular day. I remembered a memory where my family and I had visited a temple and papa had asked us to sit down on the floor for sometime, while he distributed the prasad amongst us. It was  peaceful but my sister and I being very animated, never sat for long... We ran around... played...jumped...rang the big bell. I realize now what one gains and senses after sitting quietly inside the temple grounds. Almost like the peace one gets after one has a lovely good night's sleep.


I had stopped going to temples for another reason. My memories are a little jumbled but I recall two sad incidents, one where my shoes were stolen at The Great Shiridi Sai Baba's Temple and another where papa's phone was pick pocketed at a small temple in the outskirts of Hyderabad, where in if you walk a hundred times or so around it your wish, request or desire made to the deity would come true. I disliked temples and after these incidents, I disliked them even more. I don't know why He did such things to us. I suppose somewhere we did learn something out of it. Karma is another thing I strongly believe in. Strange it is, I realize, that on one hand I refused to believe in Him but on the other I believed in what He preached. 


So, as I was saying, it has been a couple of months now that I've been visiting temples and as unfamiliar as it may seem, He has called me a few times. I felt shy and awkward asking to be taken to a temple but, even though I don't have a preference as to which deity I wish to visit, once I reach there, in His vicinity, lighting the little lamp to help Him fight away the darkness and ignorance, ringing the bell to inform him of my arrival or to awaken him to listen to my prayer and eating the little leaf or sweet as if accepting his blessing in the form of the generous gift, I feel mellow, serene, tranquil, calm, tame and any other peaceful adjective you wish to add! 


I visited a temple today, as one would do before a big examination to ask for strength, courage, blessings and luck and in return I got my peace and focus I needed. 


'Thank You God For Everything' 
:)

Sunday Mornings.

Everyone loves the weekend. And in the Indian Scenario, where the weekend means saturday and sunday, everyone loves their sundays. [Egyptian residents would relate better to friday or saturday.]

A day full of nothing-ness, special meals through the day, a lovely long head bath, a casual car wash with dad,  drive to a nearby mall, fooling around with colony friends in the park and best of all - The 10am wake up call!

Of course life in hostel changed many of the usual routines but one still enjoys it. We are pleasently woken up by the auroma of freshly made dosas and coffee. Naturally, because this being hostel food it isn't as exquisite as a 5 star hotel or as filled-with-love as a mom-made-dosa or as oil-filled and unhygienic yet undoubtly tasty as the road side dhaba's! Putting all the criticisim aside, I honestly have to say, our hostel makes some amazing masala dosas! It has become the sole reason as to why I distrupt my week-long-awaited 10am wake up call!

Strangely, this isn't what this post is about. Sure the dosa is superb and sure we have to wait in a long line just to get one and later get rudely refused a second helping but there are rules. Queue Rules. Simple and straight forward.
1. One must stand in their acquired position - depending upon when they arrive at the dinning hall.
2. One does not deviate from their position. Exiting the line to book a seat or to get a cup of coffee is permitted.
3. One takes whichever dosa they receive.
4. One does not ask or attack for a second one.

Of course each rule as its loop hole - people cut lines and join ahead in the pretext of talking to their 'friends', ask- rather order- for a different dosa every now and then and I discovered a simple loop hole to get a second one! - making sure I'm just to everyone in the line, I never take a second masala dosa made for everyone, I secretly and politely ask for a plain one! It is a different thing that I get an upper hand in the whole issue just because I've befriended the food givers but I suppose it helps. Helps a lot!

So, today morning the usual routine commenced and I finally reached the head of the line (ok was one behind the head but hey! I would get my dosa in just a few more minutes of gruesome waiting!) when these two juniors came up, paying no heed to the snake-like line produced, with a plate and bowl and ordered one of the food-handlers (the sweetest one incidentally) to give them the dosa with a stern face and a rude tongue. One could've completely taken them to be those masked robbers taking hostage and stealing from a bank! They believed they could excuse themselves from the Queue Rules just because they had to visit the hospital. Knowing the food-giver, I was sure she would've happily given them their undeserving dosa provided there hadn't been that serpent getting longer and hungrier behind and if they had been polite -  neither of which had occured. When the dosa did arrive they practically attacked the large plate it was produced on. The head robber instructed her minion to fill the bowls with the sambar and chutney and left. I saw the sweet food giver get upset and walk away because she couldn't do or say anything.

I wish people would understand not everything can be taken by force or by ordering and that everything can be done through a calm sweet and polite manner...

Sad and pondering over the situation I sat down with my fresh dosa and coffee and got lost in the delicacy of the meal!

#Future Note: Today is Rath Yatra and hostel made food equivalent to a 3star hotel! Had a stomach full of jeera rice and dal tadka!

Dhobin.

I had been stalling washing my jeans for over a week! And now the other jeans needed cleaning too. Soon I'd have nothing to wear outside!

But still immensely lazy.. I procastinated the tiresome job...

Today morning, after a early lights-out because of a headache, I planned to wake up at 5/6am to get some studies done while the roomie slept. I did wake up at 4:47 am, heard and turned off both alarms set at 5:00 and 6:15 and eventually woke up at 7:25. I was sad that I could not attain the goal that I had planned but slightly pleased because it was better than the 8:20 I'd been seeing everyday the last week!

So, little down and planning for the day ahead, I got out of bed and brushed my teeth, returned to find my roomie talking-to her boyfriend I suppose-on the phone, made my bed,opened the curtains, grabbed my cup and went downstairs to get some tea and hopefully a subsitute breakfast for the upma that was assigned for the morning meal. Fortunately they had bread! Happily I gobbled it up while I made trivial conversations with 2 friends abt the exams, other friends and the horoscope reading that few guys had gone crazy about recently!

Content that I got a meal, I returned to my room to find my roomie still on the phone. Without disturbing her I left to refil my bottle. Prepared to sit down and study...

Was reading Rigor Mortis when my head got jammed. Maybe because of the same mechanism as RM - Exhaustion of ATP! I forced myself to read it...but I couldn't anymore. Tried messaging a few friends to refresh mind but that just worsened it...Fed up...I rocked on my chair... Debating on what to do... When I remembered how few of my friends (the same ones with whom I had breakfast with) had told me how their fathers had told them that their breaks in hostel included only washing clothes!

Pumped up to wash those jeans I needed, I got out and searched for a water heater... Got all my dirty clothes into a big pile... Heated 2 buckets of water... Poured detergent to clean and dettol to kill... Put the clothes in.. Churned them in and got ready for both the clothes bath and mine!

The most difficult part about doing the job of a washerwoman, other than making sure your workplace is clean( Argh... Bathroom was so dirty... I poured dettol over the floor to clean it...n still people went in to wash their feet post pee/poop) and the actual washing, is finding a place to dry all these wonderfully cleaned and smelling clothes! I hate it when people move my clothes, but I do it so mercilessly it surprizes me. I cleared away 2 whole rows of dry clothes -awkwardly touching the unmentionables- and hung my 3 pairs of jeans, 2 bed sheets, 1 towel and the towel in use!

Satisfied and relaxed... I now sit under my fan... Feeling cold and hungry... Drying my hair and waiting for everyone to get  ready for lunch.

Beilal, The Barber.

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Agile and artful he was,
With scissors in one hand and comb in the other
All his customers he'd skillfully gather!

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Handsome and hard working he was,
The cutest clothes he wore
And all the women's hearts he tore!

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Sweet and shy he was,
In a foreign tongue he always mumbled,
Listening to which we always tumbled!

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Cunning and coniving he was,
Secretly he'd lure you, oh yes he would
Convicing you to change your do, and you'd completely believe you should!

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Enticing and enchanting he was,
But if once to his hex you'd give in,
The magic he'd create would seem like a propitious sin!

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Tired of all the women he was,
He gave fake smiles and forceful laughter
In response to their everlasting jibber-jabber.

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Agile and artful he was,
With scissors in one hand and comb in the other
All his customers he'd skillfully gather! 

The Story Of Fixing Of The Fan And The Aloo Bora.

One evening, after I had rearranged my room again, realizing that I needed my table fan to run again because my table no longer was under the ceiling fan,  I informed the 'boys' that I would like them to take my fan to the fan guy as they were going that far anyway to buy a cake for their midnight birthday party celebration. ( feels like St. Clair's by Enid Blyton, right? :) )


I wasn't planning to go...but then it rained and somewhere I didnt trust they'd handle it properly. I had to see it for myself. So I pulled on a pedal-pusher (the muddy roads are pretty irritating to walk in, post-down pour) and an over-sided t and surprised them when I went down to join them.

So we walked along the tiresome route that sweaty evening, postponed the cake buyin by a few minutes n walked towards the busy fan fixing man.He looked slightly surprized - I suppose to see a girl come to his manly hardware store.

We gave him the fan. The fan fixing man wiped his hands and undid the systematically tied rubber band around the wire and plugged the fan in. 

Turned the knob...

And vroom! the fan was blowing powerfully! Just as it did on the first day I brought to the hostel!

Scared, worried and guilty... I showered the fan fixer with his current patient's chief complaints! - 'It wouldn't start this morning!' '...burning plastic smell..' '..it slowed down like it was possessed' 

He listened to me like a patient doctor but there really wasn't much he could or was supposed to do!  The fan was working perfectly fine!

The boys and I started blaming different possible things - '...the hostel switch...' '...the 3 way plug point...' and thanked the fan fixing man for the free check up.

Then we (ok mostly me...I came out because I was very hungry! I admit it! :") ) walked a little ahead to a stall that made pyagi (onion fry), vada and many other items. This stall specially made Aloo Bora! (Vada stuffed with mashed potatoes)

The boys had given me one the previous day to eat, it was good but I wasn't hungry then. 

That evening I watched him make it. Fresh for the three of us- He took out some batter, laid it flat on his work area, placed a lump of orange looking mashed potato on top of the batter, rolled it up and put it inside his big black vessel to fry in the hot oil! 

He put 10 of them in, in the same methodical manner, fiddling wid the gas valve every once in a while...


Once they were done, he strained the lot, put it in a piece of old newspaper, folded it and put it inside a plastic bag for us!


We didn't even wait till we found a place to sit..we just attacked the plastic and started gobbling!
There is absolutely nothing like a street side oily food item!


Moral Of The Story: Nothing really... Just a narration of one of hungry adventures in this wild wild world with my feigning fan!


#Future Notes: 
a) My fan still doesn't work at one level. 
b) The boys were unsatisfied with the cake in the near by cake shop and went to search for another. They ended up buying a tastier, better but smaller one - as I understand from my sources ;D

The Homecoming.

I was startled from my deep slumber,
By the strong sound of the gushing winds,
Pushing against my closed window,
As though they wished to pass in.

Surprized and tense, I jumped out of bed,
Threw open the glass
And threw open the door,
For they wished to move to the other side...

They moved so beautifully,
Like a serpent led by a Charmer...
Smoothly through the skies...
Forcefully through my room...

Pleased to set this powerful force free,
I sat down again and closed my eyes
I drowned in the breeze and swayed in its currents...

But I was startled again!
By the sound of the first raindrops of the day...
Pitter-pattering on the hot playground,
Releasing a sweet smelling steam
That one who has suffered the heat could only enjoy...

They got harsher and it got heavier...
The trees were dancing again!
The dust was swirling once more!

I reluctantly shut the windows as reality beckoned me...
But sat by the window watching
As the world rejoiced the homecoming of the rains...

.

The winds and the water have gone now,
The Sun has broken out from the clouds,
Gingerly He watches from up above,
Not knowing that He drew us a bewitching potrait...
Here... down below-
The light is glittering off the wet pavement,
The raindrops, left behind as a token of their love, glistening off the marvelous then-dancing green trees,
And smiling people strolling down the road...
Glad that the shower had quenched their summer's thirst...

I continued to sit by the window,
Open now,
Bathed in the warm sunlight,
In anticipation.
I wait...
I wait for the next cloudburst to begin...

The Conversationalist.

As she stood near the water cooler, filling her one litre bottle with ice-cold dew-forming-water, a usually jovial classmate of hers slumpily walked towards her. On asking her why she looked so tired, the protagonist was blown away by the un-inhibited manner and ease at which her jovial friend gave her every bit of information as to why she looked so down!

'How could one talk so much about personal matters to a person who speaks to her as rarely as I do?' thought our heroine, 'Why is it that I choose my words so precisely and perfectly whenever I speak to a collegue or rarely visited relative?'

There was once a time when all she did was talk... (The central character) Day in and day out... She'd spend the day at school talking to a million different friends about the same things...repeating them over and over again. Then she'd return home and talk on the phone all evening! The phone bills were so atrocious at one point of time that her parents forbade her to speak anymore!

What she spoke of, she could not recall anymore but she knew the magnitude was stupendous! But she did recall how, as she grew older and as her friends slowly left, that no one really cared much about what she spoke, no one listened to her and how she realized her subjects were trivial and actually pathetic!

So, she sub-conciously and unintentionally stopped all the blabber. She seemed like a listener, people enjoyed talking to her...but, rarely, even when someone asked her views..she chose to say little, to be sweet, to advise righteously, to stay diplomatic... More to keep her short-tempered, sassy, impolite thoughts and words to herself and avoid disrespecting or hurting anyone's sentiments.

As she lazily walked back to her room that hot breezy summer afternoon, she summoned memories of how she could, in an uninhibited manner and with ease, speak to people about their lives... She could speak to her father about his work, grandfathers about their daily routines, old friends about their present academic interests, with boys about other girls, with broken hearted girls about their heart-crushing boyfriends, ( with 'i shall wait for her forever' boys too!) with her little sister about the upcoming songs, with her rarely visited relative about their new born or their trip to Paris or Melbourne!

It delighted her! It delighted her that she could speak to people and get a smile on their faces. It delighted her that she could hide her troubles and take away someone else's!

She reached her room gulping down more than half of her chilled water directly from the bottle cooling her tummy while her thoughts warmed her heart... She then took a nap, shutting off all conversations, knowing and being very pleased that she was pretty good conversationalist!

Summer Sufferings.

I hate summers. Not because temperatures can shoot up to a 50 degrees in this tropical country of ours, more because I lose tons of water in the humidity that the near by sea coast creates! Please note I do not blame mother nature, I am actually blaming the defective, actually over-effective, body temperature control mechanism of mine.

I hate the number of clothes I've to change out of, hate that I can't go for a walk outside without getting completely wet in the first five minutes, hate that my hostel room gets the hottest rays of the day making my room a baking oven!

I like cold weather. They keep me dry and cool. I never, not once, have I cursed anything or anyone for horribly cold winters! Even if I have to wear 2 sweaters and a thick blanket to bed - no cribbing. Even if I can't wear my shorts without shivering - no cribbing. I get to let my hair down(which I can never do on a hot humid summer evening!), play sports for an hour or so before I am drenched, winter has its own fashion lines that are truly adorable!  As long as I am dry, I am happy!

Of course..winters have their dark side. Cant have proper baths because the water is freezing! The clothes don't dry fast enough. And worst of all are the mosquitoes! They make the lovely cool nights intolerable! Little of your skin peeks out of the blanket and ATTACK! Its torturous...

Summers, if you look at it from another aspect, has its perks. Multiple cold water baths - absolute heaven, the shorts and skirts one can wear- pure comfort, the fruits (my frnds got me to eat) - the taster's delight!

I am still debating whether all these pros are worth the con - Sweating Every Minute Of The Humid Day... Haven't reached a conclusion yet... But right now I am just waiting here for the rains to arrive and wash all the sweat away...phew!

Who Do You Love More? Ma Or Pa?

This is one of the toughest and most controversial question a child has to face. I remember being asked this a billion times when I was little. I always answered 'both!' and all my relatives and parents always laughed and commented that I was being very diplomatic... But even as a child... I never really knew who I loved more.

Ma would wipe the tears, feed you amazing food, dress you up for school and other events[fancy dresses at school and farewells!], encourage you to stand on your own 2 feet after every fall. While Pa would also wipe your tears, make you occassional amazing food (new development), teach you how to handle machines [tricycle, bicycle, -forbade the scooty though-, car!- training left incomplete dad!!], teach you languages he knew and ma didnt, teach you pathetically difficult math problems and patiently continue teaching despite making the world's most hilarious silly mistake! And Pa would of course read you a story and tuck you into bed.

Somehow over the years, as I grew up dad got busy with his work ["I'm working for you little ones", he'd say to my lil' sis and me when we'd accuse him of working too much] and I spent more time with Ma. There was no such distance between me and Pa... Just less time together. Maybe I never acknowlegded it because of my own hectic life [ yes my readers! my life was pretty hectic post-tenth!! ] but I did miss his presence at home... The kanada lessons in the inverter lit lights, the lazy badminton coaching at the indoor, the bed time panchatantra and tua-tui stories (of course all grown up now.. Dont need them to fall asleep)... But all this remained in my sub-conscious mind...

Then I moved to hostel and I missed home dearly! I would call 5 times a day - I'm serious- and since Ma wasn't working then, I'd speak with her. Pa would come home late at night and we would speak once in a few days... I realized we rarely spoke, was sad too, yelled and accused about it as well but life has its funny stubborn ways...

Over the last year -ever since the family moved to Egypt- I've consciously openly missed Ma and our talks a lot (though I must say, the reduced calls saved a lot of money and strangely bought about a change in me-whole different topic-). Missed Ma's food...ma's soothing hand over my head... Never was I was aware that I wasn't missing Pa. There was once when I thought that our relationship had become purely financial and I felt really bad about that.

The other day Pa passed a comment about how I seem to be missing Ma alone and not both Ma and Pa... Then it struck me... I felt bad for being un-diplomatic and partial... Then I felt bad for feeling the need to be diplomatic and lying about something!

Today my father left the country again (This is the second time I left him at the airport and gone unmentioned to anyone is that I was emo like his momma when he left the first time) and I felt empty and alone... And i realized how much I'd miss his 'Its a beautiful day!' wake up calls (both in person and through the telephone) The Most!! Not the fancy things he allows me to buy or the awesome baked potatoes he makes on saturdays or the horrible teasing he does(definitely not missing that pa! :P) but just his 'good mornings'...

I do miss you dad... Just as much as I miss ma's lovely food and ma of course! Don't be jealous :P

[How's that for being diplomatic? ;D]

The Bhatura Incident

So I woke up this morning -yet again with pops call :) - and got out of bed all excited 'coz i would get my once-a-week-pleasure - chole bhature.

Most people in the hostel dont like it... But for some reason I'm in love with the rubbery n soggy bhatura's they make! The way the soft chole just dissolve in my mouth.. Ah... Nothing can compare...

So back to the morning- so i woke up n got outta bed.. Went to brush my teeth n my tummy's already grumbling! And it was only 7:40 am - we usually have breakfast at 8:30-9:00- I smiled to myself imagining the wonderful food item that was soon to be gobbled up by my horridly salivating mouth and digested by my gas n acid producing stomach!
So dreaming abt my bhatura... I went to finish my morning chores - loo bussiness, bath, fill the water, drink the water, make the bed and finally wake up my sweet sleeping frnds. Strangely my roomate didnt wake, she said she wouldnt have breakfast today. I knew she doesnt like oily stuff.. So i let her be.

Then takin my other friends, I grabbed my cup n went bouncing gleefully downstairs to the mess...only to be welcomed by the smell of hard over cooked idli n sambar!

The disappointment! Ahh... The frustration... The disgust at the item and menu made... Words will not be enough to describe...

We ate what we could though.. N went back to our usual routines... Keeping in mind that you dont always get what u want and expect from life! She likes making it difficult and finally-somewhere in the long run, i hope!- worth it! :)

Singing In The Rain...

So we had a torturous 1 hr 15min class.. After which.. Despite being saturated i returned to the lib to finish off a lesson.. Which successfully did and started another one too! So tired n saturated we left the lib to take the usual route via the canteen back to the hostel when we were welcomed by a lovely persistent gush of wind... Lookin up we saw the glorious dark clouds thundering to shower down at us... It wasnt rainin as yet.. But the hero of the story (lol) complained he was hungry but was too lazy to go out to eat something.. After a long debate.. We set out first wantin to go to the sandwich store out on the road then changin our minds n goin to the canteen in the engg campus where we eventually had egg chicken roll (he) and veg noodles(me)...but little did we expect (i think secretly hoped) that it would pour down on us just as we step into the engg campus

And down came the rain and washed.. All our stress out : ) We enjoyed the weather n the walk back
Watched many other crazy plp like us walkin n the rain.. Dancing.. Jumpin n of course singing... Craziest of the lot (when i say crazy do not mean to demean them! Crazy is a compliment) were the boys n junior doc playin football in the muddy playground..

I sit in my room now.. After washin off the rain.. Ritin this post.. Watchin the boys play.. N witnessin how sane plp (i refer to my roomate) find the rain as a hurdle to their daily evening walk!
:)

A Walk After A Month Of Couch-Potato-Ness

So i needed a mosquitoe spray (coz the mosquitoes in the hostel were seriously givin me sleepless nights!) n  a few other things.. So class ended n we went to big bazzar walkin.. The walk to bb is always enjoyable. Its downslope and goal oriented and in the opp side of the harsh sun!
Happily i reach bb.. Do the shoppin..call ma to confirm the buys.. Pay the bill... N step out...
Woosh.. I was already breathless... I completely thought of takin a auto back! But i made up few more smal buys on the way - one vada n gulab jamun(there was no jalebi today at the maa sarlaa sweet store :P), pens at the stationary, coffee powder at a small min supermarket (ok what are they called!) and milk from our canteen - just so that i get my body used to this walk ATLEAST! n also to to start gettin rid of the food i store in my hips! :)
So i make it back -huffin n puffin- n go for a nice short shower n will soon attend to my messy room n clothes that need to be ironed... But for now... I just enjoyed a nice cup of cold coffee... Which i plan to make a nice ritual to satisfy my poor digestive system as well as my worried-well-wishers =)

My Bipolarity

Today, happy I feel

Bubbly and full of zeal

I want to jump, shout and hop around

I am sure I'm flying above the ground.

A fit of giggles I often have,

'coz of my friends

Or the nonsense I blab.
People always think I am high

But alas,

An alcoholic drink I've never gone to buy!

I am confident and strong,

But they say I'm very wrong,

When I tell them I'd survive,

If from the fifth floor I did dive.

Some days 'm bored,

Despite the good marks I've scored.

The world seems pale,

Monotonous, dull and horridly stale.

Nothing to do, nothing to say,

nowhere to go and nowhere to play.

Disinterested is what I feel

I have no idea what is the deal!

Today, sad is what I feel,

Inside a room I myself seal

Where I groan moan and drone about

All my frustration, I scream and shout.

Little things get me really angry,

But all I can do is quietly see,

Control myself while they continue to tease,

My body starts to boil, my muscles freeze...

They say I am crazy,

But I wish they'd let me be,

For I am sure they do the same,

Without their mind taking all the blame.

Unique-ness

3 years back, I discovered a new talent (?), interest in me. Armed with my first brand new camera phone ( Moto U9) I figured I could click some amazing pictures.

Of course, every parent always thinks the greatest of what their child does and I was showered with positive comments from mom n dad. :) 

Encouraged by the compliments, once I joined college and was given a laptop ( wow this post is becoming more about the electronic devices I have been- very fortunately- endowed with) , I decided to make an album on Facebook on which I regular uploaded pictures of both college life and of photo-graphical skill. 

I don't remember when this hobby flared up in me, but eventually it did and I was known all over my college to be obsessed with photography.

What appealed to me more than the actual photography was the fact that I was the ONLY person who was doing so in the entire college! 

I knew of many friends from school who had also taken up an interest in the same, and I actually enjoyed appreciating and admiring their pictures and learning from them.

But still the fact that I was the sole person in college who took lovely pictures, gave me immense joy .

Lately, other people of my batch have started to take pics too. In addition to losing "The Photographer" Title, my photos also lost a lot of importance because my pics were taken from a smaller phone camera, while the 'emerging photographers' had got their 'point and shoot' digi cams from home.

Over the last few years I have had many ' self-realization' sessions and in one of them I discovered I hate being copied. I love the attention and the appreciation I get for being the only one. And this has nothing to do with photography. It goes for clothes, shoes, phones! ( I was the only one with a moto U9 in my college... alas it broke.. ) everything!

I dunno whether it is an inner desire to be and feel superior to the others or something else. But I noticed I have always been this way. I distinctly remember getting really mad at ma whenever she'd buy matching clothes for me and my lil sister. Cute though they were, I would go ballistic...  ( My sis recently put up some pics of us in matching clothes, Boy! do we look adorable dressed that way... thanks ma! and sorry was being so difficult! : ) )

Sometimes this competition to be the unique one seems right and good. Makes me search for new items and work and get better at them... but other times... it drives me crazy... gets me mad and makes me boil because others can do what I can.

(P.S. I notice this post has been a bit self oriented and negative... but right now, this is how I feel... )