The Soul Killer

You think why I must be angry with you,

And I must tell you why

For every smile that you gave me

I must have a hundred tears cried

You are the best that happened to me

And yet the deepest I'll regret

I often wonder..years later,

If I were to describe you to someone, how would I?

What if someone asked me - who you were to me?

What name do I give to the relationship that once had, you & I?

I think all my thoughts are perfectly summed up in this one terse reply --

"He was the only man that ever made me want to have babies

And... he was the murderer of my unborn child"

-Aaleya

A mother's day thought, a little early

As I sit here on my higher-than-I-wanted bed, staring out of my bedroom window at the quiet rain & even quieter trees, there are many thoughts in my head, all at the same time, It's like a zoo in here. No, jungle. No, zoo. Somewhere in between. The haphazardness of a jungle yet the civilized organization of the zoo. I am staring at the clean washed road, Willow Drive, in front of me. This Willow Drive has been my address for two years now. It is so familiar, yet so unfamiliar. It is so close, yet so distant. So known, yet so mysterious. Willow Drive, strangely today, is reminding me of Maa.

Now, my mind has wandered back to the time I was in college.2001. Yes, 10 years back. A long, long time ago that was. After spending the entire day in college, blabbering till my jaws hurt. I used to walk back in lazy, small steps to the one place always welcoming - Home. The bus stop was about 15 minutes away & on most days I preferred to walk, over taking a rickshaw. Pretty straight road, just a couple of lefts & rights. The last right was on a road very much like Willow Drive & on the very end of this road was my house. About when I was two-thirds done walking down that road, I could catch a glimpse of Maa sitting on the swing in the balcony, staring at the road. When her eyes met mine, I had always noticed them light up, then a smile illuminate her face & finally she would get up and take those 10 steps forward to come stand by the railing. I wasn't much of a body language expert then. I would like to blame it on being 'young'. But now I'm older & I like to believe 'wiser'. :) I think those gestures meant longing, showed how much I was missed the entire day, what a big deal it was that I had been away for 10 hours. And now she wanted to be as close to me as possible & not waste a single moment.

On most of these days, I either had a private tuition to give & hence a student waiting in the study room; Or a very important call to make to yet again those college friends I had spent the entire day with; Or to call some boyfriend very conveniently disguised under a girl's name like 'Amita' for 'Amit' or 'Smita' for 'Smitesh', Or on some unavoidable days do assignments & study. Two minutes or may be three is what I had for mom. For the person, who had just spent from sunrise to sunset, waiting for me to come back & talk to her a little, that is all I had. Compassion, I had even then; Understanding, may be not so much.

Today, I am 8000 miles away from home & there is very little I can do to make up for this. The reason I am blogging about this is because I'm hoping at least one person reading this & fortunate enough to still be able to make a difference, will do it, and do it now! Today, when you get back home from school/college/office or wherever, even if there are a thousand chores lined up, hold on. They can wait. Just walk into that kitchen where she is busy brewing tea or making coffee for her exhausted child; grab her, and show her you realize how much someone has missed you all day.

Quick Butter Chilli Garlic Noodles

Well, well...neither do I blog regularly, nor do I cook. Documenting my recipes is well out of question. But when a friend literally pestered me for this, I penned it down to email it to her
and thought time for some 'ek teer do nishane'. Good thing now I won't say for a while, I haven't blogged in ages!! :D So, Here it is...

Warning: Not for the calorie conscious!!!

**Boil noodles al dente, drain and keep in the fridge to enjoy this snack anytime**

1) Heat a good amount of butter in a wide flat pan
2) Add thinly sliced garlic (more the better) :D
3) When the garlic starts to brown lightly, a generous sprinkling of paprika/red chilli powder
4) Add the noodles to it. (The noodles has to be cold -- fridge cold or otherwise but it can't be warm coz if it is they'll not retain their shape well eventually)
5) Stir every now & then
6) Add salt to taste
7) When the noodles, seem to be thoroughly heated up, increase the flame just a little bit and let some of the noodles brown and get crunchy.
8) You should finally end up with a good mix of half-crispy, half-not
9) Dig into this heavenly bowl of very buttery, very garlicky noodles

P.S. The trick is to not crowd the noodles, so a big pan and less quantity (one or 2 person worth) is ideal

Meri hi Akshamata

(Hindi translation of a Bengali poem written by my mom)

Tum log kaun ho? tum log kaun ho?
sajaye hue ghar ko kar rahe ho tahas-nahas
safed kaleen ko rang rahe ho laal lahoo se
Asmaan ko bhar rahe ho barood ke dhuyen se
jala ke rakh kar rahe ho is prithvi ko

Imran, tumhari awaaz mein maine suna hain
meri santan ki awaaz
Jee chah raha tha pyaar se
seene se laga lun tumhe
Bolun, Doshi tum nahi...doshi tum nahi
Dosh unka hain, jinhone nahi diya tumhe
ek swasth parivesh,
jinhone vanchit kiya tumhe
phool ke rang ko sarahne se, panchiyon ke geet sunne se
Jinhone parichit nahi karaya tumhe is prithvi se
Anubhav karna nahi sikhaya, ek safed kabootar ko chhoone ka sukh.
Doshi tum nahi...doshi tum nahi
Isliye, itna kuch hone ke baad bhi,
jee chah raha hain dekhne ko tumhara nispandh chehra
Dard se phat rahi hain maa ki chhaati
Haar gayi, main haar gayi
Ye meri hi akshamata
Main nahi bana saki tumhe ek suljha hua insaan.

- Anita Kathuria
(very crudely translated by Payel Kathuria)

(My thoughts on the Mumbai terror attack of 26/11 . Glued to the
television screen, hands folded in prayer, as I watched helplessly for
days...when I heard Imran Babar's(a terrorist holed up at Nariman House
in Mumbai) conversation with a reporter, all I could do was put my pen
to paper.)
** Sharing a poem my mom wrote about the Mumbai terror attack of 26/11/2008

Amar-i Akkhamata

Tomra Kara? Tomra Kara?
Subinyaste gharke karo tachnach
saada carpet ke rangao rakta lale
akash batash ke bhore tulecho barooder gondhe
jaliye pooriye chharkhar korcho prithibi.

Imran, tomar galay ami sunechi
amar santaner swar
icche hochhilo adore tene nee
tomar matha, amar kole
boli, dosh tomar noy... dosh tomar noy...
dosh tader, jara deyni tomay
ekti sustha paribesh,
jara bonchito koreche tomake
phooler rang dekhte, paakhi der gaan shunte
jara shonaeni tomay prithibir kotha...
anubhab korte sekayeni ekti saada kabootar dharar sukh.
Dosh tomar noy... dosh tomar noy...
tai eto kichu hobar poreo
dekhte icche korche tomar ghumonto mukh,
jantranay choucheer hoye fete jaache mayer buk.
Parini ami-e parini...e amar-i akkhamata
ami parini tomay ekjon manush toiri korte.

- Anita Kathuria

(My thoughts on the Mumbai terror attack of 26/11 . Glued to the
television screen, hands folded in prayer, as I watched helplessly for
days...when I heard Imran Babar's(a terrorist holed up at Nariman House
in Mumbai) conversation with a reporter, all I could do was put my pen
to paper.)

** Sharing a poem my mom wrote about the Mumbai terror attack of 26/11/2008

Tired...

Had a really really long day at office..more than 12 hrs...wanted to cath the evening showing of the Dark Knight but couldn't....There's no point of writing what I am writing right now...just felt like scribbling and stumbled upon here.
Lately, I have quite a good mix of things in life..pretty well-balance...knock on wood but sadly, I don't remember the last time, I had put pen to paper to jot down some thoughts :(
The one thing that I really want to take some time out for is the one thing that always takes a back seat.
Someday, I'll tell you the story of my "well-traveled diary"...My dear diary has been there, done that, seen it all thro the good n bad times. There's such less on its pages but those few words can tell a hundred stories

I want to die

It was 11.30 at night. The room was dimly lit. Shikha was lying on her bed, looking through the windowpane. There was not a bit of sleep in her eyes. Suddenly the door creaked open and a young man about 6 feet tall walked in. He was Vijay, Sikha's husband. They were married three years back and he really loved his wife. He said - "Hi Shikha! So, how are you?" A smile lit up her calm face and she said - "Perfect as I am always." Shikha had had a cerebral attack just a week after her marriage and she had been lying on the same part of the bed since then. The doctors had given up. They called it 'an upper brain death.' Vijay had been running after specialists, neuro surgeons, brain therapists and even thanatologists but they had all said "NO". He worked in a small private firm from early morning till late night to make both ends meet. People wondered how he would keep Shikha's treatment and medicines going on. Everyone kept telling him that it was useless to spend money on her treatment and even he himself knew that. But he had decided that he would never give up. But today there wasn't any rice and even her medicines had finished. Vijay felt miserable. Suddenly he looked at the apple near the bed. The people who lived next door had given it to Shikha this morning. He brought a large knife from the kitchen and started cutting the apple. Shikha said - "Vijay, I want something from you." Vijay came closer to her and said - "These three years of our married life you have never asked for anything. I promise to give you whatever you want." Shikha looked at the shining sharp knife in Vijay's hand and then in a quivering voice she asked - "Have you heard of ............ Euthanasia?" There was absolute silence in the room and one could even hear a pin drop. A chill ran down Vijay's spine. Shikha looked at him begging for mercy. She tried to lift her hand in an attempt to beg, but could not. There were no tears in her eyes, they had all dried up. Vijay controlled himself and said - "Don't be silly." He made her eat the apple and said - "The doctors say you would soon be all right and then you would walk with me to look at this beautiful world around us and then...". His voice choked, he couldn't lie anymore. He looked at the watch and said - "It's already too late." He walked to the switchboard and switched off the light. He could feel his heart heavy inside him. Quietly, he walked back to the bedside.

Two days later, the neighbors broke open their door. Inside they found two bodies lying side by side on the bed. On one corner of the bloodstained bed sheet was written in blood -

"Oh Merciless God, you've never cared enough
But a son of yours has dared enough
To bring mercy to himself and his beloved wife."