The weary traveler

And just like that one day, with her big doe eyes, her beautifully draped sarees and the flickering nose ring she took him away. 

"She wears short skirts, I wear tee shirts", everytime I heard Taylor Swift play on the radio, I would think just how shallow and inane that is. It sure does take more than looking hot or smiling pretty to steal a man's heart. Doesn't it? Except, it does not. 

To be honest, I'm not bitter any longer. Or angry. I was, when I first found out. But now only the last burning ambers of pain remain. Also, this whole episode taught me more things about my character than it did about his. It made me realize that my self esteem was easily shaken. That my cloak of self-confidence was as flimsy as a bubble of soap. That I put the onus of being made to feel like I was the best, in my partner all the time, without doing anything to be the best. That whether I accept it or not, my life was a constant competition of looking better, sounding smarter, loving more, feeling more than everyone else. And last but not the least, the more you try to chase something, the more it will continue to elude you.

Our lives today are a joke. We are all running in a scorching hot desert, the sand burning our feet. None of us know where to or why? Everyone is, so are we. Finding someone to love and be loved in return is like finding an oasis in this never ending desert. You can well imagine how rare and precious that is. So, when we find it, we sit down and rest and suddenly everything is so perfect and green and it's raining. It's raining love, smiles and happiness and we are enjoying our siesta. Then suddenly, we are woken up and we see everyone around us is running. Where to or why? We ask ourselves. We have no answers. But we think everyone is, so, I must. And now that we have once found an oasis, we are convinced, there lies more and may be more beautiful, more green. So, once again, we run. 

But oases in deserts are far and few, mirages are plenty. And we are all but weary travelers. 

The lost "you"

You "break-up", and you "move-on". You meet someone again and fall in love and life goes on. So, technically speaking, you just get up one day, cast something old away, something that is not working any more and replace it with something new, something that works. As simple as one, two, three. Except, it's not. With every break up in life, at least two people (and I say at least two because in many situations there are also other lives affected) lose a part of themselves. A part they can never have back. You can burn all bridges and hate each other with all your might or you can make peace and choose to remain civil and/or become "friends". It doesn't matter which path you take; on a fine summer evening in June, you will find yourself sitting on your porch, watching the sun go down and no matter how happy you are in life today, no matter how much you are loved, you will miss a moment, a word, a nickname, a hug, a voice, a smile, a "you" that you once had. A "you", you can never have back. 

And in that moment, If you find tears rolling down your cheeks, at the helplessness of knowing how you can never have that you back any more, smile. Smile because how lucky were you that you met and journeyed together in life with someone so beautiful, they brought out a whole new person in you. A person so unique, that even you can't recreate it again. That's love, that's magic that only a lucky few can experience. 

Devi, Maa aur sainkro naam

yeh samundar meri khamoshiyon ki awaaz hai 

tat par aaakar toot-ti lehren mere dil ka ek-ek alfaaz hai 

tune mutthi mein jo band kar rakkhe hain

mere bikhre sapno ke moti 

woh laakar lauta de aaj mujhe 

main piroun phir woh maala 

apni komal ungliyon se

Chhil de jinko woh kathor dhaga 

Khoon se lathpath ho jaanghe meri 

sharm se nat nat ho mera maatha 

tu mandir jaa, kar pooja devi ki 

ghar wapas aa, phir kar mujhko aadha. 

From the Ghost of the Valentine's Past

Slowly, little by little I can't remember the smell of your skin anymore 

Or how the skin at the edge of your nose crinkled, when I planted a sleepy kiss on your forehead. 

Sometimes I wake up and stand at the edge of the bed 

tracing the contours of your body with imaginary lines in my head 

But I have lost the points and the exact color of your skin, I just can't recall any more. 

I want to stay there some more until I can remember 

But you are not there, you are not there any more. 

And slowly little by little, this house has lost your smell. 

And since you are gone - The walls, the television, the sofa, the chair & the tables don't quite call out your name anymore. 

But they remember me, they remember my name and every morning and evening, all day and all night, they look for me, they call out my name...but they can't find me. 

They call out, they search for me everywhere, they scream for me..but they can't find me. 

They can't find me anywhere. 

Because... 

since you are gone, 

I'm not me anymore. 

The pointlessness of it all

The more I think about it, the more I realize that making money is totally pointless especially when it keeps you away from loved ones. What's the point of life really if you can't go back home to parents or children or your partner at the end of a long hard day at work? We stay away from home and our home cities/countries waiting all year for those 10 days to go back and be with them and for many of us even that doesn't happen every year. We wish against all hope to make it for a childhood best friend's or a sister's or a brother's wedding and on most occasions don't manage to. Most of our Facebook statuses are about how we miss being with family and friends especially during the Holidays, how we miss Park Street at Christmas time or Delhi's wintry mornings and "Maa ke haath ka khana". We call our old grandparents and give them a hard time as they literally scream into the telephone to ensure they can be heard thousands of miles away and when they ask when they would be seeing us next, we answer quickly with "soon", all the time living with the fear that it could very well be "never". 

And yet every morning, I snooze my alarm three times, crawl out of bed unwillingly and wear my business suit to go make some money. Most days, I don't stop to think why. But when I do, I realize the pointlessness of it all and then this piece happens. 

Citius, Altius, Fortius - My Daddy strongest

8^th of November 2010 . A date that I will not forget and I choose never to. Because this day distinctly marks the beginning of my adulthood. I clearly remember it was the Monday after Diwali weekend. It had been a long weekend of festivities and partying and the usual madness that comes easy when you are young. My BFF was visiting and after the insanity that happened on Friday and Saturday, we thought we needed a break on Sunday. So, she and I took a 90 minute train ride into the city that evening. To relax. Yes, in those days, that was pretty much our idea of relaxation. Of course, once in the city, the whole idea of relaxation flew out of the window. So we partied some more, met more friends, hung out till late and I had barely just crashed around 5 AM, every part of my body tired and aching but the little child in me happy and excited and carefree. I was probably still in a state of half wakefulness when the phone flashed – “Home calling”. Unusual, I thought. It’s barely 6 in the morning. Also, my folks never really call. They just text or give me a missed call and I call them back. I picked up and answered with a sleepy ‘Hello’, not knowing then that this call on the 8^th of November 2010 will change me and my family forever.

It was a long battle since that day. How long? 3 months, 6 months, a year? I don’t think I can say when the fear finally started to subside. I don’t know if I can say it truly ever stopped or will stop. At best, you make peace with it and learn to live with it. Every time there is a little coughing, there is fear in the eyes of every loved one. Every time the weighing machine shows a pound lesser, there is summoning the doctor. There is fear, there is despair, there is hopelessness, and there is pain, suffering, weakness, lack of motivation, no willingness to go on with anything. There is disapproval of your appearance, there are uncountable ‘why me’s, there is faith shaken, there is Godlessness. But also there is strength, there is a fighting spirit, there is constant learning and trying and where none should be left, there is hope. There is a wish to live, to go on. There is love and prayers and faith renewed. There is a man I call father, who makes me who I am. A man I call Papa, whose hug still fixes the world. A man I call daddy, who never gave up. My sister and I loved the ‘My Daddy strongest’ commercial from when we were kids and often broke into fights with other kids claiming that our dad had some kind of superiority over theirs. Today, 8^th of November 2015, I will say ‘My Daddy strongest’ and no one can tell me otherwise. Congratulations Papa on completing the 5 year cancer free mark today. Your mental and physical strength are unmatched. You continue to teach us by example every day that nothing can stop one from chasing their dreams, not even the ‘Emperor of All Maladies’. Cheers to good health and an indomitable spirit. 

Karobaar

Aaj ek lambe arse baad tumhe yaad kiya.

Darasal, yaad nahi.

Yaad toh hum roz hi kisi na kisi bahaane se kar lete hain.

Aaj ek lambe arse baad tumhara number ghumaya.

Do baar ghanti baji ki nahi, tumne phone uthaya

Kaafi utsukta se tumne poocha – “Kaisi ho?”

(Main aag mein jhulasti ek talwaar ke jaisi hun

Aandhiyon mein hain kaanpti jo shaakh main vaisi hun

Jiske paar na pahunche koi us deewar ke jaisi hun

Chattan ke jaisi hun, main pahaar ke jaisi hun

Baarishon mein phoot-ti us boond ke jaisi hun

Jo badalon se chhoot-ti par dharti par girti nahi vaisi hun

Main shor machaati hawaon ke jaisi hun

Main lalkaar ke jaisi hun, hahakaar ke jaisi hun

Phir bhee shok sannatte mein chupchaap si jaisi hun

Main pyaar ke jaisi hun, alankaar ke jaisi hun

Phir bhi mudatton se chal rahe tiraskaar ke jaisi hun

Main abhimaan si, pehchaan si, ek bol ke jaisi hun

Main geet hun, main gaan hun, ek awaaz ke jaisi hun

Par main mook hun, vidwaan hun, main gungaan ke jaisi hun

Main parchhai hun, aur rooh bhi hun

Aur dil ke bhi jaisi hun

Main nadi hun, samundar hun, main leher ke jaisi hun

Main kavita hun, kahaani hun, ek kitaab ke jaisi hun

Main girti hun, khud hi sambhalti hun

Khud ghao apne bharti hun

Jab bhi aankhein chhalakti hain

Aansoon ko khud hi peeti hun

Jab dard se kaleja phat-ta hain

Main goongi hi chheekhti chillati hun

Main toofano se joojh kar, phir khud ko hi samjhaati hun -

Main aurat nahi, karobaar hun

Karobaar ke hi jaisi hun)

Kaafi utsukta se tumne poocha – “Kaisi ho?”

Jawaab hai – “Main acchhi hun”