Kohl Night

A pile of clothes on the bed, her bare back is covered by the black dress she chooses to wear. She pulls out the hair stuck in the back of her dress and fluffs them. Looking into her reflection in the mirror, she smiles… retouches her make up and blows a kiss to her self. She slips on the black boots on her fair skin and velvet feet. The zipper gradually covers all the bare feet till the knees. She gets up to leave and her shoes announce her departure. Plop, plop, plop! She loves the attention she gets. She enters the zone of the oblivious, dark and tenebrous. The cowl on her neckline teases every gaping eye. The glow on her hair reflects every color of the light. You can’t help but notice those red lips and a cigarette going in and out of her mouth. The strobes caress her one after the other. The laser aims at her, the disco ball sparkles upon her. The fog hides her. The beams search for her. The music plays for her. The smoke that makes her cigarette turn to ash is also making other eyes burn. Her hair tosses and covers her face and they all yearn to get a glimpse of her… the kohl in her eyes melts and smudges all over her white cheeks. An ogling eye notices the moist eyes. The eyes that were comfortably moist in the dark and shut as the strobe flashed on them… are they trying to say something?

Splash!

The alley is quiet. The air as still as a dead body. A sudden rush of feet breaks the noise in the alley. The heels screech through the silence like they are asking for help. They stutter at the door, panting, the feet confused which direction to take and suddenly they find their destination.

Plop goes one show flying and the other lay listless on the floor on its side. The satin gown falls on the floor and the pin unfurls soft conditioned tresses that bounce on the back. Sudden motion makes them swirl and bounce from side to side. The gasping grows faster and then… SPLASH!

A blob of water that split from the splash drenches the high heels. Hair, float on the surface and shine back the light in the pool. Blue hallo inside the pool, blurred vision distorted by the disturbance in water and tiny sparkling bubbles that carry oxygen. Nothing could wash the tears. The dark blue sky above and the light blue sparkling water beneath had only one string of life obstructing… the one that floats… waiting to find its course.. above or below! Splash… doesn’t wash all there was…

Preeto Singh

That's me! That's not me actually but that's how i have begun to be known as. I have nothing more random than this name attached to me in my life, apart from my thoughts that is... I do not know where this name originated... i do not know why it originated in the first place and i do not know why my name is tweaked to become Preeto singh. But after 8 yrs of this randomness association, i have started living this name and realized how almost everybody calls me by that name.

Two totally disconnected souls who may have met me at totally different instances will have called me by that name. The first time i remember i was 'christened' Preeto Singh by Gaurav Sharma, Sameep Nanda and Ajay Munjal. I guess it was for my punjabi-ness despite of being a maharashtrian. Each of them had given me a name which added upto this rather longish and bizzare 'Preeto Singh Ahluwalia(gaurav) Patpatiya(ajay) Randhawa(nanda)' name which is more bizzare than Eyjafjallajökull* volcano. *(see how cleverly i pasted that weird name coz i couldnt spell it!)

All the people i have met who have ever nicknamed me have called me Preeto Singh and i still fail to know why. My appetite i agree is Punjabi... my looks i don't think are punjabi but i definitely don't think are marathi either... but that doesnt mean i look punjabi. So why this name?

This one time in college in our amphi lecture room, one girl stopped me and asked me...'aap sardarni ho?' cut to - KYA KYA KYA???? nahi... kyon kyon kyon??? Why would a punjabi ask me if i were sardarni? I woke up to my punjabi-ness that day. 

Nicknames to me are your way of remembering people. Nicknames are given to people who become so close to you that you can call them anything and they actually respond to it. For me, i am bad with names. I cannot put faces to names, so i put names to faces. My own nicks and they are usually never related to the actual name. Nannu, Gutdu, Bob, Dhimnee, Monika, Tiny, Aanshubhari, radha rani, ICG, blah and blah... are some nicks i gave to people as opposed to Preeto singh rewarded to me!

Sometimes this name intrigues me, but most times i love it. It oozes closeness, warmth, belongingness of a kind. I don't mind it actually. I have been awarded by several nick names throughout... PP, PH (programming head for non radios), Nunnuji (saujanya: Charu), Martha (saujanya: prateek), Fdeeti (saujanya: Iti), Bossi (saujanya: Safa) etc... but so far the one name that has been unanimously chosen by Nickname gods is Preeto Singh. Nonetheless, I accept this name with an open heart and confused mind!

Resurgence

I am back after a really really long hiatus. While i was away, i have experienced the most diverse emotions one can ever possibly get to experience in a lifetime. I never thought my life would be such a roller coster ride interesting enough to write about. As i write i rewind to the slow september last year when i came back from the film shoot and the world seemed to have stagnated for me. i din't know where i was heading and what i was doing... till i got this tv show with opti.

These bunch of highly creative and funny people i had worked with before were no strangers to me... i was told to write comedy and i failed so badly that i did not attempt ever again hahaha... i knew i couldnt write comedy even though i am funny otherwise... that day i realised its not easy to make people laugh. So i joined the team instead. Since then i have had a blast working on the funniest show on indian tv. Skit after skit i grasped comedy. Each day i grew fonder of the people i worked with. I made friends for life... people with whom i shared the dirtiest jokes with... darkest secrets with and lightest banter with. I felt this warmth after a really long time.

I have met with the most fascinating turns and twists in life during this sabbatical from blogging. I wrote professionally for the first time, i became so broke for a while that i dint have no money to buy food... i got all the money from every where suddenly and vanished suddenly also... i went to manali on a holiday on my hard earned money for 10 blissful days (of which i shall write about separately) and came back enlightened like never before... and the most important resurgence was when a friend of mine opened my eyes to the biggest problem of my life and eased that burden off in a matter of seconds. It was surreal.... like 'why din't you think of this before???' like ' where were you all these days????'

Suddenly my urge for writing has upped manifolds. Suddenly i have realised i CAN write and its always very very humbling to know that so many out there relate to your writing or atleast understand where i come from.

I am back and i shall write more often coz i have too much to share. I want to explore what  my mind beholds!

Silhouette

Her silken hair covers her sore eyes. Her smile hides her wrinkles. Her banter surrogates her sadness. She wipes the dust off the surface to uncover a velvet dress. She sashays into the dress and poignantly looks into the mirror. The red dress did not match her face. Where’s the other face? She looked through the mirror in search of a proxy image. She slowly pulls out her Pandora’s Box. Her fragile hands brush out some powdered rouge and stroke it around her cheek. This red matches her dress. She is reassured. She paints her eye red against a clean white canvas of her face. There is only one thing missing. Her smile. She has lost it somewhere. She looks around… finds a stray smile on an old picture frame. She slithers into the dark alley not wanting to be noticed. Anxiety is making her sweat… the air conditioner is making her freeze. She sneaks through the door into the room where pair of anxious eyes awaits her. Her eyes run through the room and nervousness spills out of it. The frown on her face turns into a smile as soon as she shuts the door behind. She has been asked to smile as soon as she enters the room. Her bag slips down from her shoulder. Her red silk scarf unfurls sensuously and curls on the floor. Those stilettos dig a dot on the carpet as she walks towards the bed. The lights go off! 

Discovery

Wrath besieges my mind. I reflect in the mirror, a person that I know not. Each day I see a different me. Today a happy face tomorrow glum. Ecstatic, another day… My mind rebuffs the reflection.

Sometimes what you become is an outcome of the surroundings you are in. Under immense pressure from your environment, your circumstances your inertia breaks and creates some inexplicable seismic changes in the core of your heart. Over the years my heart has become molten iron from inside. I wasn’t born that way. I was made to become as hard as a diamond without the bling!

I feel the pain when a hand is slit in front of me. Its only that I don’t exclaim. I feel the happiness when a baby is born, its only that I do not have maternal instincts. I feel the sadness when a heart breaks its only that I don’t shed tears. Does that mean I don’t have a heart? I have often been casually taken as a boy. Metaphorically, it means I am cold, strong or perhaps unemotional, detached and crass. And all this only because I am not the opposite of it.

Beneath the multiple layers of iron and thorns is a regular heart that not many have tried to see. I am a normal girl with desires of a regular girl. I want to be loved, I want to be made to feel special, I want to be the world to somebody, I want to be the special someone and want to be pampered too. The only difference is I don’t express it. My exterior is rough and seasoned now. Its not a choice that I made. I became like this. One’s who know me now, do not know my then. One’s who know my then… do not recognize me now. This tom boy who doesn’t wear Indian outfits also wants to dress up someday. I want to shed my jeans to wear clothes that bring my identity back, that make me feel like me. I want to look pretty too. When I look at other people looking good, I wish I could make an effort too. I don’t have any motivation since I do not have anybody to dress up for. Who do I dress up for? What’s the use? My shabby jeans and soft loose tops hide my molten heart. It’s a defense. Against the vulnerability that it carries, the responsibilities that it shoulders, the loneliness that engulfs it.

Beneath those endless layers lies a heart that yearns for love, attention, affection. I am a girl and there is nothing wrong with me. I am loud, I use swear words, I don’t wear make up… but I am a girl at heart. The heart that very few have seen. I want to feel the emotions surrounding me. I want to feel the love. I want somebody to peep within those thousand layers of cold and discover me. 

Stopped Charity!

No ...i am just sitting on this goddamned chair for the past 6 and half hours and wondering where i am headed. Felt ignored for a message unreplied, felt stupid for having sent it... and i feel i should stop charity. My biggest problem is 'i cannot say no'. Even if i suffer, i cannot say no. Its not because i want to be polite or something... if that were the case i would give up being polite after a point when it begins to hurt me... but i cant say no because i cannot hurt other people. I put myself in their shoes n think how i would feel if it happened to me... and then.. i cannot say no!


I have made a zillion mistakes owing to this... i have been made to look and feel silly several times because of my niceness and it has become too much for me to handle. I dont want to be nice anymore. And i believe there is nothing wrong in being grey. Everybody is like that isnt it? I have been bickering with my best friend...how ignored and terrible i feel about myself these days... she doesnt agree with me naturally. But the fact remains...


It was my birthday last week and i was pleasantly surprised to get calls from some people. But i was utterly shattered to not have recvd calls from some. I was lonely.. i had no one really... i was scared to go home and go to bed all alone and wake up next morning with swollen eyes. But there were a few who perhaps guessed how i would be if i were lonely and made sure i felt happy about myself. On my set... i was pepped up... all day people kept wishing me and wishes for faraway shores kept pouring in too... but i was lonely inside still. 


For once in my life i wished i had someone next to me..who i could share my joys and sorrows with. I felt thankless and insignificant... because i was not remembered on the one and only day which is mine! I shouldnt be so so upset but i am.. and i cant help it. I tried to forgive and forget as well... but it doesnt work with me.


I was told i am cribbing and whining... and i am over reacting and so on and so forth... but hello!? i made ur day special dint i? i dont expect candle lights and expensive gifts... all i expect is a 'wish'! where is it? I celebrated with a new found set of 'my people' who painted my face with chocolate cake that hid my glum face... the tears that rolled down then seemed like tears of joy... but the fact remained still...


my best friend and my sister wrote notes for me and i was emotional... i wish i could show them how overjoyed i was to read it... it was a matter of great honour and reciprocation of love which really meant a lot. That very moment i had a thousand thots running through my mind like gunshot... those occasions when i went out of the way to make people happy and when the same set went out of their ways to make me unhappy! and .... i stopped charity! 


PS: this really isnt to gain a chain of sympathy comments... its more for myself.. to let out what is inside me for the past 4 days... 

2010

@ midnyt hugged Charu, Kunal, Rahul wished them a happy new year. Slightly dodgy and sloshed... in the big air conditioned rooms of Grand Sayaji hotel... grieving over my lost camera... eating free five star food and misusing all five star service is what i did on 1st. Beginning was rocking i remember! Went home at 6am and slept. Woke up at 10am and was trying to figure all day if its a hangover or headache that was giving me double vision. It was hunger. By the time my vision sorted itself i was out again drinking...chai this time. In the warm company of some good ol friends... Charu, Kunal, Deepta, Divya, Neha, Vikrant, Tarun. Sometimes nothing can bring as much warmth in your life as the warmth that some close friends can bring. It was a cold breezy evening yet we sat outside in the open at our favourite adda! The change of date was still fresh as we discussed who did what on the previous night. I had some fun pictures to show them all and eventually ended up being embarrassed myself. But today i think of it all... its a change in date merely isnt' it. But i get surprised how a small change in date can bring about such a wave of change in just about everything. People star making new year resolutions, they want to change certain things from their life, their perspective changes and sometimes even the interiors of their house changes! Just by a change of date. So the date changes everyday doesn't it. Why doesn't the daily change of date induce so much energy and enthusiasm as the flipping of the year? It's not like from 31st december we step into 1st january into a futuristic world suddenly! Everything still remains the same. Life hasnt changed for me atleast. Barring the one person who was absent last year and was with me this year. I am in the same boat... that boat hasnt crossed over i guess. I am still waiting to re-organise my house, re-organise my life, make resolutions for the year that i feel is my New Year. And no paragraphs today, coz my thoughts are just flowing... so i let them...:-) Happy New Year to the rest...

The empty spaces

I love the smell of a vacant freshly painted apartment. The very idea that you are the first person to occupy it and the idea that i finally i get to do up my own house! Own = rented for me. A space that i can call my own. most of my stuff is borrowed coz i dont have anything of my own here. Its stupid to buy all the non sense and keep moving it all every 11 months. Yet it cannot refrain me from buying stuff!

As i enter my drawing room is empty. My voice echoes in there. My kitchen is surely gonna be fancy. It just short of some utensils, a fridge and a bar! My bedroom is sorta done... the red handloom curtains are up and my yellow checkered handloom bedspread looks good! The very authentic looking supreme rosewood fake cupboard has found its nook. My roomies room is empty!!!! The emptiness of this house is slightly unnerving. My sister is here to help me but she will be gone soon and i will be left behind alone in this vaccum. Yet when i return from work i know i am home!

In perhaps 30 days my house will start to look like home as well!

Trading Spaces

You can never imagine how it is to be in my shoes right now. And i genuinely pray to god that nobody ever be in the shoes i am right. I am practically homeless, aimless and listless!

I am deprived of the very basic necessity in life not knowing where my morning will be. I wake up every morning, rub my eyes and realise i am in somebody else's house. I have no choice. The past 2 months i have been living out of my suitcase shifting from apartment to apartment one friend to the other. Have never been so disoriented ever before and wish this doesnt last long.

The misery of my life, infact for most of us living in Mumbai is finding a good flat to live in. When you have money you don't get the right house... when you find the right house... you never have the money. I have faced both situations simultaneously.

I had finalised a superb 2bhk near Bhavans college Andheri but the deposit is so high that it will take me 6months to arrange for that much money... no wonder the rent was as low as 18k. Moron! Really i am totally disoriented and unable to even 'think' of anything else. The only thing i see is possible to-let flats all around... i have breakfast somewhere... lunch somewhere else... dinner somewhere else.... its aweful.... its like i am a nomad! i like to be with myself in my room watching tv sipping chai... when i return home. My mornings begin on zero gear...gradually picking up after a few mugs of tea.... but when i am at x y z's house i have to match my life cycle with theirs mostly giving up mine for theirs. I cannot think...i cannot write but its not a excuse i should give to escape work. I don't like it. So basically my entire life is Topsy turvey.

I just want my own house... a space to call my own... so that i can gather my peace of mind.

They Too Live In A Monster Called Mumbai

Sc1.
The clouds came thundering down suddenly... she came out and hastily gathered the clothes that were drying in the bright sun just a few moments ago. She ushered her kids under cover and placed a lid on the utensil that was simmering her lunch. She sat inside looking at the rain mercilessly wash away the only food she had for her 3 children and the fire died down as it rained heavily. Her tears were invisible in the drops of rain that spalshed upon her face. Her kids oblivious to the pathos.

Sc2.
His brother held him by his left arm and dragged him across the street as the traffic light turned green and vehicles waiting to go speeded past the two of them. He gently maneuvered him in the rush of honking metal bulls and took him to the divider. The brother turned around to abuse the few who almost ran over them... as the other mentally retarded one stood on the signal smiling and saluting anyone passing by. As the light turned red again... the unstable one strayed on his own to a car as a hand flung out and waved a Rs 10 note. The unstable one was suddenly dragged behind by his brother who rushed and practically snatched the note from the hand that held it and turned around to see his abnormal brother fallen on the divider.

Sc3.
Chaotic traffic at Lokhandwala circle and around. Phyan arriving and offices shutting down at 2pm. Everybody in a hurry to reach home before the others. Many choose to lock themselves up in their respective offices as a better option than to travel the distance. In this mad rush, a meek bicycle swivels its ways from the corner of the road. 10-odd food parcels hanging from the handle of his cycle... unstoppable down pour preceeding phyan... the bicycle man cutting through mad rush of vehicles... a car honks loudly from behind and scares him. He loses balance and leans on a pole... the car speeds past and splashes water over him. Nothing that he can do... but stand and curse his fate. You are in a hurry to reach home from work... he is at work in a hurry to provide you with food against all adversities... even then.. he is shoo-ed away.

Sc4.
Pitch dark in the night... not a soul around... apart from this one... in the darkness of the night... from far away shone something blingy... glittery... like stars on the ground... as i came closer to the shiny thing... i discovered a human behind those blingy clothes... some really distasteful sense of dressing i must say... turqouise blue top with silver work and yellow short skirt... my eyes and mind both boggled at the spectacle. A motorcycle standing next to the soul negotiating ... 'kholi meri... half... chal itna to madhuri bhi nahi leti...' and i thought to myself... 'tomorrow morning i won't recognise her when she goes back to her normal office life...'

I still find it difficult to fathom this life... but yes...they too live in Mumbai.

Prioritize!

I sleep with dreams in my eyes
And as the night turns them into rheum
I wake up and wash it off next morning
Like I woke from a bundle of lies.

We all grow up with dreams and ambitions of becoming something. We nurture these fragile dreams till they come close to reality and then we all love to see them blossom. As a child when I grew up, I had no clue of any such thing. I was a free spirited soul that cared less about future and thought only about living for the moment. For me dreams were pictures that I saw with my eyes shut and forgot when I got up. My life was playing in the dirt, inventing new ways of entertaining myself and my people, only doing what made me happy. Then suddenly studies took over. Grades became priority because I scored well and then expectations from my own self rose high. My play time was engulfed by study time and I showed less of myself to my friends. Till I realized it wasn’t making me happy.

I set my priority right. Sports was what I loved doing even if my studies suffered, I did not want to be jack of all trades and a master of none. I enrolled myself in volleyball and basketball. I excelled because I enjoyed it. I played zonals and then again studies took over as my 12th boards stepped in the middle.

By the time I reached high school, my priority from fun shifted to sports. I knew I will never do anything run of the mill when I grow up. I was mad and even people expected me to either get into modeling or something similar. My choice was fashion designing. Till the time I passed my second boards, I had made up my mind to not join college and enroll with some fashion institute and learn designing. But one fine morning my priority had changed from fashion to nothing. I got up and the last day of college admission, I decided I will attend college and I did. I wanted to do a regular pass course for the sake of a degree, but my grades did not allow me to enter the college of my choice so I chose to join a girls college for primarily two reasons A) the course they offered was different and I like different, B) only that college had seats left for late risers like me. So I was studying advertising suddenly from no where. Now while I studied advertising, I was thinking of future. My priority was to outshine my classmates as I was discovering a part of me that I had never known. I was creative! And others discovered it for me. I loved every bit of being creative. I became so enthused by the ideas that boggled my mind that now I had a new direction in my life. I knew exactly where I wanted to be! I conducted ad contests in my batch and I was the 1st one to do so. I ran around to get people to lecture us on advertising. Two years of studying advertising I won the competitions however small they were I topped a bunch of 30 odd aspirants. I was the coolest human in their batch and I did not know it. my advertising teacher told me I had a bright future. I knew my priority had changed totally in life and winning had become a habit.

Took my habit seriously and found myself a job in an ad agency during the last yr of my college. I took up writing and that writing got me a job as a copywriter with a radio channel. I was moving out of my teens then and growing older…. Priority now was going up the ladder. My work however shady, shown and I rose up the hierarchy to lead my team. I grew and grew and suddenly being happy, playing sports, creative satisfaction all became distant visuals. I was chasing power. It is a high that one cannot describe. I was leading… and I wanted to go higher up, and so I was…. Money took over. I was earning… each year my bank reflected more and more money… I moved cities till I came to Mumbai and earned more!

All the previous priorities vanished from my memory. I was only chasing money till I got the setback of my life. I was loosing myself… anything I earned was not enough and it pinched me so hard that I secluded myself for introspection. Nothing much has changed since… only that I am not obsessed with power and money anymore. I have learned to satiate myself with whatever I have now. My priority is still earning money because I realize today that money may not mean anything by itself, but when it converts into something that could bring a smile to my family’s face, it becomes priceless. I am only striving hard enough to earn that much money now.

But when I look back from playing in the mud to where I am today, my priorities have changed so much! All of us begin with small dreams and priorities that we set for ourselves at every stage in our lives. Small things like today you may want a pink dress, but tomorrow the need could be green. Today your priority could be your husband… later your child… today you may be saving to buy a house…tomorrow for you child’s education. Whatever you priority is, it should never hinder the way of happiness. Wow I feel like guruji! But am sharing what I feel today. I have just come back after seeing a couple of houses. That’s my current priority… look for a house in my budget… all my focus, kanjoosi is just to get a good house. I hope I could strike this off my list asap. I do not want to wake up tomorrow morning and wash off the dream of a happy life, off my eyes.

Face one Face two

Koi eib nahi dhoondhe se milta tum mein

Kya itna andha hota hai yeh pyar

Chaahein saari duniya ki kamiyan ho tum mein

Tum jaise ho waise hi ho mujhe sweekar

All of us have two faces. I refuse accept that we can remain the same everywhere. Total shit! We are something else with our family and someone else with friends and others. We do not choose to be different with different people, its totally human. I guess we are genetically programmed that way.

I have always felt about people who we bitch about incessantly, that their families are usually unaware about their behavior outside. However sick and sly they may be outside, they are still the best for their family. Like for example this girl in our circle was the biggest rumor monger I may have come across in my life. She wouldn’t even need fire to raise smoke. Linking up people, spreading non-sense was like breathing to her. She was that every single bad adjective that we do not want to be. No single person I knew liked her… I wondered if her family knew how she was. Her sister loves her to death… that’s ok. But she refuses to accept that she would be so devious. Something that was so obvious to all was unacceptable to her. Her sister overlooks her bitchyness.

People who are perpetually scheming and plotting, is this aspect of their personality known to their kins? I think that people talk things behind my back about me. Good or bad… doesn’t matter. But to my dad and my sister I am the best. Same applies to me. To me my sister is an angel. I do not know what people in her office think about her… if she is authoritative or submissive… or how she is with her friends. I was stunned to know that my calm little sister is dominating with her fiancé. I look calm, behave aggressive but in actuality am the most passive person I know! Haha. To me there is no better example than myself… if I get yelled at for not doing something at work… my family wouldn’t know of my weakness. To me I am the most perfect person, so I possibly cannot commit a mistake. Even if I tell them the whole story they would only hold the other person responsible and empathize with me.

But come to think of it… the person closest to you… your siblings, your beaus’, your best friends… they don’t you entirely. They are going to be something else the moment they step outside the house…

It’s a thought that engages me often, our family loves us unconditionally… no matter how we are. They will never find faults in you... they will never ever say you are wrong or you are bad...they do not know that part of you...So who knows you fully?

Bigg Boss ka aadesh hai...

‘Bigg Boss ka adesh hai ki KRK confession room mein aaye’. Sudden panic the voice echoes in the house. Anticipation and anxiety grips the housemates as their fellow mate walks in to the confession room. Inside, the inundated KRK obeys the voice of Bigg Boss whose voice has no face but remains as intimidating as any other with one. Bigg Boss asks him to gather his calm and narrate his side of the story. KRK swallows his anger and narrates like an acquiescent child. His eyes full of tears ready to roll down any moment. His voice trembling as he spoke. His mind running to conclusions he dreads. His heart pounding in anticipation and exits at the command of the voice.


I was amazed how the inmates react when a mere voice commands their being. They have not seen the face, they have not felt the soul yet the fear, the respect and the authority that the voice commands is like it were the voice of God. It's funny how every one reacts when Bigg Boss speaks in to the microphone. His voice has an identity of its own. Perhaps no face so far has managed to command authority apart from Amitabh Bachchan's.

When the voice was first heard on TV, people had placed their guesses for it to be the Bachchan's, eventually turned out to be an anticlimax when he came to host season 3. I, like many other's have pictured the personality behind this voice. We do not know who the voice is but my guess is this Bigg Boss must be a young 30-ish man. Average built and an attitude to match the voice. When he speaks he must be sitting on a massive royalty like chair to get that authority. He must look like ummmm.... Saif from Tasshan.... minus the voice ;-)

Am a radio person so voices intrigue me... i begin to build personalities around voices.... and trust me they sure have a personality of their own. I wouldn't be surprised if my description of Bigg Boss is a complete contradiction to the real. I have seen people walking into my station and meeting my jocks and being pleasantly surprised at how their picture of the face behind the voice is so drastically different. I wouldn't want to put a face to the voice, i am happy to see how only a voice can shake the existence of 13 people. 'Bigg Boss ka adesh hai ke iss baare mein koi baat na kii jaaye'.

Mircale Called 'Love'

She waved her hand up and down and swayed it from side to side making gestures we know not of. She was talking to the wall I thought till I saw a hand gradually creeping out of the window and returning those gestures. The woman outside waved her hands up and down in a sign language only the hand behind the wall understood. In a moment, a dart came out and spat a ball of paper on the road. She ran across the street to collect her husband’s handwritten note. It was more precious than any amount of wealth for her that time. More valuable than her life may be.

My throat clogged and my heart wept for her as I watched this miracle of love unfold in front of my eyes on television. Nat Geo had this feature a few days ago and I am still not over it. My heart bled for the woman who knew her husband will perhaps never come out yet she lived with a hope. Some strange force kept her going and taught her how to survive. This strange force called love.

She and more people like her visit this jail each day to communicate in sign language with their loved one’s who are jailed for life. They do not know how or chose not to move on in life because they derive the strength they require from love. So strong is this bond that even when the mind knows that we would never see the person again, the heart pulls you to get that one tiny glimpse of them even if it means just the hand. This necessity made them invent a new sign language that only the two understand. Many have found new partners yet come back to say a hello without fail to their true love. All this for something caused by chemical reactions in our body!!?

Chemical reactions fade away in sometime. There is something called immunity that a body will build with repeated exposure to the same action. Hence, this love catalyzed by chemicals in the body will fizzle out in some time. How do you explain why thousand bubbles burst inside your stomach and a rush like no other that knocks you out every time you are in the presence of the person you love, as a mere chemical reaction? Love cannot be chemical, it is something else. It's a miracle!

It is spectacular what all people do in love. Small little things! Am not talking about the big tangible things here. This certainly is beyond my comprehension. This level of chemical reaction is yet to hit me. Not too many experience this, life changing compound of emotions or may be we don’t allow ourselves to experience it. The reasons may be several – lack of time, lack of interest, too many choices blah blah… but for those who do experience this gush of emotions and oodles of reactions go down in history books of love!

I am moved by this documentary that shows how love can really make our world go round. We are indeed very lucky amongst all life forms to be born as humans to experience this emotion. So strong it is that people could kill for love. Another Nat Geo clip I saw showed a leopard trying to hunt a chimpanzee down which it did and dragged it to the top of a tree where suddenly a baby chimp fell of the belly of its mother. The leopard was zapped for a moment and curiously tossed it over till it figured it was alive and was a young one. Nature was defeated and love took over when the leopard then adopted the young chimp and began taking care of it. I was speechless, is an understatement.

A human without the capacity to love cannot even be an animal. The women outside the jail, this leopard and thousands of such anecdotes open a new chapter in my life every time I close the book and keep it away. I am moved, the way love moves all.

Lost & Found

Mahesh Bhatt texted this friend of mine last nyt ' you are lost only when you are searching for something - Tum Mile'

I was intrigued by this line. How true and aptly put is that?! We all get lost at times in our lives and we often think this state of being lost is because you have reached the end of the road. Lost to us is indecisiveness may be, lost to us is a state of mind and not a pause in the journey. Lost to us is being in astray land.

I saw 'the ugly truth' today and felt this line fit in on more than one occassion in that movie. Our lead guy is lost when when he knocks on Abby's door after what happened in the elevator. He comes searching for love at her door and when he finds the 'ideal' man he is lost... his mouth runs dry of words... his mond goes blank and he just...goes! no relevance may be, just trying to fit in the most recent example here!

I am delightfuly enlightened by this new perspective today. Thought i'd share it :-)

Sleep Deprived

Very clearly, i am sleep deprived. I havent slept for the last 5 nights consecutively. I don't even feel the need to sleep, strangely. Barely 8 hours cumulative of 5 nights. My eyes aren't tired, my body isnt giving up neither has my mind. I am in a state of trance, i assume like how one feels after doing drugs. I counted sheep and all... counted stars... counted the bricks on my wall and i feel like a mathematical genius.. if nothing else, my counting has improved for sure!

After a long time i did what i love doing.. while time, with an agenda actually with my friend. Got myself and evil eye bracelet. Although i do not believe in these superstitions but this one really amazes me. My chaachi pointed out to me that if your evil eye bracelets break so soon it means there is something wrong. Alright i would want to believe it but i got it still coz i also love wearing it.

Sometimes when people wish good for you it happens. Its the magic of prayers and words. So if good can happen so can bad. Why take a chance? I strongly feel that we should avoid speaking bad about anybody for that matter. No 'achhe sankskar achhe khayal' shit here but really, it boomerangs. So many times when you speak bad about a person and the person suddenly walks in to the room unexpectedly. Its a signal.

Well as of now i am doting over my evil eye bracelet and not wanting to sleep yet. But i dont wish to sleep at 8.45 am either like i slept today morning. This is by the way my last night's sleep that i got at 8.45 am. I feel mental. Let me try... may be i should read a book... that sure puts me to sleep!

IDEAL, I DEAL

Ideal, would be if i earn more than i can spend. Ideal would be i get married to a rich and handsome boy who loves me to death and treats me like a princess. Ideal would be, that i don't see a day of sorrow in my life and i always be happy. Ideal would be me doing my dream job and ideal would be me sleeping at this ungodly time in the night and punching stupid things on my keyboard. What's ideal? Nothing is... Ideal is such a farce. There is no such thing as 'ideal'.

Everybody wants to live an 'ideal' life. It means, a life that they have thought of, circumstances that their brain has pictured in its head for its own comfort. 'Ideally' it means a big lie that you tell yourself to console your sad upset deprived soul. If its ideal, why doesn't it happen?

So far, anything that i ever thought was 'ideal' in any circumstance would so promptly fail me that it became a joke. Everytime i think of something 'ideal' i automatically know i am being directed to a dream world that does not exist. 'Ideal' is such a dellusion such a sham that preachers have used it as a tool to show you directions to your so called 'ideal' life. Your bosses have used this word to show you your 'ideal' place. Your spouses will time and again remind you how 'ideal' your life is/was/can be. Just the mention of the word 'ideal' and you know in your head that it is all going to be alright! You are such a fool in that case, sorry!

When was the last time this 'ideal' thing happened to you? If it is so ideal then why doesnt it happen in the first place?

Puppy Love

I hear squeeks from a distance and i run towards the sound. I discover a pack of pups all piled on top of each other, eyes barely open yet wide enough to see and recognise the mother. One of the pups was disowned by the mother and she refused to feed it. I stood there watching all of it and suddenly this weakling got kicked out from the pack and it came tumbling down to my feet. I had all the sympathy for this little thing that looked up at me with its tiny little eyes hoping i could help. I gave in to its vulnerability and charm and ran to the closest shop to get some milk. I poured the milk bit by bit on my hand and fed the pup until he was full. His tail was wagging in acknowledgement and joy and i knew i had added a few good karma's to my name. As curiosity took the better of me, i went to check upon it the next day and jammy recognised me. I was thrilled... i got milk from home this day and fed it in a fancy bowl i stole from home. I played with the pup and all his brothers and sisters soon joined in. After a while i saw jammy sitting in one corner and watching all his siblings play with me. I went upto jammy and picked him up high up above my head as far as my hands could stretch and jammy was happy as hell. He had perhaps never seen the world from that high up. He loved it and wanted more, but i had to go. He followed me for a few steps and stood there waiting and hoping i would turn back but i had to go. I came back again next day. Today he was waiting for me or perhaps for the new joy i would bring to his life. I got a ball to play with the puppies and all 7 of them ran over each other, bit each other and snapped each other's tails in the play... jammy again in one corner. I couldnt understand... so i threw the ball at him. He looked at the ball and looked at me and i called out 'Jammy' and he stuck his tongue out instantly. That smile on his face was instantly relaxing. Jammy was happy and we played for another while. Day 4 i was in a tearing hurry as i was late and had no time to look at jammy. I hurried got on to the bus and left. When i turned around i saw jammy at the bus stop crying out... as i moved further away his voice faded. As i moved away i forgot about him totally. Days passed and jammy grew up. We played and the bond grew stronger. One day i got him home and fed him chicked! He had never eaten anything like that before. He was pampered like never before... he was getting the affection he never got from his mother and he was my slave instantly. I went back to leave with the rest of his pack. Well into the night i heard him squeeking again. I opened the door and he was right there. He refused to go. I let him in. But night after night he came to my door and after a point i had to slam the door on his face. He was a stray after all. How could i let a stray, unvaccinated, filthy dog inside my house. I stopped feeding him coz i could possibly not feed him everyday if he kept coming to em only for food. I stopped playing with him bcoz i m no clown. He felt dejected and left alone. He came every day upto me till i boarded the bus and had left. He came every night at my door and cried out for me but i was as cold as i could be. After a few days jammy stopped coming.


I guess he realised there is no value for true self less love in this world. I guess he realised this the harsh way. Sadly he had to go through a heart break to know how it feels to be heartbroken.


We don't value love or pure emotions. If somebody expresses selfless love, we stand to question it. We try and find hidden intentions behind it. We know there has to be some motive behind every emotion displayed. The mind is to think and the heart to love. We should let them perform their respective functions and not let one intrude the other. This pup must have grown up, coz i have in 10 yrs and today i realise how it must have felt to have been treated so badly. I am sure it has forgotten me. I should have let my heart rule me once.

My Cinema - where are you???

Karz Chukana Hai, Anubhav, Ghar Ghar ki Kahani, Jamai Raja, Aakarshan, Commando, Tarzan, Dariya Dil, Akalmand, Khoon bhari Maang, Umar Pachpan ki Dil Bachpan Ka, Jaisi Karni Waisi Bharni, Ameer Aadmi gareeb Aadmi... Ghar ek mandir, Farishtey, Kalyug aur Ramayan... if anybody has seen these movies would value these gems more than modern day ghajini's and dostana's.... Where are you my dear 'ham movies'??? 80's and 90's in my growing up days i have seen the world's trashiest cinema and i say it with utmost pride that i have seen 98% of the movies released during this time. I loved watching all the drama and utter trash that film makers made and we actually had the courage to watch it all. What made these movies really memorable is the melodrama and far from reality characters. The rich girl and poor guy drama, the cruel Mom in law, the sly sister in law who chooses to live with mommy and not the husband, the irritating bachhas of the seedhi saadhi badi bahu, the obidient devarji and the henpecked sasurji who plays nothing but a mute witness to the tyrant sasu's doings.
Yeah the villains who had a takiya qalaam, the side kicks who were always comic and had just one line in the whole movie, the andhi behan and boodhi maa saga, the bimar baap, the hardworking beta who always came first in his BA exam and the entire mohalla would celebrate with him, the munna, the munne ki maa, the gajar ka halwa.... where has it all gone?
The cinema now in being realistic has kinda lost its humour. I am not anti this change.. i love movies irrespective, but this trash was something else. Each and every dialogue was written in a way that it will be remembered for years. When have you last heard in a movie our actors saying ' maa ko chhor de warna...'
'Ek baar jo maine commitment kar di, uske baad to main khud ki bhi nahi sunta'!!!!!!!! Salman... this is what i was waiting for!!!!!!!! This is dhamakedar... i really wish the time from 90's and the cinema and dhinchak music with jhankar beats returns. I remember i owned a cassette of Rangeela with jhankar beats in it and i loved it everytime i played it. I also owned a Tridev cassette with dialogues... i know them all by heart!
I remember having seen this one really shady film Farishtey where sadashiv amrapurkar the villain opens this fancy looking box and pulls out cockroaches and eats them! hahaha imaginative! A film called Tarzan which is embossed in my mind as the most outrageous depiction of mowgli. Kimi katkar the lass meets Hemant birje the monkey boy and *tring* love happens! One scene where i din't know where to look, anywhere but the screen.... when our monkey boy rescues our lass from ze goons and places her on a high rise machaan for safety and suddenly his manhood prompts him to explore our lasses body and the rest is X rated! Nothing to beat this highly creative style of cinema.
Oh this one legandary scene from a Manoj kumar film Clerk where old man ashok kumar has a cardiac and son manoj kumar is chilled as ice! He at his own snail pace takes out a tape and plays on a tape recorder saying this is the cure to my dads heart attack. Our man dying of cardiac suddenly starts marchin in his bed as he is lying down and gets up looking at the numerous NETA posters in his house. First you tell me plis, who puts neta posters in their houses these days... how patriotic he is... and then he marches his cardiac arrest away as if it never existed! Miracle!!!! These happened only in the 80's, then miracles like manoj ji became extinct!

I really can go on and on endlessly but the bottom line is i miss this 'ham' cinema. I miss pure entertainment for the sake of entertainment. No more saas hits the bahu... no more ameer gareeb drama, no more kicking parents out of the house to appropriate the wealth..sigh!