Twilo

Midnight, as he crawled into the lane that had a peculiar smell. He ducked and shunned the hungry eyes and blinded himself from the lust that called out to him. He steered through the pigeon hole and glared back at the eyes that stared at him. She stood at the door with a smile on her face. New night. Her eyes spotted him from a distance and he looked at her like they called out to her. He was drawn to her uncontrollably. She held his hand and dragged him inside. Just one drink and that tip was her target. He had no control over his heart and hence the alcohol. She poured one glass after the other as she charmed him with her smile and he pulled out one note after the other as he was lured into it. He emptied the glass and filled her pocket. She grooved with him to entertain him, to show that he mattered to her. She did not realize when this sham turned into reality for her.

She was at the door waiting for him. Second night. She did not know why she was waiting for him but her eyes looked around for him. He came, straight at her door. A smile assured them both of what was happening. She did not have to drag him in this time, his feet directed him to walk inside. She was smiling this time out of joy and not for the deep pocket. Her innocent pixy face had a smile that came from the heart and it was infectious as hell. Every soul she touched then on smiled endlessly. Her tiny hands were strong enough to assure that she would hold on, her tiny eyes had dreams of nights that she won't have to wait at the door any more and they would light up each time she saw him. Mai, the smile, the warmth, the intoxication at twilo. You are welcome.

Solitude

The sky had invited her, the breeze hugged her and the skyline twinkled to light up the way for her. A strange romance led her way as she jittered and rambled at that dizzy height. Everything looked small from there. The gush of wind played a romantic melody in her ears and a smile donned her face unwittingly. Her grim face glowed with joy and the pale cheeks turned rose. Her solitude was finally romancing her. She was on a new high.

For the first time she dared to over come her fears, only because she felt motivated enough. For the first time she dint care, because she felt cared for. For the first time she took that step ahead because she had someone to fall back on. The glass reeling showed more than they could contain. The songs echoed a tune that the world was dancing to. Her loneliness was filled with life with all the lights that glowed around her, as though they participated in her jubilation. The firecrackers were replaced by the loud thunder the sky roared and champagne was replaced by the downpour. As she looked down once, a chill ran down her spine. But a warm hand that swung around her waist negated the chill and calmed her down each time she froze. 

She was high... high up... above all myth, with just one reality next to her. The love held her to ground firmly. He pulled her back, gently flung her hair behind her ears and whispered, don't worry, i am there, you are not lonely at the top.

Float

Dark blue, indigo almost. Swirls of turquoise and silver kiss the face. The white lace fills with verve suddenly and dances up and down uncontrollably. Her hair velvet glide in directions that ripples take it to. Her face reflects the moonlit silver softness. The light from above the sky sieves and scatters at the surface to spread thousands of tiny light balls. Her irregular breath releases bubbles that wobble up to taste the sun. Darkness is lit up by the sheen of the light pink gown. She is insubstantial and floating in the blackness like she has no resistance. She doesn’t care where she is taken as long as she glides. Her locks giggle up and down like the octopus. Her body scoops through the water like fish. She breathes in the water and another bubble erupts and casually floats till it dies. She dissolves in the water. The surface pulls her feet up and she tries to restrain them. Her body curls up as she desperately tries to pull her feet down. Sudden burst of bubbles… disturbance in the water… ripples turning still water into gobbles. A struggle that lasted for a while till… the ground finally pulled her down. Her gown turned pale. The light grew brighter on her. Her hair draped her face and her big brown eyes still managed to peep put of it. She surrendered to the water and she Float… to her eternity. 

Keep Walking

And so she has grown out of her cocoon. Beautiful, un-abraded by the viciousness of the world around her, so naive and fresh. She has just worn her pink glasses and stepped out of her house. The walls that she had never seen beyond. She is curious and anxious, her eyes move rapidly trying to absorb every detail around her totally unaware of the sharp edges that surround the smooth beauty.

She tries to touch a rose and tears her sleeve in the thorny bush. She tries to pick a stone and gets a spasm by its weight. Suddenly the blue-sky turn gray and the red on her cheek turns pale. Thunder storms from the dark clouds and hazes all the effervescence around her. A black out and she falls to the ground. Her wings cut off. She tries to elevate herself. The heaviness on her shoulders fails her efforts. She is perplexed, doesn’t know what is bogging her down. She stumbles, injures herself. She quivers and gapes but the ponderosity keeps her from getting up. With great effort and knocking knees she manages to hold her ground and stand up. The thrust of the wind has blown all the green away. The pressure is making her sway. A bolt of thunder sends shivers down her spine and miraculously a stick loads her shoulder. She is completely unwitting about the stick. She notices two baskets suspended at each ends of the stick. They are empty yet she is weighed down by it. Another thunder in the sky and her image of the beautiful world she had just stepped in to came crashing down in front of her watery eyes. The thud was so loud that it shattered her pink glasses. She could now see a man and a woman in each of the baskets. They looked at her with helplessness in their eyes. The vulnerability in those eyes was more engulfing than the dreariness in the atmosphere. She feels she is accountable. She feels she is chosen to sail them through the storm. She gives them a reassuring smile and ploughs her way through dust and creep. She begins to stoop within a few steps. Her spine shouts for some rest. Her arms ache to straighten. Her throat parched completely but not a fret on her face. She moves on with a smile on her face. She ducks every bump on the road, glides through the rough terrains and gets corns on her feet but that doesn’t dither her spirit. She is determined to take them ashore. She had assured them so.

Her feet begin to tremble after some time. They were helpless, but they had feet, hands and breath intact. She wonders after a while, why wouldn’t they walk that distance on their own. Why would they sit so pretty in the basket and watch her collapse. They acknowledged her effort intermittently. Initially that was encouragement enough for her to walk a few hundred steps. Now, it became irritable to her. She is growing weak. The constant change of weather from the bright to gloomy is taking its toll on her. Her hands begin to shake, her toes become hard and ankles crack. Her lips chap. Her eyes dry out and the wind lines her lids with dust. Her mind is now playing games with her. She sees things that aren’t. She hears what is not spoken. She isn’t comprehending anything, hence all the misunderstandings. She is hoping this journey would end sooner than now.

The world she had stepped into wasn’t like this. It was much rosier, till her glasses broke. She has to now tread this long unwinding journey all by herself, carrying this unwarranted luggage on her shoulder. She shudders at the thought of it never ending. They look at her with hope and pity. They are able, but are getting use to the comfort of sitting in the basket and begin carried by someone. They don’t have to go through the turmoil if some one else is bearing it for them. She is bearing it all for them so they don’t get hurt. But they seem to not empathize. She can't run away. She can’t leave them alone now on a journey she has started. No matter how hard the wind blows, no matter how dark it grows, no matter her body gives up, no matter her last breath goes… she moves on… chasing that illusive horizon in front of her. Keep Walking…

The Rhime Of An Ancient Mariner

T IS an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din.'
He holds him with his skinny hand,
'There was a ship,' quoth he.
'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
He holds him with his glittering eye--
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:
The Mariner hath his will.
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.
The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.
Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon--'
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.
The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
And now the Storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled.
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken--
The ice was all between.
The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!
At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God's name.
It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through!
And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners' hollo!
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.'
'God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!--
Why look'st thou so?'--'With my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross.'

Quest

She looks around surreptitiously. She opens her clutch discreetly and pulls out tissues to wipe the kohl that blackened her pink cheeks. A long breath brings back the smile on her face but her eyes can't hide what she doesn't want to show. She sways her head from side to side to the trance and her eyes seem to absorb the devilry of the kohl, the trance and the night. Sweat makes her glues her hair to her neck and face. She rips them apart trying to display her pseudo smile. Her wet hair smudge the juicy lips. She struggles to keep the strap of her dress on her shoulders as it keeps falling off. She cares least! Her eyes pierce through the crowd trying to find the one heart that beat for her. The music is deafening and the thump of the speakers quell the beating hearts in the room. Suddenly her eyes are stuck on a spot... the music garbles and sweeps away from her ears. Images of the crowd dilutes and grains away into the surreal play of light and sound. Her eyes transfix on a pounding heart ... she follows the heart and finds a body that houses it. Her heart skips a beat. The twinkle in her eyes returns. She has found her soul.

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'.