Just Another Rainy Day……

Shreya finally left from office now and it had started to heavily rain. She cursed herself for not leaving an hour earlier, because then she would have been home by now. And more so, she had worn her new clothes to office, which she didn’t want to mess up. She had to find a ride and every cab that said Ola, was asking for a Uber high price. It was pouring so heavily that the roads were filled with almost a foot high water and all she could do was hold her umbrella tight and call out for every passing autowaala hoping that at-least one of them would agree to give her a ride back home at a reasonable price.

Shrishti finally decided to get down her ride and walk. The service roads were filled with  a foot deep of rain water, muddy and flowing. She felt happy when the rain subtly sprinkled on her face. She dipped her feet into the muddy water as if it were a paint brush , and she was now ready to paint the town brown.

Honkkkk, she heard.

Honkkkk, she heard, and when she turned with an angry look she saw a speeding idiot on a bike grinning and going away after almost hitting her. 

"Madam, auto beka", said a voice behind her. At the same instant, (as melodramatic as she was).... Background Happy Waala Music Plays!!!

LaLaLa   LaLa

LaLaLa   LaLa

La La La

Finally, an autowaala, in BANGALORE, agreeing for a ride, on a rainy day, with just double the fare. It was ecstatic (PUN INTENDED).

She boarded the auto and finally came out of the gate of the techno park. The roads were filled with vehicles and angry people. The cacophony on the streets made her head ache even more. She increased the volume so that the surrounding noise could drown away and listened to the radio, which was playing one of the latest songs "Re Sultan!!!"

"Re Sultan!!!" was the song being played, somewhere at a distance. Shrishti decided to follow the sound and hoped to find something interesting. It was already fascinating that she was walking freely in the middle of outer ring road, since the vehicles on the road were hardly moving an inch. She maneuvered through the grumbling and shut down engines, briefly appreciating some of the high end cars that were stuck too, to reach the source of the song. She saw that there was a hand cart or typically a thela, which had some old transistor sort of a thing to play the music. There was a small stove under the umbrella, which had garma garam chai and beside it was a plate full of mirchi bajji. She saw a group of people almost half drenched with streaks of mud over their clothes, all of them either coming from or going to office. These people each of whom, like Shrishti were tired of waiting for the vehicles to move, and so they came out, sat on the elevated road side and start enjoying what we call as tapre ki chai, ekdum malai maarke. Who was Shrishti to judge them ? She was rather one of them. She asked one of the girls how the tea was, to which she replied, "Much better than the traffic". Shrishti smiled, took the tea in one hand and mirchi bajji in the other, sat on the roadside and got lost in her thoughts.

"Na jaane kis baat ki khushi hai yeh,

Shor se befikr hone ki,

Ya fir befikr hoke sukoon paane ki. "

And suddenly she hears a splash!!!.

Splash!!! A cab driver just managed to takeout the Tyre of the cab out of a pothole, and then a jet of muddy water splashing the nearby vehicles and finally Shreya's new clothes splashed with mud.

Typical Hindi TV Serial Alert!!!

Nahi! Nahi! Nahi!

Shreya was already pissed off that she had to listen to the music with high volume while having an head ache, so that she could tune out the chaos outside, but now even her clothes......

Aarrrggghhhh!!! 

What had she done to deserve this day.

Splash!!!

And Shrishti saw some kids jumping into puddles of water playing football with a worn-out ball. Even better, she saw some of her own bhai bandhu with a gale mein patta, playing with them. Her spirits were elated. It was pure nostalgia. "What had I done to deserve this day"; she wondered. She kicked the ball to one of the kids, jumped on the puddles of muddy water and started playing with the kids. She was almost near home, and even if she had started walking almost an hour before she was filled with enough energy.

Enough :)

Enough... Shreya couldnt take it anymore. It was almost 1.5 hours in the auto, and she was just half way home. Her auto had barely moved 200 meters in the past half an hour. She finally decided to get down her ride and walk.

3 hours later, I finally reached home from office, with a part of Shreya and a part of Shrishti within me.

And Alas!!! What had I done to deserve this day,

Or am I always the two-headed snake,

A part of me always resenting the storm,

And a part of me always dancing in the rain.

Blue for Boys and Pink for Girls

Asmi was very happy, today was the day her niece was born. As soon as she came out of the hospital, she rushed to the baby store to get something for those pretty little hands to play with. She went in and there she found the saleswoman running her through the options:

Pink bed for Girl baby, Blue pram for a boy baby.

Pink bottle for the girl, Blue cradle for the boy.

Pink bib for the girl, Blue dishes for the boy.

Not just that, when the baby grows older, we have pretty Barbie dolls for the Gini’s and strong GIJOs for the Jony’s.

And that’s when Asmi thought that have we as a group of so-called race “Intelligent and Smart people”, have we stereotyped everything. Have we become so judgmental that once we know, say qualityA about a person, we simply assume that the person possesses qualityB as well? Obviously, we would do that, because we are a group believing in the transitive property, that Mathematics has nicely etched in our brains.

Where, if A=B, and B=C, then that implies that A=C.

But, we very comfortably forget that,

If Something (A) = Something (B)…….. and Something(B) = Something(C), then that doesn’t mean:

                                A=C, or even so:

                                                Something (A) = Something(C).

Not just that, suppose we meet a person and that person doesn’t fall in the pre-defined categories that we’ve classified into, then we as a society get scared. It’s again because, we have constricted our minds so much that if anything out of the box comes our way, we simply run away. Maybe that’s the reason our society hasn’t accepted the 3rd sex yet, let alone understand them. But that is a story of another day.

Now coming back to the matter @ hand, do we stereotype so as to classify people and we think that would give us a better understanding. Then in that case, we would club the common traits and put all those people into 1 category and define them. Come on, hasn’t Biology taught this. Classify all vertebrae’s into Pisces, Amphibian, Reptilian, Ave and Mammal. And that comes with a note in bold: “If you classify thus, you’ll get a better understanding”.

And if in some parallel universe, a whale and a bat meet, their conversation would be like:

Whale: Dude, you know according to human’s and biology we are supposed to have the same characteristics?

Bat: But how? You swim and I fly. How is that related ?

Anyways come up with some LOGICAL EXPLANATION that fits our system of classification or the STEREOTYPE, because simply sticking to stereotype helps us being the zone of the known. Wouldn’t that constrict us? Wouldn’t classifying people take away the joy of getting to know the individual? Aren’t we by doing this always promoting collectivism than individualism?

Suddenly, Asmi got out of day-dreaming and realized that she has been standing at one place and staring at the Barbie doll for too long. She shopped for rest of the gifts and went to the counter to bill:

• Pink Hammock
• Pink Bib
• Pink bottle

She paid the bill and happily went away to gift those to her newly born niece.

Main..... Me

चलते चलते यूँ ही इन राहो में,
 कुछ मोड़ मिले, कुछ  छोड़ गए,
कभी मैं गिरी, कभी सम्भली,
पर कभी मैं यह न समझ पायी कि खुद को खोया है मैंने , या खोकर पाया है मैंने।

मैं कौन हूँ, मैं क्या हूँ,
क्या झुण्ड से अलग दिखने में मैं हूँ, या भीड़ में समां जाने में मैं हूँ ।
क्या ख़ुशी में सबको हसाना मैं हूँ , या नज़रे चुराके चुप चाप रोना मैं हूँ ।
क्या अपनों से घिरि हुई गप-शप करने वाली मैं हूँ, या अकेले में अपने आप से बात करने वाली मैं हूँ ।
क्या पानी कि तरह बहना मैं हूँ , या रेत सा फिसल जाना मैं हूँ ।
क्या रंजिशों में जीना मैं हूँ , या माफ़ करके आगे बढ़ना मैं हूँ ।
क्या वो चमकता हुआ तारा मैं हूँ, या सुकून से मुस्कुराता हुआ चाँद मैं हूँ ।
क्या किसी परिभाषा में ढलने वाली मैं हूँ, या अवर्णनीय मैं हूँ ।

मैं कौन हूँ , मैं क्या हूँ ,
क्या वो जिसे मैंने खोया था मैं हूँ, या जिसको पाया है मैं हूँ ।

Leap of faith

On a bright sunny morning, when I sit on the top of a hill, staring into the vast carpet of greenery in front of me,
I see, how a seed has lost its previous self to be a tree, that shelters the needy.
I see, how a butterfly has broken its cocoon, to spread beauty across.
I see, how a bird sheds off its fears, to fly carefree.
But was that transition smooth?
Was the transition that brought strength, courage and independence not an aftereffect of all the possessiveness, worry and confusion???
I believe that growth is not something that extends your current self. It is something that breaks your skin, sheds it and brings out the new you, so that you are free from the cocoon, and can spread your wings and fly high.
But during that particular phase of transition, when the seed was shedding it's coat, wouldn't it have been troubled, confused and praying for not to change? What if it saw this entire transition as a chaotic change and not growth.
A change where it needs to lose its present identity.
A change that does not confirm a bright future.
A change that could either lead to the shoot getting crushed by stones, or a warm sunlight on its face.
A change that could make it stretch towards the deep blue sky.
A change that could be life itself.
A change which is nothing other than a leap of faith.........
And there staring into the green uncertainty,
I shed all my fears,
I forego all my dilemmas,
I let the wheel of fortune spin,
To crumple my bones,
To tear off my skin,
So that I can grow,
And be born again!!!!

The Wait!!!

Sometimes I feel the warmth in the silence, sometimes the sound of nothing scares me.
Sometimes I love company, sometimes being surrounded by people makes me feel alone.
Sometimes I feel I can keep going for ages, sometimes as if I am horribly tired.
Actually many times tired. But what am I actually tired of?
The Wait! The Endless Wait! The endless wait of as to when I would understand the stuff going around me. The endless wait, of when it would all make sense.
I hope, I know and I fully believe that everything happens for a reason. And at the right time it would all make sense. Only when the maximum number of the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle are fetched, does putting it all together would actually make sense. But amidst this, is the wait taking its toll? Is the wait crushing my beliefs with its paw or is the wait a part of the puzzle too??

Some people say that the journey to get to your goal makes you the person worthy enough to reach the goal. Its just like the piece of metal being filed to give it a good shape. But what if you didn’t know what was the goal, where you were destined to be, then this uncertainty starts meddling with your beliefs. Its like the metal that first guesses, oh yes this is the shape I am going to be, and then there continues the filing and the metal is again left to wonder of its destination.

And that is endless wait for me. And that’s what makes me tired. And somewhere deep within I realize that dealing with this wait would make me worthy enough for my destiny and it is at that time that it would all make sense.

But is the destination the only thing that matters? Or is it just a part of the entire process. What if the reaching the destination itself is not your destiny, but reaching there with right modes of transport, with the right attire and with the right twists and turns, the part of the entire plan? Maybe ending up there without all of these, would leave you clueless for the journey ahead. Maybe you’ll still have those angels and demons putting their case forward for you and you still do not have the wisdom to judge whats right and whats wrong.

And lo! The wait begins, and it carries its tools,
It punches its hammer onto the left,
It drills down a nail onto the right,
It makes me roll with the wind,
It forces me to stare at the sun…
And I keep waiting at its behest
For now, and a thousand times over.

?????

What do I do to myself?
Where do I soak my tears?
I carry a plastic smile on my face,
And always say "Who cares"!!!

I have buried the concern in my tone,
I have concealed my brow's turn,
But yet I am anxious,
If anyone would even notice, when I am gone.

There is a hole that is dug too deep,
There is a void that pushes me in too steep,
And what do I do to this face,
That is a picture of all these.

I get up as if I would never fall,
Then I fall as if I wouldn't be able to get up,
But where do I find this strength,
To get up again after this fall.

And then I say to myself,
Why shouldn't I soak my tears,
Why shouldn't I wear a smile,
To give a fist to who wants me in tears,
To give peace to who wants me to smile.... :)

Hope - Chestha's words

People say, when all windows of communication close for you, a door of hope opens.
The door which fights the despair,
the door which gives you strength,
the door which shows you the new you,
the door which leads you to your goal,
your new goal,
your actual goal.
For months, I’ve been waiting for the door to open, unable to understand what it would need of me,
unable to understand what it would unleash on me, unable to understand how good it would do to me.
My hope is that opening of the door. The hope that is alive for just one and only reason. The only reason is the number of reasons that I see around me.
When I see hatred ripping off the soul, I see love medicating it.
When I see bundle of lies trying to ruin a situation, I see the end result where truth triumphs.
When I see greed getting whatever it wants, I see selflessness gaining the utmost pleasure of giving.
When I see jealousy with a burning desire, I see self-content with a satisfaction.
This is the only reason of reasons that I wear a smile on my face, a smile which is a plastic one, with a hope that it would be real some day.
This is the why I mask my eyes full of despair with twinkling ones, with a hope that the mask would be removed some day.
This is why I articulate my words so that they don’t say people that I have lost a battle, but they would say me that I would win the war some day.