Lesson

i know you heard it a lot of times from your friends, family, strangers, and from other medias, and you might have experienced it also.

today in the morning, i learned it, experienced it, and spoiled my day...

so the lesson of the day is---- 

life never gives you a second chance

Embarrassment

finally songs like ' papu cant dance' and 'dance pe chance marle' are out. songs which tell you that you are not happening or even a human if you dont know how to dance or sing. and why am i getting hyper?? my problem is- why are they always targeting me? i cant sing or dance and still i am very much like a bipedal of human species who walks straight and crack jokes every now and then. infact i am very much a male of this species. another thing is i tried hard for both singing and dancing but failed very badly. but this doesnt mean i am not hip or happening or cool or hot. dancing and singing are just a way expression, i have other ways of expressign my self (i can email, and instant msg, i can even sms) or is this the only conclusion tht i cant be hip, ever! and thats quite embarrassing, i mean everyone should be given a chance and if they are not giving me a chance then i dont have any other choice- this to all the pappus like me who are feeling embarrassed, lets raise our voice against these atrocities of those who know it all,  lets be together and give a ground shaking reply. join me and fight them!!

ciao

Difference

There is difference between being alone and feeling alone. Being alone is not a big problem but what will you do when you feel lonely in your own crowd?

Tattoed for life

As my friends call me a show off. How can it be that I wont brag about my first tattoo that I got done a day before yesterday. Yes............. I finally got a tattoo and that too on my neck. I got it done from my college senior and that too at a very reasonable price, though its priceless for me. Regarding the experience it was not THAT painful as I thought it to be. I was almost sleeping by the end of it. And when my friends asked whether it pained or not, I bravely said," mard ko dard nahi hota!" though its paining now and I am not allowed to move my neck for few days....and by now you must be wondering what did I get inked on my skin??? Well I got an Elephant face done (surprised???) for a simple reason that it relates to my name and more or less i AM like an Elephant. No not in physical appearance but mentally I am an Elephant. 

Ok, enough for now, let me enjoy my tattoo and you do your work or read my other posts. Ciao! Enjoi!

Stuff From Telvision to Remember and Cherish

• Malgudi Days
• Alice in Wonderland
• Chaddi Pehan Ke Phool Khila Hain (Mowgli)
• Potli Baba Ki
• Complan Ad. (I am a Complan boy)
• Amul Chocolates (i still long for them, message if you know where to get them from in Delhi)
• Ek Tha Ruskin
• Surbhi
• Knight Rider
• Silver Spoons
• Bewitched
• Mango Mood Ad. (it always used to scare me)
• Different Strokes
• Circus
• Buniyaad
• Nukkad
• Alif Laila
• Chutti Chutti

this is all i remember right now, add your own personal favourites from television (from your childhood)

njoi!!

A Love Statement

This is how a fashion student talks about the girl he likes- yaar! jab main ironing ke liye line mein khada hota hoon aur woh drape iron karte hue meri aankhon mein dekhti hain toh aisa lagta hain jaise mera final design collection approve ho gaya ho!! (man! when she looks into my eyes while ironing the drape, i feel like my final design collection got approved!!)......

A thought

I was sitting idle (as usual) and came up with a oneliner, interesting but maybe meaningless. if you can make any meaning out of it, do let me know, reply back, leave a comment

livng a pseudo life leading towards a pseudo death

do make a comment

The Mindless Mind

I kept falling, first I felt scared but later on I got used to it. I was still in mid air, free falling and waiting for the pain, the ground. Ground was totally visible, just a few feet below but still absolutely weightless, falling without any aim, without any reason. Suddenly I became still, a man in joker’s costume was standing in front of me with a pump in hand, he looked scary,  he smiled at me, something was fishy I could feel it inside me, I turned and started swimming in opposite direction. He started inflating a big bean bag, I was totally horrified. The faster I tried to swim away the slower I got, by this time I was sweating. He was still inflating it with a grin on his face. Finally I was at my home and my legs were back, sat for a while on the television set and my pet pig came and started feeding on my blood. An earthquake shook me and I ran out. The sky was full of stars, it was not an ordinary scene. I felt like standing on the roof of a space ship, all the asteroids around me. The best part was when moon swooshed just above my head, touching my hairs. I felt the rings of Saturn, its dust, the cold dust with my fingers. The view was spectacular, everything was amazing.  I jumped from the roof, started falling again but this time it short. I was lying on sand with a frozen lake in front of me, someone held my hand. I looked her, tried remembering, for a few seconds I froze, she was my classmate, a long lost friend. Don’t know why and how my eyes got wet and tears came out of my eyes, I was perfectly fine no emotional imbalance still tears were rolling out. She looked into my eyes, got closer and kissed me. She again held my hand and told me that she always wanted this. I felt like living rest of my life with her but out of nowhere she turned into my cousin touched. Her reflection turned into a white porcelain figure and broke into pieces which were scattered all over the paper beneath my fins. I felt like tied up, my scales got discoloured, some of them were missing. While I was looking myself in the mirror, my mom came and stood beside me...and the things went like this until the truth came out from the dark.

I was feeling confident yet I was shaking, my mom was in the mirror but not next to me, I had fins and scales, kissed a dead girl who changed into the most hated cousin, I was swimming, felt Saturn’s dust, a pig was my pet who fed on my blood. A joker horrified me for no reason, and I kept falling for hours. I heard somewhere that there are eleven dimensions in totality, only four can be felt. But I was living all of them, everything came and went in such a flow that it never felt odd, nothing seemed to be odd, everything seemed to absolutely normal. I wasn’t drugged, neither I was in future, it was a dream. Everyone dreams, hain na? And dreams are like this only, our own creation, the very work of our own mind. How do these things come in mind; such jumbled thoughts, such strange things, the senses, the feelings. Sometimes we wake up scared, sometimes crying, some talk while they are asleep, some even walk. And the weird part is we are never able to make out that we are living in a dream until the dream ends. We live so many beautiful moments, we have greater than life experiences, we do unbelievable stunts, we might not get scared easily but our dreams sometimes frighten us so much that sometimes the impact is left for days. Intelligent creatures say dreams are mirror to our inside, they reflects our thinking and everything that goes with us during the day. I agree with them, but why does our mind makes it so complex that we ourselves wonder what it actually meant? Why can’t the big box keep it in a simpler way? Why doesn’t the mind understand all this? People say we only use nine percent of our mind that means the rest of it goes wasted, or I guess rest of the place is used to make things difficult. May be rest of it is the sub-conscious part, the one responsible for that loud voice, that stops us every time we try doing something insane, something wrong. But leave it; I am talking about this playfulness of our mind. Why does it work so weirdly while our conscious mind rests? Kya humare dimaag ka khud ka dimag nahi hota? Why does it act in such an illogical way? Maybe after all the wise work it does in the day, it plays in such a mindless way!

Leave

Pardon for poor english..

Right now as I am writing, I am actually waiting for my ma and pa to clear all the formalities and the paper work to be done so that I can get out of the hospital. It’s been a week since I was admitted here, after almost two dozen times being punctured for injections and blood checkups and eight bottles of glucose I am finally declared fit!

A week earlier I had fever which didn’t come down even after taking Paracetamol tablets five times a day and as college was important and mom got the news that I am sick she came to Delhi and took me to Sir Ganga Ram Hospital. Doctor suspected me of Dengue and suggested that I should be given a dose of glucose, so here I was, lying on a bed in emergency ward with dengue patients all around me, mosquitoes buzzing in my ears, smell of medicines everywhere, doctors and nurses looking after patients and for the background score a kid screaming louder than our netas during elections. The amazing thing about the kid was- for almost one hour he kept screaming- injection mat lagaao... please mat lagaao, for that time he had my full sympathy but even after getting injected his tone was the same. Anyways, after four hours in emergency ward with canula in my right wrist, the reports came, I didn’t have dengue, but even after seeing my reports my doctor insisted me to get admitted. After another sixty minutes of struggle my mom finally was able to get me a room in hospital.

Though I stopped thinking myself as a kid a long ago but somehow my room was in the middle of paediatric ward. The room was white, white and white, white everywhere except for the floor which was grey. The room was divided in two parts, which meant I wasn’t alone in that room but I wasn’t able to figure out with whom I was sharing the room until the third day. Apart from a fellow and his attendants on the other side of the curtain, a typical hospital bed with white bed linen, black blanket and side table and a seat accompanied me.

While being in hospital I felt like I was the worst case ever, I had no fever since I was shifted to room and still my fat moustached doctor wasn’t able to think beyond dengue. The medicines ruined my taste buds, everything I ate gave no taste and my body was stinking like anything. All I was thinking about was the leave. I hated the place and the environment, those big syringes with big pointed needles, I felt like hating myself and the place. At that moment of time, had god granted me a wish I would have asked him either to kill my doctor or make me so fit that I never have to visit hospital again.

By the third day I was totally exhausted. And by that time the female attendant of my fellow patient and my mother started sharing smiles, later in the evening they had a chat. So now, as a true woman my mother was supposed to gossip around, and when she saw no one to gossip with, I was the victim. But this time it was more than gossip, the issue was serious, my fellow roomy was a 56 year old man, who is a father of three girls, and is in bed for last seven years. The first two years he spent in his home and for last five years he is in the same room, living with the help of life supporting machines. He had some neurological problem because of which body below his neck got paralysed. He breathes through artificial lungs and was fed through a pipe which was attached to the food pipe- a reason which made him mute. He a had full time attendant who looked after the schedule of medicines and had the duty of sanitary cleaning, his wife worked in the same hospital in administration so she used to be with him as soon as she used to get the brake.

The last day is giving a tough time, first insurance papers didn’t get cleared properly and my ma was fighting the authority like Rani Lakshmi Bai. Then bills were not proper. It’s six in the evening and ma is still trying to get the bills cleared. In the morning I was playing music on my cell, an old song- mausam hai aashiqana from pakeezah. As the song ended the fellow attendant came and said- uncleji, gana dobara sunana chahte hain. I played it again. In the noon his daughters and some relatives came to meet him, as they left he started crying, maybe he wanted them to stay a little bit more, maybe he was crying on his own condition. Whatever be the reason, a 56 year old guy cried. I thought maybe some old music may work, so I played music again.

My mom might have told his wife about me getting leave, and as the news reached his ears he started crying again. I got lost into the thought, in last five years don’t know how many patients came on the bed next to him and got a leave before him; a man cries in pain, when he feels defeated, when he wants something and can’t get to it. In his case all three were the reasons. It became tough for me too, as my mom and dad were trying to sort out the bill problem at the counter; my fellow’s attendant wanted to go to loo and asked if I can sit in his place for a while. A spine chilling wave ran through my body on hearing this, I am not that strong-hearted, I wasn’t ready to face the guy but I stood up, took four steps and pushed the curtain side and faced the old man. In last seven days this was the first and maybe the last time I was looking at his face. A thin man with short grey hairs, shaved face which I can remember was shaved a day before, big eyes, pipes all along his bed, one of his hand was out of blanket, his fingers all blue in colour, a day earlier I heard her wife telling my mom that doctors were planning to amputate two of his fingers which were badly damaged by gangrene, probably due to bed sores. I was still shivering; I tried to calm down myself and walked to the chair which was next to his bed. I sat on the chair, I gained courage enough to look into his eyes, I lifted my head and he was looking straight into my eyes, the pain was there in his eyes, a tear drop rolled out of his eyes and fell on the bed. I don’t know what I was feeling by then, as I am writing I still can feel that. I wanted to console him, but I lost all my words, I felt like I lost my voice, we kept looking at each other. The attendant came and shook me, I realised my eyes were wet. I walked to the other side of the curtain.

As I am jotting all this down, as my parents are fighting the hospital administration over faulty bills, as I am waiting to get out, I am still thinking about him and many others who are still waiting to get a leave....

Title is never important

this one a poem was written by my very dear friend Rameshwari when she was in tenth standard, we hope you people like it--

I walked through the dark in dismal hope

Tumult & turmoil everywhere

Floating in the air goes the song of melancholy strain

The beginning is far,

The end is near.

Startled my eyes become when I see the horizon

The sun is out! too bright for my eyes.

Sunlight reflects the colours unknown to my eyes

Wind sings joy, sun’s flowers bloom.

But I forgot the end is near.

I realize the blaze is out.

I become blind again… and

I know the end has come.

Garage Find

Before starting i would like to mention that the title "Garage Find" is picked from one of my friend's blog, she had an illustration made with same title, that illustration made me remember this true incident. Thanks Malvika!!

It was in 1992 when me and my family used to live on rent in Dehradoon, that home had a large open space (a garden) and a small garage in the corner. That dusty old garage had gardening equipments and tools, some old rags, torn soft toys, a broken window, two old bicycles and lots of spiders and lizards that used to scare me at times, but apart from those spidies and lizzies that place was heaven for me. I used to spend maximum time in the garage.

Once, while I was going through the stuff in the garage I found a tin can that had around forty Chikoo seeds in it. I took almost handful of them and came out in the garden to play. Pintu, our landlord’s son was sitting in the verandah. He suggested that we should plant these seeds, we decided on that and starting waiting for gardener to come. When the gardener came we asked him to plant the seeds, he first refused saying that the soil and place is not good enough for the seeds but when we kept on insisting he finally planted a few seeds in the garden.

Same year my dad changed his job and we shifted to Udaipur, Rajasthan. Our landlord too shifted to mumbai a month later. Till the last time I remember none of the seeds transformed into a seedling.

In these vacations, after second semester examinations my family planned a trip to Haridwar and Rishkesh. The four day trip was fun, we did river rafting and that too twice. On our way back, dad decided to visit some of his old friends in Dehradoon.

So here I was, standing in Patel Nagar in Dehradoon asking for an address. I paid a visit to our patel nagar house where I spent the best years of my childhood. I was standing on the gate almost after 14 years, the house is now totally ruined. Only a chowkidar lives there with his wife in the part of the house where we use to live.

The garden has vanished, only a chikoo tree stands there covering the whole place. The tree brought a smile to my face. I felt like that 6 year old kid who kept on insisting the maali to plant the seeds, I felt like dance, shouting and screaming with joy. One of the seeds managed to break into a seedling and turned into a fruit giving tree that might have fed people, birds, insects and other small animals around it. This chikoo tree was my garage find, a garage find of a then 6 year old kid that brought happiness to a now 21 year old.

Sunday Love

So it's monday, shinchan is on tv and the phone continues ringing as I have decided not to attend the call, it’s from a relative, they prefer talking to mom or my sister, never even bother to inquire about me! It's quite humid today, sunday was much better. And yesterday's trip to chokhi dhaani after the drizzle stopped, was even better. Wet sand, neem trees, cool breeze, an old iron smith blowing wind in quest to ignite coal fire, kids running here and there, camel and elephant rides, a broken slide in a corner and Haryanvi folk dancers dancing with his black sporty shades on, everything was in a single frame. Dad pushed me to dance as he joined them, I laughed and said no. I cant dance, I guess I am too shy to even try that. A puppet show was going on, though I have seen it hundreds of times, always same stuff but one can never get bored of it. Puppet show ended and everyone moved on, we were then standing infront of rajasthani folk dancers, two girls in black local dress with a little make-up started dancing. The performer on the right caught my eyes. Wheatish complexion, big eyes, good height, round face, really beautiful in my opinion. I kept staring her, wondering how old is she, married or not, how can god make someone so beautiful, whether she will accept if I proposed her... and many more questions kept on taking rounds in my mind. few moments later a girl came and stood next to me with her friends, I got distracted and tried to see who she was. Fair skinned, tall, sexy outfit, overall- very sexy. And all the guys were drooling over her. I was staring her too, but the folk dancer was still in my mind. I changed my view, I turned my head to see that beautiful folk dancer who was hiding behind a beautiful veil and to my surprise she was standing infront of me. Hands folded, made an eye contact and said," ram ram sa". She said it again and brought me back to life. I reached my pocket and took out a ten rupee note and gave it to her, we were still looking into each other's eyes. She took it quietly and I moved away. She was still in my thoughts, something inside me told me to look back, I turned and she was looking in my direction, she smiled, I was totally knocked, in the wilderness I looked around to see whether it was me or someone else, no one was around, I smiled back, waved my hand before we freezed into each other’s eyes again. She made my day. I am still thinking of her, the moment she smiled, her dance, her visage, her eyes, her everything. hope to see her again... my Sunday love...

Free Ride

It was a little time back when I met this autowallah that I figured out that .......ummmm...........a lot of things..... Well.........hmmm.....so, there was nothing special about him, looked just like a regular auto-rickshaw guy, beatle leaf in mouth (paan khaayo saiyaan hamaro types), regular moustache, bald head, in uniform with shirt buttons untucked till chest, healthy physique (maybe in his 40s), and sandals which were looking new. On the other hand, auto was quite tempting. Looking like it was one of the creations of Manish Arora, bright colours, photos of gods jazzed up with those bollywood posters. Imagine Lord Ganesha sandwiched between Shahrukh and Kajol on a laminated red and pink flowery background!! A puff of smoke could have made you do hare rama hare Krishna in there. And yes, how can one forget that towel seat cover with a big Ferrari on it! i cant say anything about that Ferrari but when the rickshaw screeched on one of red lights avoiding an accident, i felt like sitting next to James Bond in his Ashton Martin. And Bhaisaab was so cool that he spit his tobacco, lighted his beedi and started again. MAN!! He became my role model, his act could have given western cowboys a complex.

Bringing me out of my imagination he asked me where am I from, a question that I normally don’t feel like answering. Anyways, after a little thinking I said I am from Haryana and things followed like – I am from Haryana too, from Bilaspur and after five more minutes of discussion he came out to be from my paternal village, and better part- he remembered my dad’s name. There was suddenly an element of connection between two of us. It is interesting how the world suddenly shrinks and you see and meet your own people in totally different ends of the world, but the reason for my happiness was something else, I went like ‘bingo’ I saved sixty rupees of auto fare (the price came down after much of bargaining). I mean he wont ask for fare out of courtesy, as we are from same place. So talks kept going on, right from queries about my family to the usual FAQs about my eyebrow piercings and my studies.

He lighted up another beedi as we were struck in a traffic jam, I was feeling an urge for a cigarette too, I felt the packet of Marlboro in my pocket but I cant take it out, suddenly the friendly rickshaw driver became a foe of mine, I cant light up my cigarette infront of someone from my village. And he was there sitting infront of me lighting up cheap, harmful beedis one after another as if he was teasing me.

I guess we were struck in jam for almost fifteen minutes, talks continued about ‘dilli ka traffic’. Traffic slowly loosened up and we zipped through the traffic towards the destination. still controlling myself from taking out my cigarette and thinking about sixty rupees that I might save, I thought of getting down half a kilometre before so that I can smoke atleast one of the Marlboros before reaching my flat. Then the pleasant weather changed my mind, I thought maybe a cup of tea with my fellow driver wont be a bad idea, so asked him for tea and guided him towards our tea point (sutta point sounds odd so changed the name!) infront of the college. What followed could have led me straight to the cemetery, a sharp turn, almost killing a cow and ourselves, a feat that could have sent even Mr. Bond to St. Patricks. As soon we stopped and stepped towards rajiv (tea point owner), he pulled out a cigarette and handed me( in my mind i went like ‘shit! now auto guy will tell in the village and the thing will soon reach to the ears of my family and they will beat the hell out of me not because I smoke but because of the reason they learnt it from someone else’). I quickly forwarded it to the driver friend, as he lighted it up, asked me whether I smoke or don’t, I thought it would be better to be honest and said yes. So, here I am sharing a cigarette with an auto driver, I was finally relieved as I sipped tea and smoked and added to the air pollution! But was this the end? No, not at all, as the talks continued he asked whether I have ever tried a beedi or hookah, and as the things went on, I shared a beedi (though i didn’t like the flavour and felt like puking) too.

So it was time to bid goodbye, the smile came back to my face (yippee! I am gonna save sixty bucks, still for formality I must ask him). I pulled out my wallet and took out hundred bucks thinking he will resist it, he took the note and said ,”abhi khulle nahi hain, koi baat nahi aap toh ghar ke ho baad mein hisaab ho jayega”. And there i was standing still, trying to figure out what has happened, he was gone making extra forty bucks out of my free ride!!