One Last Chance

Grey was the world that survived
Through a pair of colored glasses,
With wrinkled thoughts, bland emotions,
With numbness in a world of chaos.

The victory of a tired mind
Against a broken heart,
The victory deprived of a comrade;
Oh! A victory so futile!

Groping hands in the darkness
Startled by a soothing touch;
The healing touch of life it was,
The touch that cured a wounded soul!

The answer to a thousand questions,
The truth beyond all lies,
The calmness amidst a storm,
The faith in spite of letting go.

While broken pieces join
With the strength of hope renewed,
Footsteps bold with every second,
As love shines in noble hearts.

One last beckon to childlike innocence,
One last visit to the land of dreams,
One last belief in unsaid words,
One last chance of life before death.

In Search Of Innocence

The idea of writing something couldn’t last long enough to wait for me to open the lid of my 6 year old laptop, which for some reason I still don’t want to abandon. If I can’t abandon this extremely slow gadget which is like a tortoise among millions of hares, maybe I shouldn’t abandon my thoughts either. Maybe I should give them the right place.

Today isn’t a day to put the pieces together, because they will reach their designated positions when they have to, and I guess I have no choice but to believe it. Perhaps that is what convinces me to move on. The concrete lane beside my house or society (whatever you call it, it’s definitely not home) lies amidst two huge buildings and can be nice and quiet at night. But it’s day now and the scorching sun burns my back and sweat drips down my forehead. I have to walk, as I have to get somewhere, though at the moment I cannot remember where. The drops of perspiration enter my eyes and make them itchy and uncomfortable. Removing my lenses would probably make me feel better, but I think I can endure more. To my disappointment, I can’t find my sunglasses as I grope for them in my hand-bag. I wish for some relief for the moment.

God hears my prayers and sends a light breeze which eases me for quite some time before turning it into a sandstorm (but I don’t stay in a desert!). I try to prevent my face and specially my eyes (remember my lenses?) from the yellow granules. In the midst of the entire blur, I can spot a shade. I don’t remember if it was here before. Nevertheless, it’s not the time to search for such trivial answers. I somehow manage to get to the place, remove my lenses and wear my glasses. I wonder if I’m stupid enough to be the only creature out in this haphazardly changing weather, speaking of which it starts raining now. The rain water is not that clean, but good enough to wash the sand from my hands and feet. I don’t know how long I wait for the rain to stop, but before I know it, I’m out again.

As I step out of the shade, the world outside seems to have changed again. The rain seems to have brought nature alive. The grass which wouldn’t have been taller than a few inches has grown almost to my height. The barren trees seem to be growing green leaves and multi-colored flowers. I can spot a rainbow…no, three of them! And mountains? When were there mountains in this place? A butterfly perches on my hand. I have never seen something so beautiful! I try to catch it but it flies away. I wish I had brought my camera to capture the rainbows. I couldn’t capture them properly when I went to Niagara. They don’t stay for long as expected, but I feel lucky that my eyes could witness this wonderful sight. I keep walking now. I think I’m getting late. The sun’s rays seem to be turning orange now.

I can hear something- a melody perhaps. I don’t want to know the source, as long as it comforts me through this journey, which I still don’t know is leading where. A growling sound in my stomach reminds me that I have not eaten anything for a long time. I can spot a small tea-stall not far away. As I near it, I see steaming tea in a vessel and few muffins beside it. But there isn’t a human soul around. The owner might have gone out for a break. I wait for some time, but my stomach gives away. Also, it would be injustice to the tea if I didn’t have it when it was hot! After leaving a generous amount of cash for the owner, I eat to my heart’s content. Truly, you realize the value of food only when you are hungry, just like you realize a person’s worth when he or she moves away from you. As I am lost in thoughts, biting on my last muffin, I feel a crack in my mouth and a piece of my tooth falls out on my hand, along with the pebble which caused the mishap. I spit out the rest of the muffin and examined for signs of bleeding in my mouth. Luckily it is just a small portion of my tooth which had fallen off. I have had enough of trips to dentists. I don’t want one more!

I continue my journey. It is dark now and I have to hurry. It is a rare sight to see the stars here. But today, there are lots of them. And, wait a minute, are they moving? They seem to be changing their positions! I’m glad that the moon is stable, but I’m getting distracted due to the stars. I can’t afford to get diverted now, as my destination seems to be nearing. I can see a house between two hills and there’s light inside. Finally, some living soul! I am eager to get there as the stars move faster. I try to turn my brisk stride to a jog but my legs don’t move. They don’t allow me to run! I keep struggling with them in vain. I have no choice but to walk.

Suddenly, something black swiftly runs across the street in front of me. Maybe it is a black cat. My natural instinct to believe what I’d call a popular ill omen makes me halt for a few seconds. But I gain my pace again. I look at my watch, which has been stopping every now and then since the time I’ve had it. It is going haywire! The hands of the watch are rotating very fast and that too in reverse direction. I don’t have time! I make another attempt to run, but I can’t. The melody which I heard earlier seems to have changed now. It has lost its peaceful touch. With the stars still moving violently, the million instruments playing somewhere, my watch shaking and my feet not cooperating, a blinding light flashes and I’m thrown off my bed.

Vacation Part II - Aizawl

One of my friends had asked me to write this part when it was still fresh in my memory. Unfortunately I delayed it. I’ll try my best to reproduce as much of it as I remember.

What happened next- well, maybe I would call it a combination of the famous saying “Man proposes, God disposes” and the famous Murphy’s Law! I did take the road trip to Aizawl, and thanks to our driver, it took us 19 hours instead of 22, sometimes 24 or more. But this didn't happen because my flight got cancelled.

This wasn't the first time I was taking the risk of traveling from Guwahati to Aizawl by air during monsoons. Somehow I always trusted my luck. But I don’t know what happen to me this time. Flights had been getting cancelled for the past few days. So I took the “wise” decision of calling off my visit. Yes, I cancelled my flight. And guess what turned out. What do you think? Of course, it was Murphy’s Law in action! The flight I cancelled was one of the few that week which flew to Aizawl.

How could I waste these holidays by not setting foot in the place I grew up, in the place my mother was waiting for me? I decided to go to Aizawl by road, though people advised me against it. Landslides are quite common in the hilly Guwahati-Aizawl route during rains. Also, there is a long patch of poorly constructed road which gets so muddy that vehicles get stranded for hours together. Following this is an area where dacoits prowl and cars always travel in convoy, sometimes with a police jeep for security. But I do not regret having travelled those roads again. It was one of the most wonderful journeys I've ever had!

Shillong was the usual abode of clouds among green mountains. I remember how excited I used to get whenever our bus crossed Barapani Lake. I felt the same hint of excitement when I crossed the lake. We were lucky enough to have avoided the landslides. Fortunately it hadn't rained the previous day, so the bumpy ride through the muddy patch didn't delay us as much as we thought it would. We were stopped by a police vehicle and advised not to stop for anyone except men in khaki uniforms.

All safe, we entered Mizoram at around midnight. Dad was worried that the driver would doze off. He had requested for two drivers, but we got only one. He tried to keep him awake with trivial conversation. At one point he dozed off and later woke up to find that our driver was about to snooze.

I will not forget the moment I entered Aizawl. I remember the days when we used to return after our winter vacation. We’d be so sad that we were coming back to the usual routine of books and studies, but the first sight of Aizawl would change our mood in a jiffy. It had been 3 years since I entered Aizawl through this route. Sometimes, the effect of a tiny moment is so huge that you don’t know how to describe it in words. All I can say is- I was home!

It was a 20 degrees drop in temperature, and I was draped in two sweaters and socks even in the warmth of our house. There’s nothing much I did in the remaining 6 days, or rather nothing which people don’t do when they visit home. Mom cooked my favourite cuisine and I was either sleeping, eating or watching TV. I went for shopping with mom, who, till today is the best shopping partner I've had. I visited few family friends. This was the first time I was in Aizawl without my brother, thanks to his internship. I missed him. This was the first time I didn't go to visit my teachers in school. I didn't want to go there alone.

At times when the clouds took a break from their downpours, I’d just stand in our courtyard and look around, remembering the old days. My school on the Montfort Hills is visible from our house. 5 days a week for 14 years, I climbed almost a kilometer on the uphill road to reach that place.

I never realized the worth of Aizawl when I stayed here. Today, I feel lucky to have been brought up in such a place. Yes, it is cut off from the rest of the country. It is a place where we receive 2-3 days old newspapers in bulk. We sometimes have to survive without power for a couple of days. Water supply is infrequent and only about 50-60% of the people get running water at home. It delights me to see progress in every sphere when I compare it to the times I stayed. It is a believed fact that progress sometimes brings out some negative side-effects. But here, innocence and free spirit is intact. I wished I’d never have to leave.

My flight got delayed by almost 5 hours. I was ready with the alternative to take the return journey by road again, but this time I didn't have to. Here I am now, miles away from the Lushai Hills, away from the comfort of being with those closest to my heart, in whose presence I could be the tiniest of all kids. Even though I have brought with me an extra bag of memories, I can feel the transition. I really wish I hadn't left.

Vacation Part I - Assam & My Hometown Nagaon

This isn't an article. Rather, you can consider it to be a page from my travel diary which I never maintain, in spite of the fact that my visit to home itself could have filled several pages if I had one!

The start wasn't promising enough, with our flight getting cancelled. We did manage to get an alternative one, but we had to change flights in Delhi. The descent to Guwahati was the usual sight of betel nut trees and greenery with patches of blue here and there. I still wasn't sure of what I felt when I landed. The sleepless night had left me frequently drowsing throughout the journey. Maybe I just wanted to catch some rest. My brother and friend were making fun of my worry about the transfer of luggage from one flight to another. Well the term "worry" isn't something new to be associated with me! To add to it, I wasn't in a mood for fun. Maybe it was the usual chemical reaction in my brain for "change", however small this was, and that too a welcome one. I mean, this was the 15 days once-in-a-year vacation I always thrived for!

My worry turned into relief when I saw my brother's guitar being the first baggage on the conveyor belt. Our youngest mama had come all the way from Nagaon to pick us up. We stopped at our eldest mama's place for lunch. The meal was no less than a feast! Though I enjoyed it, I made the mistake of taking a little too much of bhut jolokia pickle in my plate (mama had placed a bet of 500 bucks to finish it; I lost!) and then later stick my finger to my eye to wear my lenses. Though I managed to put them on after multiple trials, I don't think my eyes ever burnt that much!

The drive to Nagaon brought a pinch of nostalgia. I re-travelled through the countable hills and numerous plains. I didn't forget the spot where the Ganesh mandir lay on the side of the hilly road and offered coins (this time, all I had in my wallet) from the car as usual. I tried to enjoy as much of the drive as I could, though I couldn't stop my eyes from drooping now and then. The not-so-smooth roads took me to my hometown in a matter of 3 hours.

After a good night's sleep in my late grandparents' home, I felt settled and content. There was good food and I had lots of people to take care of me and my comforts. I finally finished my novel and planned on starting to read the next one. Doing my 8 year old cousin's home assignment was the most enjoyable thing I did there. I had to stick some photographs on a chart paper which had strictly defined size limits. My cousin was quite apprehensive about the size I used, but I convinced him that every size has a tolerance value and this would be accepted. I also spent time with my youngest cousin who seemed over-enthusiastic about studies. The time spent with her was mostly involved in helping her do her homework (she'd have murdered me if I did it for her!), reciting rhymes, practicing the alphabet and (sometimes) playing. I helped my aunt with graphs and bar charts for her thesis work. And of course, there was the usual family gossip in store for me - more like an update of the last 6 months! I was given royal treatment.

Our Nagaon home was, as always, alive with the fragrance of the memories of aita and kaka. The town itself had an aura of freshness. I somehow felt that the air here was purer and the moon shone more brightly. Above all, I could see the stars! Whenever I go to Nagaon, I feel as if I have been transported back in time, to an age of narrow mud-tracks, shallow bamboo bridges, rickshaws, bicycles and thelas, bike speed never crossing 20, cows, mud stoves and Internet so slow that I had to scribble this post on paper. There was simplicity everywhere - the ideal break anyone would want from the air-conditioned cubicle.

Maybe I got really used to breathing the polluted city air, because Nagaon's clean air made me fall sick and I still had another journey to Aizawl. The two M's- Monsoon and Mountains don't get along. I could only pray to the rain gods to show their mercy on me and call it a holiday. I didn't want my flight to get cancelled. I couldn't possible take the 22 hours road trip to the Lushai Hills, how much ever I longed to go there. It had been a year since I visited the place I was brought up in. And my mother was waiting for me. I really wanted to go.

Marasim - Right or Wrong?

The title is inspired from the famous album of ghazals composed by Gulzar and sung by Jagjit Singh. Perfect combination, isn't it?

Marasim means "relations". Well I am not going to speak about the album. Just read on...

In the last 24 years of my life, I have come across different kinds of people. I have built different kinds of relations. Without a doubt, the most important element in a relationship is mutual acceptance. Respect, understanding and all other elements will follow. It's not necessary for two people to be exactly similar to get along. It's more about accepting each other in your original selves and getting along with it, sometimes with a little bit of compromise.

I have been lucky enough to have discovered some relationships which have taught me lessons- and when I say lessons, it might be because of something good they have done to me or something bad. Nevertheless, as long as I am learning, I have no complaints!

In any relationship except the one we share with our parents, the moment we start judging someone is the start of the breaking point. Then there are expectations and constant need of assurance. There's jealousy and misunderstanding. There comes a necessity to decide right and wrong. To convince ourselves that we are right, we choose the easy way out - prove the other one wrong. This feeling gets so strong at times that we forget we do not have the divine power to judge anyone. We are all humans, all prone to making mistakes. We forget that if we make mistakes, the ability to correct them is also within us. If any mistake is incorrigible, we can at least learn from it and not repeat it.

Truth is bitter, but if I can categorize something as more bitter in today's world, it is accepting one's fault and asking for forgiveness, because everyone wants to pose as being right. If there are a handful of people to have the guts to fall on their knees and accept their faults, it becomes unacceptable to the one who is standing. When we hold our heads high and think that we are great because we have struggled so much, we forget that we do not have the slightest idea of what the other person has gone through. Why is it that people don't try to dig out their own happiness instead of trying to spoil someone else's by hurting their dignity? Is it necessary to wreck someone else's esteem to maintain yours? Self-love is first love, and this is true even for the kindest of souls. Of course there are exceptions, but this rare case has become even rarer nowadays. The desire to be superior has become so strong that innocence is slowly getting extinct.

Am I sounding like I believe this world to be a very cruel place? Actually I don't. All that I wrote above is nothing but a part of human behaviour. There is always room for improvement. We have our entire lives for it. It's only in the last few months that I have learnt how to live in this world and appreciate the good things it in the midst of the bad ones. In fact, I have learnt how to remove the line between good and bad, because you need a little bit of both to survive. It's all about knowing when, where and how to stop. It's about getting along with the crowd and yet being different in your own special ways, which are known to very few people.

Sometimes I wonder how much a small conversations shared over coffee can do. The talks might not be fruitful, might not even mean anything, and yet they seem to take away some of my mental fatigue and boredom from work. People say you cannot have friends in office, but I beg to differ. These are the only people I know in this city and I'm glad to have them around. Maybe it's just a silent understanding I have developed with some of them that it's not necessary to reason out or even explain my actions or my words. I guess that's acceptance, and there's no right and no wrong in acceptance. Well, this is just one example, but if we look around and observe the people who have stuck on to us in spite of differences, it boils down to the same thing I have been repeating-the ability to accept.

All I know is that what I am today is due to the contribution of the marasim of my life- be it my family, teachers, friends, colleagues or some relations I could never name. With all my imperfections, I have not done a very good job in maintaining all of them, but for the ones who are no longer a part my life, I've preserved them as memories and they keep helping me live different moments and face different situations with whatever impact they've left on me. I strongly believe in the following lines beautifully composed by Gulzar-

Haath chhootein bhi toh rishte nahin chhoda karte,waqt ki shaakh se lamhe nahin toda karte...

Before and After

I was in German Bakery, Koregaon Park (popularly known as KP) just a couple of weeks before the fateful event of 13th Feb, killing 10 people and injuring several others.

Today, I recall my visit. It was my first. I had heard of the place and when suggested by my friend, I agreed to go there. I was waiting outside the Bakery while he parked his bike. I just observed the nature of people moving in and out of the place. You simply cannot categorize them to one age group or nationality or sex. The place was always crowded. Be it members of the Osho Ashram in their maroon gowns or foreigners or families or youngsters, you could see them all.

We entered the Bakery and placed our orders. We sat right opposite to the entrance. I remember my friend telling me- "Don't keep your expectations high. It is not a very hi-fi place, but yeah, quite a popular hangout." In spite of the noise coming from the street (the door was always open and there was no AC), I loved it. With the green walls around adorned with all kinds of posters, mostly advertisements, and the low tables with stools around them, the place had a crude and casual look. It was around 6 in the evening. Some people had gone there to have their evening snacks, others just to sit and chat. It was one of the liveliest places I had seen in Pune. We might have spent an hour there, enjoying our iced tea and snacks over a seemingly endless conversation.

I crossed the German Bakery yesterday, three days after the blast. It was totally covered and few policemen stood beside. Traffic resumed normally. Everything seemed normal. Why, then, did I feel a grip of depression, a lump in my throat? The place which had been swarming with people till few days back was now desolate. It was the same feeling I had when my mother called me up to inform me about the incident. I tried to come over it. Maybe I have. Like all other people in this country, I have convinced myself that this is something which will happen if it has to. But...why does it have to happen?

INTROSPECTION

Let us all remind ourselves of what we owe to the people who have made us what we are today…and more than that, what we owe to the individual each one of us is…

How many times should the wind turn back
And call out your name?
Dreams of childhood beckon you again,
And yet, you stop to think
About the moments left astray,
About opportunities thrown away.

Grips of nostalgia remind you
Of the desires locked in those green valleys-
Those longing eyes with anticipation
Of a bright future with surrounding smiles;
Desires aren’t theirs but yours,
Fortified forever with their unending love.

Where is the pot of gold
At the end of the rainbow you followed?
Can your fist grip the grains of sand
Which the breeze carries with its own free will?
Can you be so stubborn not to let go
Of a coat in the hot summer sun?

As the specks of dust blow away
And clarify your vision,
What do you tell yourself
As the sun goes down?
Is it the end
Or the hope for a new beginning?

So many questions left unanswered-
Questions about none but you,
Unanswered to none but you,
Unanswered by none but you…