Neatly Folded

Lost (as always) by the window seat on the bus ride to office, I felt a little tug on my shoulder. Kids!! There's always those days when a screeching child is being fiddled over by the mother who is making a more sincere effort towards making it all look very appealing to the irritated fellow passengers than calming the apple of her eye. My flow of anguish was met by a pair of solemn eyes next to me belonging to a little girl no more than six years of age who muttered a very quiet 'Sorry' under her breath as she looked away. Her mother seemed unwell and had taken the only remaining vacant seat in the bus and her father stood protectively beside her. The little girl looked tired but knew better than asking for some space to sit down next to her mother. She had found a little space to squeeze into between her mother's knees and was trying very hard not to express her discomfit. It was not hard to see that she had learnt to adjust her requirements to the needs of those aro

I'm not exactly the kind who prefers the bland taste of reality. The unimaginable paradigms of the unknown, the unexplored when blended into day-to-day life are a much more relevant palate. I am glad also to assure you here that I am not into living with hallucinations, have no imaginary friends (barring the visiting presence of spirits who for some reason truly enjoy my kitchen shelf, but they are neither friends nor are they imaginary) and maintain a clear divide between fact and fiction. I prefer saturating my soul every once in a while in the glory of a setting sun or in the eyes of a tired bird, perched to rest. That's my reality. And so, when I ended up at the stairs leading to the Taj Mahal... I felt at peace. The Taj Mahal is perhaps the best example of my idea of sanity (or insanity). A mausoleum built in pure white marble as a reflection of Noor Jehan's beauty built after her death (when he could have just told her how lovely she looked instead of having her bear

Like every other year, papa's birthday went off nearly unnoticed giving me no scope for celebrating his spirit or spending a relaxed five minutes to recollect the times we spent together. As they say, it's never too late to make amends. So here I am taking a lazy stroll down memory lane to bring back a little bit of his Princess in me. It was the summer of 1990 and my entire family, along with some other family who had tied up to join in the weekend plan at the seaside at Chandipur. The sound of the waves was all I needed to hear. Having never been the sort to hang out with my brother or his friends or partake in any of my mother's incoherent discussions about pains all over here and there, I instantly held out my arms to my dad. It always made him smile. Come to think of it, he actually spent most of his time observing me. It intrigued him that though I spent all my time either hugging him while he was talking to someone or sitting across him when he played a musical instr

Late in the night, I was sitting at my computer yet again (yes, production woes continue)when I see an ex-colleague online. We start having a mundane conversation and he asks me somewhere towards the end, "What is love? How is one supposed to feel when they are in love?" I couldn't give him an answer in complete honesty (he wasn't interested anyways) but I went back to re-feeling, if there is any such possibility, the feeling of being in love. The first time I actually felt love as a woman was on my first Valentine's Day with my husband. Since we spent most of our waking hours together, we had a pretty clear understanding of what we liked or disliked. Despite it being almost a year later, it was difficult to surprise each other. And yet, when he walked in through the door of the flat I used to live it, cake in one hand, flowers in another and a shy, reluctant smile on his face to let me know how bothersome the whole ordeal had been... I felt very special. He sat d

It has always been particularly difficult for me to witness a heartbreak. To see the shimmer of a hopeful eye fade away into a visible silence and a cold, seething hatred filling the vacuum that it leaves behind isn't the best sights in the world and yet, I have it all too often, mostly in the mirror. Last evening as I settled down for a warm conversation with a dear friend and her boyfriend, the tension was too obvious to miss. I was aware of the issues that the couple faced and had always found comfort in the fact that they were still at an age where confusion was only guidance they had. I had become too hopeful that they would find a way to overcome their differences, that happiness would prevail and yet... sitting on the floor of the smoking zone of the posh pub, reality slapped the two of us hard across our faces. It was over. My friend took it with her usual courageous attitude. She put on her reluctant smile and spoke at lengths of looking at life with more than an ounce of

Some days are just not meant to be for real! After two days of relentless moaning and groaning from my team members on the occasion of production time for the magazine (it's the time of the month when the contents of the magazine are finely checked and the designed into a page and put into press after final proof reading - read lots and lots and lots of re-reading of the same text) turns out that I am sitting uselessly at the helm of a computer that I am supposed to be operating to complete my work with ABSOLUTELY nothing to do! As it turns out that my very well-read colleagues have not completed their work on time and now I must endure their delays and their constant moanings about how their husbands are calling them and what they could make for lunch and how being married changes the entire outlook towards work. Well, being the only unmarried member of the team, it was only too easy for me to finish my work on time and now I should cover up for lost time by doing work that was or

I cannot help but think how much has changed within and without me. Before you object, I would like to clarify that I do not mean that I am in any way averse to changes. Change has been my constant companion these past few years and though I have not realised the full intensity of it all, change has been there when I barely understood the very concept of it. Sitting outside with a solitary cigarette dangling at the edge of my lip watching the kites glide on a strong current of wind that scattered cirrus clouds all over an orange evening sky, shutting out even the sun, I cannot not think of where I am headed. I have a decent job, one that I enjoy. I have many friends, who spoil and comfort me at the same time. I have someone to go home to, a recent change in my overtly active social life so far. And yet, all the above have been in constant change. I have changed my job, I have had new friends and I have, of course, had someone to go back to in the past too. So, in a way, nothing much ha

For weeks before I got into my current relationship I could see the universe weave its magic all around me. But I guess that has happened before each of my relationships so I am more afraid of the scars that appear after the magic fades away that enjoying it's spell with a spring in my step. Having burnt too many pieces of my sensitive heart a little too many times already, the reluctance in accepting this wonderful gift from life is understandable. Considering all human beings are complex, at least that's what most of us want to believe, the aftereffects of falling in love too soon or too often worsen the loneliness that follows the realisation that it was not meant to be. Like a leper's arm that despite being inflicted with the disease and rotting bit by bit with every passing day, loneliness has found deep roots in my being and refuses to celebrate the slightest hint of companionship. I differ from those who call it a compulsive depression disorder, it is not. It is mere

There comes a time when rhyming lines and waiting for the poetry to flow through the pen comes to an untimely end.. or so it seems to me at this phase of life. Life, indeed, is kind to me and has bestowed several priceless moments upon me. As I start a new blog, which I hope to be more regular to update than my previous blogs, I am overwhelmed by the canvass that lies ahead of merging time and space through words. It's that feeling of starting afresh which leads to a race of adrenaline and hoping for miracles. I just hope that people who chance upon this blog should, if not relate or understand, rejoice in the many wonders that I have come to summarise in one word, Life.