What music does…

…To me. It’s the greatest medicine ever made on Earth, the best thing that ever existed, will exist, etc. There are moods and there is variety of music to suit them, compliment them, sometimes to make them even better. I don’t care about my existence, the why’s and how’s of the world when it comes to Music, it flows smoothly through my veins and directly into my heart and within a few seconds everything feels alright.

I’m lucky to have figured out that something in life gives me so much happiness. People think of me as one of those stupid souls who are not fit for the world. ‘She lives in her own worlds’ they say. And why not, my activities make them feel so. Not that I would acknowledge myself as one such but to the eyes of an average man, maybe I’m that lost-good for nothing-careless-unbothered creature.

There is a flask, it falls one day from the table, breaks into pieces. I stare at the pieces and say nothing, just pick them up and move on with life. I know it is a rich vase (by money’s standpoint). People expect me to shout and talk. They expect me to be angry. Only because someone else has broken it, someone lower in the economic strata of mankind. My thought process is simple – I myself could have broken it, why make a fuss. I know it was a nice looking one but not more than the self-respect of a human being.

I take out bags from my wardrobe to gift it to my family. They rummage the insides and find out small items inside the same. They prove that I’m careless. I don’t have a problem people forming opinions, I have a problem with them making judgments. I had kept the small items inside the bags to surprise myself at different points of time, that is whenever I opened them.

People describe some of them as good and others bad. If you join the hurdle and start believing their definition of good and bad, you will be appreciated and included in the group. Else you are called a fool. What they fail to understand from here is that this is the ideal person to share your thoughts because he/she will never talk bad about you to others. But no, you are the ‘bad man’.

As my sister puts it,

‘Simple things in life are the most extraordinary. Only the wise can see them’.

And I really don’t care what the non-important ones think of me. I have music for life

And we are from a different Planet

In a world where every sentence that you blurt out is heard with a suspicion, people don’t take time to classify it either as sexist or racist. But then how do you explain the obvious differences that you see and feel. In this internet world where everything is so hyped that people sometimes don’t get the gist of what is being said and instead either blow it up or drill it down. So, let me tell you beforehand. The idea behind this post is not to be sexist,  maybe feminist. Primarily it is about certain things which Men and women do too differently. Again, there are outliers, the so called “exception classes”.

Men aren’t emotional. Even if some are, they don’t express it the way we do. Two women talking to each other, friends for ages now, discussing the world on a cup of coffee. A third one joins, the women speak to each other from the language of their eyes and they change to a common topic. They also feel a bit irritated. There is an inherent possessiveness in their friendship. The entry of the third one makes them uncomfortable. They make sure that after the third one leaves, some time is spent with each other to finish the conversation they were in the middle of.

Similar example, but this time it is two men discussing the world on a cup of coffee. A third person joins. Nothing changes for the two men. They continue to discuss, the third person adds his opinions. There is no sense of irritation, forget possessiveness. The problem occurs when a Man and woman are talking and the third one joins. Each one behaves in a very different way than other. The woman jumps topic but the man stays too casual and this ‘being casual’ is definitely understood by the woman.

I don’t understand if men are not concerned or they don’t show concerns. When women talk, they always acknowledge others, in a funny manner or in a good note and their idea behind that is feeling related/connected to the person they are talking about. Men will not shy away to receive services like an all time food & beverages supply to housekeeping to taking care of the children at home. They will chat with the guests at home but I haven’t seen them acknowledging the efforts nor have I seen them inviting women to their conversations. They think that everything is understood. No, a ‘thank you’ helps. It makes one happy. That’s a reward for the services delivered.

How many men say a ‘thank you’ to their wives or partners on a dinner table. If they did in India, it will be a cultural shock to me. Generations have not done it and in the current age where so much has changed but a few things have not. How many lend that helping hand to their partners at work outside office?

Women like discussing the past but Men don’t. Men read minds but women read hearts. Many things are not as before, they are changing for the good but some are not moving at all. No wonder people are willing to stay single than be part of the non-reciprocated, un-loved environment. We women are soft at heart and we deserve love and fun. More of it. Sex cannot compensate for anything. That word and act, both are simply too overrated.  My Grandfather used to say, ‘Women are like flowers. You care for them and they will brighten up your place. You ignore them and they will die’. To all the Men – Don’t let that woman die. Cheer her up, make her happy. You will be amazed at what she will give back to you.

Happy Dussehra/Navratri/Durga Puja

It is that time of the year when I feel emotional. People from the East of India believe that Durga Ma comes to her father’s house and stays with them for the 9 days. I have seen and heard people crying on the day when Ma supposedly departs from Earth and goes back to heaven. I tell this myself once every while, ‘Ma, I wouldn’t have perhaps thought about you 4 times in a day if you were physically alive but today I do so every day’.

The first Puja ever was what I attended with my mother. She was scared that I would get lost in the crowd and hence she lifted me up wherever we went. I remember she had bought me a pair of Maroon coloured high heeled shoes then. I was asleep that night when we returned from the Pandals and my Parents had not checked my feet. One of the shoe must have fell somewhere and they realized that I didn’t have one only when they returned home. I got up next morning and the first thing I did was look for my newly bought shoes. I cried for sometime finding that one of the shoes has been lost. She sat along with me and cried too. Seeing her cry, I jolted and stopped crying in a second.

I remember I had finished my Class IV’s annual exams and we had gone to my hometown (Sardarshahr, let’s call it SDSR from now on) in Rajasthan for our annual trip. The months of May and June are the hottest in Rajasthan and we used to go there in May. She was going out with other aunts and uncles to visit some Monks. Like every time, she asked me if I needed anything. I asked if she could come back on time and if she would find some bangle shops on the way. When she returned, she found me waiting for her in the open balcony alongside Grandmom. She smiled and handed me a bag. It had atleast 7 types of bangles. Upon her conversations with people (people in my place inquire a lot about everything), I realized that she had spent quite an amount of money on them. She used to apply boroline after we went to bed. As her routine task, she had come down to the room where Grandmom and I used to sleep. As she touched my feet, I got up and asked if I needed those many bangles. She told me that I deserved the world and the bangles were nothing.

It was the February of 2009 and Buls’ (my younger sister) Class XII results were out. The marks were sort of history in the small town we stayed (they are the highest till date) and it had sort of become obvious that she would get a Medical seat in one of the best colleges of the country. Our Physics teacher’s wife had come running to congratulate my sister. But before she congratulated her, she hugged my mother and said that she was a victory mom. “What have you really done to your children?” was her remark. There were times she just smiled. She did the same in this case too and thanked her in return. My father added something to the conversation that day. He said that she has not travelled to a single place in the last 3 years. The percentages and ranks have got more to do with her dedication than with my sister’s intellect. The teacher’s wife nodded saying, ‘Yes, definitely’.

Mom had come to meet me in Pilani and we had planned to go back together to SDSR. We had our breakfast together in the Hostel mess and from there, I dropped her to my room and informed her that I would finish some jobs in the campus and come back during the lunch time. When I returned, I saw that my room was spic clean (not that I kept it bad but she made it beautiful) and the unwashed clothes were drying. She was standing and looking at the trees from the room. I looked at things and hugged her, both of us saying nothing. We left next morning and reached SDSR within about 3 hours by bus. Father asked her what did she do yesterday. She told him about the places she and I went together. She didn’t say anything about the hours she spent cleaning my room and clothes.

I go to Kovilpatti (CVP where I grew up and studied till Class 12) once in a while because my father still stays there and one time I visited, the house helper tells me, ‘It was so easy talking and asking anything from your Mom. She used to give it to us without creating a buzz. She gave me Xx money before she left, you know’. I just nodded to what she said and felt a deep pride inside.

I like to visit the places you wanted to go, I want to remember the names of all the Presidents and Prime ministers and what-not-in-a-name like you did, If I ever become a Mother (looks like no chances this birth) I want to be at least 50% you, I want to be as Cheerful and jolly as you, I too want to help others without realizing having done it so. I wouldn’t say you are the best in the world because I haven’t met others. But what I can definitely say is, ‘You were by far the best in the world I have seen and nobody has loved me enough to be comparable to you. You were very extremely cute, Ma’. You would be loved till I live. I will talk about you to Buls, father and Superpartner whenever we find time.

A 100 day 10k challenge

Every step counts. That’s the challenge all about. One fine monday morning when I go to office, I see some of the office mates wearing a small black coloured device. I hear they are doing something to keep themselves fit. ‘Not bad’ is what I tell myself.

After a while, Sananda (one of my team mate) comes to my desk and tells me that she has already taken 2300 steps in the day. I ask her what is she supposed to do and she explains to me that the challenge is about taking 10,000 steps in a day and doing it rigorously for 100 days. It is about teaching yourself a healthy lifestyle. She had signed up for the challenge by paying a nominal amount which has given her 2 devices and access to a free app. The app apparently tells you how much steps you should take per day if you want to get into your desired shape (actually weight).

She was too excited about the whole thing and said that she has an additional device and that I should start counting steps too. I was a little apprehensive in the beginning but wanted to challenge myself to something. It has been a while I have challenged myself for anything. Guess that’s why haven’t done much in the recent times.

First evening, I come back and tell Superpartner, “10k looks amazingly tough. Don’t think I’m going to make it any day”. Next day, I ponder over the thought. 2 steps would be a meter, isn’t it? Then what  does 1 km make to. It is roughly 2000 steps and can I not walk 5 kms in a day? I sure can.

Well, so that’s the zeal. Walk for a healthy living. People say, ‘A thing done consistently for 21 days becomes a habit’. Looking forward to making this a good habit.

Thanks for reading. Have a good day.

Exercising the rights to vote…

Abraham Lincoln once said,

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

A week before the day of voting, this is what I tell  my Superpartner after coming back from office, ‘I’m going to vote this time in Bangalore. Actually, pretty excited about it’. 5 years ago, this is what I asked my father, ‘I’m thinking whether to vote or not, what do you say?’ and this was my father’s reply, ‘If you think you have understood things enough to vote, please do, else I would say wait till the next elections’. This is what i tell my juniors in office, ‘these are rare opportunities – once in 5 years you see. All of us who keep doing those weekend calculations – (52*expected number of years that we will live) should be the first ones to cast a vote’. Being a country like ours where we still have a fourth of our population under the poverty line, it is pathetic to be spending (thinking of the kind of election related expenses) more than a time in 5 years. Political landscape for the first time seemed ‘interesting’ to me – a new party at a national level showing high hopes, the old timers talking of women empowerment, safety measures,  highways, flyovers and technological development which are some ‘fancy’ manifesto items to be heard of for common masses like us.

I’ve my voter card from another state – Rajasthan, but thanks to some of these drives which happened inside the MNC offices of Bangalore that we could shift our voter cards from one state to the other. As expected, the cards did not reach on time. Thanks to Internet, we could do a ctrl+f on our names in the respective ‘constitution assembly’ files and vote with the serial numbers and EPIC numbers listed down there. There was a joke on a popular radio channel where a man said ‘we are 4 in the family and none of us have apparently received a error-free voter card. My mother’s card has my wife’s photo, mine has my mother’s photo, the surname is incorrect in my father’s name and my wife’s voter card calls me as her father’. I laughed out loud on hearing the last bit of his sentence because i connected to it and in addition, the address on my e-card was partially incorrect too. As you can make out, there was a dearth of resources in the public departmen and such is their planning!

Maybe I’m growing, maybe i connect things a little better now (not as good as Cortana on the new WP8.1 ) but elections this time have been too different from what they were in yesteryears. There was awareness, there was some sort of a discipline, people all of a sudden seemed liberated and had realized their rights. The youth definitely is looking for a change. I saw a couple of voting booths while walking down to my voting station. There were young men and women helping voters like me. Young fellows in Reebok t-shirts, Levis Denims, Puma shoes, fast-track wrist-watches, well groomed. Thanks to the growing disposable income in the hands of India’s middle class, Brands and fashion is no longer an accessory to the Elite. It is for all. It was also delightful to see both men and women working on these booths. I remember, my friends from school whose mothers were Teachers and Principals telling me, ‘My mom has written a letter to the Election Commission stating she is ill and cannot make it for the election duties. You see, it is very dangerous to be standing on these booths for women’. Good to find that we have come out of the Gender discrimination.

Time for some reminiscences: Ma and Daddy walking inside the house with Ma’s standard question giggling, ‘Will you tell me whom did you vote for?’ and a roar of laughter from Daddy. Ma used to make amazing cold coffees. I walked down from the voting station, thinking about her, thinking a bit about the life I would have had if she was still around. I made cold coffee as the first thing – more milk (i’m heavily lactose tolerant ), more cream, more coffee but moderate sugar – the way I like the most.

An appeal to all the Non-Resident Indians who discuss politics on all social channels possible and all those groups in offices who discuss nothing but politics (but never vote!):

Kindly stop being too caring about the country and for Heaven’s sake, do not call the current public speakers ‘Idiots’ or some such names. They are better than you, courageous enough to stand up and talk. You don’t deserve to be discussing Politics. If you so much feel like, plan your visits to home nation around elections. Thinking the following way could make you plan better – Divide the amount of your return ticket by 5 (once in 5 years you see) and add it to the tax amount that you pay every year. It isn’t going to look too big, believe me.

I’m actually fed up seeing photographs of people on facebook in creme and white clothes with caps on their heads and flags in their hands, residing in the Americas and United Kingdom, speaking tons. Kindly vote because nothing else is going to serve the purpose.

My best friend’s wedding…

… Payel – yes, the post is dedicated to her.

Some of our common friend’s sing various songs for her – ones which have her name in them. As she is getting married tomorrow, the most appropriate song out of many (I think) is the below:

Specially dedicated to you, Payelia

The sad bit is that I’m not going to be part of her wedding and no matter how apologetic i feel about it, it is not going to bring down her anger on me. I deserve it right I guess. My father often tells me ‘Circumstances are more powerful than Men’ and I’m reminded of this quote every now and then.

Payel: I know you would look beautiful. I have cried atleast 5 number of times watching Shubho Drishti’s in Bengali weddings. I would be missing yours big time. It is one of the ‘best’ part of the wedding and was secretly looking so much forward to it. I think of myself as a dreamer and fantasizer and would be imagining you tomorrow with Radhaa-Krishna motif’s and that ‘perfect’ smile which always reminds me of your pure heart and kindness.  This is one of your “most” important days in life and I’m as happy as your Parents (just not any less) seeing you getting married.

An exceptional student, friend, daughter, sister and colleague that you have been, I’m sure you will be a marvellous wife and partner. Waiting to hear from you about the paintings F-i-L is gifting you and also looking forward to the poems you are being gifted. Feel blessed and enjoy a lot. Believe me, you are lucky!

I would be meeting you as soon as you are here. Loads of love and Best wishes.

No one ever wanted me…

I did not know that my happiness would be so short-lived. I was rummaging through all my old books and novels, for many reasons – sell a few, keep some forever and give away some to my best buddies. My hand landed on this file of my parents, my curious brain said they might be love letters exchanged between father and mother and I will be going up to them giggling. They turned out to be adoption letters, with my name on it, calling my parents as the adopters and my 2nd paternal uncle and aunt as my Real parents. So, my real parents never really wanted me. Perhaps they wanted to kill me by going for an abortion. Thinking in the Mathematical line, that seems more likely because i’m younger than the 4 daughters of the uncle and aunt.

Well… so, my mom never really conceived me, did she feel the same way holding me like she would have felt holding her own? Did she get irritated when I bugged her? Would things have been different if I was her actual child? On the other hand, how did my aunt feel when I went to her house offering sweets on my selection to a Medical college. Did she feel proud of her genes? For once, did she feel guilty for having given me away to someone else?

There are these times when I feel unwanted. The same thoughts never allow me getting closer to a man. What if he comes and tells me the following one day – ‘You are really intelligent, kind and generous. But I don’t feel like writing or talking to you any more. It is an unfair world and I hope you understand’.

When I smoke, I see that disgust in people’s eye, I see them not wanting me. I see hatred in their eyes. Why are some of us so deprived of love and affection? I know it was not distributed in proportions when the Almighty was dividing it. I don’t feel jealous when I see a 60 year old mother talking to her daughter and caressing her forehead. I just wonder what I might have felt? Would that have seemed like ‘heaven on Earth’?