Pinku-Enchanted Life

The cycle was again creaking too loudly, Sawant Singh cursed under his breath and got off it. It wouldn’t do to disturb Shikha, his daughter in law’s siesta otherwise his supper of two rotis and a little dal would again be the casualty. Already this week he had gone without food twice, once for forgetting to buy salt at the local market and then again for having fallen off to sleep after an unusually hard day. So he picked up the bicycle and moved with it slowly to the far wall of the garage. For the umpteenth time he cursed his deceased wife for his ill fortune. Had she not hurried to meet the other Lord and deemed it fit to stay on and serve her earthly master he would not have to face such indignity in this old age. To him it was almost an insult that Lajjo who had never retired for the night without pressing his tired limbs should decide to call it a day while he was still alive and in need of a million small ministrations. He wasn’t as cowed down always, there was a time when not ...

A basket full of cakes, doughnuts, chocolates, cheese, olives, bread, juice, rum and coke. A car tank filled with fuel. A heart set on adventure. A mind taking rest from being practical. The perfect ingredients to have a terrific time. That’s how the last trip to the hills started. When you start on a trip you need a destination don’t you? The easiest way to decide on one is to get a list of probable destinations and do a random selection. Your lucky number, your pet’s date of birth or the number of helpings of ice cream you had last night are equally good numbers to choose from. I though went with a more sedate method, I opened the book found the first place that was listed and firmly believing the first page of a book is the best place to begin headed towards Lansdowne. A maniacal 7 hour drive from Delhi through Meerut, Bijnor and a host of small and big towns with nary a break found us in Kotdwar. The last town before the drive into the Pauri Garhwal hills began. Dusk had fallen and...

Remember watching fascinated, neck craning, breath caught in throat as your eyes followed the hero of your dreams soaring wingless high above you? You wanted to follow his footsteps, assuredly letting go of one swing as another moved towards you in a synchronized motion that never failed. The calm with which he sailed into space and reached out with complete confidence made him seem like Superman. You were told; ‘you are too young to follow, you must wait till you are older’ and you went away holding mommy’s hand promising yourself that you would come back as soon as you were old enough. The wait was oh! so long and you wondered many a time if the circus and the Trapeze man would still be there waiting for you or will they have gone away. Your heart wrenched at the thought and you couldn’t wait to grow up soon enough. Then one day you finally did. You were ready to soar into the sky. And you looked for the circus tent within which was the magical land of your dreams. But alas! now the ...

Hold it in both hands draw attention by looking into his eyes with a mysterious smile. Wait for him to draw close, interest and curiosity making him a little breathless wondering what it could be that makes your eyes twinkle so. Hold it up and whisper I got it especially for you. Look up at him with adoring eyes, wait with bated breathe for him to accept then look on as he tears open your carefully done wrapping. He looks it over and says well this is nice but couldn't you have bought a different colour? I already have three of these. You look on, fumble for an answer then ask shall I have it changed? He thinks for a moment and then replies, leave it we can gift it to the neighbour on his wedding You nod your agreement. After all you can't dispute that it is a lot of trouble to go back to the store you had had turned upside down looking for that particular shade of blue. Gift giving you decide is an art no doubt but having it accepted is God's blessing no less.

The haze lifted momentarily and my eyes slowly focused on the fast zooming fan stuck to the wall as I tried to recall where I was. Then it struck me I was back in my one room PG digs and the throbbing in my body and head was caused by the sudden high fever and the exertion of the past hours. As I reached for the bottle of water kept somewhere on the bed my head reeled and I had the distinct feeling of being on a roller coaster. Roller coaster, the thought brought with it a smile and a groan. That’s how I had described my life nine months back and everyday since then had been nothing but a new ride at a new speed with new hurdles. The latest lap on it had been an impromptu trip to the hills. It started of pretty inanely with a wish to breathe in some fresh air outside the confines of the city limits and it somehow stretched into a long ride which finished at my favorite hill station, Nainital and then a mad rush to be back in the city in time for office. They say people never forget the...

I want to write and put in order the terribly confusing thoughts in my mind. But I am afraid to put them down in black and white. That would mean confronting them, accepting them as mine, born from me. How can I let that happen? How can I irrefutably allow them that distinction? I must hide my thoughts; glance at them only furtively making sure that no one knows what I am thinking. Thoughts can be very dangerous, one must think a hundred times before indulging in them and a thousand before revealing them to anyone else. Why you ask I feel this way? You feel I am paranoid? Let me tell you then, I had thought of, created in my dreams a life filled with love and laughter. Honesty, benevolence, goodwill, a broad approach to life and the living all had a place under the sun in that world. It was all very nice, very beautiful. But then I destroyed it. Know how? I shared it with people I thought were companions. Those people listened, nodded their heads and smiled as if convinced with all of ...

Tramp on dream on that’s what its all about Gloat over small successes weep over frustrations and going nowhere days Envision a better future find a bleary one staring at you instead bite your tongue bow your head and make that one last effort yet again who knows flighty luck may alight on you this once

The balcony was a secluded affair. Small with just enough space to accommodate two chairs it looked meant for those moments in life when you forget about the existence of any other being except perhaps you and the person with you (if you are lucky enough to have someone with you that is). The view stretched out over the tin and slate rooftops to the mountain whose summit had vanished into the clouds. It was a sparkling green in color with pockets of darker green where perhaps the trees had crowded over too much. I sat with my pen and diary, as is my wont whenever I am traveling, ready to scribble whatever stray thought would enter my head. But both lay unused as I sat and looked at the rain falling from the sky, the rooftops, the leaves, the wires, the balcony grill. It seemed ironical that here I was on a beautiful hill station, in a secluded balcony, with the most romantic rainfall imaginable and no one to share it with. Why is life so unfair? My friends had hinted at just this when ...

I wanted to create a wish list of my own and the blog guided me to froogle I asked for a cottage by the sea and it showed me paintings named so at nine dollars each. I was disappointed so I left it mid way, the things I want froogle can’t give me and the blog doesn’t allow what froogle doesn’t. So I decided to create my own post with my own wish list, one that I can keep updating and adding to without anyone bothering me. Here goes: · A cottage by the sea · And one in the mountains · A month long cruise · A trek in the mountains · A night spend in the open desert · Vist Leh, Andamans, Sri Lanka, Brazil, Israel, · Bathe in a waterfall much like the Liril girl but without people staring at me with or without lenses · Hear the open air concert that Leon mentions in Exodus · Love and be loved selflessly, freely without chains · Loads and loads of books, music and films to go through · A magic garden where I could plant a plant from every place I visit and they would all live together in ha...

Hi, I am off on another jaunt. Am not sure where but I think it will be the hills, have been daydreaming of the rains in the hills for the past few days. It’s a beautiful sight and the rainwater seems to wash away every worry, every problem, I am hoping it will do the same for me yet again. The last few days have been full of turmoil and I find it hard to concentrate on work or even hope for a better future without the bitterness of the present seeping into it. Anyways, just the thought of traveling has perked me up a bit and I thought I would share with you some fun snippets from my previous trips. Over heard in a train: “Iska paer kharab hai, uska pet kharab hai aur mera dimaag kharab hai” a man telling a flustered middle-aged lady who is asking everyone around to exchange seats with her since she has got a middle berth. The viewer’s view: “chaliye yahan khare ho jayiye aur neeche dekhiye, yeh Mussourie ka view point hai. Chaliye, chaliye aab aage chaliye” A tour guide shepherding hi...

The sky over the mountains was pink as if flushed with first love. She sat frozen to her seat enraptured by the sight, forgetting her surroundings even forgetting to breathe. A polite cough broke the trance and she had looked back to find an elderly gentleman smiling down at her. 'Its beautiful isn't it?' He asked, she had only been able to nod in answer while clearing the spare chair of her papers and books. She had offered the chair to him, he sat down and together they had watched the pink slowly turn into magenta to a deep purple to a despondent indigo. Only when the first star twinkled in the sky had they started talking. Rather he had asked and she had answered. She had been a little wary of telling a stranger that she was traveling alone, that she had fought and lost the battle for normalcy in her life and was now on her own. He had kept asking questions the way only those who have seen everything the world has to show can, brushing aside decorum and the need for pri...

It had seemed the easiest thing to do - walk into a courtroom, sign some papers and walk out of it free from the chains of my defunct marriage. However walking out had seemed so much more difficult, why had my legs felt so leaden as I made my way back? Guess it’s not easy to admit defeat and that’s what this moment was. Admitting defeat that I had failed to prevent my three-year-old marriage from floundering. What had gone so horribly wrong? Why was I not able to manage it better? Why was the person now walking ahead of me seem so dear and yet so distant? It wasn't that long ago that we had walked like this in a circle around a fire asking it to be the witness to a relation that was to last through seven births. It had looked like the perfect match, age gap not withstanding. Everyone had commented on how perfect we looked together and he had been really glad that our names too were so similar almost as if destiny had planned us to be together always. Though the cynic in me had even...

If you are reading this, you probably have some time to kill, are mildly interested in knowing what new worm has wriggled out of my mind or have hit on my blog while idling through some others. No, don't squirm, there is really no need to? The reason and subject of this particular post is not you at all, its me. I have hit on this medium of communication (largely self communication may I add) lately and am totally obsessed with it like all true converts. Its in the past couple of days when this blog was taken off the Indian ether (don't know if its true for the world yet) that I realised the extent of this habit I had formed in just over two months. And that set me thinking, I tried to understand why I write. Is it the need to write down what I feel, think or imagine? I could just as easily write a diary in the comfort of my home, why then do I wait for these little snatches of time in office and get online to scribble a few lines at a time? Look around furtively to see if th...

Bunty sat straight without a word and looked out almost willing herself to see the bus that must be traveling somewhere before them in the darkness. The others had more or less regained their composure and Neha was pulling Subir’s leg about the bus number. Subir had memorized the number of the bus he was standing in front of while at the terminal and it skipped him that they had got into not that but the next bus. He had been very embarrassed. They had just stood there not knowing what to do next when the headlights of another bus shone on them. The conductor had hailed them with a “bus miss ho gayi?" He had offered to drop them at the next stop. They had hesitated, between themselves they barely had enough money to get back to Delhi, if they traveled further up and then were not able to get to their bags they would be in deeper trouble. It would mean having to call up home for someone to come and fetch them. Neha the ever impulsive had taken the decision for everyone by hopping i...

Rohit was trying to balance Neha’s dozing head on his shoulder while trying to stretch his legs and gain a slightly more comfortable position. These seats in buses and cinema halls were always a torture for him. He couldn’t manage the feat and Neha woke up bleary eyed to ask him what the matter was, saw the look on his face and realized it was the “Mr. Long legs” problem. She pulled up his feet onto her lap, telling him to turn so that he was stretched out over her. He said it was a stupid pose but did it nevertheless since there was no getting away from an idea once Neha had got it in her head. She gave a triumphant smile and then promptly dozed off again. Her confident smile had been the first thing he had noticed when he had met her at Malika’s party. She had known no one there and Malika had asked him and Amit to look after her. However within a few minutes of being introduced it looked like they were the one’s who had been put in her care. She asked them half a dozen questions in ...

Bunty’s face could hardly be seen so wrapped was she in her layers of mufflers and cap. The others grinned whenever they caught each other’s eye. Having been born and brought up in the North they were much better equipped to handle the cold. Bunty came from the more moderate climates of the Eastern part of the country. Incessant rains she could understand and bear but this bone chilling cold almost brought tears to her eyes. For the umpteenth time she wondered how she had let that scatterbrained Neha talk her into visiting Manali in December. She looked around to see both the guys lighting cigarettes. It looked like something that would give warmth, she wondered if she should take a chance and smoke one. Inspite of herself she wondered yet again how the lean, serious, methodical Rohit could be so enamored by Neha who was a compulsive flirt and had to be upto some wicked plan at any given moment. She on the other hand had so much in common with him, their serious natures, zodiac signs, ...

Lofty thoughts permeate, kindness fills my heart, goodwill makes my eyes shine and I feel as holy as the shrine of the local saint. I am willing to sacrifice all for the current focus of my benevolence. No selfish thought is allowed entry and I go about doing all it takes with the zeal of a new missionary. Determined to change the world into a better place by tomorrow morning if not tonight. I walk with a lighter step, smile at the Manager of the office next door and the guy who sweeps the stairs with equal friendliness and have an exaggerated sense of well-being. I wholly believe that I have found the sublime truth of life and that is to love a fellow being with utter selflessness. And I rejoice, exult in this knowledge. Only for a tiny pinprick to burst my bubble. A pang of jealousy, a hint of uncertainty, a teeny-weeny bit of insecurity and suddenly I don’t feel so great any more. I land back with a thump on the quagmire of human feelings and desire. The beloved needs only be with m...

Just finished reading a book by the same name written by Khushwant Singh. Those of you who know me must be wondering why I was reading this of all things. Well, the answer was simple it was at hand and I picked it up and then once I went through the first fifteen pages was mildly interested enough to feel like finishing it. Apart from all the colloquial terms for the penis in English and hindi that Mr. Singh educates one about, the book also speaks about a upper class, Princeton educated, young millionaire man’s unabashed need for women’s company and variety in the kind of woman he beds. From a house-help, (mind you the kind that we have in India, clad in saris or salwar kameezes, mother of 3-5 kids, reeking of sweat, not the dainty, frock wearing ones we see in English movies) his son’s wet-nurse, a diplomat to a masseuse and beyond finally also a prostitute. But what was the reason for seeking a woman’s company? His seemed very unidimensional - to have sex. To keep sex exciting by ha...

You go somewhere, look around at all the things you would love to have. Look also at your rapidly dwindling notes and coins and resist. Resist buying that pink silk sarong and the green parasol and the tiny silver earrings with the pearls dangling beneath. What for? For buying that one special thing for that one special person whom you have left behind and would have done anything to have along. You hunt around despairing to find that one thing which would convey all that you feel. And then you finally find it. Tucked away in a corner, looking innocuous, ordinary, you pick it out, read a thousand things into each curve and embed a thousand more of your own memories, desires and expectations into it. You try and explain what it means to you and fail to convey even a tenth of it and you finally offer it, hoping it would be able to convey all that you have repeatedly failed to express. Only for that person to lose it within two days. What do you do? What do you say? What do you feel? You ...

A trip to a holy land undertaken to dip yourself in the holy Ganges and wash all your sins away as per Mom’s version (she seems to be growing old finally to be able to talk like this without laughing). A trip to a never-seen-before land to dip yourself in the fast flowing Ganges and have a good time in the water was my version. The two coincided in the form of our Haridwar trip last weekend. How did it go? Eye opening. Question raising. How can a place so venerated be so dirty? How can people spit in (not to mention do everything else besides) and drink up the same water with equanimity? How can a government be aware of the potential of a place as a tourist attraction and then do nothing to maintain it? How can people spend thousands on traveling to a particular spot to bathe in the river and not spare a few thoughts and pennies to keeping it clean? How come I the non-believer in all that’s expected to be believed without question land up in the same river and then as I prance about in...

An Empty Canvas Have never painted. Atleast not since the mandatory paintings of zoo, holi and diwali scenes in school. Had never known the itch that an empty canvas must give an artist, brush poised to mark the white canvas forever with a thought which germinates like a seed in the recesses of his mind and then flows through his fingers to reveal itself. I know it now. Travelling for three straight nights in the semi barren lands of Rajasthan with the stars keeping me company, bright, awake, waiting for me to give vent to my feelings and thoughts and the odd palm tree swaying as if with the silent music of my soul, I knew the agony of not being able to communicate the multitude of feelings that submerged me. I stared at my blank piece of paper almost in a trance willing myself to put my thoughts into some coherent pattern that would enable me to capture the delicate thoughts and dreams so that I may relive them forever. Easier said than done, I fumbled with my pen, chewed on it for in...

Pictures from my two day trip to Udaipur and Jodhpur Udaipur was a pleasant surprise, a green, lake dotted city in the midst of dry Rajasthan. Steeped in history and romance. A local informed that the most love marriages in Rajasthan happen in this city, not for nothing is it called the Venice of the East. Jodhpur was very diferent - conforms more to our idea of Rajasthan, huge tracts of land without much green cover, fearsome looking rocks and hills, hardworking, ruddy people and traditions steeped in history still being followed. The highlight of the trip was a visit to the Jodhpur Shastri Nagar Police station where we were hauled off for quarrelling with an autowallah over his charging us extra.