Pinku-Enchanted Life

When the partner and I got together what brought us together was a shared love for books, films, theater, music, travel and to some extent food but most important of all our ability and yearning to share myriad thoughts. Eight years of marriage, two babies and a dog later we are happy if we can say three lines to each other without intervention or distraction. I call ours a mad household: the only rule that applies here is that there is no rule. Each day brings its own set of challenges and solutions. We are all proud owners of very strong opinions and don't care to follow what others have to say. Add to this the fact that we all have friends and love asking them to drop in which they do and it just adds to the circus. So when we actually get an entire weekend to indulge in one of our first loves it feels like heaven :) This Saturday the entire family including the 13 week baby went to attend Bookaroo a children's literature festival that tries to inculcate readin

the nip in the air, the days growing short the cuddles more urgent the kisses more frequent the fragrance of harshingar the urges for a cup of coffee the crawling into the other’s grooves the slipping of a hand into the shirt the open air dining in the chill the hot kebabs and shawarmas the happiness of being together the return of memories pleasant the appearance of the favourite razai the early morning fog the endless cups of steaming tea the breathe which steams as it streams Know what it means? Winter is here!!!

Its Gandhi Jayanti….(hurray a holiday in the middle of the week and if you can afford to take the Friday off, you got a long weekend infront of you to relax, shop or prepare for Durga Puja too). Gandhi, a much abused in private and revered in public, man. When I was growing up I blamed Gandhi for dividing the country into two and creating what seems like an eternal enmity between two countries. It was stylish to say things like: Gandhi: that guy who spoke of abstinence and couldn’t walk without the support of two women under his arms. Gandhi: who with his blackmailing techniques of fasting didn’t allow any decisive action to be taken and would hold the country to ransom for the smallest thing. Gandhi: who slept with his thirteen year old granddaughter to check whether he has been able to control his body completely. Gandhi much like God was to be blamed for everything that was wrong with us. But now that I am on the other side of thirty and I see the rampant violence that’s engulfing m

The fire within has simmered down what was once a raging blaze now barely shows embers what did you do? Your fingers try to stoke it up as I look on helplessly dismay fills my heart as the flames refuse to leap up again This has never happened before you have always been able to light the fire with the simplest flick of a wrist what has changed then? I know what this points to and I am afraid to look that way I am afraid of a cold bleak future bound in chains of formalities One small whiff of not so pure air and the flames refuse to stir I urge it to, I pray for it to but it does not budge What did you do? What did I do?

Thanks all of you for answering the questions I put forward in the last post. Now here are my answers to my own questions: Independence to me is the ability to grow as an individual and be responsible for my own life The most important freedom, is free speech and the right to endeavor to make a better life for myself without reservations of any kind binding me. For me my country is my greatest pride and I blindly love it. And my greatest moment of pride was when India's first man in space Rakesh Sharma answered while orbiting the earth, " Saare jahan se acha " to the question by then Prime Minister Mrs. Indira Gandhi, " mera bharat kaisa lag raha hai?" And the moment in my own life which best symbolises freedom is when I decided to write this blog and air my views on my own forum without fear. HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY TO ONE AND ALL!!!

Love, they said is pure and innocent. Love, they said gives wholeheartedly, simply Love, they said made you kind and gentle Love, they said was sublime and subtle What is this then? This tumultuous sensation that fills me when I think of you The jealousy I feel when I see you absorbed in anything but me The fierce waves of pain and pleasure that you unleash in me Are these then not love? Love, they said happened when boy meets girl Love they said was the first kiss, the first touch Love they said was eternal What then do we call what we share? We met after meeting and loving others Amongst our most precious memories are those that we don’t hold in common Our temperaments are different, so is our world view at times Yet inspite of it all we have dared to share dreams, hopes and desires Yet inspite of it all we have decided to be co-travelers on the road of life We have shed tears of joy and sorrow for each other; we have lived in each others smiles But is that enough to call it love? Sh

Can see only the top of your head. The nose and mouth are snuggled into my bosom. The arm thrown over me holds me tight as if the fear of my going away is real even in dreams. The legs are wrapped around mine. I can't move. Nor do I want to. Can't bear to disturb your sleep. Caressing your hair, I wonder how many more hands have done this. How many other women have lain awake, in order to cradle you this way? No, you didn't say you wanted me to But your body says it wants to be held close It wants to be reassured It wants to be loved. I am tired too, Sleep touches the corners of my eyes But I don't want to miss this exquisite moment I have lived through so many sleepless nights for this this opportunity, this right to hold you close, to touch the tip of your ears with my tongue and watch as you shiver ever so slightly what is it that I am feeling right now? Its not lust, its not even love like the romances describe it to be I feel like a mother watching over her youn

There is a blogger friend who wants to have a baby. A baby of her own. She is not married, no she doesn’t even have a boyfriend. Infact she doesn’t like boys, she prefers girls. There is another friend, she was married for five years before she was able to conceive after many, many visits to doctors. In her own words ‘she hungered for a child’. Someone, whom I have come to know well, wants a family, wants to get married and have a place of her own. She is a successful professional, has a retinue of friends and yet she yearns for a family. After years of resistance she is even willing to settle down with someone her parents choose. Another friend told me categorically that she won’t give birth in India and she would ensure her daughter would grow up in a safer society without discrimination. She was adamant she would have a girl and that was when we were in college and she didn’t even have a boyfriend. Me, I had the opportunity a long time back to have children, that time I passed the

Sleepless nights mirthless days are here again again I ll hear false footsteps Count days backward forward and backward again again the pain will ebb and flow like it has scores of time before Those days are here again. The brief interlude when you are with me, when I glimpse at what life could be, should be, are gone and I am left holding my constant companions pain and memories memories which evoke more pain pain which makes the memories more bittersweet I go over what you said, I go over what we left unsaid the smile shared and food, music and silence remember yet again your face above, below and all round me giving meaning to things which had seemed mundane before I remember you gently rocking me to sleep I remember you gently pulling me from it into the enchanted world of your arms Briefly you turned this brick and mortar structure into a home its back again to its cold cruel self again we wait the house and me for you to breathe life into us the way only you can

Waiting to break free to be bound again see the horizon turn a brilliant orange see shy flowers bloom I am waiting for downpours which can quench my thirst Waiting for rain for the smile that lights up my life for it to be light again Waiting, just waiting Waiting to see the world for the world to see me for you to see me the way I am without pretense Waiting to live life Waiting to die I am waiting, to be born again

Woman: I miss you so much it’s difficult to carry on... Man: yes, I know you do, I miss you too. Woman: No you don’t atleast not the way I do. For me your absence feels like a gaping whole in the center of my being and whatever I may do or wherever I am I feel this empty space besides me, within me. Man: I understand all that but listen there are so many things you could do to keep yourself busy that will take your mind off me. Read, paint, listen to music, go out, catch a movie or a play, concentrate on your work you hold a responsible position. Woman: Why don’t you understand? I do all that, I also move things around the house, re-do my wardrobe for the umpteenth time, make friends with the neighborhood children and look out of the window at the neighbours but your non-presence still irks. Its like a toothache always there and no matter what you do, say or see it never leaves your side. Man: Sweets, you are being unreasonable, why can’t you enjoy life as it is and whenever we are tog

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

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