Pinku-Enchanted Life

The Taliban is just twelve kilometers away from Indian borders the headlines screamed yesterday on a news channel. Again and again they showed google earth pictures of how close Lahore is to the Wagah border. The voice rising, the music soaring in the mad race to gather TRPs. The anchor seemed to be speaking almost from a war zone where a bomb might detonate any moment such was his tone and manner. All he was trying to say was that Pakistan has admitted that the siege of Police School close to Lahore was done by Taliban and that a second strike in Pakistan (earlier in the month we heard about the Sri Lankan team being attacked) so soon meant that the Taliban had gained tremendous strength in Pakistan and could strike in India too. What made me wonder was his panic striken voice as if this is an unthinkable thought. What’s there to panic about I ask you if the Taliban were to strike? Is their terror different from what we keep suffering every other day? Can their bullets harm more than

I have been in a ranting mode so I thought let me count my blessings. It’s a self help exercise so kindly bear with me. I always find some people who gladly share their time and company with me wherever I am I have a loving partner who is not stuck up with ideas of what girls should do or don’t. I have the naughtiest mom in the world My doggie Crazy has the most soulful eyes in the world My masi thinks I am a heroine so does my brother though he tries to keep it carefully hidden My home is the center of my universe and I love returning to it I have a job and am good at what I do I have a blog correction two and some people actually find them worth following. I have dreams that I want to fulfill and someone with me who shares them I can find these ten points to write about….there would be so many who wont be able to. Thank you God.

Life has been tough for the past month or so. Multiple problems at different fronts have left me groping for that extra ounce of strength and patience to carry on. At times the urge to cry uncontrollably is too much and only the thought of losing my sanity if I let circumstances get the better of me, stops me from doing it. I have not been in the mood to write though each event could have been fodder enough for more than one post. Yet somehow the will to write was missing. Also the fact that the events involved many others who may not appreciate being discussed on my blog held me back. I am back and using this small post as a bulwark against the emotions that still threaten to take over and am planning to come back next week with another post on things less dreary that can be shared in this forum. I do note that in the time I have been away the numbers who ostensibly followed this blog have gone down, I do understand that in today’s world of instant gratification they would have expect

I have been writing about my trips on this blog regularly under the label footprints . So much so that part of the excitement of going on a trip now seems to be the recounting of it once back on the blog for friends. The trip this time was no different, since right from the beginning I kept filing away details in my mind and clicking pictures all with the view that it would get space on the blog. However since my travel mate Mampi is already writing about the exact activities of the trip in great detail I am not going to repeat it. You can visit her blog for details. Let me therefore share with you some snippets and photographs. It was Dalhousie that we went to this time. Famously nicknamed " dull & lousy " by the boisterous crowds, the place is a military cantonment and a quaint little town that was set up just 150 years ago. We arrived there in high spirits, the thrill of having escaped the mundane hectic lives we normally lead giving all of us extra broad smiles. A

Life began as a multi-hued carnival of sight, sound, laughter and sometimes tears for a favorite doll lost or a toe hurt. It grew into something very black & white as teenage approached. Everything was seen through the grave lenses of ideology that was grafted and then crafted from the many books, films, snatches of conversations and bits of life experiences one went through. The twenties brought with them financial independence and the dawning of the fact that life was more than black& white. Also more importantly the fact that what was black to me was quite fair in the world’s view and what was pristine white to me was seen as dirty and abhor-able by the world. Now standing inside the gateway of thirties having dealt with bereavement, public ignominy, loss and the breaking of dreams and aspirations I understand that life is neither black nor white nor is it multi-colored, its infact just a grey. A grey that turns, swirls and moves like the early morning fog. At times it break

This is my wishlist. Do share yours too!!! Have a brilliant year ahead and may peace reign on earth!!!

All this while we thought of ourselves as sorry people who didn’t have enough friends who cared for us enough to want to meet up. We just got to know how popular we are (and are still reeling under the effect of the revelation.) Here, let me sketch the scenario for you: Last Saturday we hosted a party for friends. We had about twenty five people come after inviting roughly thirty so we are counting it as a great turn out keeping in mind the God forsaken corner of the city we reside in. It was supposed to be a barbeque party……the party did happen however the barbeque refused to light properly inspite of the fact (or was it because of) that nearly everyone present had a go at it. Anyways thanks to helpful hands we managed to salvage the situation and everyone said they had a good time (but then do they ever say otherwise) apart from a few who came too late and departed too early. Here is a pic of the flowers they brought us. Aren't they pretty? So net net we had a happy Saturday….fol