A breezy night it was
our meeting came to a close
and then you hummed a tune
and sang that song,
looked straight into my eyes,
you never meant a word,
neither did i care.
That song plays tonight,
And I play it again and again,
searching for meanings hidden,
still I can find none.

If you have touched my life

The positive way

Chances are bright

You are in for a surprise any day.

For you would have blessed my being,

So I would pray.

All your happiness

Is here to stay.

Merry Christmas!!

I rummage through pages of past memories of Christmas and I stumble only on three years that have marked my Christmas distinctly so far. I plan to celebrate it this year with the thing I associate it primarily with.

While as a kid all my festivals were linked with the image of sweets I would have. So at Diwali, I would eat laddus and at Holi, I would think of having Gujiyas and Malpuas. We never celebrated Christmas but I would imagine cakes whenever it would approach. I cannot recall any instance of craving for secret gifts by Santa. (I would however like to receive a surprise gift from him now) As far as I can see, I would only be consumed by the thought of cakes at Christmas.

Going back to my childhood, I also remember a distinct trait that I had and that I was popular for in the family. I could remember the taste of the food I would eat but only if it tasted heavenly. I would point that out for days to come. As I grew up, this trait faded somewhere. But why am I talking about my long forgotten trait ?

We had shifted to Renukoot that year. I was only six years old then. The school was closed due to winter vacation. Every one of us had all the time to ourselves. That day was Christmas. I do not really remember all the details very specifically of the day but it was around 9 in the morning. The doorbell rang. I do not even recall who had answered it. Was it my mom or my sister? All I can remember is when I got to the dining room, a box had been kept on the table. Someone had brought a Christmas cake for us. My eyes were glued to the box. As my mom would have opened it, I saw the most beautiful cake ever. It looked so delicious. I had cakes before but they were home made and without the striking icing that made it look all the more attractive. It had a pink coloured rose on it. The whole cake had a pink icing. Oh, how irresistible it appeared!

After all those years today I suddenly ran into the image of the first Christmas cake that I had. And yes, I can remember its taste. At that time, I was consumed by greed. I am sure I would have had the largest portion. This is one of the advantages of being the youngest in the family. I am sure I would have been showered with my siblings’ love and would have been given an extra piece of cake. I know at that moment I would have only been interested in the cake. Gratitude would have been far from distant to be felt. The moment only called for devouring the delectable cake.

Now as I am writing about my first Christmas experience, I feel like thanking the one who not only brought that beautiful cake but also help me create a fond memory.

The second Christmas experience happened in France. My friend and I had a two weeks break. Since it was our first major vacation, we wanted to use it pretty effectively to explore French cities. I had planned our two weeks trip. We started with Paris. We stayed there for about three days. Only two days later when we left Paris was Christmas. Somebody had asked us too about not spending Christmas in Paris. Well, I hadn’t given it a thought while I had charted out our trip. So we spent our Christmas in Tours with a French family. Had we not been at this stranger who later became a friend during Christmas, we could not have been able to see Christmas celebrations. As Christmas is meant to be celebrated with friends and family, he took us to his mom’s place. A Christmas lunch goes on the whole day I would say. The funniest thing in all the celebration was me being vegetarian. When we had just entered the lady’s house, my friend had overheard some conversation between the mom and the son. The lady might have been telling him about what all she had made. My friend came to me assuring that I will have at least something vegetarian as the lady had mentioned la soupe somewhere in her conversation. The table was laid. We were earnestly looking for some kind of a soup. Then we were finally offered la soupe which was not a soup but a cocktail that the lady had made with some fruit juices and champagne. I did not have much to eat, but still I wasn’t complaining. Even my friend who is a non vegetarian was finding it difficult to eat. But we enjoyed the conversations, the warmth with which they welcomed two strangers at their place and la soupe.

The last Christmas experience was at my sister’s place some two years ago when she and her husband had shifted to Delhi. They organized a Christmas party. That was one of the parties that I guess anyone who attended it will not forget. At least I will never forget. We had so much fun that night. It will need a whole new entry for itself.

All these memories are coming back to me as Christmas is approaching. I wish a Merry Christmas to all. May all our dreams come true. May I get my surprise gifts from Santa. May every year I keep on adding valuable memories to Christmas.  

The traveller

From the West,
he treads ahead
passing by the rivers,
mountains and deserts,

Meeting people,
with new languages
and culture,
message of love he spreads.

Borrowing a guitar,
he plays a tune,
sings to them and
captures their hearts.

They welcome him
with open arms,
so much he learns,
so much they share.

This world is his home,
these people his family,
He lives his dream,
A thing so rare!

I had wanted to write this on Sunday evening which I realized was the last day of November. I was motivated enough. But somehow, I could not manage to. Then, yesterday too, as a welcome note to the last month of the year, I decided to take it up. Again, something came up. So here I am finally to reveal the secret of my Sunday’s attempt of baking a Pineapple upside down cake.

Long ago, when there were few cookery shows and when there wasn’t any internet here, my sister used to write down recipes (from wherever she could gather) she thought she would get interested in cooking. Lots of recipes were tried and my sister, I must say, was successful in all her attempt. At that time, my attention would only be on one thing and that was eating. I would flip through the pages of that diary so that I could ask her to make something for me. She had written a few recipes of cakes. And it was there that for the first time I had ever come across a Pineapple upside down cake. Somehow the name was too attractive and fascinating for me.

So when I decided I would make a Pineapple upside down cake, I went back to the diary. When I woke up on Sunday morning, my mind had been bubbling with the idea of baking this cake. I had been almost fixated on this cake. I don’t know how I did not dream of a pineapple cake on Saturday night. Such was the extent to which my mind had been occupied so that it would not wander anywhere else.

Well, the morning passed by. It was after lunch that I decided I would start my preparation. As I started referring to the diary, I felt a little nervousness creeping in. It appeared to me as if I had some kind of an examination. So I started with caramelizing sugar which is important for the cake. I had never done it before. So I had no idea how much sugar should I be using. As I started the process, I saw sugar turning brown and it was so beautiful. I put this caramel on the pineapple slices that I put in the baking dish.

Next was the cake’s batter which by now I think I am quite comfortable with. So I put the batter on the caramelized pineapple slices, put it inside the oven. After some twenty-five minutes, the cake’s aroma came wafting through the air. I knew my cake was done. I asked my mom to check whether it was cooked completely. And yes, it was!!

We left it for a while and then turned it on a plate where we saw the very beautiful and our first pineapple upside down cake. I was elated. I had done it all on my own. But I still had some nervousness left as I didn’t know how it would taste. I cut three pieces; for my parents and myself. My mom tasted it first and I was excited too see that she liked it. I tasted it too. The image was perfectly in sync with the taste. All in all, I am encouraged again by this successful attempt of mine. Let’s see when I bake next.

My Culinary Interest, intermittent as it has been, showed some sign of recovery today. It acts almost like tides guided by the gravitational pull to make something I have intense liking for. So today morning when I reluctantly got up from inside the blanket, my mind rummaged through yesterday's ideas, thoughts, conversations (with self and others). There it stumbled upon this mouth-watering idea that had hidden itself at some corner. 

The idea was to make pancakes. Oh, how much I love the idea of having pancakes and this time for a change I loved the idea of making them too.

So I searched on the internet for the simplest of all recipes and checked if I had all the ingredients right there in the kitchen. With luck on my side, I had no trouble finding all of what I required. I followed all the instructions to prepare the batter. Next came the most important step in cooking. I heated up the skillet on the gas stove. As it got heated, I put the batter on it. There came the first and the only panic stroke in entire "making pancake" experience. I had seen my Mom spreading the batter on the skillet before. That it seemed easy was a shattered myth. I tried spreading it over but it wouldn't. My instant reaction was to abandon  my project and run for help to my Mom. Somehow, I restrained. I carried on. And I am glad, I did carry on. The first pancake was less than a disaster but the rest that followed seemed to have a satisfactory effect on me. First time for pancakes was not as catastrophic as I could have imagined.

My CI story doesn't end here. In the evening, I had this yearning to make some soup. I again started my search for the simplest recipes for soups.( I have a penchant for simple things, Less complicated it is, more I like it) This recipe was impossibly simple. So again I made a debut in soup making. It was not at all bad. My parents liked it. Though they praise me and encourage me every time I put in some effort, I only take those compliments that I really feel I am worthy of. So when I tasted the soup I had made, I knew they certainly liked it. 

Well, with my fulfilling endeavors today, an unusually amusing and funny sentence got framed in my mind and I told myself "I feel I am so much successful."

The success story should not come to an end. I have some plans for coming Sunday. Let's see how does it turn up.

PS : While reading a book, I found something interesting.

"The person who made this cake has a soul." told the man to his wife who had baked a cake for him.

The wife says to herself, " not everyone can see the soul in a cake."

 

This leaves me wondering, Can I see the soul in a cake?

'Truth", she declares,
"is on my side."

"Truth,
 I cried, shouted , yelled
to be heard that
you are on mine."

They remain unfazed.
"How could you call it yours,
when everyone here
resonates same words as yours", they say.

The words float to reach her ears,
the humming around, she fears
echo the Truth.

"How could you lie to me?,"
she asks the unseen Truth.
"Who are you? Whose side are you on?

I seek you
in the warmth
of the winter sun.

I seek you
in the flowers
that, in the spring, bloom.

I seek you
in the moonlight
of that summer night.

I seek you
in the pearls
of those rainy days.

I seek everywhere
only to find you
Within.

So the other day, I feel like baking a cake. That feeling is quite spontaneous. I check out the recipe and fortunately all the ingredients are at home. Generally, I do not like cooking. I will only take it up in situations where I have no other option. So this is quite an unusual feeling. 

While I have baked cakes earlier, they have all been under my mom's supervision. This time, however, I do it alone. And how proud I feel. But hey! I only feel proud for the part where I baked it all by myself. The rest is not that bright a story. While the cake tastes alright, it has some excesses in terms of ingredients. Had I taken care, the result would have been amazing. I know now what not to do next time when I decide to bake this cream cake. Well, whatever it is, it seems my parents have this really cute thing of encouraging me every time. They know their daughter will succeed certainly one day. 

So, my sister knows that I have baked and she has asked for a cake when I go to her place. I have also thought of baking it for my friends. And while I am into this web of cake talks and chats, I get reminded of a very nice story that I have been told by a friend or maybe I have read it somewhere.

There is this lady who bakes a cake everyday and gives it away to random people and I am sure it makes their day wonderful. I cannot recall how I reacted to the story when I was listening to it but I am sure my reaction would have been something like " Oh wow! Why ain't I living in the same city as this lady does?"  

Well, when I come back from this story to my real world, I find myself smiling. And why is this smile on my face? I realize that I would like to do it too in the same way as this lady has been offering people known or unknown and in that moment some other realization dawns upon me. Making people happy in small little ways is what matters. So let's spread happiness all around!!!

That winter morning
cloaked in fog
reprises in front of my eyes.

A warm jacket
with a hood
partially covering your face,
you had adorned.

Uncertain steps
I had made
while moving forward
I stumbled upon a brick.
I fell on the road,

I had mistaken my step
as the dense fog
had enveloped us all.
An expression
as cold as the weather
your face wore.

I didn't know
who you were,
Neither do I know now
in all these years.
But as winter approaches,
your inscrutable face
resurfaces occasionally
for reasons unknown.

An empty street,
where no one meets,
a lone traveler
puts forth his feet.

On the sidewalk,
a bunch of roses flock,
Beautiful and proud,
he hears them talk.

"You have got to see,
he admires me",
tells one to another,
while he pays no heed.

A little away,
a solitary wild flower sways,
it catches his eyes,
for a while he stays.

The flower makes no attempt
to avoid the roses' contempt,
the traveler passes a smile and walks ahead.
this moment for it, is worth a lifetime spent. 

When the ink 

of deepest hue

of your pen 

weaves words

for me 

as deep as you

in a poem,

I know in that moment 

the strings are of love.

I wake up in the morning
to a clear sky,
trees are still,
their leaves shy.

A little later,
what I see,
is quite amusing to me
and adds to my glee.

An army of clouds
has captured the sky,
with their wings spread out
I let out a sigh.

I then climb the stairs
to be on the terrace,
No! these aren't going to rain,
so aren't a menace.

A lone airplane from the horizon comes,
makes its way through the clouds,
singing its song, carrying passengers,
it feels proud!

I then turn around
to the other side of clouded sky,
three birds in a trail
("Are they sisters ?"), fly.

The silent leaves
no more remain.
Flowing with the morning breeze,
trees show off their mane.

Towards east I turn,
clouds get an orangish hue,
morning Sun is still their hostage
and is out of my view.

There is a wee bit of a chill in the air,
Weather is on its way to a change
I wonder if it's a regular affair.
Sure, from now on, it's going to be autumn. Nothing strange!

You have put in

so much of trust,

when I am 

made of lunar dust.

My source of light

comes from the Sun,

Ode for whom,

you have written none.

I only revolve

around the Earth,

How do I then evoke

in you such mirth?

Distant as I am

in the space,

Why have you 

bestowed on me this praise?

A hearty smile
you bring
on my face,
enamoured, I am
by your soulful grace,
that moment
lingered in your embrace,
when you slowly
put behind the repeated chase,
and emerge out
of the reigning clouds,
you lay to rest
innumerable doubts.
I dance to the tunes
of the gentle breeze,
this instant that
I have seized,
not knowing whether
you remain or leave,
my unswerving faith
makes me believe,
your radiance
that eludes tonight,
shall immerse me completely
in the brightest of lights
when you come forth
within a fortnight.

Here they come,
with pearls within,
veiling the blue sky.

Leaves rustle
along with the wind,
bringing some more
from faraway distance.

Changing their hue,
from subtle to the deepest,
they ignite hope
of the unsatiated.

On the terrace,
facing heavenwards,
with arms stretched wide,
a silent prayer leaves my heart.

Next moment,
they drop a pearl
on my palms.
'Is it going to stay for a while?', I question

Then comes the answer
showering on me
with all vigour
making me as content as I could be.

Dreary June? Not anymore!!

Completely immersed in my thesis writing, editing, correcting, I thought I wouldn't be able to write my June month's entry. I had nothing so far to give me that zing and inspiration that makes ideas float in your head and words flow smoothly. All this happened quite spontaneously. Spontaneous, instinctive, impromptu, they are just not my words. However, in the beginning of this year, I resolved to myself being just that. So far I have  not been so good, but not that bad either.

So I went to visit my sister for a while when I felt I had been a little less burdened by the pressure of work. I go to her place only when I am in a mood to relax. There are so many distractions there: my sister, who is also my best friend, her daughter, who is the cutest child I have seen so far, the television which I don't see at my hostel. (I love watching televisions), the homemade food that I seldom get to eat at the mess. All of this certainly doesn't create the right environment to toil hard. However, this time I had been carrying the laptop, my workstation with me to feel comforted and less stressed. In fact, the idea was to challenge myself to work in such a comfortable zone. In the meanwhile, I had set some deadlines for myself to finish it before my birthday so that I could just feel as free as people who don't have their Ph.D submissions.( I know there are other people with other kinds of stress but I am only interested in the type I am subjected to right now.)

You must be thinking by now, where is spontaneity? And how and where does the enthusiasm that I had been lacking this month come from? Okay. Day before yesterday, my sister made a proposal to me. No! To be precise my brother-in-law and she, they both asked me to join them for their trip to Rishikesh. I knew they had some kind of plans earlier but I never pictured myself in that trip as i was only engrossed in my thesis. So what goes on in my mind when the proposal has been thrown at me? I always think I have two sides. In fact, everyone has it. So, my first side knew that I had always imagined going to Rishikesh, exploring the white sand bank of the Ganga, just lying there in the lap of nature ( I even have a secret plan for the white sand banks, Ganga in the moonlit night which is not so secretive after all, a few friends do know about it!!) The other side, quite strong and firm in resolve knew that I had a lot to do to meet my deadlines so the tussle began. And then my brother-in-law reminded me of my Anokhe Anubhav, my sister reminded me of my secret plan and this determined and resolute side of mine started melting and just became one with the side which had been pushing me to say a yes instantly. All this happened in span of five to ten minutes . That was quite spontaneous by my standards.

So here I am in Rishikesh today, sitting in this café situated at some height overlooking Ganga that is flowing with passion so inviting that I just want to be right there at its bank. The breathtakingly beautiful sight of mountains with trees on one side, with Ganga next to it following its course, besides the road on the other side and me sitting in this place, seeing everything from above, motivates me so much that this entry comes right after finishing my editing of one of the chapters. Everyone else is sleeping as they are tired and so much sleep deprived. But I just could not resist the temptation of sitting by Ganga though at some height from it and just feel its magic. The whole moment is truly unparalleled.  

What is life, reverberates in my head when I get up this morning. Random thoughts fly in my head. I don't realize why have I come up with this question when everything around me seems to be in its perfect position. But once this avalanche of stray thoughts slows down a bit, I become aware why has it been there this whole question of the meaning and purpose of life.

In a recently read article, the author advised not to mingle with anyone else's business in life and consequently happiness and contentment will follow you. She had simply divided the whole scheme of interaction in the world to three kinds of business. The first one she called God's business where we have no control at all. The second was 'your' business or let's say others' business. Others here includes everyone except you. And the final category was 'my' business. I was not at ease with not mingling with anyone's business. If my business doesn't come in contact with others' business then, I don't think I will be worldly at all. To attain such contentment, to my mind appears just one way and that is leaving all your worldly associations. To dissociate from the web of worldly connections is the strength of a few. But, my mind questions yet again. Will I be happy when I get free from the clutches of all the earthly bonds and ties? What is the purpose of life? I can't figure out how am I supposed to feel, if I need to be the way I am right now , materialistic, affected by my environment and surroundings or be free in the real sense of the word.

A few days ago, one of my friends lost his father. When I hear of death, I think of my associations. And then I feel, it is such a waste of time fighting, quarreling, being jealous, getting angry, not talking at all to someone whom you loved at some point of time. What will be the end result? Everyone has the same fate. It is just the way you reach the concluding chapter of life or perhaps the new beginning( I have no clue) that might differ. But it again comes back to the meddling of businesses. We are so badly entangled in this labyrinth that sometimes I am forced to think that we are actually condemned to live our lives. For the ones who leave us, they are free of all the associations but the ones who are left, we are the ones who need to carry on. What is this life then and what is my purpose in this wide worldly web?

Mission Incomplete!!

So yesterday was a tiring day for me. After my tennis match in morning, I had to get going for the last day of the workshop that I had been attending for past two days. The workshop was not at all linked to my area of study, but as I am fascinated by the whole concept of conservation of cultural heritage, I decided I would attend it anyway and it was for free, all the more reason to be there. So this workshop was on Conservation of Oil Paintings. I have no background of Oil paintings or for that matter any kind of paintings. Even though, only for my fascination's sake, I went ahead. And thankfully, it turned out to be so interesting. I, however, do not know whether I would be actually able to bring to use all the information I gathered. But atleast I have the basic knowledge about the structure, deterioration, reinforcement of the paintings. 

After we finished the last session, and after having thanked all the facilitators, we decided to go to the close by Lodhi Gardens. Four of us had never seen it before. We walked, chatted, exchanged stories, giggled, made fun of each other (I don't know about others but I did it a few times ) and then was the moment to come back home(hostel). 

By the time I had come back I was already too tired for anything. However, I decided to continue with my routine to go to the library and do some work. I had the special dinner they gave, which I didn't feel was that special. And then went to the library. I thought after having taken bath, I was re-energised to study. To some extent I was but I knew I would not be able to bear it for long. I tried concentrating on the laptop's screen. For a while I was there, a little later though, I found myself dozing off. I realized I had to get and sleep. Also, because I had to get up early for the tennis match I had.

Before going to bed, I reminded my friend of the upcoming loss of today's match. Or was it a way to motivate myself that I had to win. Whatever it was! So, I get up this morning, not that enthusiastic about defeating my opponent. Well, we reach the tennis court, start practicing. All the shots I play are not at all up to the mark. one backhand shot (even though I was playing tennis) goes for a six as in cricket. So I am definitely not in my element today. We decide to start playing the match. As the tradition goes, I start serving first. My first game score is not at all encouraging, 0-15, 0-30, 15-30, 15-40 and finally I lose it to make the score look like 0-1. 

It is my opponent's turn to serve. It seems like we have an unsigned pact that we will lose the games we serve for. So he loses this game to me, and the score gets to 1-1. I am satisfied with the score and am continuously motivating myself to play well. 

The next two games are just wonderful, because this has never happened before. I take the lead 2-1, and then 3-1. I am quite delighted with the score, but I know I have to keep up the rhythm that I have got into. Well that is what is the most difficult to do. Even though I didn't let it slip away easily from my hands, I finally lose the match. Where once it had been 3-1, it gradually becomes 3-3. And afterwards, my friend rises up to win the set by 3-6. Nevermind, I will do better next time. This is what I tell to myself. But I am happy with a few shots I played. You can in fact feel the shots that are well played. As the ball drops into your court, you reach out for it, you bring your racket to the exactly right place and as the ball hits the string, the sound it produces , you know that it is going to be a good shot anyway.(For the great players, it's always like that, but someone like me , who plays more shots out of the court than within it,is a great achievement). So my mission is yet not accomplished. Shall succeed soon I guess!!

Tennis to my rescue

So I have this mundane life where I get up, pack my heavy laptop bag, go to the library, sit and work and then come back, have food, again go back to the library with the same heavy bag and after a few hours get back to the hostel and sleep. Wow, how boring! I have nothing to look forward to. I dread carrying this bag that takes a toll on my shoulders. I don't want to hold anything in my hands. I am fed up of carrying the laptop, the copy, the pencil bag, the water bottle, my phone. Why can't my hands be free of all this burden? So I am complaining silently about the routine that has become my life And out of nowhere, one day, the saving grace appears via a message on my phone. My friend asks me if I want to play tennis in mornings. I instantly say yes. Who would not love to play tennis? I reply him positively and voila I have something interesting in life (yes that is quite exciting for me). The best part of my day is when I hold that tennis racket and feel like one great tennis player. 

So we start playing. I have resumed playing almost after five years. In fact, five years ago, I learnt how to play this sport. I have always liked watching tennis and playing too. So, during our practice sessions, we try to rally as much as possible. In the beginning, it was hard to keep the ball inside the court. But now, that I am playing regularly, the rhythm comes gradually to me.

So the first match we play is of three games ( If I recall it well), which I lose. The score is 1-2. I atleast manage to win a game.The following days we start playing match of a whole set. There have been scores like 0-6. Of course the 'love' in the score is mine. But I have improved a lot. This one particular match where I had served first (I serve first in every match though), I won my game with the initial score of 1-0. Then it seemed my friend played a better game and I made quite a lot unforced errors, the score progressed like 1-3. I bucked myself up and levelled it to 3-3. I was so happy. The score went further on equals and it became 4-4. And then, again I got caught in the web of unforced errors. And the final score read like 4-6. However, I was satisfied with my performance. 

Now, today, I had an equally good day in tennis. So, I lost my first game, 0-1. Then I bounced back by equalling the game at 1-1. It seemed today, we were meant to break each other's serves. I only made one point on my serve in the whole match. Now, again, it was a neck to neck match today. The score had gotten to 4-4. The next game, my friend, he won. He broke my serve. And then the final one. I had thought I would manage to make the score 5-5. But it so happened that after having so many deuces and advantages, finally I faced a defeat again. The score was 4-6.

Now, I have challenged my friend that tomorrow, it's going to be me who will be the winner ( though I had changed the perspective while telling him and said that he is the one who will lose). Well, whichever way, the winner is going to be me tomorrow. Let's see, how interesting tomorrow's match is!!

My Train Journey!

I love travelling by trains. I have mostly travelled by trains in my life so far. And whatever it has been, I have loved every bit of it. Indian Railways are beyond doubt the lifeline for Indian masses who would have otherwise not been able to cover the length and breadth of the country so quickly. It was during my train journey to Goa that I got all the more awed by travelling in trains. 

Railways have always fascinated me. Right from the engines of trains to their coaches, the railway tracks to the platforms, the hawkers with their items, the stations' names on the yellow or white boards, the bridges and the rivers that trains pass by, the mountains and the tunnels they take us through, the lush green fields or the deserted terrains, the countryside, the people we meet during our journeys, the inevitable complaints about a dirty toilet, or the unappetizing pantry food. All of this contributes to my love for train journeys.

When I came to know that I was supposed to go to Goa, I didn't even care to check the flight tickets. I knew the prices would be sky high for me even if they saved my time. But who wanted to save time? I decided to board a train instead that would take around 30 hours to reach my destination. But I wasn't sure if I would get a ticket as all of them were booked already and were running in waiting. I had been left with the only choice of getting a ticket through Tatkal. Now, Tatkal is yet another adventurous option created by Indian Railways to add to the thrill of your experience. I certainly had my share of chills and thrills but somehow I managed to get my ticket and I knew I was getting on to this train that would cover more than 1800 kilometers to reach Goa.

And I am glad I took a train. The only journey I had made till now to the west of the country was going till Bombay (for me it will always remain Bombay and not Mumbai). I hadn't been further south until this trip. And I discovered the joy of travelling through Konkan Railways. With this train, I had traversed 6 states to reach the seventh. Each state has its own set of topography that distinguishes it from the other. The first day took us through Haryana, UP, Rajasthan, MP and Gujarat. While the next morning I got up in Maharashtra where my train had stopped for quite some time. We had stopped at a place I would have otherwise never known. Though it wasn't a stoppage, since on the way ahead it was a single line, it was supposed to stop at many of these small stations as it had no choice. So this morning I got up to find myself in Kolad, which happens to be a rafting destination.

And my train, to my utter delight continued to stop at unknown small towns. After a while, we reached Ratnagiri. We had some fresh cucumbers that the lady had been selling at the station. There was also this watermelon guy with juicy watermelons. However, I did not step that far for the fear of missing my train as it only had a two minutes halt. But I decided to taste them for sure when I would be on my return journey (and yes I did). At each station, we came across some tea vendors, some wadapav walas or some fruit sellers.

When we were travelling on the Konkan Railways route, we came across several tunnels. I have never taken on a journey in India where I had ever come across a tunnel, so it got me all excited about this trip. Passing through tunnels, then coming out of them, traversing the beautiful and rustic landscape of the coast made me drift away in my dream world. My thoughts also went to the labourers and the workers who had actually put in all their efforts to lay the railway tracks in the country in all sorts of terrains and again I was awed. I cannot be enough thankful to them who make my journeys so interesting when I travel by train.

Following all these ideas in my head, I finally reached one of my dream destinations with all the excitement and fervour. I wish to go again to Goa but whenever I go , I would like to take a train.

Spring Reverie!!

I was talking to someone one day. In the middle of our conversation, she happened to utter a beautiful sentence. She said, “I would love to get lost one day.”

To some it might sound crazy. To a few like me, it might strike a chord. And for some others, it wouldn’t ring any bell at all, like the option of ‘can’t say’ in the surveys. And yet there would be other set of people reacting to it in various ways.

When I think about it, ideas ripple in my mind. Do I want to get lost? Really? Am I not already lost in this huge, wide world? I don’t know where am I headed towards. So am I  lost? And then it strikes again. Yes I would love to be lost. Although not like someone gone missing and then her/his family n friends worry to death. No I hate to imagine all the worst possiblities that one would or could come across in this whole idea of getting lost.

And however, I would like to be lost. Lost in the nature! I dream of travelling by train someday and getting down to some unknown destination, that was never supposed to be mine. Maybe somewhere closer to the sea or higher up in the hills? Where there would be fields, blooming flowers, clear blue sky with deep blue waters of the sea. I’d get lost in the lap of nature, in its calm and serene environs, where I’d savour every single moment.

I’d be far from the bondage of society and yet far from the worries that encompass our daily lives and farther from superficial social connections. I’d lead life in peace with a diary and pen ofcourse at my disposal. I’d create stories while lying down on the greenest of grass, under some shade of some tree where the sunlight would stream in on me.

When the sun would start setting, making way for the night, I would go near the sea. I would listen to the sounds of waves under the starry night. Ideal for weaving dreams!

And if some traveler, some day would pass by my abode, I would interact with her/him. I would listen to his stories and s/he would hear mine. I could give her/him letters addressed to my family members and friends to let them know I am safe and comfortable and would be visiting them soon.

How fascinating! I wish I could lead a life like this for a while. Away from civilization and then when I would have had enough of my fantasy I would make my way back to my people who would have been genuinely waiting for me.  

Amidst moonlight,
against this dark night,
step into your dream
and sail through.
Able to weave
a world of your own,
sit across the sea,
stroll along the shore.
Abound with liberty, this
abode of pleasures,
scent of the roses
spreading all over.
Awakened thus, by the sunshine
streaking against the morning mist
surfaces the real,making you
aware of the withered delight.

A day old,

I had held you in my arms.

First time ever, a baby so small,

had I cradled,

overcoming my initial fear. 

That night

in the hospital,

you denied us sleep

with your recurring cries,

worrying us to the core.

And now you are

a month old,

I brim with confidence

when I rest you in my arms.

You are the first for me,

whom I have played with

at such a tender age.

You are so small and fragile,

your clenched fist

loosen sometimes to hold our fingers,

and that small cute nose of yours and your thin lips,

that sometimes give a smile

make our hearts bright.

But the best for me is

when in fleeting moments

you change expressions

while still asleep,

you cry at one instance 

and suddenly you would smile

unmindful that you are being watched

by these affectionate eyes.

 

Wintry mornings!

I open my eyes. It's still dark. I check for time on my cell phone. It's 6 in the morning. Realizing, it is yet not time to get up, I pull up my blanket a little. I slide in for the warmth and shut my eyes, ready to weave another dream.

A little while later, though this little while spans for almost two hours, my eyes open again, I can feel that darkness has slipped away. I CAN get up at this hour. But no, this is not the right time, not for someone who has been embraced by  laziness that wintry mornings engender. No force within me can fight this state.Or should I say, I have tuned my mind not to. Such is the delight in a winter morning. 

These days, every morning I wake up, I go out of my room and when the cool air brushes my face, it seems the day has been colder than the previous one. By everyday, winters seem to fortify their position. I don't know about others, but there is someone who has been reveling in these cold winter mornings. And that's none other than me. 

I wish they stay here for sometime. I wish there be some more fog. Fog that envelops you in its embrace to the extent that it blurs your immediate surroundings. I wish there be some cool breeze that touches your face, seeps inside and give you the chill and thrill. 

Why do I feel guilty? Why do I sound cruel? By the night, there is a clash of the romantic and the realist within me, the one that glorifies winter mornings and the other whose thoughts reach out to those who dread winter for the lack of protection from the frightening and fatal cold. Thus, I earnestly wish, everyone gets protected and gets a chance to witness these enchanting winter mornings.

The first entry of 2014

I always write when there is an urge to pen down my thoughts from within. And yes, I have an inspiration in this new year : the Little Angel who joined our family a few days ago. The first thing that you'd notice about her is that she is so small as any other new born, of course they are meant to be that way. I know it is a plain and simple fact but yet it could be a little overwhelming to hold this small little child in your arms.  

I wonder what should be going on in her thoughts. Till so far, she had been hiding from the big world in her mother's womb. She only knew her mommy as she had been protecting her. And here she is now facing us all. So many people around her, that she will recognize as her family when she grows up. Her eyes don't even open completely yet. But whenever she opens them, they seem to be contemplating or so I am guessing. As the time passes, she will be discovering the world. 

It is not only her, I should admit who is experiencing this newness. The parents themselves, my sister and my brother-in-law are having a never before experience and that will change their lives. Bringing up kids in the world is such a huge responsibility. Their whole world will now revolve around the little girl. She is the cynosure of their lives from now on. Knowing them, I am certain they will make a pair of very cool and wonderful parents. She is for sure lucky to have them.

Having a new member in the family always brings such an immense joy. And that we have entered this new year with the blessing of this little angel, I can foresee the happiness, pleasure, adventure that await us through out this year. I hope this year be fruitful for all of us.