Spaces....

We come across so many people as we progress through this journey called life. From the moment we are born till the time we die, we are surrounded by them. It could be our family, relatives, friends, lovers, colleagues or even mere acquaintances. There is always someone.

Some people absolutely love it, they need to be a part of some or the other group all the time. They need the constant human touch.

Then there are some like me. There was actually a time when I used to think, after watching cast-away, that spending the rest of my life all alone on an island wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. Now I shudder at the thought. But still that does not change the fact that I just cannot be around someone or the other all the time. At times it gets suffocating, to a point that I seriously start contemplating the lonely island situation again. But then I do manage to come back to my senses fast enough, thankfully J.

I am not saying that I don’t like to socialise or interact with people. I do like it, or rather have started enjoying it. But still, there are times when I just want to be with me, a time out from everything in this world. All my friends find it really strange and weird. For some reason they just don’t get the fact that I really might like to be alone at times.

When I was in Goa, I had my own bedroom and had a huge terrace attached to that. Almost every night, before going to sleep, I would stand outside on the terrace, gaze at the moon and the stars and softly sing to myself. I have never, ever felt that peaceful anywhere, anytime. I miss that. It helped me clear my head of so many things. There have been so many times, when I was hurt by something, I would stand there, letting all the pain flow out. By the next day, it was an old story, forgotten and buried.

It helps me to quieten all the noise which is inside. Throughout the day, we are running around doing our tasks trying to win the race against time. But there are times when I like to slow down, savour each moment as it comes and just refresh myself and prepare for the next race J.

Is it wrong to ask for some space of your own? I am not saying that I would like to go off and live like a hermit, I am sure I would start getting restless very soon. But just some time, a little time when I don’t have to answer any questions, don’t have to listen to someone blabbering constantly. My mom thinks I am very detached from everyone. I am not; it’s just that I prefer spending time with me more than anyone else. And if someone does not understand or respect that, then I tend to move away from that person. Hence, the illusion of detachment comes in the picture.

Now, I wonder if I am making any sense here. But that is the way I am, take it or leave it.

Today I went to watch 'Taare Zamein Par' with my colleagues. It is such a realistic, simple story told beautiful. Something which I am sure if not many at least some percentage of the people can relate to. It is a kind of story that makes you think about the human nature, and society in general.
The movie is about a kid who suffers from dyslexia and his struggle to find himself in the masses. Makes you wonder about the mentality of the people and how most of them live their lives like robots. That is how everyone has been trained, when you are a kid you have to go to school. Once you reach the tenth standard you become a part of a never ending rat race. First, it is to excel in the board exams and get admission in a good junior college. Then if you think you are free from it once the boards are over, the competitive exams and the 12th boards soon follow and you are in the race to get into a good professional college. And once that is over you are fighting to get a good job or a good PG college.
Once you are out in the corporate world you are fighting to earn as much as you can when you still have the chance to climb the ladder pushing the others aside. Where does it finally end? When you die? What do you get in the end?
Then there is another breed of people. Those who do not want to be a part of this system. Their mind works in a different direction and they live in a world of their own. A world which is far removed from this one. They are happy there, content. But for some reason that is not acceptable by the people around them. They cannot tolerate the fact that someone among them thinks differently from them, does not want what they want. So, they try to force the person into behaving like them. Everyone wants a child who gets good grades, does well in sports or some other extra-curricular activity etc. etc. They want their kid to be perfect.
But, what is 'perfect' ? A dictionary defines 'perfect' as being complete of its kind and without any blemish. I ask again, what is perfect? Does getting straight A's and topping a class in every subject makes on perfect? Does having 2 eyes, 2 ears, 1 nose make you perfect? Perfection is something that is defined by this society. By 'the others' as one of my friends like to call them. But my definition of perfect may be different from someone else. People just blindly follow what is put in front of them, and if someone tries to defy that, he/she is labeled as a 'freak'. Just because a person does not get 95% in an exam does not mean he/she is dumb.
I had the pleasure of knowing one such Angel. She was my schoolmates little sister. She was suffering from 'Downs Syndrome'. She was such a little darling. I can never forget her sweet innocent face. The way she would just come and hug you when she thought you were mad at her for something. I can never forget the time when I had the honor of receiving one such hug. It was the sweetest, the best hug I ever got.
Sometimes I think people like Angel are the most happiest. They like others dont care about what people think of them. They do not understand the 'rules' nor do they wish to. They are happy in their world, but most of them are not allowed to. I wish for once people will breakthrough this concept of 'society' and live for themselves and let others live too.

I mentioned in my previous post how watching dancing can cheer one up. You know what...screw that...

when watching on TV i guess yea but when there is music being played and people all around you are moving to the rythm and all you can do is sit and watch...well there is nothing more torturing than that. that is what happened to me today. A friend of mine had invited me to a latin party. Initially I refuesd as there would be no point going for a dance party with a broken leg but in the end she wore me down and there I was sitting on the chair looking at guys and gals swaying to the rythms of salsa, samba, jive, cha-cha, rumba, merengue..and all i could do was curse my broken leg and drown myself in self pity...

but i had not counted on Aniruddha. he was the first guy i ever danced properly with and abs enjoy dancing with. he knew how bad i was feeling about not being able to dance...i was just sitting on the chair with him in front of me when he suddenly got up and offered me his hand..i was staring at him for a whole minute...he extended his hand again and all i could say "Are you crazy? You do know that I have a broken leg right and that I wont be able to put my weight on that". He just smiled and said dont worry I will take care of it...man was i torn....my heart was telling me to jump up and go ahead but the head was holding me back...in the end my heart won..i took his hand and he led me to the floor...and we danced!!! sigh..as luck would have it..they played a rumba and a cha-cha number, both my favourite dances, at that moment...i wouldnt say tht i danced well or anything..hell i will hardly moving my feet...just shuffling them and like he promised he took care that i am not putting my weight on the broken foot..

it was not a proper dance..but for me at that moment it was bliss...he gave me the whole world in that moment...i dont mean to be melodramatic but my heart was actually overflowing with happiness and I was on cloud #9....

Thanks Ani, thank you so much for what you gave me.... :)

Letter to the void...

Dear void,
Ever since I got up this morning there was a strange uneasiness inside me. As the time passed by at one point I felt as if my heart was breaking. I felt like going someplace all by myself and close my eyes and stay there forever. It’s really strange. But looks like someone up there didn’t want me to be blue J. After dinner my mom was watching some serial on TV and there is this scene in which a teacher is giving some advice to her student. Listening to those words it felt as if they were said just for me. It instantly eased up the pain that was wrenching my heart. And then to top it off as I was surfing through the various channels, I saw a dance program. Watching those people swaying to the beautiful tunes of the Waltz, Salsa, Tango etc. cheered me up instantly. There is something about dancing which makes you forget about everything else and lifts your mood instantly. I know I might not be able to put on my dancing shoes for another month or two but watching those dancers floating across the floor made me feel as if I was back home dancing the evening away. For a moment I had a strange feeling as if all of this was done especially for me to cheer me up.
I don’t know if it is true or like people say its my overactive imagination running in hyperdrive, but whatever it is, I feel so much better now. Feel like dancing like there is no tomorrow. I know I know its not possible at the moment, what the heck I can do it in my mind and be happy about it right.
So a big thank you to the big guy up there. Thank you for being there for me. I love you.

Dreamy

I have stayed in quite a few places till now but the one place I treasure the most above all is Bhopal. There is nothing special about the city as such that stays in my mind, like Goa, but it is the good times that I had there that remain with me forever.
My dad started his career in Bhopal as an engineer in BHEL, soon after college. Quite a few more college freshers had joined with him, so naturally they kinda came together and formed a group. Most of them were out of towners, young, bachelors, need I say anything more. Dad was the first one to get married in the group so obviously my mom was the favourite bhabhi. Even today when she remembers those times, her eyes get a faraway wistful look. They had such a great time together. Once she told me that there were so many times that all the others from the gang would just turn up at the house at midnight after a late night movie and ask her to cook them dinner as they were starving. In those days she would get annoyed at them but now she would give anything to get all of it back.
Eventually all of them got married and then of course we kids came along and became close friends. We were all like a big family, living in different houses. Weekends were never dull and were never spent at home. We celebrated all the festivals and other national holidays together. Usually we would all gather at one person’s place for a pool dinner, light a campfire, if it was winters and spend the night singing and dancing and laughing and eating. There was some special bond that held us all together. A group outing on the 15th of August and 26th of January was a must.
And Holi, oh man, everyone was crazy. A couple of weeks before holi, on a Sunday, we would all go out on a picnic and gather those special flowers which bloom only during this time ( I don’t remember its name). I used to call them holi flowers and we were supposed to make colours from them. We tried it every year, it never turned out the way we wanted it to be but still it was an adventure. On the day of holi we would all be wearing our whites and gather at someone’s house. We would play till late afternoon screaming and shouting and running and come home black ( the men’s kurtas were usually torn to rags by this time) have a leisurely lunch and fall into our beds and sleep like logs.
I remember once we had all gone for a tour of the state in our cars. I was a kid at that time so don’t remember the places we visited but I do remember visiting some forts and monuments and remember that we drove around the entire night. No-one was tired and nobody wanted to stop. We were all together and that was all that mattered.
There are so many incidents, some insignificantly small others not so. I don’t think this space is enough for all those memories. The details of each moment are etched so clearly in my mind. I still remember the moment when my dad told me that we were moving. I refused to believe him initially, I thought he was kidding. I remember crying myself to sleep in the nights. I never told my parents how much it hurt me to leave all of it behind; I knew it pained them too. We had a grand farewell party, a trip to Manali. I don’t think I can ever forget that. It was our last outing together.
Even today when we talk to them, it does not feel like we have not met each other for ages. We just pick up from where we left off. The entire group is scattered all over the world now, but we are still there for each other, still keep in touch. Last winter we were in Bhopal again, unfortunately I reached a day after my parents. They had a big get together on the previous night and were up all night talking. No body felt like going home. Even now as I write about it, my heart feels heavy and all those times come rushing back to me. We all have different lives now but still there is something that holds us all together. I have my own day to day routine to keep me busy but during these festive times which one should spend with the family, those memories come back to haunt me and I wish I could turn back the sands of time. I don’t think I have the strength to continue anymore. All I can say at this point is:

Gates of memories will never close,
How much we miss our friends no-body knows,
Days will pass like years,
We will remember the memories in silent tears.

She was around 2 feet tall, had bright intelligent eyes, light brown hair and she walked with a grace that would put a cat to shame. She had a pride of a Queen but yet she was very approachable and made friends with everyone ranging from small kids to old uncles and aunties. But she could be very ferocious if you made her cross. The bravest souls would crumble before her if she was mad. She was the darling of our entire colony; we called her ‘Cookie’. She was the grandest street dog I have had the chance to come across.

She did not belong to one family in particular; she belonged to our entire lane. She would walk with us to our school (which happened to be very close) and hang around there the whole day playing with the kids during break time, then walk back with us once the school was over. My friend and I used to go for long walks in the mornings and evenings, she would accompany us then too. We would feel safe with her around us. Boy was she possessive. If we showered our attentions on any other street dog, she would not do anything while we were around but once our backs were turned that dog would get it. The most ferocious of dogs were scared of her and treated her with reverence. It embarrasses me to say it but my dog is a big time coward. Sometimes even a cat would scare him. He showed that he was jealous of cookie whenever we paid her any attention but definitely felt stronger with her around when we used to take him for walks. He would turn from a rat to a tiger in her presence.

We used to keep our gate bolted to prevent all the other street dogs from entering, but she would elegantly open it and stroll in and perch herself on the seat in the yard. If she saw something outside that she had to be a part of she would deftly jump over the wall and be outside in a jiffy. My dog would be left behind wondering stupidly ‘how in the world did she manage such a Herculean task’.

Gosh I miss her! Last year my brother visited our old home and he saw her. He said that she had grown old and weak now and did not recognize him. She was never the over affectionate type of dog who would start licking every part of your body their tongue gets access to, but she did not show a single sign of recognition when he approached her. Not even a wag of her tail. Then one day my brother called and said that one of his friends informed him that she passed away. I didn’t know what to say. I cannot imagine her as a weak dying dog. She would always be the extraordinary super dog to me and that is how I remember her and always will. Maybe she is out there somewhere in the doggy heaven amazing the others up there. I love you cookie.

Sometimes I wonder if people thrive on sadness. There is this friend of mine, she is a very nice person and everything, but sometimes I get the feeling that she enjoys being in the state of depression. She is an amazing writer and writes lovely poems. She loves to read others blogs too and keeps sending me the links of what she likes the best and I have found that most of the times the blogs she likes are way too depressing even to read. I understand people who have written them have done it as a way to deal with the pain in their lives and I have no issues with that. In fact there is no better way to let go of all the emotions whirling inside you but I don’t see why she has to pick out these specific blogs to read and worse share them with me. I have tried to tell her so many times, directly and indirectly that I don’t like reading such sob stories but that does not stop her from sending me.

I am not being insensitive towards other people’s misery and I do sympathize with them, and once in a while it is nice to read such blogs because I think it is when people are in pain they pour their heart out in their writing and their inner emotions come out. But it gets kinda annoying when she keeps sending me these links consistently. But then I guess she goes through such stuff because she is going through a rough phase in her life and I dunno maybe by reading these articles she can related to those people and be assured that there is someone else out there who has been through the same things as her. On the other hand though, wouldn’t it be better to read something funny, something lively and positive to take your mind off it? By reading such unpleasant stuff isn’t she distressing herself more?

When I am feeling blue, and I have said it before, I like to think about all my favorite things to get my mind off the thing that is hurting me not dwell over it. I try to send her cheerful articles but she just doesn’t seem to take to them. It’s like she has given up on life and the chance of happiness. She has started believing that she does not deserve to be happy and if by mistake something comes along that will make her life beautiful, it will be snatched away from her soon. I have tried to talk to her so many times, even scolded her at times. I wish there was some other way I could help her out. Put her out of her misery.