An Epilogue to Love
I have been waiting to put up on my blog, for a long time now…and this is what I came across. The piece beneath has been one of the most beautiful writing I have come across, its written by Adharshila Chatterjee, a mate of mine. Read. Enjoy.Learn. and yes!! If you like it, please share it 
AN EPILOGUE TO LOVE
1
You hesitate, your finger poised inches from the doorbell. You hesitate, not out of a fear of rejection – that you can deal with (your lips curl into a dry smile at the thought) – no, you hesitate, doubting the impact that this sudden intrusion may have on her life. Oh! You wince. How involuntarily that word leapt to your mind. ‘Intrusion’ – so unwelcome, so blatantly impersonal a word. Yet you acknowledge the truth of it. What are you but an intrusion in her life now? What right do you have to be anything else?
Still, you are here. You are here on this warm May morning, standing on her doorstep, finger poised inches from the doorbell. You had to come. You had to know, had to assure yourself that all those years of silent misery has not gone in vain. When you left eleven years ago, you promised yourself this one visit. And you have come (“How clichéd!” you mock that foolish eleven-years-younger self). You take a deep breath…
2
Her face is unchanged. Almost. Except for those faint, hardly perceptible lines on her forehead, those interminably long years have left little mark on her face.
You look at her over the rim of your teacup as you take an obligatory sip. She catches your eyes and smiles. God! That smile – that little dimple on her chin, the way her eyes crinkle in the corners – you remember that smile so well. And it hurts. Yes, it hurts. You thought you could forgive fate, the inimical fate that had ripped you apart eleven years ago, if only you found her happy – if you found that the burden of regret has been only your share. And there she sits, talking about her life, her husband (presently away on an office tour), her two kids (attending a summer camp), her job (in a leading advertisement agency). She sits, at ease, surrounded by photographs that put up the usual show of a model family life. She sits across the coffee table, two feet away from you… and several miles apart. And it hurts, oh! It hurts, hurts, hurts to see her so placidly content – ‘acceptance’, that often passes for ‘happiness’, plainly visible in her comfortable, inconsequent chatter.
You had expected her shock, her anger, her accusations. Perhaps you deserved them all. She has shown none. Her composed surprise has thrown you off guard. Her greeting as if to an acquaintance one knew long back and never thought of again, is still raw in your mind. Your hands shake as you put the cup down.
“Why did you not marry? Never tempted out of bachelorhood?” she asks with easy familiarity. It slashes like a whip across your numb mind. You return a mechanical answer, a smile…and you bleed.
Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of this torture and you can take it no more. You rise, pause for a moment, and then hold out your hand. She takes it in her own… a casual touch. And desire flames up, so suddenly that it startles you, a sharp, knife-like desire. A need, pathetic in its hopelessness, gnaws at you. You snatch your hand away. The pain is blinding. You stumble towards the door.
3
She stands behind the blinds. She watches him as he stands, leaning against his car. She watches him till, after several long-drawn minutes, he leaves. The car speeds down the road and disappears around the bend. And he is gone. A waft of wind sneaks in; it hits her full on the face. She sighs and turns from the window.
She stares blindly at the furniture and absently traces her fingers across the dusty photo frames – the left-overs of a life that ended five years ago when her husband had divorced her. Truth be told, that had not come as a surprise to her. Nor did it bring much regret. The hardest blow came when she lost the custody of her two daughters. Visiting rights – a mirthless laugh escapes her. That’s her share in their daughter’s life. And those smiling faces in the pictures rend her wounds every time she looks at them. Yet she fondles them today, grateful of the illusion of happiness they create.
She knew, had always known, that he would come one day. She has survived on that one conviction for eleven years. Eleven years of utter nothingness. She had not raged, not argued, not even cried when he had bid her goodbye – somewhere within she had known there was no alternative. She had held her tears back and accepted the man of her father’s choice in that compromise called marriage. Those unshed tears had dried and hardened her though the years. And there was nothing left in her to give. No wonder her marriage has failed. But things could have been different – so very different.
She stands tracing meaningless patterns on the photo frames. He came, he came – her mind reiterates incoherently. “Stop it”, she mumbles to herself. She hopes she has carried it off. One could never tell, never deduce his thoughts just by looking at his face… She smiles, glad to have spared him the pain of knowing what price life has wrung from her; a price that challenged her sanity, that demanded her very existence – all for a decision that was not her own.
She raises her hand to her cheek. She can feel the warmth, the firm pressure of his fingers against hers. She closes her eyes, and she can see the helpless fire flare up in his eyes. She inhales deeply. His smell lingers in the room – a warm blend of cologne, ink and nicotine. She sinks down upon the couch, marvelling at how conveniently things have worked out. Thankful for the cool dimness of the room that has shaded the scars etched in her eyes. Or he might have seen the stark deadness in her face. And he would have found out the secret she has carried with her for eleven years – that woman in her, the woman he once loved, is dead.
4
You stagger out of the door. You lean against your car and take deep, steadying breaths. A numbing listlessness spreads through your limbs. A potent wretchedness, more punishing than eleven years of suffering, is killing you. You came hoping to see her comfortable in her life. You have found her so. But you found her so because she intended that you do. Not one word, not one smile out of place; a perfect pose for a perfect life. A sham front, but what lay beyond? Oh God! What have you done to her? You are too scared, too much of a coward to find out. And it kills you. There, that moment, you die a death more painful than life could ever be. You die, die, die… and the balmy May air plays with stray leaves at your feet.
-Adharshila Chatterjee (Dude, you rock 
)
Surviving NLU my way!
I was stunned when he told me, he was quitting NLS. It took me few minutes to regain the reasoning capacities and exploring the possibilities that this might be a joke. So I tried to sound a little less hysterical, and said “Really? Is this your idea of fun? So what does the nls joke-book looks like?”. He kept silent. ‘Ok, this isn’t a joke’ my brain registered.
‘Are you sure? I mean, if not anything let alone the investment, you have spent two years of your life there, it’s another 3 years. Give yourself time, think over it. It’s all gonna be fine. Trust me.”
‘I have already taken the transfer. I am in kolkata now’
‘What?! And you didnt even bother telling me once? What about your parents? Are they ok with this’
‘They want to see me happy, and I am more productive when sane’
‘Take care. Incase you need any help, feel free to ping. Right?’
‘Right’
I was pissed to say the least. This IS the stupidest thing anyone could have done, studying 2 years in a law school, the best one, and then quitting it to do a simple graduation. It made no sense. For an instance I felt he could have offered me the seat before vacating it, I would have packed my bags and run for life. I felt sorry for that one student who couldn’t get through NLS that year because of him. Off course he had his reasons, and years from the conversation, I have my own.
As a kid, I was different, may be a bit cracked, but I would like to call myself ‘Different’. I never liked strawberry ice-creams, never found butterflies pretty, never remember tying anything that looks like ribbon in my hair, had absolutely no fascination with red frocks with frails, never cried for a barbie, never stood up in lines waiting for my turn to go up the slide or try the swing, but yes I read and loved fairy tales. I dont remember any of these, but Papa tells me I used to go to the park and toddle with him around the sidelines, unperturbed by the screams or the laughter of the other kids. He tells me the the worst tantrum I had thrown to him was to take me to the terrace, where I would just sit and look at the stars. He tells me when I was angry or upset, I would just run to my room and sleep it off, and next morning have a letter ready for him to read, saying ‘I want to leave home because nobody loves me’ and he would ask me to get ready so that he could drop me wherever I wanted to go. I would dress up and sit beside him in the car, and then the bribing would start with taking me to all my favourite places and end with boxes of chocolate. Once I was convinced he loved me, I used to declare the plan cancelled.
Not much of it have changed till now. I look back to realise my instincts of running away had seeds right from there. Come a problem, and I would elope. So I wrote a note today before leaving hostel, making sure not to cause any problem to anyone. There I was trying to run away again. I sat on one of the benches in the Railway Station, and watched the trains. I observed the train arrive and leave, they knew their directions. I was lost.
Vague memories of shady days came up and crowded like clouds- convincing dad to let me drop a year, screwing up the first mock test and running into tears, Adil Sir’s lectures, Noshir Sir’s persistent urge to get me linked up with someone, anyone , Sagnik’s insights, the Clat results, the endless tears of not getting through the top colleges, the friend who submitted vacancies without telling me, the unexpected call from patna and patiala- I was so sure they had it all wrong, I DID NOT APPLY, the reverse convincing, the taunting relatives, mom’s face the day she left me here.
And then there were the first one’s- my first room mate, first friend in college- ananta sharma, first rumour, first fight, first fall out- first semester (the best months). I loved it back then, every moment of it- felt freedom, felt in peace with myself.
Till it changed. It got suffocating and maintaining sanity seemed like mission impossible. I felt almost a part of roadies, encountering sides of people I have never seen, gaali’s I have never heard, gossiping to extent that can be termed as ‘bitching’ and worse backstabbing. Friends changed to classmates, group studies subsided, smiles changed to smirks, talks restricted to comments, Caffeine got replaced by nicotine, liquor went from sin to creating a sinner. People might call it competition, I call it rat race. I still remember the feeling, when the first set of rumours did its round- my friend started it, unluckily she never thought it would follow a 360 degree cycle. I remember the restriction in my gut the size of anger when I saw the list of publications my group endeavored in, apparently we could talk about everything but ‘not interfere in each other’s professional lives’. I learnt.
I learnt more, the characteristic features of the specimens here:
Specimen A: The girl next door, she helps you with everything from broken hearts to bad marks. She is one sister you never had, the perfect shoulder to lean on and share things, the girl who matches all your weird steps in parties and creates some more of her own, the one who gives you one extra chocolate with a wink, the one you have rounds of walks-share coffees and feel ‘we think alike. Best friends forever’. Till one day someone tells her something, you dont know what, you dont know who, and she accuses you of ‘using’ her. You stand flabbergasted, guards down.. and the words burn your stomach, till the time you turn around, start walking and promise never to look back.
Specimen B: The Diva, the girl you thought had a perfect life, the life you wish to have, the right clothes, the best brands, the cool crowd. But then You know you know your limits. So you tag them ‘Bad girl’, till one day… you sit alone and she walks up to you and ask ‘Are you okay?’. You thought nobody could notice, when your friends bought the fact you are unwell and left the mess table. So you start talking, and for the first time you notice the eyes behind the kajal, and the story they hide. You feel stupid for being judgemental. You feel guilty. You say sorry. You offer ‘Friends?’. She smiles and nods.
Specimen C: The Committed, you have mixed feelings for them. You hear their stories and feel ‘awwwweeeee’, you see the bonding and smile, wishing them ‘luck’. They keep the happy vibes around you. Till the time you slip between the sheets in the empty hostel room, and the hollows of your life digs deeper, scratches, bleeds. Till the time you have a little difference of opinion, and see them siding with each-other, you look by your side…alone. But then they walk upto you in few days and say ‘Krishna you got to move on. Dont let things affect you this bad’. And you smile and apologise, cause you need them, may or may not be vice-versa.
Specimen D: Nice. This is one rare category, you come across. I consider myself lucky for stumbling into them. They help you, unconditionally with the belief, you would help them when they need it. Its on you, to help them or not..the ironic part, you can name them as ‘taken for granted’. This section of people wont even hurt you back, or say things or do things to get back at you, they would just keep the experience to themselves. I remember ‘thanking one of them’, he enquired the reasons attached, when I mentioned the ‘favour’, all he wanted was a ‘brownie’ The best part- they never advertise, the worst part- you are bound to have rumours about the two of you, ‘He is a fool, she is plain using him’ **sigh!!**
Specimen E: Classmates. This includes all people, some who are friends, some friends turned to classmates, some classmates from the first day, some you wish never existed. Here you can choose to be a loner, or interact with the one’s you think are ‘good’. They gurantee amazing laughters and best gossips. You would wish the authorites might want to extend the recess timings
Specimen F: In my mind, I know what I call them, but although this is my blog and I have the authority of writing whatever I want, I am not Mark Zuckerburg… evn he faced disciplinary charges. So lets call them Specimen F. These are the two-faced people, where neither of the two faces are pretty. They think everybody loves them, WRONG. They think they are the alpha- the beta- and the Omega- WRONG. I dont want to waste time speaking about this category, just that, If you do not know how to avoid or IGNORE THEM, you are gonna end up like me. And dont be sad if you think you have too much of this specimen around you, they are the majority **Incase you think I am a bitch, I am confirming I am a SUPER BITCH**
I sat unfazed on the bench with my brain cells rioting with one another. It was over an hour, and I was gathering a few quizzical looks, may be because I was crying, may be because I didn’t sleep the night before and the one before that, or may be because I am a girl. It seemed almost yesterday, I had the perfect life. Till one morning, a single call changed it all. It has been weird ever since. I have been invisible ever since. The situations around haven’t been comfortable either. I had more fights to resolve, more confrontations to answer, more lies to deny…and after that may be study a bit. Hyper Sensitivity syndrome- a phase where you get sensitive on the slightest of criticism, you feel everyone is talking about you, you behave clumsily, talk weird and act retarded. I was a victim to it. The indifference and insensitivity around in the name of professionalism, was getting into me. The addictions became increasingly difficult to resist. It was the beginning of getting wasted. I felt mad. I felt sick and nobody cared.
I wanted to take the next train and get down to some place unknown. I needed a break. I needed my sanity. The thoughts continued to get fatal with every passing minute. So I did what came as the simple solution, texted dad “Nobody loves me 
:’(“. The call came in fraction of seconds.
TO BE CONTINUED
P.S: This is a work of fiction and utter gibberish. I do not intend to offend anybody but just incase I apologise.
Pages from ‘HER’ Diary…
I am sitting here today with an empty sheet in front of me…intending to write something …anything, and ironically though there was a time when I could blabber incessantly and write almost anything to you…I am stuck today. Yes stuck for almost an hour, not knowing where to start…apologies has always been difficult for me. You should know it better, Don’t you??
I was never really good at saying “Sorry”. However you are the one to be blamed honestly. Like everytime I said something or did something wrong to blew it up, you were always there to take the blame. Everytime I wanted to let go, you said you needed me…Did you really?? Ever? or was it that you realized I needed you more to feel needed? Everytime I got scared and wanted to run away, you ran after me telling me You couldn’t go on if I left…and I stayed back not understanding you knew it was the other way round, you knew how much I desired to be wanted.
So Wasn’t it your fault?? You never made me realize how life could be without you, after you. You were just always there whenever I needed. I was just so sure it was gonna be that way….that you would be always just a call away, a touch away, a hug away…it was meant to be that way…..forever. Until that day when you started walking away…and I stood there not knowing what to do…I have never seen that side before…..I never imagined it coming….Was I to stand there and wait?? Walk away just the way you did?? Or run after you?? I never knew.
But No, I am not blaming you this time like always. I want to apologize for things that I never said…may be its too late, you wont even read…just crumple the sheet and throw it away…but lets make a try….lets make an attempt start afresh…
Do you remember that friend of yours, the one I said was “cute”, honestly it was never that way…I just wanted to get you cooked. I never intended to get you insecure that was just a little joke, I am so sorry for giving rise to your fears….my mistake might be I loved the possessive you. I don’t look at guys anymore…the guilt pangs are too hard to bear…I feel more like a whore…and if I promise to never make you feel that way, would you forgive me for my mischievous ways??
Do you remember all those times you wanted to meet, and I said I was busy with my friends….I never knew you waited for me to realize and call back to fix up a meeting in seconds. I am sorry, for knowing what you wanted but never giving enough importance. I don’t have friends anymore, nor go for hang-outs….. I wait by the phone hoping….praying at times what if you decide for a sudden night-out….and If I promise to be by you every breathing second, can we go out for that walk you recommend?
Do you remember all those fights and endless hang-ups…it was always me…the bad-tempered…the righteous- yet somehow I knew it would be okay, that you would definitely come up. I never intended to waste seconds on ego…I just kept checking if you cared. I am sorry I never knew it was you getting hurt. I don’t fight these days, keep silent on attacks…and If I promise to never hang up on you again, would you try making it from the beginning??
Do you remember all those times, all those nights when you wanted to talk and I wanted to sleep? I remember the voice with which you threatened me never to call up again if I dare to sleep off, and I hung up with smiles knowing next morning its gonna be the same voice waking me up…it did always. I feel sorry for myself for all those lost times in which we could have talked. I am so sorry for not knowing the time was running out. I cant sleep at night anymore now…with the fear of losing out on your call if you decide to make one in weakness of seconds. If I promise not to fall asleep will you consider me again??
I remember all those times I made you cry but there are sides you don’t know, that later I cried harder. I know I said things, did things that I never meant to…and I am sorry for making you feel the way it used to, and If I promise to hold on to you like never before would you please come back? Just for me, once again?
I have seen the life without you, in one word it doesn’t work. So I know the moves this time, I know what went wrong last time. And I would chase you like never before only you have to run…and I would hold you back if ever the time comes. And this time I am gonna show you what you mean to me, what’s your worth…I wont stand there like the last time I did….I am gonna fight for you with all I got.
So I sit here today with a filled up sheet, unaware if I have phrased it right to make sense…there is too much to say to you but words just fall less. I wanted you to know that this time things are gonna be different, and if given just one more chance We can make “US” happen.
**************************
I knew it’s a waste now…and it doesn’t make any sense, I know you are gone forever and things are never ever gonna be the same. Yet I write these letters make believing what if you read them some day, would you shed a tear or two or just look away??
P.S: It becomes really difficult to match up with standards when my last blog has raised up some on the part of my unfortunate readers 
, but here’s hoping I have done some justice to it, and In case I didnt…never mind…there is always a next time
Memoirs of an imperfect angel!!
It has been a year or may be more…and they said she would get used to, that thinking about him for more than minutes wont make those cheeks wet anymore…that smiles would be real…that dancing would be easier…that being in crowd would be more than an exercise… She doesn’t understand much these days, nor does she cares to realize, but there are parts that she misses, parts that she never thought would be important….parts which she forgot to thank him for….’little moments that made US’- she said me one day! Here’s taking an attempt to jot them down…reliving them again through her memories, through their memories!
She had always been those bed worms…rolling around the bed till late in the morning, except for when the exams stared at her face. The cold December waves did their job, as the winds circled into her hostel room through the ill ventilated windows and door creaks. The monotonous alarm tone did it’s job…. she lay awake at 6.30a.m…staring at the empty spaces above. Turning sideways she turned down the alarm and took the cell phone in her hands….there was something in the way she gazed into the screen, something that made those sleepy eyes turn sad, something that showed the gap between her past and present. It wasn’t the first time the memories started her day….wasn’t gonna be the last time either. Reality slapped her harder on the face where the cold winds striked…she stood in the balcony…..helpless, hugging herself with both hands….her cheeks hurt with cold…more with the numbness of the tears…..she closed her eyes and dreamt away……
Winter mornings were not always like this, they usually started the same way…with the cell phone ringing ..but never alarm, HE called up…right at 6.30a.m-
“mmmmmm”
“hmmmmm, uth jao”
“paanch minute”
“utho”
“pleeasssseeee”
“abhiiii”
“………….nah!!”
“5 ghante mai exam hai, 4 chapters baki hai”
“toh?”
“toh kuch nahi, exam bura dogi, fail karogi, phir mere hi paas ake royogi”
“toh??”
“toh kuch nahi under-graduate reh jayogi”
“toh??”
“toh job nahi milega”
“toh???”
“toh illiterate and under-graduate is not a good combination”
“works for you kya??”
“as long as it’s you, anything works for me”
**silence**
“phir se so gayi”
“….nahi”
“toh??”
“nothing…..”
“bolo bhi”
“ u meant it??”
“every word”
“always??”
“beyond that”
“promise?”
“cross my heart and hope to die”
“you made my day”
“you made my life”
“ohkaaayyyyyyy!! I am totally awake now”
**laughs**
“chalo then, m off to study….cya”
“suno toh…”
“ha”
“will call you 5 minutes to exam, kal pehle hi cell phone switch off kar di thi..”
“oh ha!! Sorry”
“anyways, best of luck and…..”
“and….??”
“phir se so mat jana”
“hmmmmmm”
“bye”
“bye.”
(pause)
“……rakha nahi tumne phone”
“I called up, you wanted to study…you disconnect”
“love you”
“finalllllyyyy!! Love you too”
This was one of the many conversations she told me about…, one of the many things she misses….one of the many things that still hurts.
She was always a good student, topping and giggling through classes which distributed exam sheets…as I passed her nasty looks- the lengths to which that over-confident brat irritated me. I remember telling her to talk low over the phone as she screamed with enthusiasm providing him with every single detail- by how many marks she beat whom ,and which bitch was shown their original place by her…I remember tagging her as ‘selfish’..that was before I knew how badly she wanted the scores.
I heard of the Skater Boy from Avril Lavigne, she was the Skater Girl…who slogged to match up to the standards of her IIT’ian guy. I almost died laughing the day she told me,
“arey padhna zaruri hai yaar, job nahi mila toh uska haath kaise mangungi”
“do you realize, tum ladki ho…tum haath nahi mang sakti?? He packs big grands from that MNC upar se bahar rehta hai, haath who mangega pagal”
“Nahi yaar, you don’t realize…He has proved his worth, I should prove that I deserve him, nahi??? Soch mai BMW 7 series se uthrungi, Manish Malhotra ki saree pehenke, aur uske papa ke paas jayungi and bolungi, Sir…. I don’t know if I am worth your son or not, but I promise I would keep him the happiest….so would you help me to marry him???”.
I awwwwwed and ooohhhed at her awesome speech……..such unrealistic she was!! Yet beyond the laughter’s we shared, I realised how much she wanted him….and more than that her insecurity of being worth him.
She off course still scores… and I search in vain the giggling part of her…she misses the ‘sharing part with him’…she never said, I felt.
She was a weird combination of temper and sensitiveness. I liked it- a little thing out of place and there she went hyper…a little word misspoken- the puppy eyes went teary and the solution to all- ‘HIM’. I found it cute the way she shared the most tiniest of things with him, I felt jealous for not having any particular ‘him’ in my life for sharing such simplicities. I could hear sides of the conversation-
‘hello’
‘kuch nahi hua hai’
‘bola na, kuch nahi’
‘aise hi baat karni thi’
‘mai ro nahi rahi hu’
‘mai nahi ro rahi hu’
And then she went all teary ‘why do I have to be here?? Why cant I be there with you? Mujhe nahi rehna yaha ‘
‘Take me away from here, abhiiiiii…yaha ke loag bahot gande hai….” Blah blah and the conversation went…..
I sat next to her and watch the tears turns into smile, the pink nose get back to the fair skin tone….as she disconnected the call telling me ‘chal sale ko dekhte hai’
It was just the other day, some of those bastards she calls friends told her something…I turned to shout at them, but she held me. I walked with her in silence to the nearest desolate place. She took out her cell phone and scrolled through the phone-book, I was unsure, she wasn’t…as the names went down I saw the water trickling down faster, I held her hand which she scoffed in nano-seconds. I never knew she actually kept his previous number alive paying the bills- obviously it had this personalized voice message, kept just for her, “Hey, its me!! I know you need me now and I am right there, just leave a message, and I promise to get by you…soon”. And as I sat awestruck, she did the unthinkable….She had a conversation in a silent voice mail box, the same one I have heard before. I am hardly what you can call sensitive, but if I was….I would have shed a tear or two. I just sat there and watch her cry….helplessly!!
I gathered she must have done this more often over the years, every time some piece of shit tried pulling her a bit down, later she told me, “It’s on days like this, I miss him the most, I miss the concern, I miss the hugs, I miss the snuggle, I miss him… I miss US”…I silently patted her back.
Every girl loves chocolates, she likes coffee more (no wonder, meri dost hai 
). It was one of those days when instead of having the coffee she kept staring at it. I gave one of those encouraging smiles, as I knew the same as she was thinking. He used to stay outside the country for maximum parts of the year, further with she coming to a new city to study, it was rarely that they met. I found this one real cute when she told me. Apparently it once happened that when he called up from Exetor, U.K. she was busy attending to a cup of coffee-
“Hmmmmm, suno na thodi der baad call karo”
“hadh hai!! I am making an international call, do u realize?”
“Arey I know na baba, that’s why I am saying…”
“Saying what?”
“I am making coffee, I cant talk now”
“I want to have it”
“So have it”
“With you”
“not possible”
“will catch u in a minute”
“suno toh”
**Disconnected**
He texted in between and asked her not to have the coffee, till he calls up, she waited.
Finally the call came in 10 minutes….
“meri coffee thandi ho gayi”
“meri garam hai”
“matlab??”
“matlab, switch on your web cam, we are having a COFFEE DATE!!”
And 5 minutes to that, two fb status claimed “Coffee’s never tasted better “
I heard they have had loads of coffee and movie dates like this. It makes me wonder, they say long distance relationships are tough, it was through them I saw a new dimension of madness, “mad and made for each-other” or were they really???
I remember these one’s in particular, cause I saw those eyes turning from twinkles to hollow, I heard the excitement in her voice but never missed the lump in her throat….I just looked into her, passed a wry smile to say “it will pass”. That’s the best I could do.
I have seen her through the years, retrieving from worst to the worse. She thinks she is weak, but that’s the strongest I have seen. Putting up that perfect dress with a bright face, laughing at those jokes, going out for movies, attending parties, as much as anniversaries…even ironically rumors of her new crushes- she makes up the perfect disguise, except for those eyes. They think she has moved on, may be in life- away from herself, from what she was- but definitely not from him. Most of her day goes good…except for the parts when those things happen, those little moments revive…. When she slips between the sheets in the wee hours of night turning her back to me….pretending to sleep…as I sense the muffled sobs. replaying through her brain every minute details and wondering where it went wrong…..or what were those words she misunderstood, finally convincing her way to sleep make-believing that someday she’s gonna wake up to find him waiting at her door. The Acceptance awaits…
P.S- It is a very crude piece of writing yet again, written over fits, so please pardon me my idiosyncrasy!!.
Random
Its like a normal friday, december 10th, time check approximately 1.18 a.m, and I felt an urgent need to make my presence felt in the bloggers world.
The precedent days has been hard, the subsequent days promises to be harder, all thanks to the knocking end sems exams…
Time for some updates- I have saved enough money to lay my hands on the wills lifestyle product I have been eyeing for months now \m/, I realised I am good at sports…I mean i just won a silver medal in a throw ball team at a sports fest held at nliu- bhopal **i was in the extra though, and did the cheering part** (whatever that means)…had seen some real cute guys in the same trip, the guy from rmnlu… sigh!! wherever you are, i miss you!!
With that, i would sign out for the night!! insomniacs definitely rock but the reasons to stay awake are gone, and dark circles are bloody uncool!!
Peace,
Sanj
Here’s to Coffee!!! :)
This article was forwarded to me by one of those few persons who truly care, namely my Love Ananta Sharma, for reasons whatever, however I found this an amazing read with an awesome moral, dat works for me, so here’s hoping it’s gonna work for you too…. enjoy the read, over a cup of coffee
A carrot, an egg, and a cup of coffee…You will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again.
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up, She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, ‘ Tell me what you see.’ ‘Carrots, eggs, and coffee,’ she replied.
Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hardboiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked,
‘What does it mean, mother?’
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
‘Which are you?’ she asked her daughter. ‘When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?
Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?
Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavour. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.
The happiest of people don’t necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can’t go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.
May we all be COFFEE!!
P.S- to avoid plagiarism charges this article aint written by me, so Cheers to its orginal writer, whoever it is )
Sincerely Ananta Sharma and Krishna (Sanj)
Hope and a Little Sugar
“Every Child is Special”, quotes the signature line of “Taare Zameen Par”, Yes! Indeed, every child comes off special (pun intended), if one undertakes the task to explore all the genres of job these little ones, aged between 9-14 years, undertake to feed their little stomachs. Starting from the boy who serves tea at the local tea-stall, where we discuss what politics has done to our country; to the girl who accompanies her mother to collect those dirty clothes, which we want pressed and ironed for that 9 a.m interview tomorrow. Wait! How can I forget the guy who cleaned the table after I had lunch from that corner restaurant yesterday, or, the little girl who tried selling me flowers the other day at the traffic signal sounding more convincing than any marketing guru from the best B-schools. They are forced to explore every possible form of employment than any adult could ever think of, dispensing duties with the added qualities of innocence, dedication and loyalty, including underlying intelligence of sharp salesman. But strangely, one tiny question sets the tiny feet scurrying “Beta, school jate ho??”
One doesn’t necessarily need to bend heads over daily newspapers or be a social reformer to notice the examples cited above. However, situations still remain the same in the era of ‘so called’ ”Mordern, Developed society of 21st Century”. What’s holding us back then? “Awareness”. Is that the word? I don’t think so.
The Indian youth appears sensitive when questioned about Child Rights. They could cry out loud for, whoever cares to listen about their knowledge on, Child Rights. They would meekly define “Article 21A of the Indian Constitution provide rights for free compulsory education to children between 6-14 years of age”; they would argue whether or not the above is a fundamental right, or criticize the governments undertaking for promoting the said over a round of coffee.
The “idiot box” as everybody sarcastically claims the modern day television to be, has never reacted more sensibly when it comes to promoting Child Rights and thereby negates the tag. Starting from the daily soap “Uttaran” telecasted on “Colours” at peak show-time hours; the advertisements of “Sharva Sikhsha Abhiyan” showing up itself at every alternative 15 minutes; the heart-throb singers of the nation Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy singing to the lyrics of “School Chale Hum” blasting itself on different music channels; to mini television commercials of “Minu and her Parrot” being aired on Doordarshan National; From Urban to Rural India, from pay channels to “Doordarshan National”, India at large stares and grasps knowledge on Child Rights through television.
The Big corporate market doesn’t lack behind. Companies like Procture and Gamble, ITC to name a few, shares the spirit as well. ITC officials say “There are still millions who only dream of school, ITC is helping some of them realize this dream”. Here the modus operandi is that, when one purchases any item from the brand, certain amount is donated to the rural development initiative that supports, among others, primary education in villages. Even in precedent years a popular soap brand came up with a scholarship scheme having the campaign theme “school jayega?”
Therefore probably, “Awareness” is no longer the word that explains the ignorance of the millions of educated Indians, who exercise their voting rights and feel that’s the only right to be exercised to qualify themselves as responsible citizens. The word this time is “Initiative”.
Knowledge is of no use if it is not cultivated for the betterment of the society, Education in itself has no value if it does not manifest itself in the form of “Development”. In India “Child Rights” still remains a concept of “Extravagant Eccentricity”, the “hope” in those little eyes had been added by the numerous NGO’s and guardian angels who had touched their dreams and promised them to turn into realities, its time to add the “little sugar”- a little contribution with a little initiation. It can be realised by teaching one unfortunate street kid, or by standing up and protesting when you see a kid cleaning your table the next time you have lunch, it can be by getting yourself engaged with an NGO and join the motion or simply by walking upto the adults in slum and making them realize an educated son/ daughter makes more money in the long run than an illiterate one. Even the rise of one person can make a difference against insurmountable odds. It has been long since we have watched things happen and wondered how they happen, its time we stand up and make things happen.
As they say:
“ A candle never loses something by lighting another candle”- Erin Majors.
Krishna (Sanj)
Live-in Relationships or Living Relationships??
P.S- if your looking for a legal aspect, please go back to whatever you were doing!
Its rather comic that one of the latest sociology classes of last semester opened my knowledge about the status quo of Live-in Relationships, mind you not in India or across the globe but inculcated in the minds of numerous educated homo-sapiens around me. If given a chance to any of my fellow classmates to speak on the importance of “Education in Present India”, one common utterance would be “something that gives us a rational stigma to question and analyze the pre-dominant norms in the society seeding their origin since decades” or in common man’s language questioning the unquestioned….however certain subtle boundaries still shy away maximum of individuals from quenching their curiosity, and thus they do form opinions, but not perspective but already opinioned ones, and needless to mention these topics ranges predominantly in the subject of “sex”- ranging from protected sex, to AIDS, to homosexual relationships and the controversial of all “live-in” relationships.
Now, speaking of the dominant part of the Indian mass, they would define “Live-in Relationships” where two individual, most commonly from different sexes, live-together without legal marital status, and needless to mention this is much against the common so-called “societal norms”. But for minority of the population and if I must add minor minority of the population, we believe that these are one of the few forms of relationships which are “living”, or in other words where the relationship is more of commitment and less of compromise.
Now speaking of societal norms, on arguing with one of my classmates over the recent legislation on de-criminalising homosexuality, he termed the same as a “blasphemous act” not to add, a sheer sin of deviating from the laws of nature. I stood their in awe not because of the opinion, but because of the words coming out from the mouth of a guy born and still bought up in 21st century, that too educated from one of the best institutions, and if I must add one of the promising students of NLU. Such are the state of mind evolution of India’s upcoming lawyers. Tch! Tch! However, after the initial recovery, I asked a small question, that who formulated the “Law of Nature”, which is so called getting deviated. Obviously he had no answers, and aptly remarked “the religious leaders” and further to strengthen his argument, he gave me some lines from one of the religious texts. I still harped on him to name the person who wrote the text, to which he meekly retorted, he is not aware, but such are the teachings of God, which had been laid down and followed over the periods, and any modifications in such sensitive matters would not be tolerated. Before I could question back he went away, leaving me in a sea of thoughts, that someone who might have wrote such religious teachings were merely a human-being with his own restricted sense of opinions, and how easily till this very date the dynamic youth shudders to question those pointers or thoughts, and hilarious of all, those rogue religious leaders curtains their ignorance of understanding of a particular subject as the sacred command of God. (If I must mention, no M not an atheist, but Yes, My god has modern Ideas).
The above incident points out the bland grounds or premises on which we confine our society, we prefer an unseen entity over researched individuality, we prefer anonymous commands, over researched data. Getting back to Live-in Relationships, take for instance America, where an individual gets highly elated when after months of dating finally the guy asks her to move in with him, dats as much as categorized as the second step in a relationship. Try an ask an Indian girl, you would definitely get red cheeks, and worse physical ailments! Cause for an Indian girl that’s against the social norms, contradicting to their traditional morality… and this morality is not what she has inculcated from her rational senses and logical understanding but something that her parents have imparted or rooted into her brain since birth.
And now, the controversy, why does this relationship, hits a new level of low on moral grounds….the answer is simple, because of new levels of perverted minds who directly deduce live-in relationships to modes of cheap-sex or casual sexual relationships, worse tagged or meant only for flirts or commitment phobics. Thus, goes the sanctity and quality!!
However, this is totally and completely my individual perspective, one can differ or coincide. I think Live-in Relationships are the most sacred in the world. For scientific reasons they are the best way to decrease the divorce rates, and get away from cons or domestic violence in the name of marriage. Some of the common surveys had said, a man is very different over a cup of coffee he has with his girl-friend in the morning, than the one he has after waking up with his wife. Or, in other words its best to know one’s prospective life-partner in and out before tying the knots by resorting to live-ins, than later pull hairs over a messy divorce or worse get affected by a planned con and lose fortunes over hefty alimony (not to forget the painful identification of the individual as a “divorcee” consequently).
And now for the emotional reasons, In live-in relationships, two individuals live with each-other, seeks company of the other, because they “want to” and not because they “have to”, there is a strong decision lying underneath that they want to give this relationship “a try”, and not burden themselves with a knot and regret as “compromise” for the rest of their lives; they live together because they “love to live-together” and not because there is a legal paper stating you cannot seek a divorce without three months of prep periods with a marriage councilor. The above pointers obviously decides in favour of live-in partners and negates the tag of being commitment phobic for sure. And thus, lastly they don’t have cheap-sex, they “make love”, because the emotions involved for the act is only known to the individuals and just a legal stamp in the same act in the form of marriage does not make it less cheap when the intentions are same.
They say when a lie is repeated hundred times over, people start believing it as the truth… hence this was just an attempt to brainstorm your ideas. If you are among the many who raised questions over legalizing “live-in relations” in India by the Mumbai High-Court and finally scrapped the innovation in the buds, think about the above pointers. Start evaluating “Live-in” relationships as an extended bond to form less complicated marriages and lesser divorce rates. Realize the sacredness of ‘Living Relationships’ cause their ingredients remains the same, “Love” whether married or not.
P.S- This was a very crude piece of writing, please pardon me the grammatical or spelling errors (if any), and if you don’t like my thought there’s nothing you can do about it, except for creating a new blog, to justify your ideas
Welcome Note
I rarely take things seriously, except for one common known English proverbs, “the pen is mightier than the sword”. So here’s presenting the first form of crude writing from one of the most amateur bloggers….at precisely 3.14 a.m (doing justice to the username ).
P.S- Every blogger needs their inspiration, and mine is caffeine (and obviously the inhibitions responsible for the addiction).. which would subsequently formulate the pointers for my subsequent blogging…signing off for now…peace!!
