Mathematics Fails.

I perceive the thought as it enters my mind
and then quickly brush it away like a mosquito
that I know will return once it has spotted
me, a half-hearted attempt, with clear intentions.
And now, like the mosquito that keeps buzzing
near the ear and then flies away only to buzz near
the enclosed ear of a tortured soul again, the thought
enters my mind when I see my mother’s loose skin
and the father’s pepper hair, and the slow, yet steady,
constantly increasing messiness of the house,
as my mother’s knees give way to the arthritis and
notice the increasing summons of the plumber or
the guard or the electrician to pick out something hidden
in the high shelf as my father’s backache prevents it, and
the reply that I don’t get when I greet ‘good morning’.
my hung-over-sleep voice rarely above a whisper
as they don’t hear and the quivering of my father’s hand
when he signs a cheque and the uncertainty of my
mother’s foot as she places one step after the other.
And I realize that though I may have known them all my life
and though they may have been there for me (physically or mentally)
all my life, I’ll be there for only half of theirs. And then sinks
the grim reality that there is probably only a small fraction of their life left
that they will spend with me, and with the planet, after which
they will cease to exist but in the memory, which will continue to haunt
me till the day I take my last breath on this planet, my entire life.
And yet even in that half life, they do so much for us that even
a hundred thousand lifetimes wouldn’t be able to pay
that back right at them . And I think how in that half life, they can
know us better that we can ever know ourselves.
It’s funny how promptly the rules of mathematics change, where
one will always remain less than half. One half life less than a full.
Slowly, as the mosquito leaves once he has sucked enough,
so does my thought, and as the mosquito leaves behind a  red sore spot,
the thought leaves behind a faint resolution to make the most of
the time that I have left with the two angelic souls that I have
and who I love most deeply and without whom, I shall always be
half.

Real Neat Blog Award

It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything, let alone awards and since I have been absent for a long time now, I think it might be okay to a come back.

Recently (quite back) the blogger from Dear Kitty nominated me for the Real Neat Blogger Award. Yayayay!

Real Neat Blog Award

Anyways, the rules of the award are:

1. Put the award logo on your blog.
2. Answer 7 questions asked by the person who nominated you.
3. Thank the people who nominated you, linking to their blogs.
4. Nominate any number of bloggers you like, linking to their blogs.
5. Let them know you nominated them (by commenting on their blog etc.)

The questions that I have to answer are:

1. Where do most visits to your blog come from? India. My country folks be the best.

2. What is your favorite sport? I’m not a very sporty person, but I would say Basketball or Volleyball.

3. What has been a special moment for you so far in 2015? The entire Kashmir visit was magnificent.

4. What is your favorite quote? I don’t have a favorite. However, the one that is on my mind right now is from a poem, “I am the master of my fate, I’m the captain of my soul”. It is so inspiring.

5. What was your favorite  class when still at school? Eighth, tenth and twelfth have been amazing. 

6. Anything you had wished to have learned earlier? I wish that I’d learnt to stand up and speak for myself and be confident and secure about who I am. 

7. What musical instrument have you tried to play? Piano.

My nominations are:

Ritu
Erika
Anoop
Rob
Kavya
Aaron/Jonathan

My questions to you would be:

  1. Name one habit you dislike in yourself.
  2. Where do you live? Name one thing you like about the place.
  3. How would you rate your cooking? What is the best thing you can cook?
  4. Rate in order of priority, your desired qualities in potential life partner (or already life partner).
  5. Would you rather: spend a night in a place rumored to be haunted or make ghost hunting your profession?

Hope you enjoy this session.

 

Tick Tock

Whenever I wish to read something good, I turn her and read some lines that are my favorites. Inspires me always!
Must read.

Elusive Mummers

IMG_0398
They told me to be scared,
And I believed they had a
Reason, because these were
The men and women who
Had surrounded my being
From when I had first sneaked
A look through my eyes,
My eyes, they saw my skin and
Saw nothing different which
Could hint that I am not worthy
Of the accolades of existence
And I saw the mirror tell me
The same, but you told my
Mind that it isn’t one,
My mind, it believed to be stripped
Of secrets and it asked you to do
The same, but you snatched
Apart the clothes which kept
Me warm, and you exploited my
Noble skin, but you unwittingly
Also made it callous,
My skin, it burned till it drew red
And it hurt, but I was still not afraid
When you told me I deserved it,
Because in my heart I knew I didn’t,
And…

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Ishmeet, Gayatri And Forever.

Glossary: 

Diwali, Holi- festival in the Hindu calendar, celebrated across India. 
Badaun, Uttar Pradesh- a district in the state of Uttar Pradesh
Bauji- father
Mausi ji- maternal aunt
Agra- a city in Uttar Pradesh
Ludhiana- a city in the state of Punjab ( predominantly Sikh community)
Chennai- a city in the southern state of Tamil Nadu

~

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We were born three hours, two minutes and twenty seven second apart, on September 23, 1939. We hit off immediately. Our mothers’ were best friends, and our fathers’ bonded over politics, and so, as far as I can trace back, we spent every Diwali at their house and Holi at ours. I was the elder, something I reminded her at least once every day, much to her dismay.

I lived in a government colony that was separated from the rest of the city. Our area was actually green and clean as compared to the rest of the dusty and dirty countryside. Her house was next door. The accommodation that the newly formed Indian government had provided us was comfortable, on account of our fathers teaching at the Government College in Badaun, Uttar Pradesh.

Those days were amazing. There were no cell phones, no televisions or radios. One simply spent time living, not surviving. We did not live in a fantasy world warped with the idea that the number of likes on our picture and the friend we have on Facebook made us happy. We liked company of people. Ishmeet was the one person I always wanted to talk to. She was my best friend.

Our day would start by us meeting for our tuition that would happen at our houses alternatively, then we would have our lunch which we followed up by a walk. Sometimes, when we wanted to go out, bauji would send his driver and we would go for a drive in that old rattling Ford. In the evening, we had classes at the University where our fathers taught, and after that, we would go to the other’s house for dinner. Finally, at around eight, we would retire for the night, only to look forward to the next day. Where there was Ishmeet, there was Gayatri. We were friends’ forever. 

When we grew eighteen, Ishmeet’s father fixed her marriage with Gurvinder Singh. He was a nice lad of twenty four, practicing law under the tutelage of his father. He was an alumni of the university and had had his eye on Ishmeet for a long time. I liked him because I knew of him to be a respectable man. Besides, Ishmeet was happy, and so was I.

I, on the other hand, wanted to continue my education, an idea my father supported with gusto. He was way ahead of his time, and so he enrolled me for a Masters’ In English in the Agra University, very renowned back in the 1950s’. I left for Agra, where my mausi ji lived in the summer of 1957, after a tearful farewell by Ishmeet. We promised to keep in touch by exchanging letters. And we did, until I got the telegram in the fourth year of my education, by which I was been courted by a fine man with the name, Vikram Sanghwal, that Ishu had borne a child. It was a girl and she had named her Diljeet.

By then, Gurvinder had shifted to Ludhiana, where he had been appointed as a district prosecutor. I hadn’t seen her in over four years, I immediately booked a ticket to Ludhiana, with a stop at Badaun, to congratulate her. Vikram insisted that he accompany me, so I let him. I liked him, and it would mean that Ishu could meet him too. There was no awkwardness between us when we met. Pregnancy had done her well and she looked very beautiful. And Diljeet had literally won my heart. She was exquisite. Vikram and Gurvinder became good acquaintances and we spent a delightful two weeks there, during which Vikram proposed to me.

He told me how he had already talked to my father and how much he loved me. I said yes, and we got married on December 11, 1962. He was an amazing husband, we three years later, I gave birth to the most beautiful boy, who we named Anurag. I had been working as a professor in the Agra University by then, and was up for a transfer. Ishu and I were still in contact, but it was less frequent now that we had our own families to look after. Our letters had been exchanged with phone calls and our visits by photographs.

The next few years passed in a blur. I was busy with my family and my job and Ishu was busy with hers; I’d heard that she had started her own boutique. We sent some two three letters an year, rest all contact was sporadic, but we were happy. We met for some two three times during that period.

The year I turned forty two was an eventful one. Our small family of three had grown to a big litter of six, and I had been promoted to the position of dean in the Department of English in the Agra University. It was when I got my transfer. Be it luck of pure coincidence, it was to the University in Ludhiana. I was exhilarated at the prospect of my Ishu everyday again. When I called her, she was surprised to hear my voice but when I told her, she had screamed.

We shifted there in March 1982. Living at a distance that took some five minutes to cover, we met each other every day. We shared the same rapport now that our parents had shared back in the 1930’s. We were family. The kids mixed well with each other and the next year, we shifted from the University accommodations to our own house in the same block as the Singhs’.

Then came the fateful year of 1984. That morning started just as it did every day, with me going to the University early morning and the kids to school. Vikram had been in Chennai for a conference and Ishu had called me in the morning, “G, come over for lunch. Bring the kids too. I’ll make biryani.” I had replied, “I’ll be seeing you.

The day had been a hard one and I was wishing for lunch. On returning, I found the colony unusually quiet. I stopped in front of Ishu’s house and found the door ajar. It was unusual. On entering, it seemed as if the entire community was inside. Making my way inside, I found Gurvinder crying and Anurag hovering around nervously. I was shocked.

“What happened?” I had asked. Turned out, Ishu’s throat had been slit. The entire room was splattered with blood. Beside her body was a newspaper clipping that had screamed, “PM ASSASSINATED BY HER SIKH BODYGUARDS, Unrest in the city.”

I never saw her again. It was then I realized that forever is such and incorrect concept.

~

Soothe Sundays #15

So, my first scheduled post! Yayaya! Right now, at the time you’re reading it, I would be on a school trip, just a last trip for the outgoing class 12th (more of that later!) which is why I can’t actually post, but thank god wordpress for the schedule feature. Seems a little weird right, because it was just yesterday I told you I was promoted. Time flies away so fast!

This quote is from one of the most popular Disney characters, Aladdin. Can you relate to it?

Have you ever judged a person by their appearance? I know I have, and often, what I expect people to be is exactly what they are not and I end up being ashamed of myself. So have you? No judgement here! Post in your comments and let us know… about anything.

Source: Buzzfeed
Source: Buzzfeed