Thank God, Its Sunday...!!!

Hello,

I am an Atheist, I should not be saying "God".. too often... It defeats the whole purpose of being an Atheist...


Anyhow... Today is Sunday.. and I'm Thankful that its Sunday!!!



How things change over a period of time.. The people who love you, dont seem to care anymore and you then open your heart to total strangers only to be ripped off at a much later date..






This vicious circle of loving and un-loving goes on till the end of time..



Just happened to listen to the song - "I'll Never Break Your Heart.." Knowingly or unknowingly we make so many promises which although we intend to keep.. end up breaking them..

So, What has Sunday got to do with all this S**t?????

Well, Sunday marks the beging of a new day.. a headstart to a new week hoping that things will change.. (Although they seldom do..)!!!!!!!


Week after week things remain just the same and I'm forced to wonder, who in the name of the Devil coined the phrase.. "Change is the only thing which is Constant.."



So, here is what I'm going to do... Get Drunk.. Listen to Hard Rock.. Get Pi**ed... Watch a meaningless Action movie and hope that Monday will be much better..!!!!


All you people out there, who think that you need a change.. Come on... join me.. and hope that Change happens!!!!



Until then, "CHEERS" to life!!!!!
Live Strong..!!!

True Love Story!!!!

This is a true story. This story does not contain hugs, kisses, gazing into each others eyes, no electrifying touches and definitely no sex.




My grandfather is 91 and my grandmother is 79. They live in our ancestral home at Parhur Pada in Alibaug. Its about 65 kn or 3 hrs drive from Thane by the State Transport. They stay there all by themselves. My dad visits them once in 15 days. I was never close to my grandparents. I used to visit them once every two years. Needless to say when the whole family used to get together, usually during Ganesh Chahthurti I was the one who used to always feel out of place. I used to die to get back to my life in Thane. The hustle bustle in the city was what I craved for. I could not stand the spells of stone cold silence and the trees around our house. We had a 7 room house made of mud and the flooring of cow dung. As I write this story I can still smell the strange and sweet fragrance of our ancestral home.




My grandparents had 10 children; 4 sons and 6 daughters. As of today, my grandparents have been married for over 79 years. They had an arranged marriage and go married at a very early age. They say marriages are made in heaven but the continuity has to be maintained on earth. I don’t remember my grandparents ever fighting or raising their voice. May be they had their differences but my grandmother, being the traditional Indian wife, never said anything. She accepted her husband as a mother accepts the child. Just like a mother sacrifices everything she can for her child, my grandmother sacrificed whatever she could for her husband and for her children. After their marriage, my grandmother was pregnant for over 9 years considering that she had 10 children.



I never got used to spending time with them until recently when we built a bungalow just 5 minutes away from our ancestral home which was after each one of my dad’s brothers and sisters got married and settled down elsewhere. After much persuasion my grandparents agreed to live in our house. Our ancestral house was divided equally among the 4 brothers. My dad refused the share.



There was a lot of discussion as to what to do about the ramshackle house. Since it was built with bamboos, mud and dung we decided to sell the house and deposit the money in the bank. The interest on the money could be used by my grandparents. Finally everyone agreed to the solution.




I had a very stereotype image about marriages in India. I used to think of husbands do not love their wives; they just stay in the marriage out of obligation. You don’t get to see romance in villages. There has been no case of divorce in our village for the past 300 years. There is only one way by which marriages end in our village- Death.




Until about 5 years from now the main occupation of the people was agriculture. Mangoes, rice, beans and tondli were the main crops grown in the fields. Modern methods of agriculture were unknown. Every family used to own two oxen, a cow or a buffalo. Ploughing of fields was done using traditional methods. The men in the house used to go to the fields in the morning before day break. The main activity during the morning was collecting the fresh tondli. The plant of Tondli is a creeper. Special structure about 6 feet high locally known as ‘mandav’ was created using bamboos and nylon thread along which the plant grew. When I was a kid I used to go with my father for picking the vegetable.




I had been to my village many times in the recent past. Most of my visits lasted for just over a day or two at the most. I am doing my MBA currently. The month of June brought some showers of rain and some relief from the heat. The scenic beauty of my village is anything but boring. Our village is surrounded by hills on 3 sides. During the rainy season, the greenery is especially a sight to watch out for. Although my village does not boast of monumental beauty, the simplicity of people adds a touch of archaic feel to it. I decided to stay for a few days in the village. I needed to be alone following a tragic confrontation with the girl I knew for few months. I reached my village amidst the rains. The clouds had descended upon the mountains. It was about 8.15 when I reached the bus stop. The trees looked fresh and there was a very peculiar fragrance I decided to walk the 2km stretch from the bus stop to my village. The variation of the standard Indian auto-rickshaw called as ‘Vikram’ is generally used by the villagers for transportation within the village. I decided to walk my way to the house. The tar road is just two lanes. Since the rains were not heavy this year, the road did not have too many pot-holes. Bullock carts are rare now-a –days. As I walked down the road I hummed to the tune of a Marathi song from Milind Ingle’s album ‘Gaarva’. I reached my home after a slow walk for 25 minutes. The walk was a refreshing one. I was looking forward to my stay here.
Nothing eventful happened on the first day apart from the fact that my grandfather was terribly sick. Old age has not been too merciful on him. His legs were swollen and he had whooping cough. I reached home and was greeted by a couple of stray dogs who thought that the house belonged to them. I m shit scared of dogs and had to shoo them away with a bamboo stick. As soon as I entered the house I saw the state it was in. it smelt strange. There was litter all around the house. I greeted my grandfather in the traditional way by joining my hands and touching his feet.



“I want to die.” He said. I looked at him. He did not seem satisfied. Even at 92 there was still something he yearned for. Death does not come easily to those who still care about things. Death comes to those who have stopped expecting. Somehow I felt that there was something he still desired. Something that he could not explain. Something that he feared. And that was keeping him alive. He could not let go of that certain thing. I wondered what more can a person ask for. All his kids were settled comfortably and did not care if he was alive or dead. What was it that still kept him alive, I thought.




Then I realized why. It was the month of May. Little did I know that it was my grandparents’ 78th anniversary? My grandfather, who could not walk or listen or hardly talk, had asked our servant to get flowers for my grandmother. He still remembered the day they were tied in holy matrimony years back. Suddenly I realized that the “Something” that kept him alive was “Love”. Once the function was over, my grandfather summoned all his sons and daughters. I found that he was finding it difficult for him to talk. He finally said something which brought tears to my grandmother’s eyes. He said, “Don’t trouble her after I go. Take care of her.”



~Live to Love. Die for Love. ~

Another Chance!!!

There is always this one person in your life that you wish would never leave you. You try really hard to keep that person as close to you as possible, only to realize that somehow that person has slipped right out. And there is nothing to bring them back. In my case it was not my lover but you can say ‘Crush’.




Back in 1999 when I was 16, there was this girl who I was crazy about. It was summer vacation and I had enrolled for 12th tuitions. That’s where I saw her first. It was a magical moment. I was standing with a couple of friends eating vada pav- my all time favourite junk food. I bit into the soft bread, the tangy chutney just tickling my taste buds when she arrived in full flourish. I was awestruck by her presence. Just when I was ogling at the beauty I bit into a very hot vada. As fate would have it I could not swallow or spit and made a complete fool out of myself. Ok…. May be it was not that magical but let me assure you, there was not one head which didn’t turn in her direction. She was looking glorious in the yellow-green Punjabi suit.





It was probably a month after the first time I saw her that I got to speak with her, and let me tell you… I sucked… Words just didn’t come out and I was again coming out off as an idiot.
We were from rival schools. Now, I’m not going to name the school but anyone who knows where I am from probably knows there are only two schools whose rivalry is famous. But somehow that rivalry never showed up when we talked. Finally after many failed attempts I succeeded in making her smile. And from then on I was easy. I could be myself around her. She made me feel comfortable. She started spending time with me and my friends were jealous. I could tell that. Other girls who never spoke with me suddenly started to strike a conversation. Probably only to find out why the hot chick is with someone unattractive like me.




We spoke on the phone. We were very good buddies. Although I was madly in love with her, I could not tell her because she was going around with a guy from my school. I wished many time that she would be mine. She said that she would always be my friend. After my board exams I got to see less and less of her. Even the phone calls trickle d down to just one phone call in a year to wish her on her birthday. She somehow forgot very conveniently that people are born so they have birthdays. Of the 8 years that I’ve known her, she didn’t wish me once on my birthday.
After the board exams we went our different ways, I studied science, she…. Well, I really don’t know. But we met again. The year was 2003 for our Graduation exams. She was truly an angel. Maybe a bad one but angel none the less.

The mayhem of those old feelings surged from deep below, gripping me tightly. I felt like I was 16 again. I wanted to talk to her, wanted to make her laugh. I wanted to look into those deep black eyes. But she was now with another boy named ‘Abu’ or something like that. I hated his guts.




Finally in the year 2008 when I called her on her birthday she said the worst thing anyone could ever think of. She said…”you know something, the reason I don’t call anymore is because my boyfriend is very possessive. He does not like me talking to any male friends.”
Accepted…. From that moment I never called again.




Some part of me still wants her, still adores her and still wishes that she were mine. If there was any chance of getting one wish fulfilled, I know what I would ask…. A CHANCE TO MEET HER AGAIN.

Its summer, 36 degrees of remorseless heat; yet I feel cold. Sweat covers my forehead but I quiver. Something does not seem right. I live in the dark… it's rainy, it's cold, it's wet and it's gloomy. Yet outside my window, I see the sun shining, children playing and people cursing the sun. They seem to want respite from the heat. Am I too afraid to venture out in the sun without you? Is it your company that I long? Or is it just that I'm too broken inside?

I've shut down the windows and drawn the curtains. I have turned off the lights as well. I smoke and smoke and smoke some more, wishing that you could come and fight with me and ask me to stop… tell me things that I already know… get angry with me and assure me that I am not just a dog begging for a piece of bone… even a used up bone!

I don't eat anymore… I don't smile. I live in solitude wishing that I had never wished us apart. I punish myself for being the kind of jerk that I have always been; pretending that I could support myself. But I never stop thinking about you.

Death too seems to be ignorant to take me along with her… I wait in anticipation for a miracle which would never happen. I have loved too little and cared too less for people who mattered. I gambled all my happiness away in search of some illusion. I gambled and lost everything.

I wish to eternity that you were here now… just like the old days when the curve of your smile could set everything straight. When the touch of your hand on mine seemed to assure me of achieving the impossible, when the tear in your eyes did not make me helpless but rather gave me the courage to stand up for everything I'm worth and reduce your pain… just like old times. And though I made you cry, I cried too… silently… with the pillow absorbing the tears.

I remember how you felt that there was something wrong even when I smiled. I remember your endless chatter filling my dreams and my thoughts when you were not there… I remember the words of encouragement you gave. I remember the aroma of the food you prepared… simple yet delicious… I remember not eating because I was angry… and how you didn't eat too…

Those old photograph of yours which we saw together so many times… I wish I had some more! For memories fade but pictures speak a thousand words…!!! I wished I was more considerate and loved you more than all the materialistic things I was running after. I wish I was there when you needed me. I wished I had never left you alone to fight the battles of life.

Now, you are no more with me. Although I know that you loved me and I never told you enough how much I did too… I want to be with you again, cry like a baby and you would comfort me. I know you would wipe off my tears with your pallu and kiss my forehead… just like old times. I wish you could make the same tasty Gajaar ka halwa that I loved so much.

Maa… It's difficult to live without you… please come back… I'm too lonely without you. Or Maa, just take me where you have gone… and let others mourn my death…..!!!