What is it?

To hold and to know it makes no difference,
To drop and to know it does not break,
Guess I know what it is!
A mass, cozy and warm!

Twist it, squeeze it,
It still retains its form,
The print fine as new,
No stain, no fringe, just perfect!

In which it contained,
it feels the twist,
Marked and deformed,
yet whole somehow!

One and One, always make two,
Two of its kind, make a wealth,
Rich or poor, caste or creed,
All rich with two of it!

One of its kind,
Old or young, witch or beast,
God or human, all alike,
Sour and sad, pay a price!

What is it?

Conscientious Choices!!

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental.

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She looked across the hall from over the rim of her champagne glass.

The casual grace with which he stood, the slight curve of his mouth, the attention in his eyes and then she heard his voice, the educated lyric in his words and then the chuckle that escaped his lips. She stood stark still, taking in everything she could hold, his masculinity, his charm, his grace, his aura, his very presence. She wants to snatch him away, from all these people.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?”, she heard someone say.
“Oh My! Bless my soul!!! He is superb and he is also insanely rich”, she heard someone answer.
“I think he is gay”, someone quipped.
“Oh no, he is not. He cannot be. I just set my eyes on him and he is mine”, someone said.

“He is mine and mine alone”, she thought as she looked in the direction from where she heard these comments. The societal vultures casting hungry eyes at their latest prey. She want to shoo them away. She walked across to them and said, “Sure is hot in here”. They glanced at each other knowingly and in a mock whisper said, “Sure it is not you?” and laughed out loud. The crass talk so much a part of their lives as the deception they are capable of. They were babbling all along, but her mind was else where, wandering down to the man who held everyone’s attention. Their eyes met and he smiled at her.

Neither time nor distance mattered any longer, when the familiarity blurred and she was hooked to his vision as he was to her. The people and the room slipped to oblivion, the future mattered little, what mattered was the present and the NOW. She was suspended in time…

“I love you”, she said.
“I love you too…”, she heard him say.

She looked at him and there was kindness in his eyes. She waited knowing that he was not through.

“I cannot do it. Not now. I need time. I just cannot walk away. I have responsibilities”, he said.
“How long?”, she asked quietly.
“A few more days”, he said.
“Don’t… don’t lie to me”, she said, barely able to let out the words, as her vision clouded at the now familiar words that escaped his lips.
“I..”, he was about to say something.

Gesturing him to wait, she said, “I know that the days make years too and I also know the implicit meaning in your words. It only matters that you CARED enough to hold me till now. It only matters that I love you.”
“I love..”
“Don’t… say that”, she silenced him with the pain in her voice. “Don’t say you love me. Not now, not ever”, she said, turning away from him. “You have your priorities and I am not one of them”, she said, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“Now, just wait a minute, wait a damn minute. You are my priority. I Lo..”, he stopped midway at the look she gave him.
“I love you. I need time”, he said, imploring.

If looks could kill, he would have been dead a thousand times, at the look she gave him. The disgust, the mistrust, the anger and above all the hurt on her face hurled a thousand obscenities at him, but it was her hurt that stopped him dead in his tracks and wished he were dead.
“Goodbye”, she said, walking away.

He watched until he could see her no longer and murmured, “Goodbye my love. Be happy.”

He knew it would be pointless to talk to her. He knew this would be a very long night for her. He knew he has tough times ahead of him to convince her that he loved her. It matters not what the world thought of him, but it mattered what she thought of him.

She recalled this conversation with him five years ago and the pain with which she left him came back to her, freezing her in place as she met his gaze. He held her eyes and his eyes touched her everywhere, the five years stripped to a momentary glance, into the thousand questions in his eyes, the shock on his face, the warmth in his eyes…

She was jolted out of her reverie when she heard, “Sir, meet my lovely wife”, and saw her husband waving at her to join them.
As she walked to them she noticed the pain in his eyes as he tried to hold himself together.
“Honey, meet my boss Ankit”, she heard her husband say.
“Hello”, she said, politely.
She saw his face change and contort into a smile, “Congratulations!! Sidhu is the best of our best”, he managed to stutter.

He was standing in her reception, staring at her in front of her husband! A day into her marriage and he already threw in a challenge, as if her life was not complicated enough without his presence here. All of a sudden he wanted to rip this guy to pieces, tear him with his bear hands. He has no right to touch her, no right to even stand beside her. She was his, by choice.

He looked at her again and her eyes were burning into him.

“Ankit”, he said, holding out his hand.
“Ankit..a”, she said, shaking his hand.

The slight pause evident only to him just as her heartbeat was evident only to him. The way she said her name was just like the old times, pronouncing his name first and then adding the ‘a’ quietly, her way of saying they were together, forever. He - entwined inseparably in her. Without her he had no meaning and without him, she had no identity that she cared for.

Now he understood why the invitation read, “Mr. and Mrs. Varma.”
One look at the invitation and he laughed out loud saying, “Mrs. Varma? What, she has no name?” and Sidhu answered, “She wanted to be addressed as Mrs. Varma. Her wish, my command”, he answered proudly. He never understood why anyone would want to do that, just a day into their marriage.

Now he understood… that she chose to remain his…

Promise??

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental.

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He was looking out of the window and into the back yard when he saw his wife rushing into the back yard threatening his daughter to not jump from the tree. His heart did a flip flop when he saw his six year old daughter do just that. He leaped down the stairs and into the back yard, just in time to notice the swell of the leg.

“Ritu…”, his voice thundered as his daughter looked at him with tear stained face.
His wife was already fussing over her.
He lifted her gently into his arms and rushed to the car to take her to the hospital. After the leg was properly casted and they were heading home, he asked, exasperation clear in his voice, “What were you thinking?”.
“Dad, I was trying the trapeze act. Remember the circus you took me to? I loved that and I was trying to jump like they did. If I want to be a performer some day, I need to practice, right?”, she said, eyes as wide as saucers and conviction in her voice and a slight mockery that he did not understand her act.

He composed his expression to a good poker face, trying not to laugh out loud lest he should hurt her feelings. He wondered if it would be wise to point that no daughter of his will be a performer of any sort, except being the ‘exceptional’ performer in academics. But, wisely he kept quiet and said, “They were trained acrobats. If you want to perform the act like they did, then you need to be trained like they were. So, will you please not repeat this act until I can arrange for a proper training?”

She looked at him with a brilliant smile and said, “Thank you dad, you are the best.”

“Promise?”

“Yes dad”, she answered promptly.

“Promise?”, he reiterated.

“Yes dad, I promise not to try on my own until I am trained”, affirming that she understood.

He let out an inaudible sigh.

He thought that with time she would soon lose interest, until a year later, he saw her dangling down from the rope from the top of the tree. He was barely in control of himself when he walked into the back yard.

“I told you to not do that again”, he said through the clenched teeth.

“I am sorry”, she said, shuddering at the fury in his eyes and the tone of his voice.

“You promised…”, he reminded, still through clenched teeth.

“So did you”, she said quietly.

Legends Debate - does it matter?

Cannot understand why there should be comparison of the greats or legends from different eras or from the same era. How can one compare Federer to Sampras or compare Rahul to Sachin?

Can Federer play volley as brilliantly as Sampras does? Can Sampras read opponent’s serve as splendidly as Federer does? Can Federer produce a power shot (slam dunk) as superbly as Sampras does? Can Sampras play well on clay as well as Federer does? Can Federer match Sampras pace in the serve? Can Sampras produce angles at impossible points as Federer does? Can Federer play for a point as long as Sampras does? The list goes on and on.. and every minute detail can be pointed out, but the fact that Federer is ten years younger to Sampras and has grown up idolizing him should put a break to all this Sampras and Federer, who is great debate. But no, people have to indulge in this. Sampras is a legend and the games of the then era were not one-sided. I do not want to get into the debate about competitiveness and the mastery of Federer, for he is the master of every shot one has ever seen on the tennis court and then some. Federer is a master of his game and let me leave it at that. Sampras is still a legend, not because he retired and one has to talk good about him, but because he is one cool customer on the court and his game was not just fascinating, it was fierce and splendid.

Can Sachin play for two continuous days without pulling a hamstring? Can Rahul hit a straight six with the finesse of the master blaster? Can Sachin play a defensive stroke and make it look like a brush stroke of Da Vinci? Can Rahul play an aggressive stroke and make it look like this is what he grew up doing? Can Sachin bat one down and display the composure required for that position? Can Rahul open the innings (agreed he opened a few) and play with the magic of Sachin? Can Sachin build partnerships as well as Rahul does? Can Rahul provide the confidence to India that he can see the match through (except in test cricket ofcourse. Dare to challenge me?). Can Sachin lay claim to the victories India had, overseas? Let’s not go into statistics either. Can’t we just understand that the game plan is different for both the players, their style and approach is different? Sachin has been a legend and inspired even the likes of Dravid. Sachin is not God, but a human with boundless talent and so is Rahul, albeit with a different ball game. I would say that we are lucky India produced the likes of Sachin, Rahul, SOurav, Anil when it did.

The legends are merely a creation of stats, but the persona of the people is what leaves the mark on the pages of history and legends as above have already marked their greatness with their humility, dedication and self-belief. These people have been there and done that and nothing of the lasting debates will ever make them better or worse, apart from passing the too valuable time with inconsequentiality. Now this post should also be inconsequential, but I just had to rant out, for I just cannot understand the contrasts or comparisons. Sourav vs Sachin, Sachin vs Lara, Federer’s opponents vs Sampras opponents… Records are made and will be broken, if it is not today, it will be in some distant future. We all have role models and we walk with their memories in heart and some grow up with the memories in their blood. There will walk a legend one day who might appear to be better than everyone that earth has seen. But that does not belittle any of the achievements any other person in the history book has made. We just need to be open to appreciate that!

Happy Birthday, my love

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental.

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Abhi was staring at the computer, hoping for some miracle, as his new problem does not seem to dissolve at his persuasive attempts. The clock keeps ticking as the seconds tick to minutes and into hour. At the strike of six O’clock in the evening, his calendar snoozed reminding him that he promised his girl friend a ride and dinner, as her birthday present. His heart did a flip flop as he realized he might not make it and ruin her perfectly good day.

“Are you done?”, his manager was standing next to him.

“Not even close”, he responded.

His manager grunted and went his way. Abhi was frustrated. He loved his work and prided himself on his priorities and days like this, he wished he was working else where than this timeless job he landed himself in.

At seven, knowing that he would be spending more than a reasonable amount of time in the office, he took a deep breath and called his girl friend. They were married, but he fancied calling her his girl friend. Her only demand ever was that he spent some quality time with her, particularly on occasions, than purchase mindless gifts that are not worth the money or time, as he fancied giving her. And thus, though the broken promise particularly as trivial as a dinner should have been understandable between a wife and husband, when they share every breath together, left him displeased endlessly.

The phone was unanswered. He called the landline and got the answering machine.

“Hi honey, I am sorry, but I seem to be held with work, do you think you can forgive me? Promise, I will make it up to you”, he said into the phone. Knowing that she would be listening, he said, “Promise that I will take the rest of the week off, please answer the phone”, shuddering that he would never get an entire week off, particularly with the tender date approaching. After a moment’s silence, he hung up the phone. He had some very long persuasion to do.

He looked at the screen again and decided to give it a fresh start. He struggled for another beastly hour to tally the figures on the excel sheet. The numbers seem to elude him today before he noticed what he was missing. It was glaring right in his face all this time. Cursing at his stupidity, he modified the sheet, verified the figures at the bottom and sent the sheet to his manager. At eight, he was a satisfied man, walking to his car shuddering what lay ahead. He drove home picking his wife’s favourite orchids at a princely price, after all, a man has some charming to do when he reached home.

“Honey, I am home”, he called out as he twisted the door knob. The lights were off. He walked round to switch on the light, noticing that the quietness disturbed him. He was prepared for persuading her, but silence would only make it harder.

He called out, “Swapna??”

A reverberating echo greeted him. He looked around, noticing the picture that hung on his wall. Married for five years seventy eight days, his childhood sweet heart was looking at him, in fact questioning him if he no longer cared to make her feel special. But something was wrong with the photo. It took a minute to notice the dried bouquet of roses below it. Collapsing to the floor, he wept unabashed at the empty house, glad that he had work that demands more of his attention than the harsh cruelties of life.

Gathering himself, he got up and replaced the roses with orchids he bought for her and said, “Happy Birthday, my love. I miss you.”

!! Betrayal !!

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental.

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“Betrayal! Long ago I heard these words, not exactly those words, but the essence and years ago, the pain was as acute as it is today and if years have taught me anything, well, I thought they taught me how to deal with words, but alas, they have not taught me how to deal with pain! Words are the cause of pain, I can ignore the words, but can I ignore the pain?”

Maggie sat stuffed with her teddy, softly caressing it and lost in the chain of thoughts, leaving her vulnerable than ever. She wished she could do justice to herself. Why is she inflicting this upon herself?

“Go ahead Mom, I am tired of telling you to leave me alone. You want it, just do it, but do not expect me to keep jumping up and down and say, ‘yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy’. You want something, you got it, now can’t you leave me alone?”, she spit out before she could understand what she was talking.

“I have left you alone, giving you space and time. How long? I care for you, we care for you and we cannot see you suffer like this”, her mother wailed.

“What is mine, is mine alone, can’t you understand that?”, Maggie whined.

“And can’t you understand that you are mine? And what is yours is mine too?”, her mom countered.

Knowing this could go on forever, Maggie shut herself up and plugged in her music. She could hear the faint words, yet they are lost as her train of thoughts threatened to leave her insane. She let out a wail, that pierced through her thoughts and she closed her eyes, letting the tears slide down. The quiet anguish of her mother lost in her mutiny, until another day. This is not the end, she knew it, neither was it a beginning. It was a continuous struggle, between conscience, practicality, trust and love.

“Don’t you trust us?”, her mother’s voice echoed, like a shriek of pain in the midnight’s silence, breaking whatever sanity she held. Betraying herself, she swallowed the pain and let the anger flow. She suppressed her anger and said, “Trust on you has nothing to do with this.”

The silence that followed had nothing to do with the people in the room being quiet, each lost in their train of thoughts. Another attempt, another persuasion, another goading and the conclusive silence – everyone’s life. The love, the ripple, the hurt, the betrayal –too, a part of everyone’s lives.

Too late???

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental.

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“Let me drop you”, he said.

“Not if you are the last one left on this earth”, she growled.

His pride took a ride, yet the fear for her, overbearing every rationale. The terrorists are loose in the city and the thought of her life in danger, however remote the possibility caused him to swallow his ego and ask of her again, “Please…”

“I would rather be within the touching distance of a suicide bomber”, she said.

Turning her back to him, she walked away, muttering, “So typical of him to think I require him now, as though I have not survived without him. I do not need him to feel secure in my life. I am happy and perfect and ….”

“Are you?”, her conscience questioned.

“Yes”

“Stop lying to yourself at least”, her conscience countered.

“I am not”, she argued stubbornly.

His eyes followed her retreating back and wondered how it ever came to this?

What happened to them? The tiff a few months ago held no meaning, just the drag of silence compelling and significant, each sticking to their guns.

He still felt he did nothing wrong.

“Nothing?”, his conscience probed him.

“May be I need to apologise, get over with it. What if she will treat me with polite aloofness? That will hurt me more.”

“Will that pain be more than the happiness you will have, when she is with you?”, his conscience countered.

“No, but still, what if she wishes to never look at my face again?”

“Do you want to still contemplate, knowing that she completes you?”

“What if she ignores me?”

“Is that it? Is that what you are afraid of? That she would ignore you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then she is better off without you!”, his conscience stated.

The very thought piercing and ripping him apart.

“May be I will just talk to her and see where she stands.”

“Coward”, his conscience challenged.

BOOOOOM!!!!

The tremble of the earth, the deafening explosion and the reverberating echo of the blast and the sudden dread in his heart…

“Oh God!”… Aghast, he raced through the path, dialling the now unfamiliar number, the number he made a conscious effort to not dial in the last six months…

He took in the sight in front of his eyes. Sirens are blasting everywhere it seemed, yet he was livid. His eyes unfocused and his breath uneven, he looked at his cell impatiently, noticing that there is no coverage…

“$$$$!!” “F$***!!”, he bellowed…

“Am I too late?”, his voice echoed through his mind, his questions hung in the air, cluttered as the evident destruction in front of him while he hopelessly looked around…

Battles are always fought alone...

But for you, this attempt would be in vain,
Yet I write to dissuade my pain!

Someday you will know to overcome your fears…
Someday, when all is lost and nothing remains, you will learn to be brave…
Someday, when you need someone and you find yourself alone, you will know that life’s battles are always fought alone…
That day, when you need someone, think of me…
I promise not to be there, for I am not one to forgive…
But I will ache for your attempts in vain, to reach beyond the dearth,
That day, I will weep, seeing you fumble, for I chose my path!!
Blissfully ignoring your chivalry, I walk ahead,
A mirthless laugh, a careless word, was it worth it?
It doesn’t matter!

You took away from me, a thing of value,
I am not above foolishness, knowing the bungle in my ways,
I steer through the muddied waters, through the murk, where my doom lurks,
Hell hath less fury than a scorned woman, goes the saying,
I walk ahead, to the precipice and into the hell,
Where I mourn me…

Goodbye, my love, don’t think of me,
You will rise again and into paradise,
My will and wish for your glory…

Ten things I dislike!

Hmm, again, a tag… but considering that the operative word is ‘hate’, I am unsure if I want to take it up, for I do not generally like using such strong euphemism when it is negative. I would post what I dislike the most though…

1) I cannot stand indecisiveness. That is a BIG minus to me. C’mon, you either do it or you don’t, each triggering their own paths. Being afraid of consequences you can’t forever be in an indefinite loop.

2) I do not like double standards. You say something, you mean it, else don’t say it. How difficult can it be?

3) I do not like beating round the bush. I consider it a sheer waste of time and would rather get to the point than fish around for a trap.

4) I do not like satisfying people for the heck of it, I mean to say, one cannot satisfy every Tom, Dick and Harry, nor can one satisfy their loved ones at all times and just to get over the immediate wrath, I rather not give a satisfying answer, when I know I will end up hurting them in the near distant future.

5) I do not like breaking a word, however small it is. And I do not like people who cannot communicate that they could not keep their word.

6) I do not like to wait nor do I like to keep someone waiting for me, without untoward communication.

7) I do not like being disturbed when I am working on something and especially when I have communicated that I do not wish to be disturbed and especially when it would be as trivial as saying a ‘hello’ since they could not communicate with me throughout the day! However endearing it may be, it is not something I appreciate and have patience for.

8) I cannot stand cowardice. If one does not have integrity, the very existence seems to be a mote point.

9) I do not like being told about anything twice. Just to point out that I am not very patient. You told me once, I heard it. I am unclear or I don’t want to do, believe me, you will know about it. Full stop!

10) I do not like people intruding into my space and the consequences are often harsh. I allow you to a point, but you become over bearing, you r in for a surprise!

Well, I seem to list out traits that I dislike. I do not judge people, my only yardstick being their behaviour with me and I try and conduct myself orienting to their mentality. Chameleon!!!

Happy Birthday to Me!!

What is it about a birthday that wants you to be more of a kid than a grown adult? And what is it about wrapped presents, the glittery paper with just about any color you can imagine, that kind of makes you look forward to it like a kid being promised a candy if he behaves in the party? (Were you ever bribed like that? Fortunately for my parents, I never threw tantrums except for not going to a party and if I ever went, I was so scared of crowd that I used to run behind my mom, not even dad, always mom :), but I know a couple of my friends who knew how to turn a party into a nightmare and they were promised anything they craved, as long as they behaved and boy, did you get to see the angels they were!). Though this birthday was far from being the best, it certainly made it to the top ten and considering I am half of half way there (wherever the heck it is) – that is the exact verse of my birthday wish!, thanks to my Mom for cheering me up, as she always did, to Sand (Sandeep) and Sri (Srikanth), my friends who still take the pain of my company, from miles away, with their warm gesture reminding me that I still am in their thoughts however busy they might be in their lives, to Puri (purnima), for her warm note, to Arch for the card that drove a point home, that Gemini’s are twins, evil and angel :D, to Su (Sumeet) for giving me the most thoughtful present and to all my colleagues who took the trouble of wishing me on my birthday, I was a kid again, a kid willing to rip the wrapping paper with eager hands and open the surprise package. 

Can you believe that at this age, I got carom board for a present? Su, thanks for that. Thoughtful because I just want to be by myself most of the time these days, that instead of giving me a chess board he gave me a carom board implying in his own subtle way that it sometimes takes company to walk through life and every battle need not be fought being alone or staying alone. Probably not his thought when he purchased it, but it somehow reminded me of the happy times I had, not so long ago, with Mom, uncle, Dad, Grand pa, friends. A lot can happen over coffee is the tag line, but a lot can happen over a game of caroms too (with me on the other side ) and all of my happy memories have been by being in company of the people I love, but not by pushing people out of my life! The present, true to its nature brought me to the present time. This present is as significant as one other present from my past, when my sir gifted me “The Fountain Head”, which proved priceless and is monumental in my life, which I read almost every time I want some sense of sanity. 

More than the gifts or the wishes of all the well wishers and the blessings of all the wise and elderly, the upbeat came in because of being with my family and do nothing but just be with them. Celebrating the birthday with my mom, my favourite person in this world and sharing it with her is awesome and the look on her face when the candle was playing Happy Birthday, the cheeky smile that lit her face was worth the year’s wait :D….

Having the habit of taking resolutions on my birthday, it generally means it is time for retrospection. I am a person who sets her mind on to something and gives her will to it, let the fate fall into place, but willing to fight the eventuality to let the outcome be as I desired it would be. But this year, it is my resolution to not fight fate, but to accept it gracefully. That does not mean I will not fight to see the outcome I want, but I will accept the surprises with same grace and elation as I would accept success. Other than that, I will try to give my best possible attention to every thing that I do, but more importantly, I will reach a stop by this time next year, a significant one, the one I am journeying towards. I will make the journey count, I will make the stop count and I will relish every single twist that life offers. With a hope that next year I will be proud of where I stand, personally and professionally, Happy Birthday to me! My present to myself has been freedom and compromise:)! It looks as though I was shut in a jail or something, right? :D, well, that is not the case. It is freedom from restraints. Sometimes we are bound by our own words so much that they tend to be chains tying you to wrought iron cast, but the will to see through the pretensions and open your eyes to reality can break those restraints. Compromise in that I wanted to be invisible on my birthday, but for one person and so, I played a good sport and let chips fall into place for the rest of the day, well, wasn’t that a resolution :D? Material gifts include an ipod with whopping 160GB memory, a phone (slide, I wanted a slide model since the day I held a cell in my hands :() and an action of a long laid plan (it took insanity to cure my fear of being rationale :D).

“You carve your own paths in life, you create your own happiness, no one is with you and no one will be with you. So, as long as you live, be happy and live life the way you want to. Today is yours and yours to smile, so cheer up and make this your day.” – Mom – her wish and blessing…

“Happy Birthday! God bless you with happiness and peace of mind.” – Dad, his wish and blessing.

“Happy Birthday! Hoping that your life is filled with prosperity, happiness” – Grand Mom, her wish and blessing.

Finally, Happy Birthday to me, live life, queen size :)…