TO SHAH RUKH KHAN, A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU... FROM JUST ANOTHER FAN

Dear Shah Rukh,

Every year on my birthday, I take a moment or few to look back at my life and count my blessings whether it's in the few things that I have been able to accomplish or in the form of family and friends who have made my life worth living. Every year on your birthday, I pray and hope that you are blessed with your loved ones and coming true of all your little and big dreams and thank you for all that you have done for me, without even realising it.

When people ask me why I like you so much and what is it about you and your films that make me love you, I'm at a loss of words. I have to admit I have not been one of your biggest fans, who would watch your films first day first show or buy all the magazines with your interviews in it or watch every single program featuring you as a guest or talking about you or fill my room with your posters and newspaper cuttings or be able to give every detail about your life starting from where you were born to how you reached where you are today. Yet, I still feel I am your biggest fan.

Even though my life hasn't been all that eventful, it has had some crucial turning points, bringing about some welcoming and some not-so-welcoming changes. And in those times, somehow or the other, you have played an important role in guiding me or making me see things in a different way. I don't remember all your lines in every film of yours, but I do keep in mind your views and thoughts in your interviews. It has helped me to cope with my own life's changes, however different the circumstances may have been.

I am not sure if one can measure how much the absence or the presence of a person in one's life can change the course of his life. Losing a loved one is not easy, this I am sure of. I cannot say if I have learned to cope with my mother's death, perhaps we hardly can no matter how much life moves ahead. Your words have somehow, I won't say reduced the pain but cushioned it to a great extend. Your words about how your mom is now seating on God's head and making sure nothing goes wrong for you. I was looking for some comfort and I found it in those words. Death is more about what is left behind than what is gone. Dealing with the life after, and believing there was life ahead was difficult. I have done okay, I guess. Even though nothing can fill the emptiness that overwhelms me, sometimes out of the blue and sometimes slowly taking over me.

I know how important it is to have dreams in one's life. To work towards making them come true. But I also know that seeing the coming true of our loved one's dreams can be equally if not more satisfying. I admire you for having achieved some of your dreams, working not against but together with all the odds in your life. I'm still lacking in determination and resolution in this department. If I find myself still holding on to them, is because I know it is worth it. I have never really dwelt much on success or failure. I believe the definition varies with each individual. A success or a failure in one's eyes is what really matters in the end.

By being your fan I have gifted myself the gift of immortality, to some extend. When I met my relatives from my village, after a long time, they told me that they missed me a lot when they saw your movie. That's when it struck me that you and your films will always remain even after you or me. All those who know me, whether my immediate family or other or friends and acquaintances, will remember me and miss me when they see your films or anything related to you. But a reminder may not always be a good thing. One ends up missing the other person so much more. I guess there's hardly anything that's perfect, least when it comes to emotions.

There's so much to achieve and so much more to do. I wish you all the luck or like my friend says, 'will' you all the luck in whatever you do. May happiness be with you and around you, wherever you go. God bless you.

Wishing you a very Happy Birthday!

With deepest gratitude and love,

Just Another Fan

LATA MANGESHKAR’S TOP 10 SONGS IN MY LIFE

The country celebrated Lata Mangeshkar’s 80th birthday on 28th September. Her name has become synonymous not just with music but a look at her career is like looking at an encyclopaedia of the history of music in Hindi films. Through her songs one can relate the various trends that have inspired the musical world, the several leading actresses who charmed the audience across the decades, the many talented music composers and the creative lot of wordsmiths.

The list was humungous. It was difficult to pin down on few songs from such a vast collection. The problem with compiling a 10 or 20 songs collection is that there will always be something worth mentioning in the list which would have not made it. My list however, is based solely on the significance of the songs in my life and how they have shaped some of my best memories.

• Maine Kaha Phoolon Se… Mili 1975, S D Burman, Yogesh

This was one of the songs mom really liked. She would hum it and we’d just look at her. She would tell us about the first time she had seen the movie and how she loved the song. Then finally we one day we got to see the movie ourselves along with her. It was a treat to see the movie. It was fun as well as sad kind of movie. I guess that’s how one feels after watching a Hrishikesh Mukherjee film.

'Maine kaha phoolon se hason to woh khilkhila ke hasdiye... aur ye kaha jeevan hai, bhai mere bhai hasne ke liye..'

• Tujhse Naaraaz Nahi Zindagi… Masoom 1983, R D Burman, Gulzar

This movie makes me cry every time I see it. The emotions were so innocently portrayed and how real they seemed, even to a young child. I have no recollection of the first time when I saw this movie. But I remember watching it several times. Once with the whole family and I was crying then. Recently I saw it with my brother and sister, I was crying even then. They were catching up on a lot other things, chatting while watching the film. I was completely engrossed in the movie and was trying to hide it but could help sobbing audibly. They looked at me, then at each other and sister remarked mockingly to brother – we’ve become emotionless! We all had a good laugh after that.

Shabana pulls a blanket over Rahul, lying on his bed after the police bring him back. He had run off when he found out about Shah being his real father. He looks up at Shabana and says sorry. Unable to control her emotions, she rushes out of the room and weeps uncontrollably… the song playing in the background in Lata’s voice just grips you.

'zindagi tere gham ne hamein rishtein naye samjhaye... mile jo hamein dhoop mein mile, chhao ke thande saaye...'

• Tu Jaha Jaha Chalega… Mera Saaya 1966, Madan Mohan, Raja Mehndi Ali Khan

The song first struck a chord with me when it was used in a Rajiv Gandhi AV on Doordarshan. The song was played in the background with shots of Rajiv Gandhi and his mother Indira Gandhi. I found it interesting and emotional – the idea that even though she is not alive, she’s still there with him at every step. It might have been a great marketing strategy for Gandhi, but it didn’t strike me then.

The song has in the recent past become more personal. Every time I hear it I’d feel this voice of assurance that my mom is still here with me. And if through the course of the song I felt sad and lonely... the following lines of the song would comfort me…

‘Tu agar udaas hoga, to udaas hungi main bhi… nazar awung ya na awung tere paas hungi main bhi…’

• Tu Kitni Achchi Hai… Raja Aur Runk 1968, Laxmikant-Pyarelal, Anand Bakshi

Papa used to buy cassettes, mostly old ones. But he was also tuned into the latest Hindi film songs as well. It was the time of Aashiqui and he would play it every morning to wake us up. He knew the songs by heart and would sing it in his own style, putting lots of expressions in the song as well as on his face. During those days he bought this new cassette with two films combo – Raja Aur Runk and Khilona. I still remember most of these songs and drive my friends crazy with songs like ‘Phirki Wale Tu Kal Phir Aana…’ and ‘Khush Rahe Tu Sada…’

Raja aur Runk had this particular song which was picturised on Nirupa Roy and a child artist. Lata was voicing for the little boy, singing praises of mother…

‘dookhan lagi hai maa teri ankhiyan... mere liye jaagi hai tu saari-saari ratiyan...
mere neendiyan pe apni neendiyan bhi tune vaari hai...

maa bachchon ki jaan hoti hai... woh hote hain kismet wale jinke maa hoti hai..
kitni sundar hai, kitni sheetal hai, nyaari-nyaari hai...

tu kitni achchi hai, tu kitni bholi hai… pyari, pyari hai, o maa…
ki yeh jo duniya hai, yeh ban hai kaaton ka, tu phoolwari hai…'

• Ichak Daana Beechak Daana… Shri 420 1955, Shankar-Jaikishen, Shailendra

This song from the film Shri 420 had a life of its own independent of the film in my life. I thought it was just a random song earlier; only recently I got to know it was from this film. My paternal grandmother was quite a lady! She still mystifies me even though it has been years since she passed away. She would visit us in Shillong if and when her health permitted. It was during one of these visits that the three of us – sister, brother and me – told her to narrate tales of her youth. My sister is very persuasive without being intrusive in her questions. She asked her about her childhood, about how she met Grandfather who died a year or two prior to our meeting, about the actors she liked and other interesting tales. She loved Mithoon a lot and if he was on TV there’d be no way we could change the channel. She would ask father or any one of us to translate what was being said. She was a very expressive woman and she would react to the movie like guys do while watching a sports match.

My sister then told her to sing a song. She said she really liked this song and she sang it a lot in her youth. Then she started singing the song, her eyes lit up, moving her hands to the song in a typical Manipuri dance movement.

‘Ichak daana, beechak daana… daane upar daana… ichak daana…’

She was a very stern, strict and authoritative lady to most. But to us she was this endearing, almost child-like woman, happy in spirit and soul. The moment has stayed with us.

• Milti Hai Zindagi Mein Mohabbat… Aankhen 1968, Ravi, Sahir Ludhianvi

It was time for the afternoon movie on Doordarshan. We all gathered around the TV. For most part it would just be the three of us – mom, sister and me. The movie was ‘Aankhen’ starring Mala Sinha and Dharmendra. I knew and liked Dharmendra but wasn’t really fond of Mala Sinha. This film is one exception where I really liked her a lot.

The song is the declaration of love by Mala Sinha to Dharmendra. He says no to her proposal and it would be years before they encounter each other. I didn’t understand much about how love worked then, not that I do now. But I felt this strange sense of wrong being done by Dharmendra for not accepting her love. With time as I hear the song again I marvel at the lyrics, so true.

• Bada Natkhat Hai Re… Amar Prem 1971, R D Burman, Anand Bakshi

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2KngOTfCR7s
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUqDjX-nvLw)

Despite the fact that I am neither fond of Sharmila Tagore nor Rajesh Khanna, this is one of my favourite films. I like the relationship of Sharmila and the child, the way it has been portrayed. The song comes at two points, one when the boy is still young and the second time when he comes back to the city, all grown up, married with a child.

‘Aa tohe main gale se laga loong… lage na kisi ki nazar, man mein chhupa loong…
Dhoop jagat hai re… mamata hai chhaiya…’

• Rajnigandha Phool Tumhare… Rajnigandha 1974, Salil Choudhary, Yogesh

The interest in the song is pretty recent. I know about the film but have not seen it as yet. After watching the movie, my sister became really fond of the flower Rajnigandha (tuberose) and would often buy it. So, the fondness for the song and the flower developed. It really is a fragrant flower. I have heard the song before and I really like the following part of the song…

‘aadhikaar ye jab se saajan kaa har dhadakan par maanaa maine
main jab se un ke saath bandhee, ye bhed tabhee jaanaa maine
kitanaa sukh hain bandhan mein…’

Lyric was penned by one of the most under-rated lyricists, Yogesh.

• Dekho Maine Dekha Hai… Love Story 1981, R D Burman, Anand Bakshi

There are some songs I associate with my parents. Dad is more outspoken and expressive compared to mom who is more the silent type. Dad would often sing songs to mom when we were all around, and we would associate those songs as our parent’s song. This was one of those songs, including the title track of another film ‘Prem Kahahi’. The lyrics of the song I had already learned by heart without even knowing what they meant at an early age. It’s quite a cute track if you can view yourself as a dreamer who is dreaming of a dream house with one’s lover!

• Zihaal-e-muskeen mukon ba-ranjish… Ghulami 1985, Laxmikant-Pyarelal, Gulzar

I haven’t seen the film. But I clearly remember the song and its video. Mithoon and Anita Raj atop a bus, the vast expanse of sandy Rajasthan, the folk singers… the rustic feel of the song, the rhythm and vocals…

They all came together to make this lasting memory, I can’t seem to erase. Not that I’m complaining. I like the rhythm of the song, the beats, and the feel of the song – a bit nostalgic and on the edge of romanticism…

‘Kabhi-kabhi shaam aise dhalti hai jaise ghoonghat uttar raha hai...
tumhare sine se uthata dhuwa hamare dil se guzar raha hai..

yeh sharm hai ya hayaa hai kya hai, nazar uthaate hi jhuk gayi hai
tumhaari palakon se girke shabnam, hamaari aankhon mein ruk gayi hai…

Zihaal-e-muskeen mukon ba-ranjish, bahaal-e-hijra bechara dil hai
sunayi deti hai jiski dhadkan, tumhara dil ya hamara dil hai’

There are several other great songs, which I am missing out on but I would like to add a few more of those songs which I tend to sing or listen to very often.

‘Najana kyun…’ from Chhoti Si Baat 1975, Salil Choudhary, Pradeep
I sung the song in my introduction class in my institute. It is another story that a friend tricked me into singing it in front of some 20 odd people! Such simple poetry and so true to life. Yogesh's lyrics again.

‘Ajeeb Daastaan Hai Yeh…’ from Dil Apna Aur Preet Parayee 1960, Shankar-Jaikishen, Shailendra
Most of the times, this song would be sung at the antaksharis that I played since my childhood days. The emotion of happiness and sorrow and the expressions on Meena Kumari's face. She wasn't called a Tragedy Queen for nothing.

‘Ae dil-e-nadaan…’ from Razia Sultan 1983, Khayyam, Jan Nisar Akhtar
I had always liked the slow and rather stillness of the music and the melody since I heard it. But over the years, as I began to understand the words as well, I fell in love with this one. It's like the philosophical me speaking to myself about life, love and everything in between.

‘Rahe na rahe hum…’ from Mamta 1966, Roshan, Majrooh Sultanpuri
I never really paid much attention to the song, until in one of the reality shows a participant, a very talented one indeed was eliminated and she sung it without any music, just her voice. It was an experience. After that I am in love with this song. It's like one of those perfect goodbye, take care kind of song.

‘Naam gum jayega…’ from Kinara 1977, R D Burman, Gulzar
Gulzar's imagery in his poetry is something that I have been fascinated with since I began to understand what the songs' lyrics meant, not that I understand all of his songs. The thought in the song was something that intrigued me. Moreover I always had this outlook towards life, about how transitory it really is yet how some things remain the same throughout.

‘Dil dhoodhta hai…’ from Mausam 1975, Madan Mohan, Gulzar
What an imagery! One can just see those warm afternoon in winter with one's lover. What is interesting is that the two versions of the song - a happy and a sad one - both have the same lyrics.

‘Yeh galiyan, yeh chobara…’ from Prem Rog 1982, Laxmikant-Pyarelal, Santosh Anand
Prem Rog is one of my favourite films. The point at which the song comes is the reason I like the song. The closeness of Padmini with Rishi… her sheer happiness over her marriage and Rishi’s broken heart owing to the same reason... unfortunately it would take a long time and a lot to have happened for her to realize her love for him.

‘Jaane kya baat hai…’ from Sunny 1984, R D Burman, Anand Bakshi
I started liking this song after I heard brother humming it. He lived in a boarding school in Imphal and had seen this movie and really liked the song. It’s a simple song, with minimal music and simple lyrics. And the result is pure magic. In one of her interviews, Lata mentioned that she had completely forgotten about this song and when she stumbled upon it after years she fell in love with the song (an R D Burman’s composition) all over again!

Songs from Aandhi, Ghar, Silsila and Abhimaan are too good as well. But as far as that emotional connect, a link to my life is concern, the 10 songs listed above have become a part of me, over the years…


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Have uploaded few of the videos since I had problem uploading all of them.

masterwordsmith-unplugged: TSUNAMI ALERT (updated)

I got this information from a friend who stays in Indonesia, via sms saying he was upset about what had happened... an earthquake of 7.6 magnitude hit Padang, Indonesia on Wednesday... thankfully my friend stays in another place...so far according to reports 75 people have been killed....

I'm sharing this post from a fren's blog..

masterwordsmith-unplugged: TSUNAMI ALERT (updated)

A Complete Living Moment

Life is a continuous process of growth. From what we were to where we are now and what will be in our future. It’s continuous and always flowing. The past, the present and the future always walk in tandem with each other at every moment of our existence. Perhaps beyond as well. Whatever we do we are always a part of our past, our present and our future. We are nothing but a continuous flow of all three. We can never live at any point in time in just one part of it. Even when we are thinking of our part or pondering about our future, reflecting on our mistakes or planning our days ahead, we still are in our present moment. We are the past, the future and the present. But they hardly exist in equilibrium in a single moment. There is always one which takes control and overshadows the other two. The past sometimes becomes too strong an influence on our present that we are not able to deal with the way our live is going in the moment. Then there are those moments when our future, the fear and apprehension of the unknown grips us so much so that we tend to lose our balance in life and forget to live the present at all. There are times too when we just while away our life in the present moment, harbouring no thought about where we have come from or think about where we are going. Balance in life comes only when they all exist in complete peace with each other. It’s like being a parent to three children, nurturing them and moulding them together in such a way that all three of them feel loved. Likewise, when all three, the past, the future and the present come together in a harmonious manner, with none of them intruding into the other’s space, a complete living moment exists. Most of the times we are searching for this moment in life but rarely do we find it, if at all.

The Night We Parted

It wasn’t mine. It never was. But it still is precious to me. It still is special to me. The fate was defined, long before the journey. You had yours and I had mine to follow.

Victims of circumstances…. fortunate players with narrow luck and broad goodwill of others...

Differences absolved… boundaries smudged... judgements and prejudices fell through with time and the turn of events.


Invisible thread of emotion…. indescribable flow of affection…. generous concerns and instinctive cares…

Some things brought us together…. others led to our closeness…. unspoken, unuttered yet somehow emotions were heard and felt…


The moments we shared has a life of its own... distinct, independent and disconnected with the lives we live.

Unintended a memory was woven… to think not and sigh at ‘What if’ and ‘If only’… but to look back and smile at ‘What was’…



Just so you know I have been smiling ever since we parted ways and our memories met…

19th July, 2002
Mr. Iyer’s journal entry on the night he parted with Mrs. Iyer whom he had met on a journey that changed their lives forever.

Journalistic Conscience

Human mind - One can try to evaluate the complexity of it, the method and the ways in which it functions but never fully succeed. For all the thousand conformity there will always be one or two exceptions. The way we think and the way react or respond to certain situations and circumstances in life differs with each individual. That is why perhaps, one finds some making the most of a bad situation and rising above the average to succeed and triumph in life while others fail miserable in the same situation. Greatness thus lies not in where we live or who we live it lies in how we think and comprehend our lives.

There are people whose life may not seem so well-lived or of any significance to us but who have achieved and transformed the world around them for the better with what little resources they had in hand. Compared to them we have a lot. But how much of it have we actually utilized to its full capacity?

I sit and wonder at their strength and the sacrifices they made along the way. For them, what they do does not come under any sacrifice of any sort. It is their love and passion in what they do that gives them the courage to fulfill their aspirations.

The world we live in – the parties, the events, the social dos etc. etc. – is all so superficial. And like any other person, I too have become the torchbearer for the good things in life. The images on the television, the many series and the many channels – the fine printed pages of hundreds of magazines – the launch of a new restaurant, bar or pub every other day – all adds to the ‘fake’ world we live in.

We never say what we mean. And never mean what we say. Pretence and loathing – qualities we have adopted ever so effortlessly.

One does lose one’s sense of self amidst all the superficiality of the world around us. And it is in times like these that we need to ask ourselves if we can keep on ignoring the truth; the truth that real life is no party. There is so much more at stake in this world today. We need to evaluate our thoughts and start juggling them to find what exactly it is that we have to do in our lives. What is the use of living at all if we cannot contribute towards ‘life’ in any measure at all? And yet like everyone else the thoughts come and go. And the next day the same routine follows. The real world lie waiting like a mother waiting for her son to come home.

- Written in a very conscientious moment by a journalist.

The only difference being that the son does come home, however late at night.

The above line was added by him the next morning before the document was permanently deleted.

Family – The One We Are Born With & The Ones We Make Of Our Own

A family is one that stays together. How true is it in today’s world? Not very true. We all have to build our own lives and achieve and fulfill our own individual dreams. The pursuit of our aspirations and desires take us to places where we have never been before, meeting new people, facing new challenges and living miles away from the family which meant our world when we were younger. Each one of us take our own journey trying to build our own world. In this search, we end up being far from those we love.

It does not in any way mean our hearts are no longer fonder and our love no longer stronger. The world today has become so fast and quick-footed that in order to keep moving, to keep standing upright and not fall while hundreds and thousands are walking about around you, we have to keep our momentum going. As such a family today has come to exists only in its spirit and not in presence; the spirit of togetherness and closeness as strong as ever, but just too rarely possible to embody this spirit. Somehow we end up being alone for most part of our lives. Agreed that the family lives on but one has to agree that it does not fill up the emptiness of missing the moments of sharing few laughs, few bites of one’s favourite dishes, few hugs and few kisses.

How often and how long can one keep on talking over the phone and chatting on the internet? Though complete, we somehow always end up wishing things were different and we could be living together, knowing fully that it is but only a wishful thinking! Moreover, differences will always crop up and a little distance helps in avoiding the small, silly insignificant problems. With distance the trivial things tend to not matter that much or become totally irrelevant. Focus moves on to the more important aspects of the relationships; forging a deeper connection, comforting and encouraging each other, giving that bit of thrust and energy to keep walking on the journey. And though one does wish to be together, the new found level of togetherness and bonding makes up for the physical shortcomings. Ironically, family becomes a much more integral part of one’s life somehow.

It is not that we don’t get those emotional pangs every once in a while. We do and perhaps that’s the very reason why we seek to make friends and while interacting with people around us we tend to develop an emotional bonding with those we connect with at different level from others. With time we end up making a small world of our own, filling up those spaces that left a void in our lives. Agreed that some voids are not possible to fill up but that’s the reality of life. Not every question needs an answer. Not all emptiness needs to be filled. Some breathing space needs to be there so that the individual can grow.

So, we end up building a small world around us of people who we care for and who care for us as well. They help you sail through some trying times, glide through the sticky situations and fly through happy moments. There’s no denying the importance of family. One cannot describe how and why one needs it. It’s one’s family after all. Though one is always together in spirit as one unit… the group of people around us - our friends - make up for the absence of the family… for most part of it. And our world becomes… not exactly perfect… but almost complete. Almost.

Almost something is better than almost nothing, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you agree? Sometimes ‘almost good enough’ is good enough to inspire us to keep going.

WHAT IS SUCCESS?

What is success? Can it be measured? If it can be, how does one measure it? How much of it does one need to have to be called a ‘success’? Who decides who is successful or not? Who decides what success is? Who lays down the parameters of success? Is success a uniform thing? Is there a set way or technique to understand and know for certain if a person, a project or anything for that matter is a success or not? And if the answer is yes to all these questions, can it all be the same every time? Will the measurement, the technique, the deciding person or factor remain the same in every circumstance? No, it can’t be. It stands true for success as well.

What or who is a success? How much is a success? These are but dependent upon many factors – circumstances, social opinion, bias or impartiality of the person who judges the parameter of success and the field or area in which the success is being measured. Out of these, social opinion or the opinion and thoughts of the masses – the public – plays a very significant role. No matter how successful a person or a thing may be in the eyes of their family and among their circle of friends or by those associated with it respectively, it is but the ‘mass opinion’ and the acceptance of the population at large which decides or puts a stamp of approval to the success. So what is accepted in the society as success will be the standard or the level that one has to measure up to in order to be termed a success. And people’s opinion depends on the circumstances – the environment prevalent at that point of time – which would influence and guide the thoughts of the people. As such, the definition of success changes with time.

So, the best way to thrive for success is not to base it on how the society looks at it or judges it. But to seek one’s own opinion and compare the final outcome with what one had set out to at the onset of the task. In other words be your own judge of how much you have achieved and how successful you are in doing what you had planned to do. It may or may depend on how the society at large reacts or responds to it. Or it may depend solely on the people’s judgement. Key is to set your own parameters. For someone who has a target of selling three paintings, to have sold two would be a fair enough achievement. But it would count as nothing for someone who wants to sell hundreds of them. Most of the times we see people fail because they actually ‘fail’ to see that their success is a matter of how they see it and not how the people around them does. One just needs to be very clear about one’s idea of success and what definition it holds for them. Then work towards it. There is no greater failure than failing from one’s own standard and there is no greater success than succeeding on one’s own terms.

CAN YOU TRUST? OR ARE YOU TRUSTWORTHY?

Trust. Now that's one BIG word! It cements every relationship we have in this world. Trust is rare to come by, hard to keep and when once lost, really difficult to regain. To trust someone is like letting someone in on to your secrets - every little thing that you normally would hide and think a million times before speaking them out. So, in a way it makes two people, who would have been just two strangers into two friends. Building trust comes naturally. It is the things we do, the thoughts we hear, the words we speak and the way we make others feel around us that makes them trust us. The process for most is slow and steady. Some trust people too fast and it is broken fast enough as well. Not to say, those who take time to trust do not get betrayed or aren't left disappointed. They are too. That's how we learn to trust truly. If our trust has been broken several times that it becomes difficult for us to trust someone else or someone new. It becomes harder every time out trust is broken.

With some people it becomes easy to trust. Like for once, most people trust their immediate family members. I for one do trust my sister and my brother a lot. I know I can count on them and I know whatever they say or do would be in my best interest, even if sometimes I may not see it at that point in time. Then there are friends we count on and trust a lot as well. Not all of them dependable. Not all of them are trustworthy. Every friend has a special place and a special role in our lives. Even the most neglected ones show us our ways sometimes when we are lost. Therein lies the 'wonder factor' of life. It never fails to surprise you!

Trust determines the growth of our relationship, whether romantic, sexual or platonic. Secrets maybe the harbinger of trust in any relationship. But secrets are the killers of trust as well. What we choose to reveal and what we choose to hide shapes up the kind of relationship we build with the person concerned. Secrets are like codes which need not be revealed to all. A mystery is always a welcomed thing. The secret when out should not disappoint. So one needs to know the audience to whom the secret is being revealed. The maturity, the level of comfort and all, need to be taken into account while sharing a part of you with others. It does backfires sometimes. After all we can't always have the best judgement about us or about others in our lives. The one we thought would understand, don't. The one in whom we put our trust in, disappoints. It is but natural. But that doesn't mean we stop trying. That doesn't mean we stop putting our trust in others. If we cannot trust the people we have surrounded ourselves with in our lives, then we are as good as being all alone. If we seek friends, if we look for company, we have to know too that a relationship can only forge ahead if cemented by trust.

And it all depends on the question you ask yourself.
Are you trustworthy?
Can you trust?

The trouble is most people tend to ask the wrong question.

MY FIRST LOVE LETTER

My first love letter was a disaster. Not because it wasn't well-written or had grammatical errors or something. It was quite well-written for a 13 year old boy, fascinated simply by the name of a girl in his classroom. The disaster was the fact that I was caught with the letter. Not in school. Or by friends but by my mother while I was writing it. All thanks to my sister. We had said our goodnight and were each on our beds. My lights were still on since I was composing the letter on my bed. Sister was amused as to what I was doing when she had told me twice already to turn off the light. She jumped in out of nowhere and startled me. Then she snatched the paper from me. I protested and ran after her. She began reading out the letter... 'After I saw you for the first time...' All these noise reached my mother's ears and she walked in. Sister was giggling. I kept quiet. Then I said that sister was troubling. This annoyed my sister who announced that I was writing a love letter, in order to save herself from mom's temper. Mom took the letter and after reading it went off and told us to sleep. She said that such a tiny boy thinking about love and writing such nonsense when all he should think about is getting good marks. I was majorly upset. More than at mom, I was mad at my sister. She knew it. So, she went ahead and slept with mom. I was furious and my anger somehow lulled me to sleep.

What happened to the love letter? Well, nothing. When you get a thrashing from your mom, that too word-thrashing you make sure you never repeat the same thing ever again. What happened to the girl. Well, nothing really. She left school the next year. I wasn't heartbroken since I wasn't really in love. But her name still fascinates me. It was a local Khasi name but sounded really nice to me. Would you believe it I still remember the name! Evarista!

After that experience I haven't really written any love letters. It has been more verbal or through cards, mixing my emotions with the festive occasions. I love cards. But most cards are too vague and too petty. I like words woven beautifully and elements like colour, basic layout or images used in a subtle but striking manner. Hallmarks cards stand out clearly because of the number of great many cards I have bought, given or received. Archie's is fine too. But it's more frivolous and fun. But I have found some cool cards from them too. Using cards is like having a letter already written for you. So, it becomes easier. Not that I usually don't put in any more into it. I tend to write or add my own bit to it. In a way it has been more of cards and less of letters.

I remember I once tried to write my own sweet love letter, in the form of a poem after I saw the movie starring Jennifer Jason Leigh and Campbell Scott, 'The Love Letter' on Hallmark Channel... It was a really good movie... Have seen it many times. I hope I can find it somewhere. Even the one in 'Message in a Bottle'... was quite powerful... I remember the letter in Knight's Tale, which by the way my brother loved... there are any many others which I don't remember now... maybe someday when I do I will write another post!

Never Underestimate Your Past

In moments when I've found myself utterly confused and utterly in doubt my past has revealed to me a sight I had not seen while living through the moments long gone. Maybe it's the growth in us as a person or more precisely the changes we have undergone which gives a whole new meaning to what had been and a new, different perspective to our old eyes. I'm in no way saying that the solutions to our present lies exclusively in our past. But for most part, speaking from personal experience it has always helped me in ways I could not have thought of. I have found the roots to some of my problems by tracing it to my past. The experiences I have gone through and the people I have met somehow give me the clues if not the answers to questions that troubled me in my recent past. I am also in no way saying that only solutions lay in our past. More often than not there are more confusion and more doubts lurking around in our past than in our present. Nothing loves chaos more than the present. And when the present stumbles its way into the confused past, the effect can be rather drastic and dramatic.

It is impossible I think to deal with all the problems and issues of the present moment at those precise moments, leaving nothing left to be resolved or sorted out. If we could be so organized, quick-witted and far-sighted life would be simply put, quite simple. But we all know it isn't possible and such theories, rather ideas are just good to make us feel good. They serve no other purpose. Because we take time to solve our problems, if at all we are able to figure them out in the first place, the past always remains a territory we often have to visit to lead a more sensible/sane present. This reminds me of how my sister always told us to move clutters away from the house, to make things organized and give more space for the room to breathe. I guess it is the same with our lives. When the past is cluttered and the present is seeking more space there is no other way to do so without cleaning up the mess and trying to clear our past.

I have had to face several such circumstances. I won't say I'm proud of how I have dealt with most of them. Many times, I have just resorted to ignoring the problem altogether and turning a deaf ear to all the pleas of the voices of my past. But there have been times when I've been overwhelmed by it all and completely broken down. Times when I've fallen to pieces and then after the tears, recollected them all, putting them to their places. The collected calm after a breakdown, the peace in one's heart is something else altogether! That doesn't mean one needs to go through a breakdown to feel that peace. What I don't like about dealing with the past, its many twisted turns and hidden alleys is not the uncertainty of it ever being resolved, but the fear of getting lost in them. I mean give me a cluttered and messed up room any day! I can pick the piles of dirty clothes up and soak them overnight and wash them in the morning. I can dust the speakers, the tables and the computers. I can sweep the floor and mob them later. I can do all these and while humming a song or shaking a leg or two as well... But I have no clue how to clean up my past, how to resolve the unanswered and the mysterious confusions, how to deal with the onslaught of the emotions that almost always follows such endeavors.

But now I am dealing with some monsters, some clutters and some mess of my past. I have taken the first few steps. I have ventured into the darkness. I am now climbing down one step at a time, holding on to the railing of my present that links to my past. My faith and believe, guiding my steps down the stairway. I am hoping to find my home. I am hoping it welcomes me just the way I am. I hope it breathes some life into me and tells me 'It's okay, you just go there and live.'

Follow Your Heart And Hit Destination Happiness!

The heart speaks to us every moment, every day. Sometimes it keeps on tugging at the very string of our existence so much so that we wish if it could shut up for good. Our lives are built around the milestones where we have either truly listened to our hearts or muffled its voice. Those are the times, the twists and the turns which define our lives. Those moments are what make our lives remarkable. The critical points where we decided to step up or step out, walk in or walk out, believe or doubt, trust or betray, fall or rise, surrender or fight, hold on or let go… they make the person that we become, the emotions and thoughts we harbor, they make our lives.

Life’s choices are options in disguise of circumstances and situations which ordain our destiny. The choices make us who we are. Whether we are going in for something or out of it or don’t do anything about it, no matter what, we always end up choosing. The option to not choose is also a choice by default. When we make a choice, we may either be following our heart or turning a deaf ear towards its mumblings. Where do our choices lead us then? Does it fill our lives with happiness or do we still hunger for it?

The way we are, we all want happiness in our lives. Anything happy or joyous attracts us and makes us feel good inside. Nobody wants to befriend sorrow or disappointments in life. If our make up is such then certainly our hearts would surely want something happy and joyous for the person in whom it is beating. The heart’s wishes and longings in its barest and truest form, only speaks of what would bring happiness to us. No partiality or inclination digress a true heart’s desire. Its intentions are always true and genuine, like those of a young child barely few years old. For in today’s time even a child, who has just become 2 digit years old, fails to remain uncorrupted by the ways of the world! The uncorrupted and undiluted hearts’ wishes when followed right to the ‘T’ would then only result in happiness. The catch however is, we don’t consciously look for happiness when we are kids. It is not a thought out thought or planned out action. It’s just how it is. Like when you ‘just be’ sometimes. But once we grow up, our actions and decisions tend to become less and less involuntary and more and more calculated or thought out. The genuineness of the heart fails to transform into a genuine act. Then there are just heartaches and disappointments galore. The fault isn’t in the hearts’ murmurs but in the medium through which we translate and decipher its words. We can feel as chilled at the height of summer in an AC room as in winter. The air blowing through the vent may compel you or even succeed in making you feel you are in the coldest place on the planet. But the freshness and the chills of the wind blowing in your face and ruffling your clothes as you stand with your arms stretched wide open atop a mountain is something else altogether. Pure and pristine, cold and calming, what it does to you and how it makes you feel is completely different from the experience in an AC room. When we hear our heart speak and carefully listen to it, catching every word, every sound, every expression and understanding what it is trying to tell us and acting on it without much ado is when we can know for sure, wherever it is that our hearts are taking us, our happiness lies there.

HOW TO SLEEP WELL EVEN IN OFFICE

Instruction Manual:

* Make sure it's the day your boss would not be expecting much from you
* Try and keep as silent as possible
* Be determined to lay low so no one misses you when you doze off
* Having a cubicle with a partition would really help
* A lot of leg room would help as well
* Turn deaf when any work is about to come to you so that it diverts off by default
* Appear lost throughout
* Awesome if you are always lost, no matter what
* Pray for a sluggish weather
* Pray also for a no-show from your boss

Things to AVOID AT ALL COST!

* Making any kind of sound while sleeping
* No, sound sleep doesn't mean snoring while sleeping
* Snoring should be a punishable offense for making life difficult for other peaceful office sleepers
* Try not to be caught
* If caught taking a nap, act lost
* If you are always lost then nothing like it!

I didn't know when I slept. I know when I laid my head down and closed my eyes. But I don't remember when I slept. I came to know only when I woke up. So, in all probability it was an involuntary action of the body and the mind with no co-relation with my conscious and alert mind. Even if I had slumbered off I should not be accounted responsible since I was venturing into the world of dreams for inspiration which otherwise was lacking in the real world of f***ed up systems. Therefore, it should come under non-punishable offense and taken as a warning for those who leave behind a staff lost without directions and finding no other means of inspiration than in the dreamworld.

RABIPUR TO JAIPUR AND BACK TO RABIPUR AGAIN

So, did the dog bite actually act as a catalyst for my desire to get out of the city even if for a short while? Maybe yes! Blessing in disguise, I guess. But not really a happy route to achieve something one wants, considering not just the pain of the bite but the piercing of the needles as well. I got my injections not one but two at a time, one for tetanus and the other one 'Rabipur' for the dog bite itself. Both were intramuscular injections. I will have to admit it hurt being my first ever injection below the belt and the first one in years!

After my first Rabipur I was in Jaipur within a couple of days. I had thought of making the most of the 3 continuous holidays but also realised it would not be an easy task to carry out. It was all in my head.

Talked and thought it out with my friend Sunny from the night before to most part of the day. Another one of our friend, Pammi, later joined in. After much contemplation, deciding, not deciding, apprehension on my friend's part, hesitation for permission, almost 'no' permission to a 'yes' permission, not able to start in the evening itself to starting out late, a hell of a rain on the way to spooky roadways, almost running out of petrol to making it and more with the feared quantity, dread of a hot summery days to drizzly cold nights and day, running up the fort, feeling on top of the world, finding our 'sweet' spot to getting blown away by the 'top', misguiding an old fellow with a 1km scare to laughing our hearts out on the way back, extreme close-up of our filthy mouths to a 'night duel' on the bed, an impromptu climb up a rocky mountain to really feeling like on top of the world, a dead man on the highway to three 'just lived till exhausted' men on the way back home - it was simply a trip to remember.

Once back it was time to get going again, for the dog had bitten and gone, but I was still to pay for its deed. And this time, the nurse got me a little more pain than the last time. I wonder if they get a kick out of it? Perhaps they do. A little excitement in a mundane life is always a welcome change. Like our sojourn to the pink city added something to our lives and changed it in some way or the other. I have realised some things.

I have thought out a hell lot of other things. The unpredictability of life is what makes it worth living. The excitement is the highest when the predictability is the lowest. Once we set it in our minds, we will perhaps learn to live... not try to or yearn to... but live, in real.

And in those couple of days we perhaps lived in real. Although we are back to the realities of our own lives now, the feeling of having lived those moments would always see us through till another one of those trip comes to the rescue. So, cheers to the moments!

How To Get Yourself Bitten By A Dog

Instruction Manual:

* Have a look that says you are drunk tired
* Make sure you are late from work the night before
* Hold nothing in your hands
* Carry a huge bag full of nothings
* Walk stealthily like a thief
* Act as you don't see the dog
* Hum an old forgettable classic
* Ignore the dog and carry on with your business

I did just that, and that's how I got bitten by a dog! You don't need to follow the instructions to the 'T'. Try and be more innovative and creative. Know and read the dog's mind, which social strata the dog belongs to, what kind of people would he be interested in biting, go to that place where you would qualify as the ideal target, visualise what kind of activities you need to be doing to attract the dog's unwanted attention, make sure whatever you do is a bite-led activity, the first interaction is crucial in order to generate the curiosity in a dog to actually waste his crucial bite on you, ask yourself the question 'If you were a dog what would make you bite yourself?'

And when you do get yourself bitten don't run from the site, just act stupid and still for a second or two, then keep walking as if nothing happened. After walking a while, flash that victorious smile on your face for having achieved your goal and actually making the dog believe that it was his own doing. And if he regrets biting you, it would be his guilt and nothing would be bugging your conscience. So, what's stopping you? Go and get a bite!

Good Night, Good Morning and Good Whatever!

Getting back to the good old habits is very easy to do so. The mind and the body tend to return to its usual rhythm when they have detected a change in its patterns. A change no matter how beneficial or healthy if found unsuitable by the body is faced with an enormous resistance. It takes a really resolute and determined mind to undermine the resistance of the body. It’s a long fight till the change becomes a habit.

He had been trying to make the changes into a habit for the past few months now. The only problem being the fact that there wasn’t a constant pace in which his life was moving. The non-uniform media life was followed by a relaxed and comfortable long break succeeded by an unstable phase of finding a job and then adjusting to a new way of professional life. Finally, when the healthy rhythm started to set in, his old ‘news’ life greeted him in a reincarnated form.

Walking back home at 3am in the morning, he met some strange stares from the policemen at the check post, stranger glances from two-three people taking a stroll on the street and initial wild barks from dogs which later turned into slow howling as they approached him from behind with their tails wagging generously. As he reached his home, he couldn’t help smile at the way things had turned out to be. He had longed for a regular and routine life. Not the 9-5 job but at least some sense of working hours. Although it was one of the rare days or nights, he felt a sense of déjà-vu in the way things were beginning to take shape. Every job is at the end of the day just the same. It is work and nothing else. Doesn’t matter if the whens and hows feel unjustified sometimes, the fact of the matter is work needs to be done. That’s it. As plainly and bluntly put. Time had always been a constraint with him and even now it was a luxury he had to work hard for. The irony is, there is not enough time when his heart is set on something, but there’s ample to waste when nothing is all he has for company.

Once he got back home, he got fresh and after having something to eat called it a night. Finally some rest. He had been frustrated almost the whole day in office. The inability to crack any ideas or come up with some concepts had bothered him since morning. And staying awake till late the night before didn’t seem to help with his failure to launch into brilliant arrays of ideas and concepts. His mind was as barren as it ever was.

As office hours came to an end, it was time for goodbyes and goodnights. But the work had just started for him. The lights at the empty cubicles had been switched off. Only two cabins were still well lit and well populated. It was at times like this when he felt if work can at all justify for the lost life, the lost moments and the lost time. A few good moments with loved ones, sharing a good laugh or two, catching up with old friends and teasing each other, after all life is really about the people in one’s life more than anything else.

The work got going at a very slow pace. The feeling in him was similar to the one who was in a hurry but he was driving behind someone enjoying the slow drive with all the time in the world, that too in a narrow lane. Hours piled up like some old archived files which needed to be sorted and a feeling of another weekend gone to waste sunk in within him. But he was adamant he wasn’t going to let it control his life. So, he got along with his work and did his best. Somehow the best wasn’t enough on this particular night. His efforts turned futile one by one and he could slowly see his spirit was falling to pieces.

Lying on his bed, everything felt at peace once again. But the broken pieces take time to come together and mend. And the scars… they lay hidden or visible… reminders of a time he may well forget to think about, but would leave him feeling broken all over again.

DEADLINES OR DEAD LINES!

Meeting deadlines means one is closer to the fulfillment of one's target and ultimately one's goal. The time and effort taken, collectively as well as on an individual level is humongous. Each one plays their part. A lack of enthusiasm or ideas on one's part may hinder the progress of the work as a whole. One must realise the significance and the importance of one's role in any work that is not independent but involves team work. It is at such times that I find myself under-performing or missing out on some details which by any means should not have been left out in the first place. It also at times like these that one feels the pressure more and is pressed for time, ideas to generate and words to flow smoothly. And to have a complete mental block at such times, only acts as oil to an already intensely burning fire. So, then one finds that one has to wait for the road block to move aside and a path to follow. When pressed for time and ideas, one has to compensate for the wasted unproductive time and work. How does one do that, one may ask. Simply do overtime and some more overtime.

Finishing up the work, polishing it in the morning, adding some more interesting stuff, basically editing and re-editing it again. With such meetings of the deadline at the nth hour, the best somehow falls short of being the best and the good just settles for an average. People say working such hours is not only going to affect your health which in time may lead to something more serious and unavoidable but it might become a habit too.

Few deadlines, just one or two, did the trick for me and I was already in need of some love and care. But no love or care came by way. The only thing besides getting done with the work in hand is another work on its way. To find oneself feeling a sense of deja vu is seriously not the best thing to feel, especially when it is just another beginning.

As long as you are in it, you kind of get a feeling about it. When you are out of it, you realise what a mess you had been in. Perhaps it's my time to realise what a mess it really is. Perhaps! The catch is, 'What if the outside is messier than the inside?' What then? Let's just say, let's keep it real and see what comes next.

Yesterday - Short Story

Some days are memorable for several reasons. Others don’t need any reasons at all. They are stand alone grand in its beginning and magnificent in its ending. Yesterday was one such day. It was like piece-de-resistance drama. Though he just happened to be the lead in the story, it didn’t really matter who played which role, the combined effect of everyone and everything put together created the theatrical extravaganza of a day.

The Morning:

There were just two rooms and four people were already fighting for their own spaces with their own furniture and stuff lying around the house. The late-comings were well overdue and to top it all, he was still taking a stroll in the dream park. A bolt of lightning woke the devil out of him. A sudden realization that the day had already begun, sprang him up to his feet. He bumped into his shoes thrown about carelessly last night, before reaching the bathroom. It was one of the quickest showers he ever had. Perhaps the fastest he ever brushed as well. He did feel nausea for no apparent reason but the time constraint made him neglect it. He went hopping around the rooms, making desperate attempts not to wake up the dozed souls yet getting ready as fast as possible. Five minutes and he was done. Ran out of the house like a thief and walked the roads like in a walkathon. Finally, the famous dilli auto-wallahs were in sight and he knew there was no way he could fight today. So, he relented to the price they wanted him to pay. The line, ‘Jaldi chalna bhaiya’ was followed to the ‘T’ by the auto-wallah. Never mind the man who was almost hit while he was crossing the road and the ‘gaaliyas’ he launched at the auto or the car at the crossing trying to move to the right side, inching ahead every few seconds only to be halted abruptly by the ‘Jaldi..’ auto. Oh yes! He hauled some more expletives, but he didn’t really care as long as he reached on time.


But half-way the uneasiness got the better of him. The nausea took over and erupted in a matter of few minutes. The ‘Jaldi...’ auto-wallah now turned into the ‘Chhi...’ auto-wallah. Somehow, getting some water from the auto-wallah, he cleaned his mouth and after few minutes he had reached his office. Bargaining with one’s health was not such a good idea. He found this out as soon as he stepped into his office. The nausea was making him dizzy. A quick sms to the boss and he was on his way back home again.

The Afternoon:

Thankfully, the journey back was much less ‘eventful’ than the journey to his office. It took few swift turns and a driver more than happy to accelerate to reach home. The only hitch, if it could qualify as one, was the fact that the driver was a bit too loud and overzealous. He got to know the driver had been a driver for the last 5 years. He came to Delhi from Punjab where his family lives. He has an elder brother, married with a child who lives separately in North Delhi while he stays with other auto-drivers in Sangam Vihar, South Delhi. On weekends, more precisely on Sundays he heads north to spend some time with his brother and his 5 year old nephew. He hopes for bigger things for his nephew and for his own children once he gets married. The drive halted at that point of the conversation, one-way conversation. He paid the driver, exchanged smiles and headed up to his home.

A few knocks on the door, a surprised reaction, 4-5 steps to his bed and he was dead. He felt so exhausted by this simple exercise. What made it all worse was the inability to sleep or rest properly. He went in and out of sleep through half the day. A huge cooler was brought in by his brother and friend. An electrician-cum-plumber came in and fixed the kitchen light and the kitchen tap which had been dripping for ages. The electrician-cum-plumber also diagnosed the silence of the door bell as well. It needed a new bell. Thereafter the consciousness started to slip out and all he remembered was flashes of his friend and his brother going in and out of the bathroom.

The Evening:

The phone rang loud. He thought why no one was picking it up when it should have been done so ideally since it was his dream. It went silent and he was relieved that he could manipulate his dreams and remain there undisturbed for some more time. The phone rang again. This time it felt much louder. Few rings later he was up from his sleep and reached for the phone. It was his brother calling him up from office about his sister. She wasn’t at home. He told him. He got up and found the door locked from outside and knew that she had gone out somewhere nearby. Shoes and newspapers and clothes were spread around the house, on the bed and on the floor. He felt a sudden pang of hunger and went through the contents of the fridge. Biscuits, cookies, bread, last night’s leftovers, so much option to choose from. Instead he took few sips of coke and a cookie.

Soon the TV was on. There wasn’t anything interesting coming on any of the channels except for a movie which he had caught the first hour of the night before. While he was watching the Spanish thriller ‘King of the hill’ (El Rey De La Montaña), his sister came back. She had a plan of meeting a friend for dinner. He watched the movie while surfing other channels in between breaks. She soon got ready and left around 7pm. After a while he went to his room and went online trying to find someone or something interesting to while away his time. Outside the rain had begun its play. Completely unaware of the of it, he just surfed through his mails and some interesting websites. One was interestingly titled, ‘Shorts’, not about the wearable shorts but about short films, one of his areas of interest. The site gave details about short film competitions and synopsis of several shorts from around the world. He also stumbled upon some cool blogs.

The Night:

The sound of the rain reached his ears and he got up to check if it really was raining. It had been a dry spell for several weeks now even though the monsoon was supposed to set in way before. When he reached the balcony, the sight just overwhelmed him. The whole street below to as far as he could see was waterlogged. People who were moving about had to wade through almost knee-deep water. There was no way anyone could come to his house without soaking their feet or shoes and pants. He had just recovered from cold and as much as he wanted to he decided not to revel in the rain drops. So, it was back to some more internet surfing and browsing through some other cool sites. After almost an hour of doing so, he relented to his ‘rain-call’ and got up and going. Changed into his shorts and a vest, locked the door and climbed up to the terrace. Standing at the exit door of the terrace he felt the few drops of rain splatter on his face. Soon he was out soaking himself in the rain. But it was too cold and he felt his body shiver, so he decided to get back in and just watch it from the door. He really didn’t want to get sick. As it is he had already fallen sick today.

He dried himself up the first thing he got back into the house. While he was doing so someone knocked on the door. It was Julia, his two-time ex-girlfriend. They had first dated around a year back. Three weeks later they were off each other and were hardly seen or heard talking about the other. No one knew why they broke up. Her friends thought he was too poor in bed. His friends thought she was a man-eater, which of course they secretly liked her for but hated her guts in front of him. This was at his first work place. After six months they met together at a common friend’s engagement party. They re-connected again. She had just broken up with her boyfriend. He had just lost his job. They began seeing each other again pretty soon after that night. Just a week back they had broken up again. Tonight she was here at his doorstep, water dripping off her hair, soaking wet and cold. He got her a towel to wipe herself dry and also offered his sister’s tracks and pullovers to keep her warm. She didn’t say much at all. In fact she had not even spoken once since she came inside. He tensed up a bit feeling her presence near him. They were both lovers of rain and had shared some great moments including their first kiss in the rain. He was seeing her off after office and it had started raining. He tried to persuade her to take shelter but she told him to just keep on walking. They laughed and walked and enjoyed the rain. They had to pass through a narrow lane to get to the bus stand on the other side. It was deserted today because of the rain. He held her hand. She didn’t resist. He came close. His lips touched hers and parted soon, as the sound of the car horn startled them both. They both laughed aloud. The car was now visible. A silver Hyundai Santro was approaching from around the corner. It took a left and passed them by.

She had changed into the dry clothes. He offered her warm tea. She sat down on one of the beds in the sitting room. He had no chairs or tables. The two rooms had two beds each for the four occupants. She took few sips from her cup, then after a long sigh said thanks to him. He just nodded and smiled. She then told him she had come to meet her friends and on her way back wanted to drop in to see how he was doing but the sudden rain forced her to wait for a long time as her auto got stuck in the traffic jam. She got all wet thanks to her auto breaking down just at the end of the road from his house. She had played it safe, but still managed to get drenched in a matter of 40 seconds running to his place. He wanted to ask her what was so urgent or important that it couldn’t wait for another day. But he didn’t. She continued. She talked about the weather, his sister’s visit, her shifting to GK-I from Noida and other random things. In between this he got a call from his sister asking him if he could arrange for a cab to pick her up since due to the rain there was a rush for autos and she was unable to get through the cab agency. He dialed the cab number but there was a long waiting list on the line. He was number 40. So, he hung up. The rain had slowed down a bit by now. He told her that he might have to go and pick up his sister if a cab cannot be arranged soon. She seemed worried. His phone rang again. It was his sister again. He told her that the line was busy. She said the same to him. He then told her to wait there, and he will come pick her up. He apologized to Julia who disregarded it saying she was on her way out herself since it had almost stopped raining. He offered to see her off and without waiting for a reply rushed inside to change. She felt uneasy throughout their walk to the auto stand some three minutes away. They walked silently. He asked the driver if he would go to GK-I and after bargaining for the rate gestured her to get in. She hesitated a bit then sat inside. She thanked him for everything and told him she would soon return the clothes. ‘It’s okay. No hurry. Anytime.’ The driver started the engine. He moved back a little but she held his hand. They looked at each other. He pressed her fingers. They softly smiled. The auto took off. Their hands parted. She waved her hand and smiled wide. He waved his hand and smiled back at her.