Twilight

I know I’m late, but what to do? It takes time for me to sort out my feelings.

When I was in class 3, I used to fall ill very often. Thanks to these periods of time when I was ill and stayed back at home, I read a lot of stories. My favourites were the ones with a moral. I am ashamed to admit that I don’t remember any story very clearly.

I do remember one, vaguely. This was a story about a battle between the beasts and the birds. They fought relentlessly, I do not remember for what. They fought for years together, not stopping for a moment. The bats were the only specie, in the whole battle, who never stuck to any side. They kept changing sides, according to who was winning.Finally, the battle ended in a compromise. All the beasts birds condemned the bats. They were shunned and ex-communicated, neither accepted as birds, nor as beasts. Not only were they pushed aside, they also had to agree to one condition: They were allowed to come out only at that part of the day when it was neither fully dark, nor fully lit- Twilight.

Recently, the IPL finals took place, on the 24^th of May (wonder why I remember the date, never been a cricket fan, or should I say fanatic, since its religion in India) Ab who will miss the finals yaar? I watched it with great interest, for Deccan Chargers were playing. And Deccan Chargers WON! YAY!!! But, why was I feeling happy. Earlier on, I was supporting the “Mumbai Indians”, I don’t know why, I felt that… by winning the IPL 2, Mumbai was making a point, even after the 26/11, they were one… Hah! Like they even need to prove themselves or make a point, I was just being silly. But suddenly when Deccan Chargers won, I was happy…Maybe it is because I stay at Hyderabad, but is it? I guess not… I’m not afraid of accepting the truth. I think I supported Deccan Chargers because they won. I felt like a… like a hypocrite, like a bat!

At school, I always stood up for my friends, and my brother. When I was in class 6, and my brother was in class 10, we used to go to school and come back in an Auto-Rickshaw. When we were coming back home, some prefect was saying something to my brother. I didn’t hear what he said, but I didn’t like his expression. So I yelled at him. I was so silly! I was 4 years younger, and he was a prefect, he could have punished me without any reason, and plus, he was 2 times my height, one blow and that would be the last sunrise I ever set my eyes upon! Nothing to feel proud about.

Yet, was this an act of loyalty?

I don’t know… I am confused… Am I a bat, or not? Is twilight the right time for me???

Farewell...

"Bye bye bye bye. bye bye bye bye bye byeee! जाना है हमको bye bye bye good bye" This was from an advertisement, the whole essence of I'm writing, or should I say, typing?

WARNING: Lots of grammatical errors, correction not intended, very informal style of writing. Sorry.

Fourteen years… not enough to face many farewells… for me at least. There were some though… one farewell the worst (in a way) and the best (in a way)

I was born in Hyderabad, but for seven years Mumbai was my life, my everything. I remember how I used to love to say “Chaddanagar”, where my tall Mama (I like to call him that way, I’m short…) and laugh! The apartment where mom, my brother and I used to stay, Gulmarg (I miss it so much). How all us kids used to run down to play at 6. Srishti had slapped me once at that time, grrr…. I remember how my friend Faheema and I had wandered far away from home (to play): Both my mom and Faheema’s parents were scared stiff (as if anyone would kidnap us, hah!) Her dad took a bundle of papers, rolled them and hit her. She behaved as though it was an everyday thing and I went home, crying (my parents don’t hit me). Once I saw these pencils manufactured at the U.S. Damn, they were beautiful… And I asked mom to get them for me. She roamed all over the city to get them for me, I still cry about it sometimes. And all this resided in that city… Like a part of my soul was still there. We left by train. Annie aunty, Thomas uncle, Deepti and Suneel… and Rajesh were there, at the station, saying bye to us. I felt like I would jump out! Oh, I remember Suneel crying… crying?! Suneel, my brother and I used to play on these small cars (as in they were manual effort toys) on which we would sit and play. I didn’t cry looking outside the window. I cried sitting inside the train. I was leaving them behind, when would I see them again. :’(

It was like… like a part of my heart, should and mind had been torn off, and had been kept separately. My Mumbai heart, mind and soul.

And here was another farewell. I went for this summer class for one month. Today was the last day. Bye! But, I didn’t feel bad, no tears. Maybe because the time I spent in Mumbai was way more than this, but still! It was a farewell… I don’t know.

Every farewell, every goodbye means so much, and so different.

I’m sure about what I’ll feel when I leave H.P.S ( R ). This is going to tear me like nothing ever before. Most of my ‘first- times’ were here. Like a part of me is going to be torn in the most painful way, and I know it, and still I’m not running away from that weapon. In fact, I’m going towards it, every second… Even thinking of it makes me cry.

Adieu: A word with so many different meanings, and emotions…

Rain Rain Come Again

Sometimes I meet people close to my heart or there are some incidents I would like to carry in my heart as long as it beats (and even after that, if there is an after life :) ). I wonder if I will remember them. I always wish I carried a camera around wherever I go, but I guess after loosing two cameras; I have enough experience to realize that I can’t keep carrying one.

Today, two people who are very important to me came home: my cousin and his fiancée (they are getting married soon, I am so excited, maybe if there is something that touches me, I’ll tell you all about it!) We (Dad, Mom, Grandma, my Brother and I) were all happy. Bhabhi and Venky were coming for the first time (together). Am I going to remember this special day? I made sure I would by clicking some pics. It started raining, nay, pouring heavily soon after they came. I went to stand in the balcony to let those drops of purity grace my face…

As this water washed over me and washed away all my worries temporarily, they brought back the memories of July 2008. My cousin had come here on some official work. He was showing us (Mom, my Brother and I) an album of someone’s marriage on his laptop. It was nothing to do with the quality of the photos, actually nothing to do with the photos at all! Actually, seeing the photos of a person’s marriage who is unknown to you, you don’t really know whom/what to look forward to, at least I feel that way. It was raining outside with great ferocity. I’d never seen it rain that way in Hyderabad. The aroma of the wet soil and the coolness and sheer purity of the rain engulfed me…

Today I stood in the same place, remembering that I was standing here less than a year ago…

Sometimes, small things in life remind you of the special ones. I realized that even if I didn’t take photos, I would have remembered this day. I’d have remembered that three people who are so special to me came here once; all it takes is rainfall… ;)

फिर भी दिल है हिन्दुस्तानी !

Summer holidays are going on. I have nothing to do but keep writing. And my ears have become extra sensitive. So the smallest comment/compliment will be noticed and will get a reply from me.

There are loads of things going on- elections, recession… So the comments have to come, obviously. And my temporarily extra-sensitive ears have to notice this. They took up 2 of these comments. A person said that he was glad to leave this ‘third-world’ country, a person born and brought up here, and now working abroad. And the second one is the funniest! Someone blamed India for the 26/11 Mumbai horror. I do agree that the defence part, we did make mistakes, big ones, (I’ll tell you about the mistakes in some other post) but we caused the attacks?? Naah…

Under normal circumstances I’d have said, “Dude, get a life!” But well, summer vacation ;) .

So.

Third World Country, eh? Cause of terror attack huh?

Well, I think this poem is the best way to answer you. A poem written by my cousin Shyam (thanks a million!) I wholeheartedly agree with you.

So here is your answer you people:

When I imagine the world of tomorrow

And look at what is left of it today

Despite the despair and misery around

Hope sustains me

The scare of terror in each of us

With helpless neighbours to deal with

But since my country is pure in intention

Hope sustains me

Our roads are narrow for sure

And many are poor and starving

But with our spirits riding high

Hope sustains me

Nobody ever looked east

We always looked west

But when the world believes we have arrived today

Hope sustains me

Our leaders may be self centered

Social duties are wanting

But when some here live only for others

Hope sustains me

Some countries maybe progressing faster

Garnering acclaim, wealth and prosperity

But when I am free to do what I want to here

Hope sustains me

I do dream of a developed India

And I want every Indian to be rich

But even today I can be happy here

And Hope sustains me

I couldn’t resist putting up a song here…

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

As I look back at the past, the 14 years of life that have been given to me till now, I realize how much I’ve changed. My face, my dressing, my point of view, my interests, my friends, everything.

But the one thing that has never failed to amaze me is the night sky- the stars. The reasons why they amaze me keep changing. Sometimes their twinkling, sometimes their beauty and size, at other times their distance form the Earth and sometimes their sheer number.

As I look into the night sky tonight, what they do amazes me; I don’t know how long they keep me mesmerized… maybe a second, a minute or maybe even an hour.

They change our destiny, according to some religions…

As I enter my home, I see my family munching on their dinner. Unknowingly, instinctively, a smile spreads across my face as my brother is ready to greet me with a friendly punch or a splash of water, my Father waiting for me with some news (why is it so important to him?), my Mother shoving a plate at me to stuff me with food. I’d rather face hell than not be a part of my family.

Yet, I wonder, would I have said the same thing had I been born elsewhere? Those little stars in some other part of the Universe decided that I’d be born here, so be it.

If those stars were positioned a bit differently at the time of my birth, who knows? I could have been born as a Child Soldier in Sierra Leone, a child running away from a bomb blast or a terrorist attack at Kashmir, a child begging the parents not to divorce in any part of the world, a child washing plates in India, my country…

Man changes his destiny, huh? To what extent? Sure, we can alleviate our sufferings slightly, sure, we can do our bit for the Environment, but our own fate?

Shakespeare once said, in a poem of his called ‘The Seven Ages’:

All the world’s a stage

And all the men mere players:

They have their exits and entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

…

Our birth in the world is decided: time, place, family, package offer including our death! And where we are born almost fully decides our future. And it is in our hands…???

Sure, we can choose whatever career we wish to pursue, but isn’t it luck ultimately? Back to the stars, back to God.

He is far enough that we can not see him; he is near enough to change our destiny.

“ Twinkle twinkle little star

How I wonder what you are

Up above the world so high

… You decide whether in the fight against bad luck,

I win, lose, or it is a tie…”

When Life Came Alive...

The irritating noise of beeping now seemed important, necessary… the heartbeat report flashed on the screen, the oxygen level was down under, the pulse rate abnormally high. My grandma was unwell, suffering with gangrene in her right hand… lying on the bed, begging for just a drop of water. 84 years old, battling for life, fighting with poor health to get out of the bed and see her family and I was beside her, shedding tears so that she could get up, so that people would give her water, so that they would take her home. I just wondered who was a greater warrior, the one who killed thousands on the battlefield, or grandma, who battled against her own body using her will power.

I felt odd standing there. Just a week ago, I was at Kerala, enjoying the beaches, the trees, the nature, the company of friends. And I was unaware that the very same weekend when I was celebrating, my grandma was in hospital, lying there, asking nothing but water. And my mother didn’t tell me. And I was hurt, my family didn’t trust that I could take it, but maybe they were right, I couldn’t take it.

“She is sinking”, the doctors had given up, but I wouldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t leave us. She was our everything; she meant the world to me. The thought of her, smiling, joking with us hurt me. Just before going to Kerala, she blessed me and prayed that I would enjoy my trip and come back safely. And now... she couldn’t recognize me.

I felt like I would burst. I would cry till my eyes would be dry, yet, I had to stay strong, but why? Everything had lost meaning. She said she didn’t have strength to live at one point of time, and maybe that was the worst moment of my short life of 14. I went back home praying… praying that he would save Paatti (granny). If he ever cared for us humans…

The one who meant everything to me, the one I love so much wouldn’t leave me, she just couldn’t.

God came… He didn’t desert us. He came. Till now I do not know whether he came as Mrs. Prasanna Kumar or she was his messenger, an angel. She gave us her blessing, in the form of Vivudhi, which is a holy powder which we put on our forehead as a custom, to bless us each day and keep us safe, forgive us for our mistakes. And this we put on granny’s forehead, this was our ray of sunshine in that period of darkness.

And…

And she recovered. Her gangrene was receding. People who believed in pure reasoning would say “It was not diagnosed correctly. She had dry gangrene.” But I say no. I say this was not diagnosed wrongly; it is neither a Scientific nor a Medical Miracle. This was just… a miracle. The Miracles that happened long ago, the Miracles which were the doings of a power beyond us. This something cannot be reduced to mere reasons, “facts”. This something made everything meaningful. This something made life come alive. This something aroused faith in us. This something…

Some call Him Jesus, others Allah, yet others call Him Hari… But for me… he’s everything, he’s God. He is the sweet Lord who proved the docs wrong, he the compassionate one who heard our pleas, the Great One who makes miracles happen but never takes the credit for it. The One who gave Paatti back to us…

We Developed and We Won... or Did We Lose?

Just a month ago, my driver had started attending ‘Spoken English’ classes. Today when he came home, my parents being friendly and concerned as ever asked him to converse with them in English. He has always been a confident guy, so he agreed. We had sent him to get some medicines. So, the medicines that he bought, the money he spent, the balance, the conversation, everything was in English. I was astounded, to say the least! True, his English was not fluent, but it was good enough! For learning time of one month, it was amazing! Our driver learning how to speak enough English to converse in it within a month symbolized development to me…

What I had taken 14 years to learn, he had learnt a huge part of it in just a month! I went into a dream after this… If I could finish my 12 years of schooling in just a year, how wonderful it would be! I was brought back to senses by my father, who reminded me that our driver was 20 years old.

But our world is developing very fast, we can’t deny this. 13 years ago, all the knowledge under the sun was not one click away, no one said “if you don’t know it, just ‘google’ it!” In 1946, a ‘computer’ occupied a whole room. “Mankind took thousands of years to progress from wheel to the car, yet only decades from car into the space” (from Angels and Demons, spoken by Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca”)

An Ad which I would like to put on my blog:

A Speech Which Silenced the World for 5 Minutes:

But what has this cost us? We didn’t know the consequences of this development. It cost us a new subject and a few more chapters- Environmental Education. Jokes apart, it has cost us a lot. I don’t have to tell you what will happen if we continue in the same manner. It is a well known fact. The fact that it is well known shows us how much damage is already done, and a rough idea of how much is left for us to do…

Many say that my generation is spoilt and very money minded. We won’t care about the environment and destroy it recklessly for money. We will even forget our relationship with our fellow human beings.

This is my answer to them: