On the edge of happiness...

I loved you as a kid. Like all other kids of my age, I loved being in love with you. You came to my life straight from the pages of that fairy tale mom used to narrate to put me to sleep. That tale with ‘happily ever after’ ending…. I had a few friends who I could talk to. I didn’t need any, because I always had you. People around found it funny…I was the only one asking questions and answering them too. They laughed. I smiled. It worked for me, helped me find answers to odd questions. Questions like why didn’t I get the highest in Physics test? Or why did mom scold me for no reason? You consoled me day in and day out…making me believe everything is fine. Making me believe such things do not end life. I loved you because you made me smile. Jokes that are weirdly weird, you had them in plenty. Times when I was scared, I could hear you whisper, ‘Look into my eyes’. Standing in front of the mirror, I looked into your eyes. And my fears vanished. I smiled…every time. You made me feel I

The scent of jasmine makes me high. Well, usually, if I am already not high on other things. On a regular conversation yesterday, my mom mentioned among many other things, “Your room is smelling jasmine this summer. The tree outside your window is full of flowers. You should have been here now.” While I promised her to be there soon, I was already there in my room, my corner in my mind. Back to those days when I used to look for a corner for ‘me’ in a big joint family set-up. Those days when be it any time of the day, we would have a guest at our place, those days when dadabhai and me dreamt of building a house with large aquariums. Both of us silently wished for a room of our own, where we would have our own world. As we grew up, we did have our own rooms. And my parents took care that it has all the things that I love… like a jasmine tree in front of my window, the view of an open sky, and even a super-terrace (again, an un-dictionary term) for me to lie down and watch the night s

Yes…that’s exactly what I mean! Thoughts that you think, and someone pens them down! Thoughts that are deep bone true! This post is not mine, but of a university friend of mine. She shared it on FB, and since she has some weird privacy settings, I couldn’t help but share it. Reasons:   I wanted to share it with everybody   I am hooked to it, and wanted to come back again and again to read it! Here it goes: What made me miss you there I miss the comfort of a private vehicle, a sedan, hatchback or just a bike, to recline after a stiff drink late in the evening. To be driven home silently without having to chase the first auto, be alert enough to change into the next two; to regulate the cold winds or just be packed in a jacket and layers of a stole or scarf or even a dupatta. I miss nenjukkul peididhum playing on the loop. I miss safety. I don't want expensive dining. I miss candlelight though. And the promise of a tomorrow. I miss the sense of security. I miss a co

Looking back, I see colors all around me. Red, blue, yellow, green, silver, golden…the colors of my childhood! As a kid, I loved playing with colors, coloring my dreams multicolor. Exams during Holi always made me sad, and every year I hoped next year Holi would fall after my exams, and I would be able to color my world. From what I remember, I loved looking at myself in the mirror all colored. In spite of my mom’s shouting and dad’s “these colors are harmful for your skin”, I admired a colored me more than a pretty me. As I grew up, colors of life changed. Priorities did. And so did I. What remains now are memories…of fun-filled Holi, of a special postponed Holi because I was out-of-town, of colored waters, of my first taste of bhang , and many more. Sipping on the wine last night, I looked at the full moon. Only to realize no wine can replace the taste of my first bhang . Closed my eyes to see colors all smeared. Red, green, yellow, blue…all together…and I couldn’t distinguish

If you could see through my silence, you would know There are so many emotions I am afraid to show I surprise myself often, that too at alarming frequency. Last couple of days has been introspective, with me looking back in time to see how I have changed. Apparently, I haven’t. I still wear the same smile. But didn’t I? Yes, I did. I come across happy-go-lucky to strangers, people I call friends, or rather to people who call me a friend. But somewhere down the line, I have lost that faith. That innocence to trust people blindly and give away my deepest secrets! I grew up, and in the process, I lost that part which I thought I would never lose. Is that how you lose all that you treasure? One fine day you wake up to find it gone…forever. It takes time to sink in, and then you get used to the loss. And you grope for emotions in the darkness of your mind. In those long lost alleys of broken trust and unfulfilled promises. But I do count on few people to make me happy. I do count on

Love is measured not by the times you hold on to each other, but by the times you let each other go... Not by the times you kiss the lips, but by the times you kiss the forehead… Not by the times you hug each other, but by the times you wish you could have… Not by the times you see each other, but by the times you wish to open your eyes to see each other… Love is measured… By the smiles that the thought of it brings to your face... By not saying it but feeling it... By the sense of helplessness you feel... By the wish-could-hold-on-to-it feeling By the could-have-beens By all these...and more!

Shit man!! What do you do when you have loads of work to do and your concentration is on a vacation? Three days…yes…three whole days and am yet to get it back! My concentration! Four days in Kolkata, and am out of my mind (not that I had a mind to be proud of before, but whatever there was, I lost it). Ended up being highly productive, typing one short email in eight hours! For which I was told: Relax, happens at times! Yes…I did relax. And have been for the past three days. Am so much in love with my work that I am staring at it for hours. And forgot all the work plans I had, to the extent of asking “Oh, did I say this is the way to go about it?” and wondering “What is this all about?” when somebody questions how to implement my own idea. Thought a way of getting my Hyderabad self back can be writing about Kolkata – the emotions I carry for the city. Couldn’t, so settled for a not-so-good translation of a song that has unknowingly borrowed some deep hidden emotions of mine.

Yes…it does! Or rather it might. Past four days have been awesome, most of it. Been on a whirlwind tour to the place which I grew up in, to the people I miss, which was kind of necessary, given the roller coaster ride that life has been over the past couple of weeks. Had an intuition that this time Kolkata would do me a world of good, and it did. Out of project deadlines and almost dead lines, it was a vacation and not just another trip back home to make me more tired. And yes, a lot did happen over a coffee. Or coffees to be precise! Coffee and conversations… more of nothings than anything else! Of smiles and nonsense talks! Of aimless walks! Of missing people not around and smiling at the realization! Of deciding for the n’th time that its time to let certain things/ people go! Of dreading the thought of being back to Hyderabad! And weird as it may seem, this time, after years, I miss Kolkata more than ever. I miss the CCDs and the under-construction flyovers, the traffic jam an

"You were born together, and together you shall be for evermore. You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days. Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God. But let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow." Quoted from Kahlil Gibran's "The Proph