Confessions of an awakened mind

I am 27 years of age and i have never voted in my life. A shameful confession!! For all my passionate views about politics, democracy and politicians....i have failed to exercise my right as a citizen. As a good citizen.

We so often hear, "Bad politicians are voted by good citizens who don't vote", its true. But its such a huge responsibility, isn't it? Such a huge burden, to be right...to do the right thing...to be responsible for your actions..! Scary..at least to me. And then there is the dilemma of which evil guy to choose to represent you, to put your faith in! For its propaganda campaign congress has released numerous ads and radio spots...all of which are in Marathi. They dare not get overtly secular at this point and address their message in Hindi, they can't afford to piss the maharashtrian's off, giving the opposition more than a likely chance of winning. Raj continues to hammer people with the 'Me Marathi' fever. Politics at its best.

We sit with our friends, discuss politics, talk about how our country is going to the dogs, how the mithi river is still as it used to be, roads have gone from bad to worse and politicians are bloody rascals - India ka kuch nahi ho sakta! We admire Rahul Gandhi and Sachin Pilot, for being so young, for standing by what they believed in and for making that difference that we have not made. We sit and hope that tomorrow the country will be a better place to live in, opportunities will be endless, more fly overs will come up, there won't be any slums scattered all over, we'll have metro's to speed up transport, crime will disappear and the prices for everything will fall. These are our expectations. And we continue to say that these things will not happen even in a 100 years.

They won't. Cause we're not changing. Cause I am not changing. Cause i think of getting my voters id every single day, but don't. Then i tell myself that its because i don't have the time...am so busy, i work late, what's the point anyway...etc etc.

I don't know how many of you share the same experience as me, how many of us feel terribly burdened by voting and make excuses to not vote. I, have decided to be the change, to contribute in a small way to the fate of this city and my nation. I am getting a voter's id.

Smelly things!

Some experiences smell different. They have the smell of fresh open blue skies. Smell of openness and possibilities. These scents are my favorite.

An innocent life coming into the world…the smiles, the happiness associated with her…the end of wait. Expectations and laughter. Smells like the open sky.

A simple movie, about love…about discovering oneself…leaves you with a sense of freedom and a dream. A dream that is more beautiful on screen than in your and my life. That smells like the blue sky too.

The smell of the pitter patter of rain, fear of the thunder and lightning. Feelings of solitude then a phone call from an old friend. Blue blue sky.

Experiences that leave a smile hours after you’ve stopped smiling when you first feel it. Images you run through your head, once…twice and then once again. These are the small things that help me regain my sanity….give me grounding even as my heart soars….!

Just like that...off my mind..!

Left...left...left...then take that small right..ya right there. there is a circle somewhere there...go around it and there is a bend towards the left. you'll see something big which will look like a dead end but its not..just wait till it disappears (eventually, it has to) then go straight through it..don't look back, and don't you dare sit.

THAT is the map of my brain. Muddled...confused...in crumbles. There is no direction or sense of it. I don't know where i am headed and at times when i do, i don't know why. Am not complaining. Sometimes i like going nowhere. I like the feeling attached to uncertainity. The important word here is 'sometimes'. Right now i am enjoying it. Thoroughly. And thats what matters, doesn't it.

Little Rascal..!

Little brothers. A constant source of irritation and wonderment. They have an internal buzzer i think...making this irritating zzzzzzzz sound all the time, always upto sometihng. Hard to ignore. As a kid, my brother always wanted the toys that were mine. He wanted to sit where i sat with my friends...listening to our conversations. He played house-house with us and sometimes wore my frocks. He wanted to be a part of everything. Its endearing now to think of all those times....his mischief and troublesome behavior. Back then i could have wished him away to the moon or even farther.

Growing up was a haze. I don't remember a lot about it. Childhood is vivid though. We would join our feet while lying opposite each other and play cycle cycle. We've fought tooth and nail, physically beating each other. Somewhere the physical fights ceased and verbal began. That tradition continues. Sometimes it makes me sad that i wasn't more aware of his growing up years. Maybe we would have known each other better.

He is a man today...almost. A boy to me but a man to everyone else. The tragedy of growing up and being an adult is that you will always be a child to some. So you never feel fully grown. In my head, he is still my LITTLE brother, who needs to be yelled at, to be told a hundred times and more...who won't listen and who needs constant looking after and counselling. It never occurs to me to treat him otherwise. Its hard to remember that he's an adult. He has his very own life you know...exclusively his. Small detail that i miss out.

My brother - Nishith. I fight you, i resist you, i admonish you and I love you! Coming back home is never the same if you're not around.

Heartfelt II

She sat by the window...the grill obstructing her view at places. Raindrops kept falling on her bare hands and a part of her t-shirt that was touching the grill was soaking wet. But she didn't realize any of this. She just sat there...not thinking...not dreaming...not sad and neither happy. Lazy times. A rare leisure.

A phone call brought her back from nothingness. It was an old school friend, someone she'd not spoken to in years. She lived abroad now and was down for a couple of weeks. Standing by the window and talking and laughing, Shruti suddenly became aware of the heavy rain and the water soaked hem of her t-shirt. She realized how shabby she looked and thought she should finally wear the green kurti she bought 2 months ago but had left it unpacked. She needed a haircut....badly. A lunch plan was made. She would be seeing Deepty after ages...she wanted to look good..feel good.

Over lunch, Shruti lost track of time. They spoke of school days...their class teacher and principal...old classmates. They exchanged funny stories and for a couple of hours went back to morning assembly, recess periods, pulling skirts to make them shorter and the vada pav stall at the corner. It was easy..easy to talk, to forget...to let go. Sometimes when you get lost in today...yesterday does a pretty good job of leading you back. Shruti spoke about her today....and somehow it was easier to talk about it than she had imagined. Deepty spoke of her experiences...not very similar to Shruti's but not too different either. "You know Shruti, we give the keys to people too soon...the keys to drive us crazy". This simple line stuck in Shruti's head all the way back home. She kept thinking about it and for the first time in more than one and a half year, she told herself something that she should have long time back - Its over.

Is this how freedom smells? The damp air rising up and giving her a sudden burst into fresh air. She felt like she was in a meadow and not between an impossible traffic jam. She'd lifted this heavy package since so long..now it was gone..she had dropped it and she felt light, her shoulders slumped in relief and she let out a sigh. She couldn't stop smiling. The smile slowly turned into a laugh. For all the times....the beautiful beautiful memories he'd left...for all the kind words...all the caring and all the fun. Raj seemed like a different person all together, all of a sudden. He stood for all that she'd wished for, hoped for and longed for. She chased him, pinned him down and pushed him...to belong, to hold, to stay. But, it was over. Finally, it was over.

The auto rickshaw had a mirror. Shruti leaned a little towards her right and caught an image of herself...and smiled.