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.

Heartfelt

And then he just turned around and left. She stood there watching him leave. His words had not hurt her as much as the fact that he left without once turning behind. Like he'd dismissed her from his life in that one moment. Everything was left behind.

Strangely, she didn't cry. She turned around and made a call to the client to say that the artwork will be ready by evening. Matter of factly. Casually. As if this was some idle Tuesday..life was normal and everything hadn't changed.

Life was a rush. Life also lay deep beneath phone calls, client meetings, emails, prints, coffee, sleep, tantrums, fights, men...!! She felt still at times...as if life was revolving around her at a pace she couldn't keep up.

"Where did you keep the file i gave you this morning?". She looked blankly at the voice who seemed to be asking the question. It took a couple of minutes for her to register who he was and what was he talking about. Once she figured that...all that came out of her mouth was "I don't know, I don't know where i put it....it must be here somewhere..give me 5 min, I'll look for it". It took her half hour to locate the file. A few days later, she sat admiring a Saree that her mother bought. She sat with it in her lap and stroked the fabric while talking of mundane things. Nobody could tell, neither could she at that moment as to why suddenly had she burst out in tears. She cried...in loud gasps. This was the first time since that day 18 months ago that she had let herself go.

"It was the texture, Purvi, I'm telling you...it was the texture of the Saree that made me cry. Suddenly i realized that i couldn't feel my emotions like i felt the Saree...I honestly can't feel anything..for anyone...for anything. I just don't care anymore"

This is Shruti's story. Somewhere yours and mine too. The things we do to each other. We ravage and inflict on each other's minds. Imposing, snatching, scratching and hurting...so much!

Shruti's story is not over. Not yet. Look out for more.

Go Woman!!

I love the attitude :) Hillary Clinton making her mark. Coming out of the shadows of a more powerful and charismatic husband. Admirable. Much like our very own Sonia Gandhi, who has created a brand identity very unique and independent from that of her late husband, Mr. Rajiv Gandhi. Women who've risen to the occassion and have come up a long way with confidence, grace, attitude and pride.