Him, her and me..!

The bhel wala at the corner, the kid working at the tea stall, the guy who sells matching blouse pieces to women, the girl who rubs her nose every time she passes me in office, the lady who talks animatedly over the phone, the paan chewing man at my mobile service shop, the rickshaw wala...what is their story? I see these people everyday. They occupy 0.00000000143% space of my conscious mind. That is, i notice them. At times. At times i am completely unaware. I sit in a rickshaw...am staring out into nothingness or talking on the phone. I am hardly aware of the man's face who drives me all the way to my destination. Not even when i pay him do i bother to look him in the face. He is faceless for me...as are the general "public" around me. People dashing to work...people ambling along...women with their duppatas's on their nose to stifle out unpleasant smells, a 6 year old on a big man's cycle...half standing to peddle it. Its nice to take in these visuals....with music to give rhythm to their movements...they all seem to sway at the same beat. The slow laughter, the hasty run, easy wave of hand...they all synchronize to form one beautiful display of everyday acts.
I give my own stories to them....put words to their muttering lips...guess their life crises on the basis of phone conversation snippets i hear. I give them a larger than life appeal and conjure images of aliens attacking them, loved one's breaking up, life threatening diseases engulfing them and give them happy - sad occasions to live, in my head....they live a life of their own in my head for precisely 6.36 min. Then the song playing catches my attention...or a friend calling brings me back to my own boring, grounded life.
Don't we all wish at times we were someone else?!

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.