Not a compulsive confessor

So is this my diary? No it aint. And am I a compulsive confessor? Nope. So I cant write about a lot of things here. So I cant write those things which might get me eye balls. Or for that matter a book deal. I started writing because my journal seemed too crowded with my poems. I started writing because I wanted some people to read my thoughts. But they dont, and well, what else is there to do but just to ramble on. *sigh* Hoping that someday... someday...

Are there days like this, when there is an equal amount of joy and sadness in you? When you know that you are just a dreams breadth away from your perfect future. The ingredients are all there, but you just messed up the timings so bad, that its better not to cook at all? You just need to hold out your hand and ask... but you know that asking will cost a lot from a lot of people. So you dont. You just smile at the game fate has played on you.

But Ive been lucky in so many ways. Ive had so much love. Im a bitch and still people love me. Its amazing when I think of it sometimes. I keep fearing everyone will leave and go one fine day when they realise how unbearably selfish and snobbish I am. But more and more, I see friends coming back to me. Depending on me. And surprise of surprises, saying nice things about me... even behind my back!!!

Yes Ive been lucky. Im lucky to be alive. 8 years back, a different seat in a bus would have smashed me to smithereens. The bus crashed... my family and I were on the last row. Thing is, I was not at the back at first. I was just beside the driver. My dad called me from there to sit with them. When it was over, and we were standing on the road, bleeding, dazed... we realised that the seat was not there at all. It had been crushed to a pulp. There was a man sitting there after I had left the seat. Was.

I survived though. Sans a few teeth, and a crushed lower lip, which had to be surgically set right again. But I had use of my limbs and brain. I could not eat for months and my facial reconstruction took almost a year to get back to almost normal, but I have only a scar and the dentures to show for it. It was harrowing seeing my family suffer. My dad, bleeding profusely from surface wounds, yet, calmly, coolly getting our luggage down, arranging for alternative transport to the nearest hospital. My sister, with a gaping wound just below her eye. "Can you see, can you see" my mother kept asking her. And my mother, who wasnt hurt physically, but who had to see all three of her closest people in that state. My mother, who suggested we go to KMC and not to Suratkhal hospital, as we would get better treatment there. She may well have saved my face that day.

At the time when I was visiting my plastic surgeon every monday, he used to be based in the burns yard of KMC (Kasturba Medical College Hospital, I was studying in TAPMI,Manipal). The sights I encountered there made me forget my plight. In fact mine seemed no plight at all.

Here is something I wrote in the hospital itself.

I know what pain is

For I have seen them suffer-

Little girls, their tiny hands bound in white.

Boys half my size, in stretchers, covered to the neck.

Ive heard them scream

Ive heard them wail

Ive heard their cries.

I know what pain is

Not because I have felt it,

But because I have seen them suffer.

(October 2000)

to be continued...

Thanksgiving

I tried to feel lonely this morning

Tried to be angry

But everything just washed away in a smile.

In my heart... Peace.

I feel the blood flow in your veins as I touch your skin,
The scars on your arm and in my heart
Glow softly in the broken twilight-suns ray;
Slowly ten years of separation just melts away.

A tear joins the sweat coursing down your face,
I catch it on my tongue like I would a rain drop.
My tears mingled with yours midflight and fell,
Your eyes convey what your lips wont tell.

I smile as I see you cry, holding my hand,
I want to hold on to these hours.
Tomorrow our worlds may be torn apart ,
But tonight is ours... just ours.

The words you said still ring in my ears,
Today you are gone again, like you always go
The rain falls on me now, like a memory,
And I know you will always come back to me.

State of health care in India

Indian health care features in the latest issue of TIME magazine. Its tough to read through it without being angry and frustrated.
http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1736516,00.html

I live in Kolkata and my sister is a doctor. I keep hearing horror stories from her about our state hospitals. Power cuts are common in the state hospitals rendernig whatever equipment is available, useless. Cleanliness is difficult, true, given the huge rush of patients, but dogs and cats under beds???!!! Whenever something happens to a patient there are doctors being beaten up and blamed. What most dont realise that in the "system" the doctors are also victims.

And we compare ourselves with China? The next global superpower? With a population that cant afford basic healthcare, wont we be too sick to work our way up the ladder to that dream?

Added to that is the mentality of our population. Women are still denied basic care, here, in the heart of the city. Our house cleaners daughter is approx 5 months pregnant (at 16, so much for our govt policies, she married last year on her own). Her inlaws are yet to get an ultra sound done. They were reluctant to take her to the hospital at all, was forced by people like us. My baby's ayah is 24. Her sons are 7 and 6 yrs old. Recently her brother got married. Age of the bride- 15 yrs. This is Kolkata, not some out of the way village. In anything, any situation, women are always the first and the most to suffer.

Hatred

Like drops of acid on my skin
Hatred drips and slides
Eating into the flesh, scorching my bones.
I can see as they land, poisoned arrow tips
Zipping through the emptiness between us
I watch wide-eyed as they pierce into my heart.

Nothing remains, nothing
Not even vaccum now
The past recedes farther
The present caustic
And the future black, black like empty space.

You will leave, all of you
Go on with your little lives
With your little joys and little sorrows
I remain clutching desperately
Like a beggar to her only bowl
Laugh at the irony if you find that empty
Or my body covered in soot and spit.

I am this and nothing more
To some, worse than a whore
They come and they go, They will not stay
They see my eyes and shrink away
I stand here, like a roadside flower
Any footfall makes me cower
Im afraid, afraid of everything
Of what tomorrow will bring
Im scared of the day, tired of the night
Ive lost all energy to fight
Tears of blood flow like a river
No one near me, I stand and shiver
The little angels of hope are gone
Leaving me here, on my own
I want the raindrops to wash my fears
But only this acid into me tears
I stay alive burning with this fever
As my soul stands and watches me wither.

(The poem is not even. 1st para 6 lines, 2nd 5 lines, 3rd 7 lines, total 18, and the second part has 18, and rhymes as opposed to the first part. Hatred is like that, I suppose.)

Kolkata loves a good bandh

For all those who braved the heat to go to Eden Gardens to cheer the Knights, Mondays bandh would have sounded like music! It did to me. Sunday afternoon, I sweated and sat through a quite boring match in an extraordinary stadium with 75 thousand people. Monday I slept off the utter tiredness!
So did most of the city, it seems.

Yesterdays Bandh, like all Bandhs was mostly a success. One can give any number of reasons to stay indoors. I work in Salt Lake and travel 25 kms one way to get there. No, not the IT sector. I pass through Park Circus, the hot bed of most agitations in the city. So thats my excuse... well, officially. Oh I luurve to spend the monday lolling around, watching the odd movie, catching up on my reading as the nanny looks after my little girl. Monday holidays are more special. Delicious.
Mamata Didi, god bless her, knows that!

Not to say I dont curse the Bandh. Kolkata's image and all that s***t, you know. Just when the world is waking up to the infinite possibilities the state can offer... (eg- umm, uhh, Nandigram, Singur)... I spend hours trying to talk my colleagues and clients out of Kolkata-bashing... their favorite past time nowadays, especially the non resident Bangalis, I convince them finally that work culture has changed, (meaning Kolkatans are now working)... and WHAM, another bandh gets called next Monday. YUMM!

Think about it. The world is over populated and over polluted. The streets around all cities in the globe are difficult to drive through and impossible to breathe in. But go out on a bandh day in this city of joy for a sanguine walk on yon meado...um...patch of grass around the street corner. Breathe in fresh smoke-free air for a change.
Wait... you can even hear some birds chirruping. How? The autos have a holiday, so no ear splitting ratatata-s.
And what about some mutton curry for lunch, guilt free that you are not wasting a Sunday, rotting in the kitchen when you can watch reruns of F.R.I.E.N.D.S on Zee Cafe!
And the luxury of a stroll to get an ice cream just when the parlor is opening up at 6 pm.

Oh man! How Kolkata hates Bandh callers... and how Kolkata loves a Bandh!

First time Im doing this tag thing... takes so much time, Im really jobless it seems...

1. Last movie you saw in a theater: tough one, considering Ive not been to a cinema hall in , like, ages... The Departed, I think.

2. What book are you reading: Orhan Pamuk's Istanbul. I just finished the last part of the Buddha series by Osamu Tezuka.

3.Favourite board game:None, I hate board games, there are better things to do at home.

4.Favourite magazine:One??? I love Outlook Traveller, Vogue, Marie Claire, National Geographic. Occassionally I read Readers Digest but its not the same anymore.

5.Favourite smells: Anything but poo. Apart from my baby's poo, thats ok!!! :)) Ok I love baking cakes and oranges, Cinthol soap and Ponds talk, Christian Dior's 'Poison' and Chanels 'No 5', Brut and Tabac, stale cigarette smoke mixed with coffee, and some smells Im blushing to think about... so I better not say them.

6.Favourite sounds: my baby's laughter, some voices and laughter

7. Worst feeling in the world: that this is all there is.

8.What is the first thing you think when you wake: depends on the dream I wake up from.

9.Favourite fast food place:dont do fast food.

10.Future child's name: naah, not good at this.

11.Finish this statement "If i had a lot of money i would" stack it all up in my safe and open it every time Im down, and feel good about myself.

12.Do you drive fast? - Yeah baby yeah!

13.Do you sleep with a stuffed animal- hee hee... what kind of stuffed animal do you mean.

14.Storms cool or crazy? - Luurve storms, especially if Im out and stuck in one, and super especially if Im driving through one.

15.What was your first cars? - My first carS???

16.Favourite drink- Long island ice tea, not had one since pregnancy... its been almost 2 years, boo hoo.

17.Finish the statement "If i had the time I would"- yeah! like Im too busy saving the world right now.

18.Do you eat the stems on broccoli? - Broccoli? Whazzat???

19.If you could dye your hair any colour, what would be your choice? Red, ma-a-n... what else.

20.Name all the different cities/town you have lived in.- home town calcutta, bangalore, chennai, pune, manipal/ mangalore. Will two days living count? Then mumbai, delhi also. Oh Im so well travelled!

21.Favourite sports to watch. - Hate sports when Im not playing. And I play only one sport. ;)

22.One nice thing about the person who sent this to you. - She wastes my time. She has too much of it, my wela sister.

23.What's under your bed?- I dont dare to look.

24.Would you like to be born as yourself again? - Yeah, and live as myself with the same people around me, with all the knowledge of this life... so I can try the things I know I missed out on.

25. Morning person or Night Owl? - Neither. Twilight is my Zone.

26.Over easy or sunny side up? - None, only hatched birds.

27.Favourite place to relax - At this time in life, my office... I even get to sleep there for an hour at times, without any thought of baby waking up or husband tantrum or loves lost and found et al.

28.Favourite pie - with chicken slivers and mozarella and pineapple and olives... Or apple with vanilla ice cream... Im hungry.

29.Favourite ice cream flavour. - Chocolate and black currant. And sometimes plain vanilla with hot chocolate sauce.

30.Of all the people you tagged this to, who is most probable to respond first.- Naah, I dont take after my sister... Im doing this and thats it.

Ordinary poem

I am an ordinary girl with an ordinary life
My ordinary day leads to an ordinary night
I work, I play, I eat, I drink
Life ebbs and flows, I rise and sink
I trudge along much travelled streets
Of roadside flowers Im but the weeds.
One day Ill lay myself to rest
Then, of me let just this be said
She was ordinary in all the above
But she had an extraordinary love.

The world we are living in...

She walked off this morning.

Yesterday, when I found her at about 8 am, she looked as if she was almost gone... trying to drink water from the open nullah that she could not reach. I had heard her crying, the low rhythmic half 'meaow', thats probably all she could let out, after 24 hours of no food and water.

This is how I found her. Hearing what seemed like a childs groan, continuous, every few seconds, I stepped out to the verandah. The 'meshomoshai' from accross the street was asking a young sweeper to "get a rope and drag it somewhere else", and the sweeper wouldnt... he was too afraid it would bite. "It" turned out to be a full grown cat, a known thief from careless open kitchens in the area.

I could just see her sitting next to our apartment garage gate. As I tried to understand what was happening 'mashima' informed me that someone, or maybe a car, had hit her on the hind legs. Now she cant move much, only drag herself a few inches. "She had dragged herself inside your apartment complex yesterday afternoon to get some shade... now she is trying to drink from the nullah"

All they could talk about was what the stink would be like when she died... "the carcass rots real fast in the heat"... yeah, the heat, which made her so thristy that she dragged herself out to drink from a nullah she could not reach... crying for water. They just waited for her to die, thats ok, but what does it take to give a dying animal some water? A dish? Some stairs to climb?

One whole day they all saw her, they heard her cry. One whole scalding boiling searing hot day. And they did not give her a dish of water.

There are lots of children in the area. Tomorrows leaders. Torch bearers of humanity. My only thought was, how do I protect her from them. All the veterenary services were off for the day, it being a Sunday. I had to wait till Monday morning.

With a little milk and some rice, she could already sit up straight. With a Dettol wash- which she took silently, her pleading eyes on my face- she lost the smell which came from sitting on ones own excrement for a day. By evening she had moved to a corner in the wall, almost hiding from the world, and I was hopeful.

This morning I could not find her.

Desperate, heart in my mouth, I skirted the building... and there she was, hidden in the undergrowth of some small trees inside the complex itself. The baby food I was carrying worked, she raised herself and moved towards me. I say 'moved' because she could not walk, nor limp even. She was still dragging her hind legs, but wonder of wonders, she was trying to place them on the ground... she succeeded with one, the other was still too painful.

A friend had advised human pain killers in very small doses. I had not given her any yesterday night, but this morning I mixed it in the baby formula. Probably she would try to get her own food till I got back in the night.

Yesterday they waited for her to die.

She walked off this morning.

Believe it or not

An "about me" declaration from a dude on a networking site. Its copy-pasted exactly as-is.

ABOUT ME: ********SIMPLY BEYOND EXPECTATIONS....********
My Heart is like a VIOLINE......
if you strike wrong note,In a wrong string...
It will make noise,And will really irritate you...
But if you strike a beautifulnote,On the right string with loveand feel...
You will find the Music...
Which you were seeking andmissing in your Life.......
***********************************
I am like WIND...
No one can hold me,No one can keep me beside.
I follow the path of my will,And my will is a fervent followerof Dreams.
I care for no boundaries,I browse through meadows and dirts Right and Wrong, Vile and Virtue,Never bothers me at all...
I do carry the essence andfragrance of all,Whatever comes in my Way...
I may flow through your mind andHeart,Distracting your thoughts and disturbing your feelings...
If u d'nt want me In...Close the entrance and windows ofyour mind and heart.....

Slaves to love

Are we such slaves to our need for love? All of us? Why do I see such strong intelligent women around me fall prey to this disease. All around me. They stay in abusive relationships, they take all kinds of rubbish, they go to such extents just to please someone, just to hear the words, I love you, or not even that. To feel needed.

Why is it so? Today we have all the necessities to build and to live a life self sufficient. And yet we need depend and be depended upon. Its not a financial need, its not security any more. Is it our motherhood instincts that prompt us into these things. Poor guy, he needs me, he needs my help, he can change only if I am with him... and so starts the spiral down to hell.

They use us, dont they. When they have the need for us, physical, psychological, spiritual, support or just friendship, they use us. Then they are there to wipe our tears, not a drop is shed, when they are all over us. They are there to hold us and to make us feel needed. But when they have gotten over that phase, then starts the mental break down. Cry them a river, they wont turn to you. They wont ask you even when you say you are down. They will cover the guilt by taking you out once in a while and buying you stuff, and there are good phases when you think nothing can be better than this. You go back to where you started, before you built all the defenses around you. And then the cut comes again. Isnt it familiar? Are they all like that?

I have seen women become progressively depressed with the situation. Sometimes they break the relationship. They walk off, after giving chance after chance for him to change. They are the wise ones, they are the lucky ones. The ones who cling on, they are in for trouble. What do they do, when they know they can get out of it, and yet things are out of hand. They try to send messages. Usually starting with harmless ones, tears, screams, bouts of madness... just to get the word across. Then it becomes a dangerous game. Throwing the glass at the wall to using the glass against her self. "I will hurt myself if you dont listen to me... I will do something to myself if you keep acting like an ass". All a game, a very very cruel dangerous game... a mind numbing painful game. They get used to that too.

I have read somewhere that a woman takes shit till she can take. Which means that we all have our threshholds.
One of my friends had to end up in hospital before she started divorce proceedings.
Another friend broke her engagement because he had already started abusing her and her family on the phone after drinking bouts.
Another acquaintance just left because of the loneliness, with children and a never-present husband. She did it with the support of another man... who she is in love with, but wait till they clock some time together.
Yet another took a bottle full of sleeping pills... and survived. She went back to him.
Another hanged herself with her husband and son in the adjacent room.
None an exaggeration. All true.

Have you heard of the woman who tried the way of suicide multiple times, always surviving? Pills one time, slashed wrists one time, jumping off stairs another... never good enough to kill her, all messages, all calls for help, for attention in a world that did not care. She was Diana... a princess, a beauty, an icon. And yet...

That is not to say men dont go through anything. To be fair to them, I have heard of many a man being hounded by women with issues. It starts with small jealousies... but men can get out of it easier. They dont have esteem issues like women have. They are not needy or clingy like us. Some amount of guilt may make them stick around for some time, but they flee soon enough. Most do, at least. For those who cant, welcome to the club.

Is it any use saying we need to change. Our basic natures wont change. We will not learn. We make the same mistakes again and again. Our needs wont change. Our desire to be desired wont change. We have to be mothers to the poor men in our lives. We have to stay around no matter what they say, no matter what they do. When they run away, we wait, patiently, silently... for the time when they will need us once more and come running back, tongues out, tails wagging.

30 Things To Do before 30.

1. Learn to drive a car- check.
2. Own a car- half check.
3. Own my house- Dream on.
4. Marry- check.
5. Have my first child- check.
6. Settle down in a job- check.
7. Wear a boot and stilletos- check.
8. Get a business suit- check.
9. Know what true love feels like- check.
10. Rearrange my life, list all birthdays anniversaries and names, make everything work like clockwork- no comment.
11. Finish my MA in English- I can only say I started 3 years back.
12. NGO work- I tried for sometime, but its not a "check" yet.
13. Start my novel- Yeah, right!!!
14. Read all the books I have bought over the years- No time.
15. Become a culture vulture, start visiting music festivals and theatre performances- ditto.
16. Get my finances on track- no comment.
17. Search out Promita Adhikary, my college buddy who went underground- I wish.
18. Get ego out of the window, kill them with kindness- Still at it.
19. Mature- Ditto.
20. Start something, a business, something, anything...- no comment.
21. Visit Paris.
22. Learn calculus, I mean really learn it.
23. Read Bangla, at least some of the classics.
24. Finish Joyce's Ulysses.
25. Learn to play the sitar- oh well.
26. Learn to play the piano- ditto.
27. Have only sexy underwear- ;)
28. Learn to dance.
29. Learn to cook a mean biryani.
30. Love like there is no tomorrow- check check check... No really, this one should be- Learn to speak French, even if broken- C'est la vie, mon amour.

Sorry is the hardest word?

Australia has apologized to all indigenous Australians some days back. For the atrocities they faced, for their land that was grabbed and subsequently their livelihood, et al.

Is an apology enough to heal a race? Maybe it is, because the wronged can start to forgive, and start to live once again. Its not about what is lost, but what can be saved by the power of the human mind.

Recently a grandson of Mahatma Gandhi was forced to resign from a peace institute of the University of Rochester (a department he himself co-founded), for his comments on the Jews and the holocaust. Apart from saying that the Jews can overplay the holocaust for sympathy he also put this question forward- how long can the whole world feel sorry for what happened to the Jews.

How long does the whole world have to be sorry? Forever, is my guess. Its not a question of how many millions died or suffered ... its a question of every individual who lived through it or died in it.
Its about every single child who went to the gas chamber because she/he was too little to work.
Its about every toddler swung against the wall with their feet, or hunted down from basements to be shot.
Its about every mother who had to see their little ones die of starvation or take them to their death in their own arms.
Its about every grandfather who was taken away never to be seen again.
Its about every father who had to live, and work at a crematorium knowing he is burning the bodies of his wife and children.

How long do we have to be sorry??? Is that even a question?

Some groups in India wanted England to apologize for their centuries of rule on this land. If England has to start apologizing for their colonial past, heaven help them. And while we are at it, why not ask the Central Asians (Babur was a Turk from near Iran) to apologize their role in ruling the land, or well, the Aryans who were the first to come and depose the original Indians, the Indian aborigins... who we knew in the last century as the caste-less... or at best the lowest caste, and who we protest against nowadays because they are taking away our medical seats and government jobs (due to the Indian system of seat reservation for the downtrodden and economically deprived). Wait, that might mean, I would have to apologize too.

Speaking of India, we find apologizing below our stature. The Gujarat riots in 2002- nope. The anti sikh riots after Indira Gandhi's assassination- it was even played down by the then prime minister, Rajiv Gandhi, who is reported to have commented- "When a big tree falls, the earth is bound to shake". The apology for the carnage did come through in 1998 (the riots took place in 1984), by his wife, Sonia Gandhi.

Going global again, what about the indegenous Americans- the (un-original) Indians. You dont even have to read anything to know what happened. Watch a couple of westerns, or read about Hiawatha and Pocahontas, and you get the drift. Any apology? None officially.

Africa called for slavery apology in 2001 from Europe and America... nope. White trash dont say sorry. They sometimes "express regret" for the atrocities they unleashed on most of the African and some of the Asian countries, they wont take the leap from regret to apology.

If we start asking for apologies, I wonder where it will end. From my friend who forgot to ask me why I wasnt well yesterday, to Kenya's women, from Bhopal tragedy victims to Vietnam, from the Rangoon monks to the to the Tutsi-s in Rwanda, from Jade Goody's racial slur at Shilpa Shetty, to Darfur's millions of refugees, from a kiss in India, to a race almost wiped out by a madman in Cambodia.

The human race is capable of great good and great evil. And the evil does not drive us completely mad only because of the good which still exists in us... in all of us. May the good always find a way to win. Amen.

Hope

Like a land destroyed
Chunks of concrete, shards of metal
Strewn all around.
Dark smoke
Black, black sky
The air hangs like an unwashed shrowd
Smelling of sulfur
Reeking, reeking of death.

Hearts break like that...

But what is this...
Is it a flower, a tiny rose bud
From this barren land born
Can she make it live again?

Written long ago.

Go and take a walk on the white and gray beach
feel every grain of sand as it slips and slides between your toes
look behind to see your footprints fill with salt water
leave them where you know the tide will wash them away.

Hold her hand tight if you want to walk with her
she may be wild like the wind that ruffles your hair
she is beautiful like the twilight, but soon darkness comes
she may be fleeting like the tide, like the day, like time.

Her smile is like the early morning sunshine
her tears like the million stars twinkling in the night sky
she touches with her fingertips like a cool summer breeze
her love is a tempest, a whirlwind, her love is the blue sea.

Build sand castles but soon they will crumble and fall
find kingdoms in the clouds above your head
do you see shapes of islands on the blue horizon
do you try to hold on to the sand or surf in your folded hands?

It was cold last night... the type of cold where your can see your breath. We had gone to a friends wedding, our city batch mates, which counts up to probably 5 or 6, nothing compared to other cities... and I was friggin shaking in my 4 inch heels. Felt good catching up but its all so yawn nowadays. All I want to do is, yeah yeah, have some fun, and all I ever do is bare my teeth and hear everyone around me speak speak speak. Oh, for the lost days of innocence. One would give an arm to have a guffaw team around, and laugh till ones bladder rebels. Sigh! Where are all the laughathons gone?

On the turn of the year

So much is happening in 2008... my daughter had her annaprashan ceremony (rice ceremony) last week. Just a family get together, a 20 person affair... it went off well. We did not have a big ceremony. My family, who were largely left out are not done complaining yet. They have this to say- it seems my annaprashan was a gala affair. Another one of those things. When you were a child, so and so happened! Did anyone tell our parents that?

It still takes a lot to accept that I am not a little girl any more. I have a little girl of my own. It seems just like yesterday when my cheeks would get pulled by everyone... now its my daughters turn. Seems just like yesterday that I changed school and came to the place which shaped much of my adult life. Gave me friends for a lifetime... "jibono moroner shimana charaye" - beyond boundaries of life and death... and soon, too soon my baby will be going to school, making friends of her own.

It is good that I remember much of what I went through at every juncture of life. I will know what to expect when she cries on her first day in school, or throws a tantrum when, some years later, I tell her, no, she cant go to the sleep over at her friends place.

I want to be a good mother. A good mother is a combination of disciplinarian and friend. I hope I will be able to keep the balance. I hope I will be able to instill in her the respect and compassion my parents did. And whatever happens, I make a promise that she will never feel lonely as long as I am alive... she will never feel so lost that there is no way out.

I am waiting for her to start talking so I can tell her stories, fairy tales and where they are wrong about life (happily ever after??? really!!!??? - more on that later), fables with a moral and why they are important, stories from my head, of magical lands and mythical creatures. I am waiting for her to walk and run so I can take her to open fields and run on the green soft grass with her, holding her hand when she is tired and needs reassurance. I am waiting for her to start her lessons, studies, music and whatever else she wants to do. But most of all I am waiting for her to turn 15, when she will start discovering the world on her own... so that I can stand in the sidelines with my arms folded, and a smile, watching my baby as she finally learns to fly. I will be right here, when she wants to fly back to me to dry her tears and then tell her its ok, life is beautiful, life is as we see it... we can color it with our technicolor dreams in whatever shade we wish it to be.

Age and the Woman

A girlfriend recently celebrated her birthday. The usual dampener I give to everyone after some time is "so how old are you today". She stoically replied, one year less than last year. Now Ive started going backward!

Age. The biggest enemy of the modern woman. Here come the wrinkles and the grey hair. The sagging breasts and the blotchy skin. Where is the suppleness and the glow. The retinue of products, canned and bottled, that lie on my dressing and bedside tables increase every few months to help induce the just-out-of-bed translucent skin... as long as that works.

The old wisdom goes that a woman should always state an age 2 years less than the reality. I told my friend that. She wasnt not happy. "In that case Ill be 30 next year, no will do!!! Id rather be 28!!" What could one say to that logic? But Im happy with the 2 year less practice. With a little help from chemicals in jars, I might just pass off as 38 when Im 40, even if I cant move my eyebrows with my botox shots. Im 38, and I cant express how happy I am to tell you that! My muscles are frozen.

The Indian beauty industry is an estimated $3 billion. A large pie of this is dominated by, what else, fairness products. Every company has one at least... whatever the cream, just add the word "fair" to it... it will sell. Men can rest easy too, their "rougher and tougher" skins need not be left behind in the race to whiten up.

However in the past couple of years a new warrior has entered the beauty arena. The anti-ageing cream. In the west, this is the biggest grosser in the beauty market. Now Indians are also picking up. From general- 7-in-1 creams to higly specialised under-eye-anti-wrinkle... every post 30 woman is spoilt for choice. Finally hope on the horizon!!!

One thing that did not quite pick up here is the anti cellulite products- creams soaps et al. We Indians still love the love handles and the flab around our thighs. We cant be bothered to spend money for that, for godsakes. Maybe our daughters will think differently.

But as more and more companies enter the anti-wrinkle/ anti-age market I am convinced I can still get those second glances after the first glimpse for years and years to come. After all Ill be 28 in March. Or is it 26. Damned if I tell you. (wink wink).

Long live kaali mehendi!

Searching for a way to give in
To the madness in my mind
It's not OK and I am not fine
But who will hear me scream.

Accept that its all wrong
Who will stop this slow burn
How to mend this brain churn
Living an impossible dream.

Anonymous in my world
Slow descent into hell
Cancer in my every cell
A life undoing itself at the seam.

Ahhhh! Three cheers for retail therapy. Last night I thought life had ended... right now, Im on Cloud 9. And about 8k short in my bank. Oh but its so worth it. Not only am I on a non-alcohol induced high, but also, I have 4 pairs of shoes, and a couple of shirts to show for it. Didnt binge of food though, just a juice and a strawberries with cream for my partner-in-shopping sister... Im an angel.

The Great Indian Wedding

There is now an Indian "wedding industry" and not only is it alive and kicking but it is growing in leaps and bounds every season. Value of this industry- Rs 50,000 crores growing at 25% annually. In a country where more than 25% of its citizens are living under the poverty line still, the major newsmakers in the last few years have been weddings to die for- Liz Hurley to the PIO Nayar, Ms Mittal, and of course the dandy Master Chatwal to the oh-so-ethereal Priya Sachdev.

Look at the diamond advertisements on TV recently. Just 2 months back they targeted the upwardly mobile woman with "a mind of her own". Start November and they have all veered towards the wedding market, the bride-to-be, or her family. Even solitaires have their takers- to make your love shine brighter just buy a diamond for her.

The designers are cashing in. Its known that all designers in the world worth her/his needle will have a wedding range. Now they are going public about it, and how. Tie-ups between designers and jewelery houses are common. Bags, shoes, even watches have wedding collections. The tourism business is publicizing honeymoon packages in Malaysia, the Carribbean, or even in hippie heaven Goa. Furniture "wedding packages" are going at heavy discounts.

Magazines specialising in wedding and everything associated with it sell like hot cakes. No wonder every magazine carries a wedding special at this time. The latest buzz in India is the appointment of Wedding Planner. Supposedly everyone wants an "English Garden", or a "Beach" or a "Pink" wedding. Its providing for a lot of people- the flower arranger, the card maker, the cake maker, even the specialised gift packager.

And now, for the last few years enter the specialised marriage fairs, where you get everything but the groom. Its such a huge hit that they are traveling offshore to places like Dubai or inland to a Lucknow or an Ahmedabad.

Wedding in India is big business. Now only if I had an idea how to cash in on it...

Written on 4th March 2007

Inside out, upside down-
If the world stops spinning around,
The tiny ripples in rivers freeze
And dust flow like water on the ground.
If the birds turn to ashes in their flight,
And the flaming rhododendrons burn-
Buildings crumble and roses fade
The sky recede far far away.
Still life goes on, in quiet desperation.

Upside down, inside out-
Wanting, but I cannot shout.
Want the blood to stop
And skin to slowly fall apart.
Want the nails to burst away
Hair catch fire and burn me down.
Eyes fade to white, red lips turn blue
And the heart turn to stone- cold and hard.
But life still goes on in silent desperation.

Let us never forget

My dad just returned from a business trip to Poland. When there he got the time to visit Auschwitz. I go out my old copy of 'Night' (Elie Wiesel) yesterday and re-read it.

It was June 1940 when this Nazi concentration camp started functioning with the first batch of Polish anti- Nazi political prisoners. 1942 saw the camp transform into a highly efficient killing field, with thousands upon thousands of prisoners, mostly Jews, but also Poles, gypsies and Soviet war prisoners, perishing in gas chambers, shot down or just dropping down exhausted with crushing routines. More than a lakh victims, estimates from 1,10,000 to 1,50,00 died in 5 years. Just a days collection of shoes of victims formed veritable mountains...

Here are some of the sites which are keeping the Auschwitz memories alive so that the world does not see it happen again.
www.auschwitz.org.pl
www.remember.org
www.auschwitz.dk/Auschwitz.htm
www.eliewieselfoundation.org
'Night'- by Elie Wiesel

I held your heart in my folded palms
I said I will protect it from the world-
Wondrous rays made my hands glow
Wondered what secrets it would unfold!

I opened my palms to let the light wash my eyes
And out flitted a million rainbow coloured butterflies.

http://www.people.com/people/package/gallery/0,,20160055_20160112,00.html

We poor things are competing with this???

Time to move on...

As a generation we are refusing to grow up. Yes many of us have married and some of us have kids already. But thats saying very little about the way we live or think. So many of us still depend on our parents for so much. We are the tail enders of Gen X, the cusp of generations- alienated from the larger group which just preceded us, or the next generation- the 80-s born... the 20- somethings.

We were the last to work in dead end jobs, the last to accept what our elders said as the bible-truth. The last to compromise. The Generation Y or Gen Next have grown up in a different world so to say. Technologically they have started off earlier, economically they have been born into an open market. They are just now entering the job scene with expectations which are sky high. Failure for them means different than what it did for us. They have more difficulty accepting authority figures. Research has shown they demand much more in the work place- money, time, technology, flexibilty in work, vacations, promotions etc. There was an instant in the US when a 24 year old was sacked for non-performance and the next day he turned up with his mother in tow, to demand an explanation.

Money is of primary importance. More than 50% say it is most important in their life to become rich. In a medical college a few interns were caught stealing mobile phones and selling them to make a quick buck. This, from a group waiting to make it big in a couple of years.

They are a different bag of marbles altogether. But we, the 28-32 years old... In everything we try to hold on to our lost childhood in whatever little way we can. We are a group who either have friends born in the 80-s and so believe ourselves to be part of them... or like me, look at them with a mixture of grudging envy and high handedness. They still have a long way to grow up.

But then, so do we.

Motherhood is the new black

Everyone I hear is either pregnant or has a baby. Look at Orkut. A year back I used to have faces in my friends list... now its them with their baby! Albums with "three of us", "my world"...

Pushing 30 means giving up something, I guess. Sacrifices which dont seem like sacrifices... yeah, I cant go out on Fridays and Saturdays... it takes hours of thought before I can go shopping. My mum needs to be free if we can catch dinner on a Sunday, a couple of hours of couple-dom outside of parent-hood. Ive forgotten what a long island ice tea tastes like. My staple is now orage juice, thank you. Even a coke raises eyebrows around me. And yet, they are all doing it.

Forget Hollywood moms... they have full time nanny-s to help while they do their thing. Its people like us who have to face the music, or lack of it. No time, you see. I can listen to music only if my baby likes it, thank god she does. Its the time of the new super-mom. Work, baby, home, shopping, entertainment... we do it all, many thanks to our super duper mummy-s. What would we do without them. And of course we have to get back into shape. I am not talking Maxim cover-girl shape (though I heard one of them gave birth the same month I did, and its her resolution to get back to her cover-girl shape by new year, god bless her) but ordinary pre pregnancy shape. One of my super hot friends who also had a baby in August lamented when she was 8 months pregnant that she was not gaining much weight. Oh! these model types!!! God is unfair.

I did gain normal amount of weight, and I still dont fit into my old pair of jeans, but my baby is a happy child, and I am a happy mom. May god bless her.

Im letting you go
Into the leaf strewn cobbled lane
Walk into the unknown
Into the sunset on your own
Finally, Alone.

Ive walked long with you
Growing up enough
To stand and watch
As you left my hand and
Learnt to fly.

And now you say
You dont want to fly away
I never believed you wanted to stay
I have looked the other way
As you tried to make up your mind.

Now the time has come
To search within my soul
For the music I lost
Someone else needs me now
Another hand to hold...

Long ago when I was a kid, my mum, sister and I used to spend lazy winter afternoons on the verandah, soaking in the sun, and peeling oranges to eat. The smell of oranges remind me of those days of innocence, when the biggest fear in life would be the term end examinations and biggest trouble the next days home work.

Isnt it amazing how different smells can transfer us to the past. My favourites- Johnsons baby products, because they remind me of my baby sister, I use their lotion and soap till this day, always will. Certain soaps, some fragrances or talcs remind us of specific people or of a phase in ones life... onions and stale cigarette smoke, wierdly... oh, well!