“The Boy in the Blue Shirt” - My entry for the Get Published contest

One can never really be prepared for the surprises life throws at you. It’s almost funny how things that you never thought possible just happen and you are left wondering, what hit you! At times you meet people whom you want to forget instantly like a bad dream. However when your paths cross again under different circumstances, you tend to realize that “Hey! There is something so special about…” This is what happened when she met him again ‘That Boy in the blue shirt’

In school they had common friends, moved in the same circles but were never friends. Actually it’s hard to explain what they were. She was the “Ms Popular”, always excelling in all she did. He was a charmer, a brat who was used to getting what he wanted without working too hard for it, a careless air about him at all times. Always ready to fight for anyone, with anyone, for any cause. Each was aware of the other but had nothing in common. Their paths never crossed till one incident brought them face to face in a head on fight. Both stood their grounds, friends chose sides and teachers had to mediate. They never spoke again, until a decade later when fate brought them together.

Siddhant Singh, now a young captain in the Indian Army, is as charming and carefree as he was in school. Aria Mathur a level-headed, smart and independent young woman believes in taking life seriously. One fateful evening their paths cross again, and they did not realize that, life would never be the same.

As the story unfolds, the two discover themselves and each other. In the age where mobile phones and emails were unheard of, the letters that they write to each other help them discover true friendship. Before the relationship moves to the next level, the Kargil conflict breaks out and Siddhant moves with his battalion to the front. Aria’s letters give him hope, an inspiration and the will to make it back alive. Aria realizes how deeply she feels for him but never truly admits that she is in love with “that boy in the blue shirt”, who made her cry in school. Siddhant is gravely injured in the war. Will the two now best friends confront their true feelings for each other? Will the letters that bound them in friendship also show them the path towards true love? This is a heart warming love story between two very distinct individuals who became the most unlikely of friends, but will that lay the foundation of an everlasting love.

What makes the story real

The story draws inspiration from the writer’s own experience of how two very different people forged a lasting relationship, despite a seemingly impossible distance to cover, threaded together with letters and thoughts which kept each of them focused on their own lives while they kept getting closer to each others.

 

This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

The long and short of life!!!

Relationships I feel are the hardest things to manage in life. Maybe, because it involves people and people have so many emotions, thoughts, preferences etc; each unique in their own way. I often thought of life as black & white. But as I grow older, I have realized the growing shadow area between black & white and how the grey area now seems to be the dominant one….Most often, the truth is right in front of us but then to most people, the truth is only what they are prepared to see.

We run away from confrontations because it’s probably easy to do that rather than confront the situation.

We all say ‘wish life was simple’ and I think it is. It’s ‘us’ that makes it complicated. Is it because we live in such a complicated world that simplicity is a long forgotten concept? People live with their egos closer to their heart than they let other emotions do…

A case in point is a dear friend who was seeing this lovely lady - A very successful, intelligent woman. They just kind of had a fight over some petty issue and each held to his/her ground. Both didn’t want to take the first step least it showed them as the weaker of the two or the one more desperate. Friends tried to patch things up but all in vain. And it made me think that compromising or adjusting has suddenly become all too tabooed. In the zest to hold your own, people are willing to let go of things and people that bring happiness and purpose in life. Wouldn’t it just be easier to let go off your ego?

Happiness is now a myth. Most of the people I see around find happiness in their misery. Blame it on life, on people around them, their fate, something they deserve etc. I see more and more people having such a myopic attitude towards life.

It’s important to live in the moment and make that moment livable too. If the moment in which we try to live is questioned on the how’s and whys and what ought to be or not, then it is probably better not to live in it at all.

A friendship they say is for keeps. Yet today how many of us have shoulders to lean on outside our immediate familial relationships? In a highly competitive and result oriented world, we seem to be drifting away from each other all the time. People are wary to get close. They want to maintain a distance. It’s not that the world is short of amiable individuals, but we surely have forgotten how to maintain positive camaraderie. In a mad rush to keep up with the fast changing pace of urban living, we fail to nurture and care for basic ties of love and warmth that binds us all together.

Everyday our life demands a lot from us, be it relationships, job, responsibilities etc. I am not saying that we should ignore those we do not like. I am simply saying - to myself, if no one else - to keep the bigger picture in mind. Things or people that do not matter, need not demand and get our valuable time. Don’t sweat on irrelevant stuff. It’s not worth it. But those that do matter, make sure you treasure them. A good relationship today is not one that just lasts but one that coexists with self-respect, individuality and allows your need to grow.

The days are long but life is surely short…So in the long and short of life, don’t forget to LIVE LIFE!!!!

The elusive “Makaan” – “Yeh hai Bombay meri jaan”

The song from the movie Gharaonda ‘Do Deewane Shahar Mein Raat Mein Yaa Dopahar Mein”; somehow resonates the way life has been for me for the past few months. It has been an uphill task to help a friend find accommodation in Mumbai. My friend was looking for a place closer to his office so as to save on the grueling travel time and the mounting transportation expenses (the taxi and auto fares in Mumbai have touched the roof). He had a fixed budget (though I persuaded him to increase which he did so very reluctantly J). Born and bought up in Mumbai, I spent 20 years staying in accommodation provided by the company where my father worked and then we purchased our own house. So I wasn’t sure about how to look for a rented place.

The search started on the internet. makan.com, 99acres.com, indiaproperties.com, magicbricks.com, quikr.com and the list goes on. It took about two days just to search the net and narrow down the choices. We needed a furnished flat within the budget which was proving a difficult combination. To top it, my friend is a bachelor. It’s surprising how many societies and owners refuse to let flats out to single people. In a city like Mumbai, where so many people come from other cities for further studies and jobs, single persons can’t find a decent roof over their heads.

Anyway after making a list of a few agents, taking down the house details, on a sunny Sunday afternoon I set out for the recce. The area we shortlisted was Prabhadevi, in the heart of South Mumbai. Our school was in the same vicinity so I was quite familiar with the area. A thin lanky fellow walked up to me and introduced himself as the property agent I had spoken to on the phone. He was 5ft nothing and looked no more than 15 years old. And I thought to myself what a great start this seems…Phew!!! All the buildings in that area are older than 30 years and there are no elevators. I went up and down some four buildings and saw about 6 flats but something was amiss in each. One which was fully furnished and well done up, but was 4k more than the budget. The other was so unclean; I wondered how people treat houses just because it’s rented and doesn’t belong to them. I almost finished half the bottle of sanitizer once I got out of that house.

I also realised that there is a huge difference in the details mentioned on the net and how the houses actually were. They say semi-furnished and all that is there is a lonely cupboard. Fully furnished in some cases meant only a lousy mattress, cupboard and a desk…

The first trip was a total waste. I had exhausted the first list. This meant going through the net again and searching for some more. This went on for the next 2 weeks, and all the property agents in that area knew me by name. I became the most sought after client.

From Prabhadevi to Worli to Lower Parel to Mahalakshmi, I must have visited at least 15-20 flats. Finally after doing the whole circle, I came across the same flat that I had seen on the first day but didn’t quite like. The owner agreed to rent it out in the budget we had and agreed to provide the flat with all the necessities.

So on a Friday evening, all excited to finally close this deal we met with the flat owner with a line of brokers tagging along. We seemed to hit it off well with the owner and after inspecting the house; we handed over a list of things we wanted rectified in the flat. When it came to discussion on the money matters, the owner demanded all rent payment in cash. Wow! That came as a surprise because I had told the agent that all payment will be by cheque. We negotiated hard with him but he refused to budge. It was such a dampener and I couldn’t believe that this was happening. It meant going through the same ordeal of looking again which I just couldn’t handle. All guns blazing, we couldn’t manage to change his mind.

Downright pissed, but not ready to give in so easily I started all over again. But nothing seemed to be working. Meanwhile my friend had got an ultimatum from his current owner to vacate the flat he was staying in. He was angry and frustrated and I was tired and disheartened. Is it really so hard to find a decent roof over your head in this city???

Somehow I don’t know why but my intuition kept telling me that I should try for that house again. I called the property agent and requested him to try again. Gave him some pep talk about how only he can handle it etcJ. It took a few days and many phone calls and going back and forth…the owner finally agreed to all terms and conditions and my friend moved in a few days later. Mission accomplished!!!

During my entire search, it become evident to me that housing apartheid exists so blatantly in this city. Every broker asked me a plethora of questions on the proposed tenants’ marital status, caste, eating preferences etc. It was funny because we were not talking about security concerns and that should be the top priority in renting out a house. Not whether I am a veg or a non-veg.

Many localities in Mumbai (and I think it will be true for other cities as well) have unwritten codes of barring people based on religion, vegetarianism, marital status etc etc.

I couldn’t agree more when I hear people say, in Mumbai city you can find yourself “roti” and “kapada” but only lucky ones get the “makaan” too! A big fight for every inch of available space and only the persistent win!!!!

The dreams my father had for me…

My father…what can I write about him. One of the most complicated but also the most genuine and honest man I have ever seen. Eldest of 6 siblings, he was a total rebel right from the start. And I am my father’s daughter in every sense. I have always been rebellious and have found it difficult to confine myself to the suffocation of rules, especially the ones whose reasons for existence couldn’t be explained by anyone, least of all the makers themselves. My father always inspired a resolve to challenge the norms and to never accept things just because they are supposed to be that way.

My father raised me and treated me like a boy. Not because he wanted one and had two daughters instead but because he wanted me to be the rough & tough kind, who could brave any storm. He taught me how to box since he was a professional boxer himself. He helped me develop the strength and wanted to make sure that when and if such a time comes, I not only defend myself but also knock down the one on the wrong sideJ

I learnt to play chess with him. Though, I could never beat him in this game it taught me to be patient, make my move only when I was ready and taught me the skills of anticipating an opponent’s move. Basically, it shaped my thinking and helped me to become a strategist of sorts.

He was an ardent reader. He had this huge collection of books…all classics…Though our house was small and the books took a lot of space but my father never gave away even one. He was the reason I took to reading at a very young age. But it was only when I started college that I was given access to the treasure that he had collected over the years. To this date, the treasure is safe with me. Sometimes when I miss him a lot, I just open one of the books and read it and I can sense his presence in those books.

It appeared in the conventional sense that my father had been a tad unsuccessful in most of his endeavors. But he didn’t fail in his honesty to himself and the fact that he never blamed ‘someone’ or the ‘system’ for his failures. He took full responsibility for his actions and for the outcome. This in itself was an inspiration for me...

I remember once having this conversation with him when I told him that he needs to find his zeal back and fight even harder. He just smiled and said that “You will make it big in life and then I will know I have succeeded”.

Like my father, I went through an intense struggle as a young lady, trying to find my foot in the door, defining who or what I am and where is that I want to be. The one promise that my father took from me was, ‘Make sure where I failed, you will succeed, and succeed calmly, strategically, using the panache and persuasiveness that I have taught you and on your own merit’.

So with that promise in my heart, I set sail on my journey. But even before I could start, I lost my father. A sudden illness and he left us. A big void was left in my heart. I couldn’t even get enough time to mourn his loss because I had to look after my family, I had to suddenly become “him” and I wasn’t ready yet.

The strength however came from the fact that maybe he went away knowing very well that he had instilled in me the necessary will and confidence to shape up my life in ways that he wanted me. From there on, my father’s failed attempt to set things right became my life’s objective. My father’s dreams forged my dreams, and through a kind of sacramental experience after his death, my father’s struggle became my inheritance…

All through my life I have carried a single image of my father, one that I had sometimes rebelled against but had never questioned, one that I now try and take as my own. An image of uncompromising honesty and the will to rise above the occasion with your head held high. In all of the ups and downs, that image has always helped me stay afloat and reach the shore.

So here I am, almost a decade after his passing hoping that I have proven every bit a daughter to my father and hoping that I have fulfilled every dream that he had for me. So dad, wherever you are and I know you are watching me…I hope you are as proud of me as I am proud to be your daughter. You taught me how to have the courage to keep standing tall no matter what…Your life and the way you lived it has been and will continue to be my beacon. It’s only because of you that I am what I am. And no matter how far I go in life and how successful I get, I will always be my father’s daughter!!!



The Perfect Marriage...huh!!!

A lot of my married male friends often tell me that there is no such thing as a “perfect marriage” or a “perfect couple”. After a few years all marriages become a routine - an adjustment of sorts. Most of my female friends though actually believe that they have a perfect marriage. At least that’s what they brag about.

I am sure, enough has already been written about this topic and I don’t want to add to the questions. In my humble way, I will try to attempt to unravel this mystery.

In the early days it was simple. You got married, had kids, worked the land, and stayed married whether you could stand each other or not. Our parents were taught by their parents to stick it-there was no other way. This was passed down through the generations. I grew up thinking that marriage is for keeps. But all around me, I now see how this concept of permanency in marriage is diminishing.  I think husbands and wives are now more independent of each other. The dependency levels are going down and consequently so are the levels of patience and commitment.

Marriage obviously requires 100% commitment. But that doesn’t mean that both partners need to give 50% all the time. Sometimes the ratio may change and be 30-70 or 60-40. It doesn’t really matter who gives how much, as long as it still accounts for 100%. If you start questioning how much each is contributing, you are surely heading for disaster.  It is not a contest, it is a relationship. This basic fact seems to remain unnoticed by most modern couples.

The problem arises when you start guessing what the other thinks or will say or react in a particular situation because you know them so well. That’s where you go wrong. You start assuming and your reactions are often based on these assumptions. You do start to know your spouse to a great extent, but with individual expression becoming the norm, it is futile to try and second guess each others’ thoughts. It will only emphasize a feeling of being taken for granted, which in any case can spell the death knell for any relationship. 

Most of the love marriages start of as friendships and then turn romantic and then marriage is the next gradual step. In all this process, most couples stop being friends to one another. The so called bedrock of friendship that laid the foundation to their relationship goes missing. So, your hubby wants to spend the night with his buddies watching a game of football or cricket. Why can’t the wives give that freedom to their hubbies? Didn’t they do this in early days when you were friends?

Often I have seen hubbies ridicule their wives behind their backs among friends. They obviously think this is funny and it’s ok to do so. But is this really “cool”? Isn’t it better to actually discuss what troubles you have with each other, than bicker behind the scenes and let the resentment build?

Marriage, like any other aspect of human existence, also goes through phases. The key is to identify the phase and then change to adjust to that phase. If you expect things to always remain the same, you will be severely disappointed, often irreparably so.

Obviously there is no magic mantra on a successful perfect marriage. But it may help to keep in mind some salient issues. A marriage is not a job and it doesn’t come with set of instructions or a menu card. But there is definitely some amount of assembly that is required. With the high level of stress and the fight for getting the necessary time & space, a modern-day marriage can be as tough as getting a vehicle assembled. You need precision and teamwork, in this case a team of two. A tried and tested formula is to look for reasons to do things together. Pick up a sport that you both enjoy and play together. Wash the car together, or do housework together-anything that both enjoy doing, or learn to enjoy together. Also, talk to each other, it is as simple. Just say what is in your mind and fight over it if need be, but communicate, for heaven’s sake.

In most relationships, the failure is often the collapse of the communication bridge. We just stop talking and listening. The conversations become less about each other and more about the kids and rest of the stuff. Other things are important but you can’t lose yourself on the way.

Even though you know it and have said it a thousand times, never stop saying "I love you". Keep the romance alive - send flowers sometimes (not just on birthdays and anniversaries) just to let them know you are important. Call them during the day, take your spouse for dinner (just the 2 of you), take short romantic holidays (minus the kids). And don’t think this is only for the young couples, or the newly married ones. The older the marriage, the more work is requiredJ

Another golden rule - never sleep over a fight. If you have an argument, just make sure you resolve it before going to bed. Even a small argument if not resolved in time can lead to major disaster. Kiss and make upJJ

To sum it all up, marriage like every other relationship will never be perfect on its own. It needs a lot of hard work, dedication and above all, patience. In words of George Washington, “Consider marriage as the most interesting event of one's life, the foundation of happiness or misery”. The choice of happiness or misery is our own!!!

A journey through suburbia…

Anybody who is anybody in Mumbai must have traveled in the Mumbai local trains at some time or the other. Every Mumbaikar will vouch for the fact that ‘Local trains’ are a lifeline to this city. Buses and taxis going on strike are still acceptable but not the trains. The entire city comes to a halt if the trains stop working.

The Suburban Railway (which covers the Western and Central lines) is spread over 465 route kilometers and carries approx 6.94 million passengers per day. Imagine over 4,500 passengers are packed into a 9-car rake during peak hours (some new trains are 12-car rakes now), as against the rated carrying capacity of 1,700.

I remember it all so clearly…my first train ride from Dadar to Vasai. My family moved to Vasai (a far flung area in western suburb) when my father retired and we had to vacate the company residence. For more than 20 years (my growing up years) we lived in Worli (a totally upscale area in Mumbai by the sea…sigh!!!). Even Bandra at that point in time for me was an area totally out of the way. Life just revolved around South MumbaiJJ

So imagine my horror when I had to travel in the all so famous Virar local train. I was working with NDTV then and had my office in Worli. I was told that there is a starting train from Dadar to Virar (Vasai is 2 stations before Virar) that starts from Dadar at 5:40 pm and since it’s a starting train I will get inside easily.

Having stayed in Mumbai all my life, nothing could have really prepared me for what I was about to witness. I reached the station 10 mins in advance and after checking where the first class ladies compartment halts, stood amongst a sea of women. The train arrived on the platform and slowed down. Before I could take a step ahead, I found myself engulfed in a wave, pushed and shoved from all directions. I just closed my eyes and hoped I would wake up and this will all be a dream. Though it lasted exactly for 30 secs, it felt like a lifetime. As I was about to take a step inside the crowded train, I realized that one of my shoes was missing. Frantically, I looked everywhere and didn’t find it. The only place left to look was under the train on the tracks. So that meant I had to miss the train. When the train left the station, I looked down at the dirty filthy track and there was my expensive branded shoe. I almost had tears in my eyes, standing at Dadar station with one shoe on my foot. I couldn’t possibly climb down on the tracks and then I saw a coolie. So I handed him a Rs 20 note and told him to retrieve it. After that I sat on the platform bench thinking of a strategy to ensure this doesn’t happen to me again (and it never didJ).

I travelled for almost 3 years on the Churchgate-Virar local train line. I lost a very expensive watch while getting in the train from Vasai; Once my branded leather bag had a huge cut…don’t know how it happened but I could never use it again. So from then on travelling in the train was a very strategic exercise…with proper entry and exit strategies. From what clothes to wear, to the bags to carry to the footwear…all changed and was in accordance to what would make the train journey less eventful.

In the morning my mom would bid me goodbye with a very worried look. With so many people falling off the trains every day, she was always worried and would be nervous till the time I reached office or back home. And most of the time, this fear would be in me too. Will this be my last journey?

Summer time in the train was the worse. You were so stuck to each other because of the lack of space that you could smell the sweat (and everything else!). And trust me, there is no way in hell you would want that. The fans (fitted decades ago) were of little help. I would spray some perfume on the handkerchief and keep it on my nose through the whole journey.

Just like every coin has 2 sides there was a fun side to the train journey as well. Most of the ladies would take a fixed train in the morning and evening. So you would end up travelling with the same group of women. From Vasai, there was this group of women mostly in government jobs. Morning time I would be travelling in the same train. The ladies were experts in getting into a moving train and often occupy all the seats. Poor mortals like us would be happy to get enough space to stand on two feet and not on one foot. Once I became a regular, one of them would always offer me a seat to sit for few minutes.

Best part was a treat every other day…all of the women would bring some snacks or the other. Dhoklas, samosas, kachori, jalebi…yummyyy…so the day would start on a real healthy noteJ

The train was also a great place to catch up on all the gossip, politics, bollywood, etc. Everything would be discussed, debated and judgements passed. From foreign lipsticks, to chocolates, to fresh vegetables you could buy all of these on the train. Some women would even start peeling and chopping vegetables so that they could save some time when they reached home…Simply amazing…

The initial loathing I felt about travelling in the train started to disappear. I started enjoying the time spent in the train. All the women were struggling to reach office on time, reach home on time to cook and care for family…each fighting a new battle every day. It just made me realize that for some people most of their life is spent travelling in these trains. The fellow passengers become like your extended family and the train – your second home!!!

So here’s my salute to all the fellow train travelers…From a South Mumbai girl to just one of the million commuters on the Mumbai local train, my journeys taught me how to appreciate life in its most basic form and still survive with a smile. I learnt how to enjoy the “journey”, no matter where it finally leads. A profound truth indeed!!!!

Those boys & girls!!!

Recently, a few of my school friends reunited on Facebook and now we also have a group on whatsapp. Sharing jokes and anecdotes from our school days has given a fillip to my spirits. I suddenly feel back to being 13. And hopefully the others in the group are feeling the same.

It seems like I am back at school. It’s strange but when we started chatting, it was like the gap of almost 16-17 years that have gone by when we lost touch, just didn’t exist. We picked up the pieces right from where we left off all those years back.

Most of the group members are now in high positions, have become proud parents, and are busy juggling life and everything else. But when we chat we are the same bunch of naive kids which would just endlessly talk, pull each other’s leg, fight over petty issues and then make up saying “dosti mein sab chalta hai”!!!

Most of us were together since primary school. So we practically grew up together, discovered the world together, played cupid for each other, nursed each other’s broken hearts, and fought with the other groups if they harmed anyone in our group. The camaraderie, the sense of belonging, the love and affection that we shared was hard to find anywhere else. No matter from which part of society one came, we were all equals. Birthday treats meant ‘vada pav’ and a cola. It didn’t matter if you could afford more that’s what we had for the treat nonetheless. All of us travelled in the school bus even though some had cars. Getting the window seat in the bus was like a special thrill and then hoping that cute girl/boy would come and sit next to us. Our group was a real balanced one. The best of the lot…be it studies, sports, drama, arts & crafts and of course we were also the most notorious ones too. The best part was we were so mischievous – eating in class, putting pins on the desk, sticking post-its in the wrong places, stealing food from others’ tiffins-but we never ever got caught. We were just so water tight as a group.

Now when I look back I realize how my world circled around these guys & gals. I used to hate not going to school because then I would not get to meet my friends. Not a single day goes by when I don’t curse myself for letting these people disappear from my life for so long.

So this is dedicated to all my buddies.

Girish – A serious banker now but actually a very shy, funny, very caring and a true romantic at heart

Deepak – The thin lanky boy (not anymore though) funny and the sweetest banker I have ever known…He has many happy customersJ

Sujit – Anna (Big Brother) to all the guys, helpful to one and all, always ready to fight for a good cause but a true charmer in every sense. The last of the cowboys!!!

Balram – A tax professor (OMG!) with a fine heart nourished with lots and lots of wine!!

Nimisha – Home maker and mother of 3 but the sweetest, most adorable and the brilliant one amongst us

Shweta – The cute delicate doll now mother of 2 beautiful daughters

Aarti & Renu – The quiet mature ones who would help keep my anger under control and keep all the boys chasing me@bay 

Chandan and Nutan – My partners in crime and the last benchers with me, always ready to share their dabbas so that I could munch on some during the class

Manisha – Never saw eye-to-eye but then she always kept me on my toes and her competitive spirit made me push my limits

So my dear dear friends...no matter what happens between us…no matter where life takes us…I always want all of you to remember me as your friend first-someone who is not judging you, not finding any faults in you, accepts you as you are, someone with whom you can talk about anything under the sun, will always trust you completely…someone who will always stand by you no matter what.

“I'll always be beside you until the very end, wiping all your tears away, being your best friend. I'll smile when you smile and feel all the pain you do, and if you cry a single tear, I promise I'll cry too.”

Who are you?? - A sheep or a Shepherd!!!.

I have been working for about 10 years now. Have worked in agencies, in growing organizations, in mature organizations, across industries…To some extent, I have had a great exposure to the so-called corporate life. And it’s amazing how; no matter where you work, and with whom you work, people can be distinctively divided into two groups. One which lives by the ‘follow the herd’ policy, and the other that lives to ‘lead’. Unfortunately the numbers in the former category are on the rise.

Some people are born to be led. They are good followers. You lay down a set of rules, tell them what to do and they will do it - with perfection. Life is less complicated for them. Working within a given framework is easy, comfortable and less risky. There is hardly a chance to go wrong. Just walk the beaten path.    

I was reading this very interesting book called ‘Jonathan Livingston Seagull’, by Richard Bach. The story is about a seagull that followed his dreams and made his own rules. For most of the seagulls, flying is a method to look for food because that’s what helps them survive. Flying is only a means to meet the end-to help look for food. They are not meant to be soaring in the skies. But for Jonathan Livingston Seagull, flying was life. He wanted to soar and soar high up in the sky. Everyone, including his family ridiculed him for going against the norms of his society, of trying to aspire to be different from the rest of the flock. But he didn’t give up his dream.

That’s what the other set of people do. They break away from the routine-break away from the so called norms that society lays down. They are not afraid to live life on their own terms. They are prepared to take risks and believe in having a purpose in life.

Things are never easy for such people. They are often ridiculed, disregarded, ignored by the first lot because they have the guts to break from the herd and follow his/her own calling. Is it their destiny or their choice?

I have always believed that we all have choices in life. All we need to do is to exercise those choices and we become what we chose to. Most of the time, it’s a lonely walk for those who chose to lead. Many even fall by the wayside, unable to walk alone anymore, but some walk all the way - carrying a huge burden but fulfilling their destiny. These are the ones who are the true leaders. The ones who chose to create their own path. It may not necessarily mean that these leaders are all world renowned, or rich beyond imagination. Their success lies in their own eyes and each of them have their own definition of success. In fact it is in finding this definition that they have manifested their leadership.

We are social animals and we are biologically hard wired - for our own survival - to be part of a group. So, one always wants to belong to a group, even if it may mean losing yourself. In which case, when the others are greedy, it is natural to be greedy ourselves or fearful when others are fearful. But even in our Neanderthal past, there was always the “Alpha Male”, the pack leader, who got there because he improvised -chose to take risks and discover ‘FIRE’. If it wasn’t for the risk-takers we probably would not have evolved at all.

Secretly, the followers wish that they could be more like the leaders. They are usually quick to give in to envy and look upon those who lead with predictable disdain, blaming either their own “bad luck” or the other guy’s “good luck”. There are also the suggestions of unfair means and the “pull” he or she had. When things get nasty, the envious are the nastiest of all.

The envy and the disdain make the journey of the leaders tougher, but it also steels their resolve and as the popular cliché goes, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” The only question remains, who are ‘YOU’- Part of the herd of sheep or the “Shepherd”!!!.

Fare Thee Well Sister!!!

My sister is 4 years older than me. When I think about the relationships in my life, the most complicated one that I had or still have is with my sister. This doesn’t mean that there is love lost between us. Infact there is nothing that we won’t do for each other. It’s just that we don’t share a normal sisterly kind of a relationship.

My sister moved in with my grandparents in Dehradun when she was 4 years old. Right about the same time that I was born. I actually don’t have any memory of my sister before she moved back to Mumbai to stay with us. I was about 6 then.

We are poles apart. As different as can be!!! Our nature, our likes, our food habits, social skills…are all so different. While growing up we would have such fights…it would put boys to shameJ. Over the years, the cat fights have disappeared..thank GodJ. I think both of us always had a problem expressing ourselves to each other.

So as my sister Anjali and her family prepares to move to Canada in a few weeks, I want to pen down a note for her (I believe I can express myself better when I write so hopefully this note will say it all).

My dear Sister,

As a family we have undergone our share of struggles and what helped us triumph in the end was the bond we shared as a family. Over the years, we moved on and created our own lives. Sometimes we disregarded each other, ignored opinions and suggestions, held our own ground even when we knew we were in the wrong…but the bond never broke and only got stronger.

We have been so little together since we both got busy with our respective lives. Even though I don't always get a chance to show it, I hope you know that you're very important to the happiness... that lives within my heart. Most often when I think of you, I find myself filled with lasting gratitude for all the things that lovingly tie us together.

As the years pass and the story of our extended family grows even more complete, one of the sweetest things will always be the smiles that you have inspired to all the people in your life.

Having you as a friend and sharing such a special kinship has given me memories I wouldn't trade for anything. And I know that even if there are times when our two families are far away from each other, our hopes and our thoughts... will always keep us close together.

As you begin the new and exciting chapter in your life, I leave you with John Keats…It echoes my sentiments exactly!!!

“I have so much of you in my heart that I must turn a Mentor when I see a chance of harm befalling you. I would never want to see anything but Pleasure in your eyes, love on your lips, and Happiness in your steps. I would wish to see you among those amusements suitable to your inclinations and spirits; so that our love might be a delight in the midst of Pleasures agreeable enough, rather than a resource from vexations and cares”.

God bless you!!!

Disconnected in this connected world

In the last two decades, technology has evolved so much and so fast. Our world today can’t be imagined without our LCD TV (LED/SMART TV in some cases), home theatre systems, laptops, Blackberry, smart phones etc. The good old alarm clock which would wake up the entire building has been replaced by the ringtones in the cell phone. Good old letters have been replaced by emails, greeting cards by e-greetings and a lot of emotions by “emoticons” - impulses and electronic waves which now convey “feelings”?

Our generation I think is the most fortunate one since we are witness to this transition. We have seen the best of both the worlds…

I take pride in having been born in an age where the ringing of the door-bell by the postman would get us off our chairs and running to open the door. The anticipation, the quickening of the heartbeat, the wait for the quintessential dog-eared inland letter card –that brought news of family and friends from distant lands.

I remember how the results of our final exams would come by the post, usually by 2nd or 3rd of May. It was always around 11:00 am that the postman would come ringing his bicycle bell announcing his arrival. Since most of the kids in the building were in same school, all our results would come together. My home was on the ground floor, so all would just assemble there to see their results. The postman would wait in anticipation since he would expect some ‘bakshish’ in lieu of the good news in the exam results. He would also provide his pearls of wisdom in case we were not happy with our results, and also give some sound advice to our parents in case they looked disappointed…

Today kids and parents view the results on a dull looking machine which has no emotions, will not be happy or sad for you after you see your results, will not smile or give you any word of encouragement. Nothing - except blips on an inanimate screen.

I remember spending hours in an Archie’s store, going through at least 30-40 cards to find that one card which would echo my sentiments exactly. The excitement, the patience, the satisfying feeling…can that be matched with sending an e-greeting??? Nah!

The question is not about how good or bad technology is in our lives…no one can debate on the positive impact of technology…the question is that have we stopped doing those small things that once made so much of difference to us and those around us?

Somehow in this highly digitized world, we have become more robotic and less in touch with our human side. We have much more information than we will ever need at our fingertips, but we have no time to meet someone to have a conversation and share that information with, unless of course it’s the grainy, halting image of a “friend” over the webcam on our laptop screen. You can’t shake hands with a screen now, can you?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to just pick up the phone and call a long lost friend instead of sending them a text on BBM…wouldn’t it be fun to walk into a store and pick that one wonderful friendship/romantic card and send it by post…wouldn’t it just be great to meet a friend in a café and share a coffee/drink reminiscing the past than just poking them on FB…

Somewhere we have started spending more time on social networking which I feel has challenged the very notion of time and space and has put communication into a hyperdrive mode.

Our world is all connected but are we not really
dis-connected???

Reflections...

My early years in college… No actually it was when I was in classVIII, that’s when I first started maintaining a diary. I discovered I had a passion for writing and it was mostly to be honest and write about how I felt, what was happening around me etc. The diary was my magic mirror, a world which had only me in it. I would ask the questions and while writing I would somehow always find the answersJ. It was a place where I truly was who I am…no hiding, no illusions, no pretensions!!! Writing to me is therapeutic. That was also the time I decided that someday I will write a book (though am not yet sure where to begin, but I will get there someday JJ).

Anyway today, there is so much happening around us, some interesting, some clearly frustrating and some testing our resolve. In a closed door environment, we all voice our opinions but somehow fail to do so in forums where it would matter. I am no exception!

I have been toying with the idea of starting a blog for quite some time. Just wasn’t sure if I was ready to share my thoughts, my angst, my moments of happiness and my quest of self discovery with the outside world.

You can use a blog to tell your story, your views, and your opinions. But to be honest, a blog is a big responsibility! And I think I am finally ready to take on this responsibility.

So! Here it begins….. A few “MYSTIC MUSINGS”. Let me know what you think. The more you tell me, the more I learn and the better I write...