In loving memory of you

Void.

Yes, that’s the word. That one word can sum up my life, this entire blog post,Grandma . It has been 11 years. And without you, these 11 years have been a void that can never be filled. No one can. Nothing ever will.

It was a normal February morning, nothing unusual about it. I remember the fleet of cars outside our house. A 10-year-old returning from school with water bottle hanging on her neck, a big school bag making her stoop a little. The car stopped near our gate, and I was stunned to see so many people swarming outside our house.

A general murmur went across the crowd after seeing me. No one could face me. They quickly looked away, hiding the tears. All swollen faces, eyes red and puffed up. I made my way through all these tall people, clearly crossed. Why isn’t anyone telling me what is going on in my house?

Before the child in me could comprehend anything, I was pulled away from everyone. Into the washroom. “Listen to me very carefully,” said my Dad, gritting his teeth. Tears were streaming down his face and I could hardly comprehend what he was saying.

And then, he said it.

Nani. No. More.

Years later, when I recall that moment, the only thing that I wonder is, why did I not cry? People expected that. They expected a motherless (She was like a mother to me, literally.So much so that for a huge part of my childhood I actually thought that she was my REAL mother) child bawling and throwing fit, probably even fainting. They were ready to console me, pat me, sympathize maybe?

But there I was. Wearing that red-checked school uniform with a huge tie, standing, with a straight face. No emotions. No tears. No questions asked. No answers given.

I have always been the kind of kid who would get angry or sad, but would come back home, close the doors and then cry. Showing my emotions to people has never been my trait. After that day, I shut myself more. Formed a cocoon. My own world.

It was evening. People were growing in number in our house. Women were crying, yelling, mourning. So much noise. Hundreds of people around.

“Where is Dia?” I heard someone ask.

I was sitting on my study table. Head stooped. My English literature book opened in front of me. A poem about the fox and the sour grapes, I remember. My eyes squinted with attention. I was reading

"What are you doing, Abby( my pet name)?” someone came and gently asked. 

“I have a class test tomorrow. I’m studying,” I calmly looked up and said, before burying my head back into the book.

Women covered their faces with their hands, looked at me and cried out loud.

I now know what they wanted. They wanted me to mourn. They wanted me to cry. They knew the shock was too much for me to take. But I didn’t.

I just concentrated on the poem that I was reading.

Late in the night, the coffin arrived. Yes, I peeked in. I saw her lying there in her coffin, pale and motionless. And, I left the room.

There are incidents in our lives that have the potential to change us forever as a person. For me, this day was that incident. Few days back, I had won multiple ‘Privilege cards’ for Maths from my class teacher. In my school, these cards were given to students for excelling in a particular subject. But few weeks from this incident, my Maths grades fell. I started sucking so bad, that even I was surprised at myself.

 

I became more withdrawn. I talked less. Actually, I just talked to myself (which I still do, by the way). I missed her at every step, but I never showed it, lest someone sympathizes. I hated sympathy. I hated that look in their eyes. The clicking sound of the tongue and then expressing concern what a "motherless" (Yes, she was like a mother to me.) child might grow up into.

Contrary to what many people thought, I didn’t turn into the drug addicted, college drop out, who did nothing for a living. I grew up just fine, didn’t I? Maybe not the best, but I did a decent job out of it. I have a respectable job and I live on my own in the big city. What I couldn’t probably help was saving myself from being emotionally damaged. Or, from being afraid of getting too attached to people emotionally. What if they leave me like you? Let’s leave them before they can leave me. It sounded fair in my head.

I did finally cry. I don’t remember when. But, I did. Maybe behind closed doors. Maybe looking at her pictures. Or, maybe during Board exams when I used to see other moms feeding their kids and practicing last minute formulas together during the break.

Yes, I cried. I still do. But, always behind closed doors.

Every once in a while, incidents around me make my heart sore. It wishes you were here. Right here holding my damn hand. Be it people gorging on home cooked food made by their mother, people getting phone calls from their mother, or maybe as simple as getting back home and getting to see their mother after a tiring day.

Growing up was tough.

Dad used to be out for long durations, my brother was then sent to boarding school and I, I had the walls for company.Yes, I did have my best friend, Aditi but at that time i didn't want to bother her as she had her own problems to deal with. Talking to myself wasn’t bad though. I wrote, talked and played games with myself.(Mostly chess and carrom.Yes, I still suck at those games, cause I never had a real opponent to play against,I guess ) But I knew you were there, somewhere, watching me. You still are. Well, that’s what keeps me going.

I remember those afternoons when I used to bury my head on your bosom, and you would keep patting me off to sleep. After a while, I could feel your soft breath on my neck, and you would doze off to sleep. I used to tip toe and walk out, in order to go and play. I hated napping in the afternoon.( I still do ) But now, I crave for that touch, your smell, the pats on my back.. I would have never tip toed away, if only I could get that touch back, just once.

Last night, you came in my dreams again. The best part about you, Nani, is the fact that you never aged. Still in your 60s, smiling, your silky straight hair, sparkling eyes.. beautiful, divine. In this latest dream, you were in my Parent-Teachers meeting. You came along with me to school to get my report card. At 21, I still dream of things that never happened, that could have happened, stuff that I deserved in reality. Didn’t I deserve it?

Back in college, all the other mothers used to dutifully call up their wards everyday – sometimes multiple times a day. For me, it was abnormal. Why would they need to know what their children are doing every minute, I wondered. But then it would hit me. It is abnormal for me, because I never knew what it is like to be on the other side of the fence. That’s when I put some random number and saved it on my phone as ‘Mumma.’ Little piece of me was satisfied staring at it. But that number never called me back.

I take another sip from this cheap wine bottle, I feel your presence. Your assurance. A sense of calm prevails. Tears well up. I smile.

With each passing day, weeks, months, years, the memories started fading little by little. Even though I wanted to hold on to it with all my heart, mind, soul.. But it slipped away. It is so exhausting to conjure up, dust off the bygone moments and resuscitate the details Now, I can’t remember your voice, your smile, your face…

But then, I look into the mirror. And I see you in me. :)

Dream

I dreamed a dream,
A beautiful dream

That was a dream of love, of passions coming straight from the core (of my heart)
Of emotions, that would never go sour

That was a dream of care, of devotion and prayer
Of feelings which will make the eyes full of tear.

A dream of courage, of getting rid of the saggy evil wreckage (of my mind)
Without becoming my inner demons hostage
A dream of gratitude, coming out of the shell of solitude

A dream where begins the end of solitary confinement,
The journey of all new excitement

A dream of endless emotions
The eternity of its mystification

A dream where you speak your heart out
Even when you are in crowd, you just standout

Once the eyes opened,
The whole thing shattered with a scream
And that was the end of my beautiful dream

I read a book today.
It made me sad,
But not the bad kind of sad.
It was the kind of sad
That takes your heart
And teaches it something
And then gives it back.
The kind if sad that makes you
Stronger:
The kind of sad
That makes you better,
Inside.

'Cuz Life's A Journey

I am walking down the lane…
As I walk by the green trees…
I gaze at the rugged branch…
The leaves are seated at the top…
And yet they peep at the ground…

The leaves wonder what it feels to walk on the ground…
The rugged branch wonders how the view looks from above…
And standing beside the tree…
Walking down the lane…
I wonder what it feels to live a life of regrets…

I have conquered a lot…I have walked miles…
Still the world is unaware of what I have done…
Still the road ahead remains untrodden…untouched… Unfelt….

Do I regret where my life took me..?
Do I regret the lane I am stuck..?
Am I the leaf that looks at the ground…?

No…It was in this lane that I made my choice…
It was in this lane that I vowed to smile…

 I love the lane…because I choose to be the flower…
I bloom…I blossom…and I look above…
I smile…I wink…and I speak of hope…
Because life is too short to have regrets…

I am walking down the lane…
As I walk by the green trees…
I gaze at the flowers…
And I see the bright smile…
And it is time to accept…

Thanks to them…I have been in love with my life for a while….
I kiss them goodbye and walk the remaining lane…
Because like the flowers…I always have more to gain…!!

You Think, You Know Me

Behind the endless smiles

There are scars I never show

Behind the insane chatter

There is a story you will never know

You see what I choose to show

There are things you will never know

We all wear such shades

That the world has not seen

When the entire world sleeps

I cry and curse within

You may forget the biggest woes

But there’s something you will never know

My roses have so many thorns

They make me bleed more and more

And yet, one day I will grow

And the thorns will hide

I talk, laugh and smile

Because the tears are running dry

You tell me, I will never know

But, I would never say it so

Because we are all broken in ways

Words will never show

And yet, we laugh and cry

Because isn’t that the meaning of life?

My story is unknown

It is yet to be told

Someone, somewhere, someday

Will come along

And hand me the pen

The book of my life is ready

But my hands still, are unsteady

Because there are too many tears

That have been locked for years

I make these nonsense rhyme

Because I am scared to tell

How the smiling heavens too 

Once was cursed in hell!!

The perks of being a wallflower- a book review

I am an avid reader, I believe, but now I am going to pause for a while.. Once in a while, I come across books that teleport me to another planet and I want to stay there and do not come back.. This is one of those books, the kind of book that makes me think of things that I often lock inside… I am thankful to the one for suggesting me the book because if I hadn’t read the book, I would never have known that it’s alright to feel like an outcast…

 The book has helped me see myself better.. It isn’t a self help book but I felt like Charlie, the protagonist was writing to me.. Being the jerk I am, I have written letters too.. I just LOVE it that way.. Writing letters about the book or the author makes me feel complete in ways nothing else can…If u hear back from the author, I feel like I could die in peace.. I might have gone a little astray.. I tend to when I read a good book.. 

 The perks of being a wallflower isnt just another book.. It is transformational.. It shows you glimpses of your own shades of life..

While I absolutely love reading letters and I was hooked after just reading 10 pages, I thought would the book be good if it’s all letters.. There is absolutely no gap.. The book is but a series of letters…

 However, I think it’s been quite a while since I read something so good.. It takes you through a lot of different journey.. Charlie isn’t a super hero.. In fact he is more human than any of us.. He has too many flaws.. He is imperfect and you still can’t help loving him helplessly and desperately because despite going through the toughest of times, it takes little things for him to feel infinite..

I have taken a lot of lessons from this book.. I am socially awkward and despite being a chatter box, I don't speak at all in gatherings and parties.. For those who have felt what a wallflower feels, you’re going to be totally drenched and drowned in this book that projects the roller coaster of ride…

Not to add a spoiler, but its the twist in the end that makes you wonder at the true angel Charlie truly is.. The book will make you crave to have friends like Charlie has and be the friend Charlie is.. It isn’t easy but the book feels so real.. The accounts so realistic, you are made to believe the author knows you.. He’s talking about you albeit with slight changes and using pen names..

I can’t pinpoint a single flaw with the book.. I feel one with the book.. I have the habit of writing letters too except I have no one to send them.. I read them myself when I feel the need to either belong or even alienate… The book gives me hope that may be one day I too can participate rather than observe… An extremely powerful reality laced book that doesn’t paints life in the roisest of shades and still you find yourself loving the picture that gets painted in the end because perfection is seriously overrated..

 f you miss reading this one, you’ve missed feeling what being infinite even with flaws ever feels… Absolutely recommended.. One of those books which I want to give 6 stars on 5 because it is so good that I want another letter.. And another one after that and more.. Regardless of what the letter spoke, the signing off made my heart melt in a puddle of love..
 
Love always
Charlie

One day, I wish I too could write letters so raw and so true..
Till then,
I will stalk the authors I love.. Don’t worry I am not extremely creepy…

Yours,

Dia

Compliments

I’ve noticed something very baffling.

When I compliment people, they think I am saying nice things just to make them feel good- by massaging their ego. In the first place, if you know me at all, you’d know that I hate- yes hate- the word nice. I don’t do nice. I feel like throwing it in boiling oil and them stamping it to death again once it is charred beyond recognition.

When I compliment you, I compliment myself, because I am who I associate with. ― Jarod Kintz

In the second place, you are wrong. Ego is too wily a thing to massage. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. Besides, it is boring.

The impression I get from people’s reaction is that I am a Pollyanna (an excessively cheerful or optimistic person) with a strong inclination towards people pleasing and a sizable dose of absolute cluelessness thrown in for good measure. My dear friend, if I weren’t so amused by your miscalculated assessment, I should be very angry! I might even (rudely) declare that you have mouldy rocks in your empty skull!

In all honesty though, I cannot deny the Pollyanna accusation. I am an unabashed and unapologetic Pollyanna. I think there is goodness and all things good round every corner and in all the space between one corner and the next. Sometimes I try to pretend that goodness doesn’t rain from the skies nor slide down the rays of the sun in rollicking abandon, but I know it is a lost cause even before I begin. Pretensions don’t last. Truth will out, eventually.

 I was very pleased with your kind letter. Until now I never dreamed of being something like a hero. But since you’ve given me the nomination I feel that I am one. ― Albert Einstein

 

(Aside: I will be using the pronoun ‘you’ in the rest of the piece. It is being used to refer to that dumb nut standing over there… not YOU. Despite this, if you choose to feel offended, you have my blessings.)

When I pay you a compliment, it is because I genuinely think there is something worth appreciating in you. I am incapable of people pleasing. I couldn’t massage an ego to please a my own grandmother. Told you I wasn’t a people pleaser, didn’t I? Grandmothers are people too, in case you didn’t know. Moreover, I don't like my grandmother. So there!

No but seriously, what is it that frightens you about my compliments? Do you think it an advance contingent (in the nature of an smelly lubricant) to announce an unreasonable demand? Do you think I am pumping you full of hot air so that you won’t notice that you are floating away to some dungeon where I will stick lighted candles between your toes before pulling out your finger nails to persuade you to sign away your two rusted cents to me? Like, really dude?

Or is your trepidation indicative of a deeper malady, hey?

I felt like everyone’s second choice, which is why a compliment could catch me off guard. ― Sonia Sotomayor

Are you frightened of my commendation because the experience is new to you? Is it because you have lived in an environment of such debilitating and virulent criticism that you cannot believe a word of sincere praise?

By suspecting me of ulterior motives, do you know the statement you are making about your own person? You are declaring that in your eyes your are unworthy of admiration and approval. Is that what you want to wear on your sleeve? Doesn’t seem frightfully cool to me, you know what I’m sayin’ hon?

I will not deny that there are people who have, let us say, a natural talent for sycophancy. They flatter and sweet- talk even when they have nothing to gain, no axe to grind. Frankly, I can’t imagine such pointless corruption. Sell your soul if you must but at least get a pork chop in return! And then for you to suspect me of it! Oh, please!

I have been complimented many times and they always embarrass me; I always feel they have not said enough. ― Mark Twain

To assume that everyone who pays you a compliment is a sycophant- with out without an axe to grind, doesn’t serve you. It might be true one out of ten times. To skewer your world view to accommodate as rare an aberration as that hardly seems worth the trouble. The only thing you will accomplish will be to find crookedness in absolutely straight nine people out of ten.

To accommodate one bad apple (when, if it is there), should I throw away nine perfectly good ones? Don’t  do the math. I did it and I had to be put in a padded cell for a year. Just take my word for it and desist from turning up every flat rock you encounter. Nine of them don’t have creepy crawly slugs under them. And who cares about the tenth? Not you. And this time I mean YOU, not the dumb nut standing over there. Er…. yes.

I have also noticed something else.

(Aside: I am again using the pronoun ‘you’ with the same disclaimer (and blessing) applicable as in the Aside above.)

Why do you clam up like a stuffed frog when you admire someone? Why can’t you (wo)man up and tell some poor struggling soul that you think they are the best thing you’ve met in a month of Sundays? Is it such a hardship pour a sip of this life- giving elixir down a languishing, thirsty  throat?

It is never ridicule, but a compliment, that knocks a philosopher off his feet. He is already positioned for every possible counter-attack, counter-argument, and retort…only to find a big bear hug coming his way. ― CrissJami

Do you know what happens to all the compliments that you hoard to your chest like a parsimonious blood- sucker? They turn into screaming banshees and throw you from the top of Qutub Minaar (take a pick from Eiffel Tower, Burj Khalifa, Empire State Building, Shanghai World Financial Center et al depending on your current location and stop distracting me dammit! I have work to do here!!).

Yes, they throw you from a height with nary a safety net and laugh (duly screaming) derisively while you tick off the seconds to setting new world records in plastering yourself on the pavement in the most artistic fashion. They do (throw you), trust me. And that, is not be a pretty sight. There will hardly be anything left of you to scrape up. I shouldn’t be surprised if you leave room in a teaspoon!

Collect compliments with thankfulness, grace and joy; distribute them with benevolence and pleasure. Let them move around you as light as air. Aid their circulation with a free hand.

A compliment or two makes the world such a happy place, right?

Won’t you feel good when you get to know that just by being your own self and being a part of someone’s life, you are really making a huge difference in that someone’s life? Just the sound of it makes you feel like a Good Samaritan, doesn’t it?

Okay so, you are you and that someone is that someone. They are at the lowest point of their life. They are hurt and scarred and broken. They are very special to you and they mean the world to you. You can see the greatness that lies within them- that spark, that beauty. You just NEED to help them to see it too.

Well let’s just say, it feels good to help that someone. It makes you feel laudable- helpful and needed. You give their path direction, your help them find themselves, you guide them, and you fix them. Basically, you are their saving grace. That look in their eyes and those unspoken (and spoken/written) words of appreciation in a way, make you feel good about yourself. Overall, it is this feeling of satisfaction that words cannot describe.

You got so engrossed in this and in them that the unstoppable happened- you fell for them. And boy you fell hard! And so, you didn’t stop stabilizing them, you didn’t stop fixing them. Basically, you didn’t give up on them like others did. You want to show them their greatness, importance and exceptionality; if only they could see themselves the way you saw them.

Eventually, you let your feelings take a backseat in order to help them. You take it upon yourself to be there for them, you feel responsible for them and their feelings. You don’t care if you’re hurting as long as they are smiling. Their actions hurt you, their choices kill you on the inside, their ego and their attitude get on your nerves but still you don’t stop working on them.

Well you know what? It’s time you realize that you have done too much for them, so much that the next best thing to do is to stop. Stop yourself from getting hurt over and over and over again. Stop forcing yourself upon them! Stop your heart from playing with your mind. Leave them alone. Walk away. It’s not like you’re giving up, it’s not like you shouldn’t try, it’s just that you’ve drawn the line. It’s determination from desperation. You got attached and one simply does not get attached! Not in this lifetime for sure. You’ve done your bit, in fact you have done far more than you should have. In this process of saving them, you lost yourself and you lost your purpose. Well it’s time you realize that you deserve more. In fact, you deserve the best. And it would be best to just stop. And remember, what is truly yours would eventually be yours, and what is not, no matter how hard you try, will never be.

Let go; letting go is beautiful. So what if they couldn’t be yours? Just embrace the memories and look forward to the future. This too shall pass! So breathe, smile, laugh and giggle. Be yourself. You never know how important “you being you” is for someone! After all, we all are beautiful in our own special and unique ways. 

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Facocalypse :The End Of Facebook

 Your End is Near, my Dear 

The Mayans were wrong. The dark, menacing cloud of apocalypse did not dissipate. It still hovers over our heads and is waiting for 2017 to come crashing down.

It will be the most memorable year of our afterlife. A year that will see the demise of the stand-up comic, poet extraordinaire, cook, diva, avid photographer, in us. The lone soul who tirelessly spread cheer by sharing BBM jokes and motivated friends and frenemies with quotes will say bye-bye and never come back. It will be a slow, painful death. What can you expect when you’ll have no one to share your ‘feeling blessed/mad/bad/sad’ updates with! Hundreds of friends who you painfully collected and nurtured over the years with likes and superlikes, the sole purpose behind your album, Random Clicks, Vacationing in Goa – Part I, II,I II and IV - all gone with one masterstroke.

Of what use will be those selfies you click, standing in front of the mirror, hair carelessly falling over your cheek, head tilted at a 45 degree angle.

Click 1 – OMG! I look so fat.

Click 2 – Yikes! My nose looks like Mt. Vesuvius.

Click 3 – ARE THOSE WRINKLES?

Click 45 – Phew, finally a pic that does justice to my beauty.

The 129 likes, Ooh you hottie… Madem your becoming younger with age, comments were worth the nagging pain you now have in your shoulder, pointing your arm to the ceiling for over 30 minutes to get that perfect shot. The thought of taking a vacation will become unbearable, now that you’ll have no one but your hapless relatives and friends to show those awesome clicks of you standing in front of every shrub, monument and mall in Bangkok.

Why should I party, if I can’t show my virtual friends that I’m not a pathetic soul who spends all day on Facebook but manage to have a rocking time in real life!

Those morons from Princeton are claiming that Facebook will fade out and die by 2017, just like the plague. The social network’s popularity that spread like an infectious disease over the years will see a downslide, because we’re slowly becoming immune to its charms.
 

Image Courtesy - berkunair.com

It is also being claimed that teens don’t find FB cool anymore and are migrating to Twitter, Instagram and WhatsApp. Ironically, it’s the parents who couldn’t stop bemoaning their teen’s addiction to this platform are the ones pushing them away by sending them friend requests and putting them off with their new-found devotion to Facebook.

Bro, it’s so not cool to see your Mom pout. 

Agreed, Facebook now resembles a Sooraj Barjatiya set with our relatives and their relatives having made an appearance in our friends list. It starts with you accepting an innocuous friend request from an Aunt and sooner than you can say ‘hum saath saath hai’ your cousin’s Mama’s chachee’s brother is commenting on your post ‘why women should have more sex’! It gets even more awkward when you discover your Dad’s “you look great” remark on a friend’s pic, flaunting her brand new figure in her brand new dress!

Trying hard to avoid your boyfriend's ‘I told you so’ look, you quickly get into damage control mode and put all your relatives in the restricted list and pray that they don’t read this post.

But Facebook is no plague. It’s our true soulmate that has seen us through our phases of distress and jubilation. Can you imagine the anguish of spending your birthday and anniversaries alone with just your family for company! With no one to tell how much your boyfriend means to you, with no one to brag about how fantastic your boyfriend is  – life will become drab and boring, just like reality. We’ll have to go back to the drab ole days of having to rely on our memory to remember special occasions and make the effort of picking up the phone to wish our friends.

What will happen to the 1.1 billion displaced Facebook users, left with no excuse to waste time and no one to applaud their achievements! Our lives will be bereft of purpose when we’ll no longer be able to save deformed babies, rescue battered women, prevent cancer, stop corruption and massage our conscience, simply by clicking the like button. We’ll be moving around like zombies, with a vacant look, holding our profile pictures, poetry, Sai Baba blessings, stopping passers-by and begging for their likes.

Imagine your distress, when you’ll discover that it was Facebook and not you that was responsible for your boyfriend's happiness! No words can express the smug satisfaction we get when a bald headed man from Croatia propositions us with “Hello, I like your sweet beautiful postures… It's really wonderful lady, seems like your a warm hearted woman? I think we will make a great relationship”. Or when you wake up to “how so sweet look” from a lovelorn Dev Khaana from Ambala. 

 And clicking "OTHER MESSAGES" option in the messages section to read all the "Hey beauty sweety we you cen befrunds" or the "You lovely eyes my heart love". The innocent happiness that I derive from them, they are so damn funny and I am so shallow :(

I should go to the bathroom and weep now!

No Candy Crush requests, no invites to try birthdays! Surely, our future can’t get darker than this?

Have I managed to freak you out? Good. Now I can come to the part when I start pacifying.

Facebook, true to its nature, has allayed our fears of its imminent destruction. They have assured us that with only half its current enrolment by 2018, and no students at all by 2021, it’s not them but Princeton that’ll shutdown.

Obviously, with so many pictures to share and stare at, so many cat videos to laugh at and so many causes to support and like, who has time for education. And who needs Princeton, when we have University of Twitter, Facebook and Instagram to get our Bachelors in Time-pass and Masters in Narcissism from!

And hey, if Facocalypse does happen, we can always migrate to greener pastures and become addicted to the fresh new taste of its grass.