The Blur.

She nudged away stray tendrils with the back of her hand, and couldn't help smiling at their soft texture. Just as playfully, they rushed back quickly to play hide and seek with her bright kohl-lined eyes.

Her eyes. He loved her eyes. They were so intense, so big, they seemed to gleam with the radiance of energy around them.

There was a certain energy about them. Not eerie or uncomfortable silence, but the cheery, warm welcome of wordless-ness, that questioned the purpose of communication itself.

Pinning the rebellious strand back in place, she continued to graciously knead the dough in front of her. There was still an hour to go and she'd be done in the next 20 minutes.

Which left  40 minutes to get ready, wear her favorite red kurta and golden jhumkas, and of course retouch the black magic : kohl. She loved kohl, and its intense black quality - like a black hole that took everything in its stride, no questions asked.

He'd never really asked questions. He knew what he wanted to know. He knew he had her from word go. He knew he loved her from before.

Before, when he first met her. Before, when they started smiling. Before, when he first kissed her hand. Before, when their lives became awesome.

Awesomness, of course is a relative term, he thought, smiling at the thought of the bright red kurta she'd be wearing today. He knew that, no questions asked. Surprises surprised him, he basked in the pleasure of knowing her every thought.

Hmmm, thoughts totally blew her away... So she could sit in front of the window pane, for hours together, a book in one hand and a coffee in the other.. and continue to contemplate life, before after and now, ups and downs, screams and tantrums, laughs and fears, chokes and smears.... hmmm. And then all of a sudden a squeak or a shout would shake her from her reverie and accuse procrastination. Almost as reflex, her hands would move back on the pages. Guilt had its annoying ways of creeping into her personal life, like a honk on a quiet street or perhaps, a banging doorbell in the middle of her siesta?

*Knock Knock*

He walked in to the smell of homemade choclate slush cake. She jumped at the sound of gift wrap along his fingers. They both lunged for their respective targets.

Almost ceremoniously, they stood together to cut the cake, comfortable in the joys of quiet anniversary celebrations. Later as they fed each other pieces, he naughtily scratched a smile on the back of her hand and slid a love band through her ring finger. Because love was simple, precious and eternal. Because love was theirs to keep.

In thirty years of blind and mute togetherness, they cheered on yet another year of silence. He swiftly released the locks around her ears, he knew she'd be smiling. No questions asked.


Celebrating the Platinum Day of Love with Indiblogger and Platinum

Love, Actually: My entry for the Get Published Contest

About: 
Love, Actually is a tale of two hearts, young at heart and free in spirit. The two protagonists of the story are the school-going-kids-next-door. Watch them grapple with issues of love and friendship, love versus friendship and much more.. They will sway you with their intensity and tickle you with their innocence. Will he or won’t she? Will love keep up? Read on to know more.

Excerpt:
“Wake me UP WHEN SEPTEMBER ENDS…oooOOO”

Snuggling cozily in her quilt, she stealthily inched out two fingers from under the covers - just enough to reach the alarm as it continued to get louder, cross new decibel limits with every oncoming chorus. Darn, where does this goddamn thing get turned off?

Then she remembered, it was 1st of October. Haha, she chuckled at the rather cocky choice of alarm tone - smiled slowly and drifted back into the warmth of her quilt and the convenience of her dreams.

She loved dreams.

She dreamt of Paris, the ever higher Eiffel Tower, of love haven and unfettered freedom, of the misty haze and the snowy Alps..her reddish cheeks in the winter chill, her picky nose in the piercing winds..

She also dreamt of Harvard Law and corporate cases, of heady success and a great career.. and all the good things that money could and couldn’t buy.

And then, she dreamt of love.. His genuine smile and scruffy stubble, his soft whispers and sturdy arms.. wrapped loosely on her waist. Oh, why wouldn’t he say it, should she? Doesn’t he know he’s awesome?

“Urrgghhh, snooze will go to hell for sure”, she murmured as the rubbed her eyes into the ticklish sunlight. Wait a minute, sunlight?

She jumped out of bed with the determined ferocity of a starving lion, hurling abuses at the clock, her stupid best friend and well, all things that did or did not come in her way as she hankered for clothes, shoes and what not – frenzied, prancing and obviously late for school.

 ***********************

“And you know, her hair smells sooo good”, he smiled, sheepish, almost guilty at his revelation.

“So have you asked her out?”

“Noooo, not yet. She’s my best friend and you know how girls are, right? I think she just sees me as a friend and I would just spoil our friendship too.”

“But don’t you like her?”

“I do, I can take her no, but I can’t stop talking to her. Crap, why does she have to be so perfect.. How do I tell her.. this is just so crazy. We talk about everything but this – and I’ve practiced it about a 100 times, just can’t get myself to say it”, he mumbled, his incoherent thoughts rambling randomly out of his rather troubled mind.

As they entered the classroom and took their chairs, he quickly ‘reserved’ the seat on his right, smiling helplessly to himself. She’d be late and he loved that.

***********************

This is my entry for the HarperCollins-IndiBlogger Get Published Contest, which is run with inputs fromYashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

If you like it enough and would like to read more, please do shower your love here: http://www.indiblogger.in/getpublished/idea/544/

Happy Birthday to Me!

Courtesy: Internet

If procrastination were a religion, I'd be God.

I've been wanting to write about my birthday (and lots of other stuff), for really long now (uh, my birthday was 2 months back!) and I am amazed at how I convince myself that that next weekend, will be the weekend (you know what I mean?).

Anyway, my birthday this time was really special - my sister joined B-school (Wohoo, the loser me has been trying for years now), my parents came over to Delhi, my sisters and I were together and I got to meet my cousins too..
And, I also went to Ummeed (an NGO under the Dil Se Campaign, that I work with on weekends.. Basically, we teach/mentor/ have fun/spend time/ organize moral-based games activities for the children there).

So, I was trying to hammer down a few concepts of Quadratic Equations (and remembering how my dad used to scream if I didn't understand or atleast try to understand the concept behind each maths problem-"If you don't know the basics,how will you move ahead!!").. I remember thinking exactly the same thing with this kid.. I looked at him with utter disgust, when he tried to learn a maths problem.. Uh, I thought, this silly kid is trying to learn maths, huh.. If you don't know the basics, how will you move ahead, tell me! And then I controlled my temper (in my mind) and started to re-explain. Uff, I thought, I don't like kids one bit.

Meanwhile, my two friends Harpreet & Deepkiran, were playing softball with children in the next room. They called me saying they'll need a little help. So, I gave this child  a few problems (by the way, this trick really works and I think all teachers use it - whenever you want to get rid of a child for some time, give him a set of maths problems that you know he'll struggle with. And tell him/her with authority.. If you cant solve these then we'll go back to the Chapter in Class II.. And quietly leave the kid to solve his own problems :P Now have your chai, coffee and come back when you wish. PS. Remember to act exasperated when you're back!)

Anyway, I went to the next room to see a bunch of around twenty kids, each with a card in hand!!
I don't know whose idea it was, but it a really really awesome!
I gave them sweets (which by the way, they brutally snatched and seized right out of my hands.. Two of them fought for a Ravalgon, like army men on the Kashmir border (except that we sorted this issue much faster).. It was striking to note that when the supply of toffees was lesser than the demand, they didn't show the slightest hint of the manners we've been trying to teach them for so long.. (Urgh, did I tell you I don't like kids one bit)

Anyway, it was a great great feeling to get those cards and they made my birthday special. Hmmm, maybe they're not so bad after all (yeah, the kids).

Happy Birthday to me.

Here are a few of the cards I got:

Amita Bidi, Ha!

           Isn't the cake absolutely delectable? Its fresh fruit mind you, this kid has good taste.

I like the hearts with hands and feet and wings. Its like, literally giving wings to your imagination.

This card came in a matching envelope with blue taped border. Talk about perfection! Except that I don't like it when they spell my name incorrectly (Urgh, these kids. "If you don't know the basics, how will you move ahead!")

Daniel Powter - Love You Lately.

I hope you find
whatever you've been lookin' for.
Just remember where you're from
and who you are,
'Cause there's a thousand lights
that'll make you feel brand new,
But if you ever lose your way,
I'll leave one on for you.

'Cause I'm the one that loves you lately.
You and me, we got this great thing.
So, come back and you sit down.
Relax. Everything's to see
that you've come a long, long way,
And it's the place that you should be.

'Cause I'm the one that loves you lately.
You and me, we got this great thing.

:)

Latest Obsession.
:P

No Phony Love, This One!

Today is a historic day.
A wonderful relationship has come to an end.
I have finally done away with my 1000 years old Nokia 1100.

He was a good friend.
He stood up for me always. A lot of times, when I have been lonely and curt, not so lonely and very talkitive, he has been a mute spectator to my idiosyncratic randomness. He has watched, as I fought with others and punched him in return.. He has watched as I dived my nails into his skin and smiled at his face, only to be passing a text on to someone else. He has been privy to my insanity, watched all my phony antics, has even, almost-been-flushed once. He has truly stood the test of time, friendship and loyalty. I love him.

And as I put him to rest today, I feel a strange emptiness that wont fill up for a really long time to come. Because he is was, is and always will be the best phone ever. And nothing - no fancy phone, no frilly features, no 20 MP cameras, no 50 GB space can match up to the endearing simplicity of his being.
Some things are truly irreplaceable.

All said and done, however, you are in a sorry state of affairs, my friend. You have been surgically treated twice, have (VDS) voice distortion syndrome, severe skin rashes, and a very acute form of Alzheimer's. Your memory status of 50 phone contacts is defying your age and testing my patience. The recent gash on your keypad is bleeding like a seasonal river and this time, doctors tell me, there is no possibilty of yet another plastic surgery. You know what that means. Ab tumhein dawa nahi hai, dua ki zaroorat hai, mere dost. Of course, until that happens, I've to type without spaces and talk without punching numbers containing zero. Because your zero key, as much as I ignore it, is now a gaping black hole.. Last time I knived my scooter key inside, to literally 'knock' out the letter.

But still, you are by far, the healthiest (at your age), most loved and the most unflinchingly devoted phone I've ever had. Or ever will have.
R.I.P, my friend. I love you.

Truth Love And A Little Malice

Truth Love And A Little Malice
Autobiography : Khushwant Singh
Edition 2002
Publisher: Viking
My Rating : 5 Stars and my best smiley :D


I started reading this book only to overcome an extreme bout of laziness that had struck me in the past few weeks. Not only was I on complete bed rest, I had begun to sleep 14 hours.. Without exaggeration my only activity in the day was perhaps, rolling my eyes (Btw, I'm pretty good at that!) I knew K.Singh primarily as a Sikh writer, and half expected this to be a long history of Sikhism and its teachings, but took it up anyway.

Am I thankful!
This book is
legen
wait for it
dary! (Yes, I have watched 4 seasons of HIMYM in around 4 days!)

Khushwant Singh might sound provocative or controversial to many but maybe thats because he's brutally honest. And face it, truth does bite.

Khushwant Singh was born in 1915 in Hadali, Punjab; educated in Government College, Lahore and Kings College in London. He worked as a lawyer in Lahore, with the Indian Ministry Of External Affairs, as a diplomat in Paris and Canada, and even with UNESCO in Paris.
In the first few chapters of the book, he comes across as a spoilt brat, who was, to put it simply, living off his fathers wealth (They owned more than half of Delhi around the time of Partition and after. Infact, their houses and buildings are the Bhavans and abodes for our politicians and diplomats.)He never really stood out academically, completed his three year law degree in five years, and took to scotch like a fish to water. But it was perhaps his love for traveling and reading, and the brazen confidence to say anything to anyone that unflinching financial and emotional security gives you that saw him through. Also, the courage to leave a conventional profession and take a chance as a writer. But then again, I think he was lucky because he always had something to fall back upon.

The best thing, about him as a writer is that, he spoke and wrote what he really thought, irrespective of the consequences. His take on everyone, from his school friends to the Prime Minister Of India is truly his own and thats what draws one towards his writing.
As an individual, I am still to come to terms with that.. I am not very sure of just how blunt one should be. I can safely say that I don't lie about what I like or don't like, just to make some else feel better; but nor can I say that I just blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind. I have tried that and I'm telling you, its dangerous (when you try and break the 'indomitable' male ego) and potentially explosive (when talking to the 'girl-in-distress'). Either case, you're in trouble before you even think you've begun. So I tend to understand what kind of person I am talking to before I speak too much.If I sense danger, instead of lying, I keep my views to myself. In any case, its better than back-biting or handling crying girls.
Though I still don't know if that's right or wrong.

'The problem with law is that it has very little to do with justice'
I really liked this one liner.

Also, I found it very surprising that despite writing so much on Sikhism and translating parts of the Guru Granth Sahib, he is unequivocally agnostic.
He dares to question the sanctity of blind faith, and the magical powers that we vest into our religious scriptures.

In the words of Iqbal:

Dhoondta phirta hoon main, ai Iqbal, apney aap ko
aap hee goya musaafir, aap hee manzil hoon main

(O Iqbal, I go about everywhere looking for myself
As if I was the wayfarer as well as the destination)

Though I do not quite discard the basis of all religions, and confess to being hopelessly God fearing, I quite agree with the fact, unless superhuman, one cannot be a true athiest. That would be like living in a vacuum, and appears to me, as quite a sterile concept, more like an I-am-educated fad.I am also in awe of his view of incorporating more contemporary 'rituals' in our life.. Like planting a tree,on occasions of birth,death and anniversaries, instead of sprouting scotch fountains; and inculcating a work ethic in the same.

I picked up this amusing saying ascribed to the Sikh trading community from the book:

Jhooth vee aseen bolney aan,
Ghut vee aseen tolney aan,
Par Sachhey Padshaah,
Tera naa vee aseen lainey aan

We admit we tell lies,
We also give short measures,
But O true King Of Kings,
We also take your name.

I recently came across a quote by Bejamin Franklin which said that 'Either write things worth reading or do things worth writing'. I think Khushwant Singh is one of the few people who managed both, in both letter and spirit.

Happy Birthday Varneet!

Okay,Just like every birthday, I have to tell you..
I'm not the Gifts- and- Flowers, OMG-"It's your Birthdaaaaaayyy--Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa" (Get the drift, right?) type! Nor can I be comfortably nice for a long time!
So here goes:


You hung around for four years
And then I came along
Kicked you with those big red boots
But you still sang my song.

I wailed like a wimp for years
together, and then you came along
Scared me with burly big eyes
but you still sang my song.

You always had 'the' reputation
And then I came along
Smashed to pieces whatever was left
After I rang my 'bong'.

I've always been the queen of antics
did the most 'uncool' things
As much as you tried to save the day
You still, took me in your wings.

I've been the root of major bloopers
I've been the problem kid
Though I always knew you'd pull me out
No matter what you did

And of course I always 'did my thing'
With hurdles crazily new
But I wasn't worried the least bit
For all I had to do, was,
Sit around, make a stupid face
And then look up* at you.

* Added only for correct literary effect, Shortie.


CONCLUSION: Look at you, weirdo. The quintessential Vadde Bhenji, HAHAHA! :P
Happy Birthday!
Come back, I'm telling you.. America is all bloody Moh-Maaya!

Happy Birthday again! :)

Love At First Sight

I know you’ll be there
Never away or far
I know we’ll be closer
Wherever we are

I wish you could hear
All the truth behind my lies
I wish you would hear
All that’s said by hows and whys.

I wish you would see
All that I want you to
I wish you would know
How much I really think of you

I see it in your eyes
When I feel your brownish skin
I see it when I touch you
And hold you in the din

I see it when I see you
And all that’s there too see
I know I’m myself with you
I know I can be

I just wish, you go away
Before I throw you out
I mean you well, you silly potato
So you had a doubt?

Dedicated to :
The potato.
Yeah, The aloo.
Say that again- The aloo.

Isn't it amazing how names can be so helplessly descriptive. If Shakespeare asked me what was in a name I would almost certainly give the aloo in my defence. The name itself is so slugglishly indolent, I can almost see it exude sloppiness. Surprisingly descriptive of the personality of this fruit.
I mean really, it is by far the most deformed mass of fat ever.
Think about it, it’s ugly to say the very least. Like those rude overgrown kids, in the theatre. The ones who block your view, block your sound, eat like pigs, wear free size clothing and simply refuse to shut up.
And it’s not even soft. I mean fruits are meant to be nice. Fruits are supposed to be nice. They are just born that way. Hardly a fruit, its like a rock tha you need to wrestle with or fool into a heat shock just to remove the outer skin.
More like the fruit of all the sins.

Rather, it’s not a fruit. It’s like an aberration, a social evil. Just that we got no revolutionaries. They seem to hound us, surround us, be all around us. They seem to be taking over the world, these sly shapeless little things, I tell you. And everybody seems to be awed by it's lumpish existence as well. No kidding,The vegetable market needs democracy.

Alright yeah looks aren’t everything.
Not only is it a repulsive brown that refuses to ripen, on top of that it’s bland. Plain. Simple. Insipid. Blank.
Also, It’s full of fat that makes you fat.
Happy?

Okay okay, if you like aloos, I wish you all the aloos in the world, I wish you have so many of them that there is a global shortage, I wish it rains aloos wherever you are. I wish they fill your garden and all that you won’t sell, I wish you aloo water, I wish you aloo gel.

Like I said, you silly potato, I really mean you well.


Ps. I wish you my share as well. :)
Pps. I’ll take something else in return, though.