Saturday, December 31, 2011

My mandatory year sign off...

This is something i don't usually give a miss since 1988. Yes, since i was 8 years old i have always written about the year that was on the eve to remind me of the things that i have learnt.

And this year, i have been too busy to write. Too busy to talk to family and friends. Too busy to get in touch with myself. Just making sure, that i find the time to do what i love. Write this post. Just for myself.


One thing that i feel tonight is that this year has been a long year. Usually , i never realise where time flies. But this year when i count the number of things done, places visited, milestones reached, looks like it's been a long journey. Looking back, nothing stands out that i feel proud of. But nothing saddens me immensely as well. It's like a mediocre effort with flashes of brilliance too far in between.

Like every year, i have grown calmer by my standards, but remain volatile by everyone else's. This year, i have become a bit opinionated. Last year, i would have looked at it as something negative. This year, i am proud that i have certain opinions i do not want to change. This year, i have met many people whose opinions and loyalties have changed like the global weather regime and consistency as elusive as the winters in mumbai. Thank God, at least i had my own opinions and standards that kept me floating in the weathers that have been rough. In the year , i have realised, maybe reinforced , yet again that survival of the fittest does not only relate to the poor pea plants in Darwin's experiments. It's the truth in every life, every day. From the sapling on the fourteenth floor to a colleague in the office, everyone's running the race. 

This year i have also fallen in love with mumbai. After our initial squabbles, that i now know were the lovers' tiffs,  i am completely charmed by mumbai. Like every relationship, we have our rough patches, the difficult times, but we weather it along. Sometimes mumbai soothes me, sometimes i make my compromises. I have created my small dream home with the man i love in this oh-so-beautiful, harsh and loving city and as the year ends, one thing i am sure of , i would really be heartbroken if i had to move out.

One thing i also know is that i will never stop evolving or growing. I have also realised, if i never cared for what people thought about me earlier, this year i have just set my own standards and will do anything to stand by them.  Pretensions will always be pretensions. You can only be you. If only people became good at being themselves, the world would be such a great place. I would, at least, know who is who. But then, to everyone their own.

I have been awake many nights missing my home, that seems so far away. So away. My papa, mummy and brothers. But this year end, i have a feeling a wheel has turned and the new road will bring some good things for everyone back home. My year will also start with my taking the first steps to my new homeland in Hazaribagh. I have a warm feeling when i think of the trip. After being postponed for two years, i am now sure the time has come for the grihalaxmi to step into the house. Pun intended for laxmi ji. I hope she does the honours on all of us. We've lived on the fringes long enough. Now, we will take the centre stage.  On a different note, this year i have also realised that nothing is impossible. If you have a dream and you are persistent and committed, nothing can stop you.  And money matters, but not too much.  

My personal life is in a good space. I feel loved and cherished by my friends and family, the few people i own completely as mine and feel happy to have them in my life, who have the faith, who make me what i am, who stand by me even in my idiosyncrasies. 


From India starting on such a high note last year to the lowest ebb it has reached today, in terms of the lokpal, the economic policies and slowdown, the feeling of instability everywhere, from becoming the world number one in the non official national game to sinking low enough even by our own standards, nothing is static, nothing is stationary. Life goes on. Life moves on. You survive only if you move. You stop and you are dead.

From living with the cause i loved to thinking about it from a different perspective this year, i have seen an India that i had only heard of. The India who talks about the poor and poverty but has never seen them. I have now seen the policies being made in isolation. I have seen people who go on vacations when fifty percent of India is either reeling under its harsh winters, its difficult summers or its rains or the lack of it. I have seen that the great Indian Middle class in breaking the barriers of its own creation and aspiring to reach new heights and getting there. But the great Indian Middle class is still getting there, not fully there and some of them will not ever get there, living midst broken dreams, disillusioned future and nondescript past.  The poor anyways live only in their own memories. For the rest of India, who are too busy like me, the poor, the 50 % are a statistic.


This year my desire to hear Jagjit Singh live now will remain so forever. I have already written the obituaries of a great painter, of a maverick actor producer, of so many others. But that's life. In death they have at least shown me that all of them lived their life on their own terms and lived it.

Strangely, i feel empty of any strong emotions for the year that's slowly going by. And i am trying to feel, but i am numb. And comfortably numb.

Next year, almost here, is another tomorrow. Have a great year everyone. Only one wish, live a full life , every day and be yourself.At least i will. Everyone else, keep the faith .

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Mini Mouse

Mini Mouse,

You are probably in the airport now
Bidding goodbye to your life in mumbai

Just wanted to tell you
you are already being terribly missed
by a crazy woman who's crazy about you
(and also probably by a few more
and the sev puri guy)

In another world she would have hated you
The indian american india hater
but that would have been in the other world
In this world you are more indian than she is
Proper, traditional in many more ways
made her realise
you don't actually hate india
but certain "indianisms"


what she will remember is to look at india
with the objectivity that you had
because you put india at par with the world
and showed her that we couldn't
do a "chalta hai" just because.
To sit up and take notice
and take a stand
not to take everything lying down
Just because.

Crazy Mouse, the conversations will be missed
The discussions on development, poverty and strategies
will now be dead
at least for sometime.

Will also miss the crazy sanyal eyes
the girly giggles at anything and everything
the ranting sessions
who else will be the alter ego
for the daily dilemmas
no one to hug to death

What obviously will be good
is that no more cheesy pizzas
no more craving for sweets
Though "mishti doi" will be sourly missed.

But also, no more chai session,
no morning poha
no one to shared the afternoon snack craving
no evening walking back together
no promises to exercise and diet
to break them


So mouse, take care of yourself
i can already see you rolling your eyes
at the public embarrassment
But what the hell
that's something i give you
a bit of my craziness
a public hug

Take care of yourself in the new city
And keep the faith.

Also wanted to tell you
i want that frock
and i will keep your cupboard

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Kaho Kya Khayal Hai


After a long long time, i have completely fallen in love with a song.The beautiful lyrics by Swanand Kirkire,who my husband thinks is the only person who has the potential to step into Gulzaar saab's shoes,  his beautiful earthy voice, the  haunting voices of Zeb and Haaniya, and the beautiful programme called "dewarists". After being away from television, this is one programme that brings me back to the tele religiously every week.

Before i go on and on..enjoy the song..

Deeshab ke tu az mehr ba baam
Mehr babaam aamada boody aamada boody

dhadkano ki taal baaje
saanson ka ek tara

aangan mein sajaye baithein
sooraj chanda taara

chalo baant lein hum zindagi
zara aaj yun kar lein
kaho kya khayal hai

ik jahan chota sa apna
ik jahan tumhara
muskaan chahe meethi ho
ya aansoon ek khara

chalo baant lein ghum aur khushi
thodi guftagoo kar lein
kaho kya khayaal hai

aap se do baat kar lein
yaadon ko jebon mein bhar lein
aaye hain hum kuch dino ke baad

yaaron ki saubat mein aake
dheere se kuch gunguna ke
yuhin kat jaate hain din aur raat

muthi mein tum bheench lana sawan hara
ek dhanak tum bhi tod lana falak se zara
muthi muthi baant lenge kirnon ka katra
ik sikka dhoop humse lena gar kam laga
betuk hi bematlab hans le hum
kyun na is lamhe mein
haan jee lein hum

chalo baant lein hum zindagi
zara aaj yun kar lein
kaho kya khayaal hai



Sunday, September 25, 2011

Rockstar

First movie this year that i am really looking forward to.



The promos are amazingly teasing, beautiful cinematography and the music by AR Rehman is as melodious and haunting only his music can be.The music keeps growing on you so much that you realise only suddenly in between a thought and conversation that the music is playing in your mind.

"Sadda Haq" is such a powerful song, showing the angst of generation today. Love the lines..

eco friendly
nature ke rakshak
main bhi hoon nature

rewazon se..samajon se..kyun..

tu kaate mujhe, kyun baate mujhe, iss tarah..
kyun sach ka sabak sikhaye
jab sach sun bhi na paye
sach koi bole toh tu niiyam kanoon bataye

tera dar..tera pyar..teri wah..tu hi rakh
rakh, saale...

The other beautiful song, The sufiana rendition that has become tradeback of the Maestro, "Kun Faya Kun", is beautiful. It means (God said), "be, and it is".

Nadan Parindey, Tum Ho are the other two beautiful songs..Mohit Chauhan is obviously the voice of the rockstar. After my husband introduced me to him, i have gradually fallen in love with the voice through the last three years. Strangely , of all the songs that have stuck to the mind and soul during this time , most have been renditions by him.
 
All in all there are 14 beautiful compositions, and since a long long time, this is the first music album i have wanted to buy ;) Go grab a copy.


Tuesday, August 30, 2011

My pink umbrella

good bye my pink umbrella

hope you are fine wherever you are

like many things in my life
i left you behind
my careless self

then i just moved on
like i always do
to other, important things

missing you
only when it rains
and sometime too sunny
i just wish you're taken good care of

i sometimes blame myself
when i think of you
of not remembering you
to have left you behind
why did i not heed my fears
that i would lose you one day
of not seeing you till the end
of not being with you
when you grew old with me
of not given you the care
that you deserved
at the time of need

i cared for you cosmetically
not because of you
but because of myself
you enhanced me
by being with me
and so i preened
in your beauty

now that you're gone
i sometimes miss you
good bye my umbrella

hope your finder is not an ogre
hope you live long
hope you grow old
as dignified as you're now

hope your new keeper
loves you
more than i did
i say keeper
because you cannot be owned
you're free, you're your own
you help, without asking
you give, without taking

good bye my pink umbrella
fare you well

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Baggage

What i carried to office this morning

the smell of tea brewing
and that of desi ghee paranthas


a little bit of sleep in my lazy eyes
sound of the flush in the toilet
cooks haggling their prices in the lift

the smile of the old watchman
the tinkle of change in the rickshawallah's purse

cramp on my legs as i ran up the station stairs with those high heels
recognition in the eyes of my regular co-passengers
the dry dust of the station
the wetness of rain
the feel of the creek water and mangroves of my face
the stench  of rotting garbage
the clean bright green leaves washed by rains

the sight of  shitting bums
the smells of early morning ablutions


the push and shove at kurla station
the announcement of a train delayed
the wait at the platform
the scrutiny by the uncles and lads
the smell of shampoo on the wet hair
of the girl standing in front of me
the silhouette of a solitary bird perched on the electric lines
hide and seek of a centipede on the railway tracks

the tugging of the arm of a kid
by an angry mom rushing him to school
the smells of bajra and atta being turned to rotis
rising above the slums in matunga

the wave of a colleague
the hope of rains
humming of a pakistani song
the dream of anna in my eyes..

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Aarakshan

The states where the movie has been banned are missing something  which they will never know.

Prakash Jha already is up there making some hard hitting movies, dealing with issues which were mainly considered "art/ parallel" cinema and this time he gets just a notch higher for the guts to attempt a movie on reservation which will touch a lot of raw nerves . Yes, he does add masala to get it to mainstream, but does he do it with the master's panache.

The powerful performances of each of the actors  and the superb screenplay and dialogue can only be seen to be understood. A guy sitting beside me kept on hitting himself really hard, because he just couldn't stop himself. But go watch it. Recommendation from me, 4.5 stars.3.5 for the movie and 1 point for just attempting to make a movie on the subject.I don't give it a full 5 because the fairy tale ending is too Raju Hirani and not expected from Mr Jha and the script getting confused towards the end shifting focus from reservation to commercialisation of education and parallel private coaching system.

Mandal Commission gave its report on OBC reservation the year i was born in 1980. I can safely say that was also my first exposure to public outcry and violence as i started growing up. I was in Class IV when i saw jeeps being burnt, roads blocked, our classrooms closed because there was an angry mob passing by our school. I understood nothing except that those two words stuck. Mandal Commission.  I also remember talking about reservation at a District level debate when i was a class older which i won, putting across my views against the motion. That is,  against reservation. Coming from an upper class ,upper caste family, what else could be expected from me.

My father was my debate partner and opponent  during my growing up years and we had various people coming in to our house who had diverse view points and healthy and sometimes unhealthy discussions  were the norm and somehow my father always treated me as an adult and i remember asking all the awkward questions and holding my own. During that time, i did not really have an opinion but was cultivating one by copying thoughts, words and mannerisms. Yes, i hated reservation when i was growing up. But thanks to the airforce background, i could never become a casteist.In fact i wasn't exposed to caste differences or even the existence of the classes till my father took voluntary retirement and we were back at our native place. But did it hit me with a force. We lived in the "Bramhin sasan" and their were clear demarcation of areas for all castes and roles defined. We couldn't play with certain children, couldn't touch a few, and if we did we were made to have a bath at whatever time of the day and sprinkled with Ganga jal. Too early in my life i realised the dichotomy and the rebel that i was, broke all rules even though it meant taking multiple baths .

Like lots of other times in my life when i have been forced into questioning my beliefs and breaking them,  reservation too had its time. Incidentally, of all sectors to work, i chose the development sector and all my beliefs against reservation came crashing down one by one.Not in one day. Gradually.

I met people with disregard for people from lower castes. I could rephrase it as disrespect. They would hold them in  much disdain and would always put themselves on a higher pedestal of being all knowing and greater species. No fault of theirs' i guess.The nazist behaviour of the upper caste  Indians has been well documented and still goes on .It's a part of our culture and conditioning.I met people who hated people who were not their own. I went to places where people had different plates and times to eat, sit and talk. In the meanwhile i also saw the love and affection of people on the other side of the divide line. I also felt their repressed anger, their fear, their insecurity. Their trust had been broken so many times that they felt betrayed but still gave their unconditional love.

As i started understanding the history, beyond the history books and concepts, seeing discrimination first hand, understanding the background and future of the people and perceptions, so also began the journey of feeling embarrassed about my own caste and class.  I felt so ashamed when people, much older to me would treat me like god and touch my feet. I questioned if a person from my own caste would do it. The answer is "NO". No, they did not touch my feet out of respect for me, but because they had been taught to treat us like that. The "mai baap" , the demi-gods. I feel like a perpetrator of violence and injustice because it is us, the upper caste, who has since time before history's memories have taken advantage of the the underprivileged, because it was who owned and created privileges.I don't share my caste at any forum anymore, unless it is filling up of some form.

In more than two thousand years, nothing actually has changed. Look at the Forest Rights Act. The owners of the land, the Tribes and the Traditional Forest Dwellers, have had to pay a fine to access their own land, their mother forest since the then British Government demarcated Forests as Government Property. Sadly, British left the country but we are still following those 100 year old laws of the land. The owners of the forest, who have lived in those jungles have been branded as intruders. Funny, isn't it. Just look at the geological maps and statistics in history and track the exploitation of the jungle resources. The tribes have been saviours and the entire exploitation by them in History doesn't even match up to the exploitation of those resources being done by the government and Mining companies in one day. But. we still give out our jungles and the people who live there on a platter to those same violators, again and again.

Look at women in our country. Women fight deep rooted beliefs, which even the liberated men are reluctant to accept that they carry those belief systems in them. In Indian parliament women represent roughly 11 percent and majority comes from the elite class.Is it about merit?Are the women so merit-less that they can't  get elected?  Think about it. Women have never been considered equal partners in development and they are now weaned out methodically as science progresses. Ever questioned why the number of female foeticides is highest and sex ratio lowest in the states of india where education and per capita income are highest in our country? Think about it. Stereotyping and bias has nothing to do with education and class.

ST, SCs and OBCs have been traditionally exploited and kept away from the mainstream. Look at the statistics of these people in any sector, their representation, their ownership of resources and you will know. Also, the absolute numbers will give you an idea about the sheer magnitude and scale of this problem.  The supreme court in 2008 upheld the legislation providing 27% quota for other backward castes (OBCs) in centrally funded educational institutions, including IITs and IIMs.The economically well off, also known as the “creamy layer” from amongst the OBCs, however, will remain out of the quota’s ambit. A review of the quota’s continuation would have to be done every five years. Yes, some of them do belong to the creamy layer and certain debates and issues will still need to be addressed. Yes, there are merituous students from economically marginalised sectors but from the upper castes who still get left behind because of reservation system that does not bring them into its fold.

Yes, we will need to review our reservation system and policy and fight against it and never ever have a reservation. But not today. Because the upper castes, the men, the owners of resources with Government stamp and valid papers, the people with access to services of health, education and livelihood have won the race even before it began, while the marginalised, the underprivileged, the women, the tribes and castes on the schedules are waiting at the starting line, some still reaching there, with their legs tied, body parts amputed and voices muted.

Yes there are exceptions when men and women have excelled, but not because of anyone but despite anyone, as they were stronger, faster and much more deserving than anyone else. If they had had the same starting line, they would have broken all world records. I have met some exceptional men and women who are what they are just because of their strength, grit and perseverance. I also agree, not all upper caste people and with access to resources are exploiters. But in the end, these both categories are exception. Too less, too far in between.

Some years down the line, i hope to see everyone with the same strength and power standing at the starting line , waiting for the gun to go off. And then, we shall see.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Chaos

Random. Tension. Problem. Shortage. Running. Scampering. Agony. Pain. But still looking for balance. Hoping. Dying of hope. Still hoping. Craving for a day of solace. Not finding. Of wanting a holiday. Of never having the time. Of hoping against hope to get some stability. But every day is a chaos. Wake up. Run. Run . Run. Walk. Run. Work. Run. Plastic Smile. False laughter. Empty words. Broken Promises. Run . Run. Run.

The why. The who. The when. Why me? Why you? Why them? Why not me? Why not them? Understanding. Holding the thought and letting go. Trying to hold on again. But then everything flowing by.Giving strength. Feeling pain. Broken trust. Fairy tales lost. Again another dream. Dream. Dream. Dream.

What ? look behind. Someone there. Someone lost.But keep walking. Still looking behind.  Slam on to the wall. Oh. Look forward. What? Fog. No, it's misty eyes. No, a blank wall. Bang again. Turn. Run. Turn . Run. Back again. Circle. Pattern. Lost. No found. Lost. Lost . Lost.

Chaos. Chaos. Craziness. Of living like the dead. So many directions. Directionless. Of so many words. Of seeking silence. Seeking peace. Movement. Tiring movement. Sloth in movement. The journey stopped. No progress. No growth. Change. Change. Change.

Curve. Delving Down. Learning at zero. Worker. Non- worker. Bitching men. Manly women. Painful politics. tempers on short fuse. Egos in bull fights. Bull. Same old story. Painfully long. Stop. stop. stop.

Chaos.

Theory.


Sunday, June 12, 2011

It's so funny, you don't laugh...

Seriously.

Being religiously away from news channels and newspapers, takes me time to catch up on the great (non)issues of the world.

After the comedy circus of the baba doing a drag , it's the times of india starting a campaign against raising of the legal drinking age to twenty five.The first thing you think is who's sponsored the half page advertisement and the campaign? The second thought is of the billions of mumbaikers reeling under unprecedented rains, water clogged. Mumbai with its issues of housing, roads, drainage, sanitation, lack of infrastructure, increasing cases of violence and this is what is most important to the paper with highest circulation in english in mumbai.

Also on is the debate on the dance of mrs swaraj. Read somewhere an article likening it to the tandava. Well Shiva must be doing it now having read it. The reason for the party's protest is obviously lost and least important. Not the least funny is that the party is trying so desperately to find an issue to just be visible on national imagination and national television . Not to say trying to hide from public memory the yeduryappas and modis. Even worse , the lack of a strong alternative to the current government and lack of national leaders in a country of millions that's projected to surpass china's population in another decade is not so funny anymore.

There is a spate of hunger strikes on after the "success" of anna hazare's much televised, sponsored and advertised fast. They all are funny not because of the issues they take up but because you have to use "fasting", read blackmail, to make yourself heard by the government who should be doing it anyway.

Also funny are the arguments put forward by the in-power politicos, of not bowing down and not being cowered. Aah-ha. Does that mean, we aren't getting back the black money? yellow, green, red..whatever..but didn't we know that already?

The West Indies tour promises to bring up some funnier debates about money, endorsements, priorities, patriotism. I hope they get Mr Kalmadi, live from Tihar to do it.

Ms Mamata seems to have given back the disputed 400 acre singur land but the invitation to tata has also been sent.Isn't it funny? Only wandering in the tatas did set up the plant in the 600 acre would the peripheral acres be good enough for agriculture? But that's another funny debate.

That also reminds me of a certain mr ramesh for whom i had oodles of respect before he went cuckoo..or should i say, the parrot who can talk the propaganda. In Odisha, the clean government is doing its best to clean up the entire state's resources along with its forests. 

The really adarsh scam of all time may yet be the adarsh scam, but we are waiting still for the punchline. 

Funny, very funny.

But why isn't anyone laughing?

Friday, June 10, 2011

The Barefoot Dreamer



Sometimes..just sometimes my heart screams out...we bloody humans...

Human, humane, humanity.

Oxymoron, isn't it ? I sometimes fail to understand human beings. Even the wild animals live by better rules and ethics that humans. 

Every writer has once in his life said, these are strange times. I think times were never strange. It's just the humans who became stranger and stranger, a stranger to themselves and humanity. 

When people die, you rarely cry for them but more so for yourself, thinking of the pain, of the vacuum it will leave in your life. When i heard of M F Hussain's demise, i cried. I do not yet know what i was crying for. Was it the lost hope? Was it the utter senselessness of his dying in a foreign land? Or of losing a genius who always lived by his own rules?No, i do not know.

Even in his death , he is spectacular. He proved like many great people before him, that he did not live in any boundaries, so could the borders of any country keep him tied down? Even in death he unified. It's funny how the government rises to an occasion offering to bury him in india. Dear Government, you didn't deserve him. We didn't deserve a man of his greatness. Some say, he should have stayed on here and fought his critics, about his freedom of expression. Why should he have? Why? In this country where everything runs on blackmail and black money, why should he have cared? After decades of painting india internationally, he did not need to do it . Yes, we did not deserve him.

I think of his life, his journey and his end. All i feel is awe and reverence. In his death he has taught a lesson , at least to me. In life, you live only once. Live by your own rules. Sometimes, by not caring about boundaries you can create your own horizons. In life, people will always judge. In death, the judgements don't count.

The barefoot maverick , his signature long brush in hand, painted his own skies . I am sure, he is still walking barefoot on the clouds  and painting his own skies. 

[Freedom of Speech and Expression is one of the basic and fundamental right of citizens in almost every country in the world. But this hasn't stopped the fundamentalists in those countries to flourish and wield a power over governments and its people that has forced many artists, mostly writers, to live in exile. 

Tasleema Nasreen, Orhan Pamuk, Guillermo Cabrera Infante, from Bangladesh, to Turkey, to Cuba, from Germany, to Iraq , Tibet, Mongolia, China, Russia to Nigeria, people have lived away from there beloved land. A Reporter shot on the middle of the road, a painter burnt at stake, from Galileo to Da Vinci, they all have faced this at some point of their lives. From being charged with sedition to being labeled as extremists and enemies of the state , they have chosen to live in exile. These people live a life hidden from public memory, surfacing now and then, being criticised, and then remembered in death.]

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

A song to myself...

kahin dayra bana hai,  kahin aakhri sira hai
mahi bol bol haari, koi hai jo sun raha hai
ye koi jaane na,  ke dil maane na
bikhar jaaye na

 kaisa hai junoon ,kahin mile na sukoon
dekho kahin bhi qaraar aaye na
deewana hai kaun,  yahaan begaana hai kaun
dekho zindagi bekaar jaye na

koi bheed main khada hai, koi khud main chal raha hai
mahi bol bol haari,  yahaan jo hai besila hai
yeh saaton aasman, hum inke darmiyaan
bichad jaaye na

kaisa hai junoon ,kahin mile na sukoon
dekho kahin bhi qaraar aaye na
deewana hai kaun,  yahaan begaana hai kaun
dekho zindagi bekaar jaye na

chalti chalti jaaye ik aandhi, jo aandhi bhi nahin
manzil se kalai kuch baandhi,aur baandhi bhi nahin
jahaan raaste ne joda , wahin faasley ne toda
mahi bol bol haari yahaan sab ne haath choda
yeh koi jaane na ke dil maane na
bikhar jaaye na

kaisa hai junoon ,kahin mile na sukoon
dekho kahin bhi qaraar aaye na
deewana hai kaun,  yahaan begaana hai kaun
dekho zindagi bekaar jaye na

Thursday, May 12, 2011

31

If i had to find a theme for my year gone by, i'd call it the "year of trials and tribulations" .

I can't say it was good or bad, but one thing that stands out is the fights i have had.The fights with the world, with the family, with friends and with myself.

The fights of ideology, of long drawn debates, of the rights and wrongs.

The turbulence of shifting my home ground and creating a new home and hearth. The year of living away from my parents and developing small fears that haven't let me sleep nights. Of waking up thinking about my parents , my brothers and my beautiful small sister and not knowing what to do. Of staring at blank walls and seeing my life on it running on flashback.

The checks and balances of building a new relationship. The grinding of two opposites, the friction and attraction.

The cutting of my umbilical chord with my first place of work, my people , my karmbhoomi. And the wild fern trying to find a base in the manicured lawns of mumbai. Of breaking loose from a short stint at an NGO that was exactly opposite of what i knew and believed and then trying to fit in in another place. With unlearning my lessons and relearning. With changing my perspectives and getting a new perspective. Of trying to throw it all away and finding something even in throwing away.Of finding another karmbhoomi that i feel i can make a difference in and finding people who fight with me, argue with me, and still hold me when i falter taking my baby steps.

Of losing those friends and promising never to make friends again but falling into the trap of open smiles, dimples and soul-warming hugs..Of realising, it's never too sure with people and yet never too late to start trusting.

Of  losing a first life we created, even without realising we had created. Of not knowing how to react. Of hoping and losing hope.

The year of lonely nights, of tears shed. The year of confusion. The year of love. The year laughter of a new kind. The year of realising that you can win fights and arguments but still end up losing something much more important. The year of realising that it's sometimes better to be silent. The year of understanding that you are precious but not more than a lot more things. A year of realising that my life is based on little things, the small dreams. Of realising i do not want to win arguments anymore.

The year of realising that i've lived a life of the old woman long enough. It's probably time to live again.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

i am

i am vini. and i too have a story. and how i wish i could do it as beautifully as the movie "i am".

It's one of those movies that come and go at the box office but that stay with you for a lifetime because of the way the tell the stories you already knew.

A beautiful movie by onir, suri and humsafar trust talking very simply about issues within issues in four separate stories woven into the movie.

It's also a movie where the story is told not so much with dialogues but in pictures, expressions and amazing background score. The music haunts you and you are forced to pay attention to the lyrics which now a days is a feat in itself. The song "issi baat pe" by KK is a beautiful rendition and i love the sitar strings in the song..Bangur jaisi duniya (amazingly haunting music, texture of voice and lyrics), bojhal se, saaye aankhein, the other songs in the movie also stand on their own and are worth listening on those solitary walks or the long drives.

I was amazed by the number of co-producers. I realised a lot of people have believed in the story and the people who have made it and so have made sure that this movie got made. 

It now has made it to my favourite movie list for the amazing sensitivity with which the film has been made. Without being loud and crass it deals with very contemporary and real problems. A marriage where infidelity of a partner changes the life of the other person. Where the woman is stigmatised and still has the needs of her soul and body and has to deal alone with her dreams, her pain of her trust being broken and her belief in herself.A kashmiri pandit who has so much of repressed anger. What rankles you in that story are the sounds, the pictures and the beautiful dal lake. You could actually hear the collective disbelief  when dal lake floated by in the background like a swamp, no songs of happiness, no colours of flower laden shikaras, no apple coloued cheeks and no kashmiri beauties. Just dull plain "dal". It also shook me on how we have become blind to the issues that our beautiful kashmir still faces, the lives of the people who live and who lived there, of constant pain and retribution not complete.The story of an abused child where anuraag relives his own demons and you want to reach out to the child-man suri, who is struggling with the pain of his childhood, his love for his mother and his sexuality. And the story of the homosexuals, how they were and still are seen as persons to be ridiculed and taken advantage of.

And in these are interwoven the diversity of our country with at least 6 languages spoken, not counting the language of silence: Kashmiri, Bengali, Hindi, English, Marathi and Kannadda.Interwoven is the normalcy within chaos, the emotions that are never put into words and some funny lines.

Thank you all of you who have made this movie. I wish more such films are made.



Wednesday, April 27, 2011

The Olive Ridley Riddle

For some strange reason i have lost all that i wrote on this a while back . i had thought i'd come back and finish it off and it's sadly not been saved. But that's a different riddle. I don't think i'll be able to do justice to this post by rewriting but i do have to write about it as it's been haunting me for sometime.

The riddle is about the olive ridleys? Who are they and why conserve them? Why not any other animal?Specially when you've seen pictures of the thousands of baby turtles swarming the beaches of the Odisha Coast. They can't be in that grave a danger. At least not like the tigers. Right? 

Wrong. Let's look at this small statistic. 

According to Carr (1972), more than 1 million olive ridleys were commercially harvested off the coasts of Mexico in 1968 alone. Cliffton et al. (1982) had estimated the population of Pacific Mexico to be at least 10 million prior to the era of mass exploitation . More recently, Spotilia (2004) estimated that the global population of annual nesting females has been reduced to approximately 2 million, and Abreu-Gabrois and Plotkin (2008) estimated that number to have been further reduced to 852 550. This indicated a dramatic decrease of 28-32% in the global population within only one generation (i.e. 20 years) .(http://www.environment.gov.au/sprat)

And another one:

Olive ridleys traditionally have specific nesting grounds. Pacific olive ridley’s nest around Costa Rica, Mexico, Nicaragua, and the Northern Indian Ocean; the breeding colony in Mexico was listed as endangered in the U.S. on July 28, 1978. Though not a rule but the turtles have normally refrained from nesting in new grounds and travel thousands of kilometers in their lifetime to the specific grounds to breed.

The missing piece: In India, they nest in Gahiramatha, near Paradeep coast is Odisha. It's been a very widely filmed and media covered phenomena. Every year, you'd not  likely have missed a few conservationists  and environmentalists talking about them. And you would have always thought, at least some one's doing something. Well, not quite. 

The Odisha Government has sanctioned a port every 32 kilometers in its 480 km coastline. Added to Paradeep port, which remains largely underutilised and two more ports almost  ready to start at Dhamra and Gopalpur, the Government has sanctioned 12 more. This not only has an adverse effect on the local ecology but you firstly start questioning the reason for this. This defies all logic . What does a state do with 15 mini and mega ports?Why do we need to open up our ports and our already fragile coastal ecosystems to private companies? Who will it profit? Not the nation surely? For the record, Coastal ports are exempted from  a lot of clearances that would've been otherwise required under SEZ/ CRZ  and its later amendments in the name of "national interest". I'm sure we all know who the "interest" lies with.

Why in our country we have lost the value of our ecosystems and are hell bent on destroying the equilibrium. It's also not about the Olive Ridleys. Yes, you may not see them anymore after 40 more years except in your books and discovery channel in extinct species. The graver question is that of the policies and what dictates them. Today, the opposition in odisha is screaming on why so many companies are being given permission. But their questions are specifically related to the rampant corruption and not getting their share of meat. Or so it seems.

The Olive Ridleys were already in grave danger and ecologists were having a hard time fighting the fishing nets, the trawlers  and illegal poachers which were causing mass destruction of the turtles and their nesting sites. , they now have to fight with hundreds of big ships that will operate from those ports, not to count the massive construction that would be carried out on the coasts and many other ancillary businesses that are bound to mushroom in and around the coastline. If millions of the ridleys can dwindle down to thousands in just one life cycle, imagine what grave danger we are putting them in. It is also about understanding that we are encroaching dangerous waters literally. Japan earthquake, The Tsunamis and the Katrinas, The devastationg storms and fires, the submerging coastlines all over the world are saying something to all of us. 

How prepared are we to handle the coastal livelihoods, the marine and aquatic life forms, the endangered species and more importantly the shaking equilibrium? The Olive Ridleys are giving us the warning bell. They have rung long enough. Time we paid heed.

One really had hopes from Mr Jayaram Ramesh but seeing the course Vedanta Mining Leases and their entire operation is taking putting an entire habitat of Dongriya Kondhs and the beautiful biodiversity of  the Niyamgiri hills in jeopardy, you can't help but be afraid. So many pages written , so much of coverage on why they cannot start operations in the Niyamgiri hills, but when government plays the advocate of the mining giants, there isn't much hope left.

Life today hold no value, especially if it's a tribal life who had lived his life as a owner of lands but is now living on the margins. Let alone the Olive Ridleys and the snakes and ants, the lives of people have become pawns to be sold off for money and power. You wonder at the functionality of those laws and rules that protect the environment, the Primitive Tribes and the so called revolutionary Act such as the Forest Right Act. .

You wonder at the direction we are going, because you never know, tomorrow, it might be your life at stake for some power hungry corporate,  just on a different pretext.

(Photo-Ashok Panda: Mass hatching of Olive Ridley turtle eggs at Rushikulya River a major nesting site in Orissa. : Coutesy: www.orissadiary.com) 

(Found an interesting read:  http://infochangeindia.org/201104158758/Environment/Features/Vedanta-and-Posco-A-tale-of-two-projects.html)

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Irritation

Now a days i get irritated very soon and as is wont, have been wondering what it means..

As usual, i start by writing what irritates me and then i'll come back to read it in a few days time to understand what it means..pick up Freud, or ask one of my friends who's an expert on these..


Lies. The first irritant. I can't stand it when people lie to me. This normally brings up the question, do i not lie? Yes , i do. I'm no Gandhi ji but i've had my experiment with lies. I have lied and haven't been able to carry it. It has weighed on me like a thousand stones and somehow, discreetly or indiscreetly , i've ended up confessing. And somehow, lies put me off like nothing else. I feel let down, humiliated and mistrusted.After that point i feel like getting back to that person with a lie overload, but i never can.

Holier-than-thou attitude: Yeah. You are holy. Much holier than me. Thank you. I don't follow your religion. Thank You again.

Manipulation: Someone had once told me human beings by nature are manipulative. There's passive manipulative, aggressive manipulative, coercive manipulative, hurt party manipulative, the list goes on. Of all manipulations,  the blatant, in your face, showing you my power and gloating over it manipulation takes the cake. The thing is you can't show them your middle finger even when that's all you want to do.

Taking advantage of the weak: Self explanatory. High irritant. 

Blissfully ignorant: there is ignorant and there is ignorant. When people wear their ignorance on their sleeves like a medal and take absolutely no initiative towards changing that status, well, it does get on your nerves. They can argue and argue for hours, sighting their ignorance every other minute but the expression of tone and face belying every sentence. They take pride in their ignorance . I'd at least go back, research, study, understand and then come back and argue. Yes, even if my point was right.

I don't know the exact english term for those people. in odia, we call them "galua". They hit back at you with the strangest logic. If you tell them, you don't like something, they come back say, on such and such date and situation "you" did the same. Or maybe, "what the heck if i did it, only people make mistakes, or i'm no god", and turn around to repeat the mistake.Yeah you know those people. Somehow i always want to stay away from those kinds but sadly they always catch up. Always do.

Being woken up after i sleep.Eating alone.: Both not in this context, but highly irritating nonetheless.

Bad body odour, stinking mouths and uncleanliness: For obvious reasons. The worst kind is when people do it and feel it is bohemian and fashionable to be dirty. I've heard this from a few, that tigers don't brush their teeth and lions don't have a bath everyday. But neither do pigs and and the horrible smelling he-goats,( no offense to the animals, that's their way of life, just not mine. love them , so as not to hurt them, but can't surely stay with them.) but who wants to prove a point. I'm disgusted and that's it.

People who do not stand by their words: The worst kind. Never believe them, but if it's a person who's currently an indispensable part of your life, well, you've had it. They are manipulative, self destructive and take advantage of you because they know your weaknesses.And if it's your work space, woohoo, BINGO!


Being a part of an injustice. All those things i stood against. All those things i put up a fight for. And now, i become a silent spectator. A mute audience. With bile burning my insides, turning my food upside down. Sadistic. Masochistic.


I am angry is obvious. But what is the solution. I know i need "something". I know it's the dissatisfaction. But then i question myself. Why? I wasn't so dissatisfied in not so distant past. And i question, if this is the life i want.

Interpretation: There is a lot of clutter inside that needs cleaning up. I need control over people, things and situation which most times shall not be so. I am currently in company of people who are breaking my beliefs and preferences and it's shaking my established rules, which is resulting in the chaos.

Yes, i do understand all this. But i still question. Is this the life i bargained for?

Monday, April 11, 2011

Dams Broken...

You have fallen,
so many times

most times unseen
in the darkness of the night,
behind closed doors
in anger, in frustration, in hurt and pain.

And then you've fallen, uninhibited
in pride, in victory, in achievement

you've fallen in the rain
in the shower, down the drain

you've fallen from a window of a bus
and of a passing train

you've fallen on the feet of your oppressor
on a daughter's wedding day

you've fallen in the long lonely nights
into the pillows in silent convulsions
you've fallen when all doors have been shut on you
on your invisible god's lap

you've fallen in your mother's embrace,
in your father's arms.
you've fallen at the birth of your baby
at the deathbed of someone close

sometimes you've checked yourself
within the dams of the eyes
and sometimes you've flooded
breaking all barriers

flooding your dreams
your relationships
your hopes

sometimes you've been brushed away
in a charade of smiles
you've been wiped away
at someone's approach.

but how you've fallen
quenching a thirst
and starting another one.

You have fallen
sometimes without reason
and sometimes
the reason has not been enough.

Friday, April 8, 2011

The witch...

I call her the witch, the sorceress,who entices you, incites you, allures you and then completely engulfs you.And you in the whole while have not realised that you've been bewitched.Yes, you've hated her when you came here if you came from outside..yes, you've called her names, you've been suffocated but you've slowly but steadily become a part of her..the witch..mumbai..the witch..

People normally lead two lives. One their personal, the other their life at work or a school or college if you still haven't started work. But if you live in mumbai, you lead a third life. The mysterious affair with mumbai. A life that's only your own, with its own secrets, fantasies, dreams, complications and those amazing moments like every affair..pre-marital or extra-marital...it's as guilty, as pleasurable, as angry, as the secret rendezvous with your beloved.

This city has been my city for a year almost now and i still haven't put up a blog on her. (even when people have been wondering out loud, that i've lost it..). The truth is, it's because it's mumbai. It's because paeans, odes, essays can be written about the city and still not be done with it. Because there are places you visit  in your life and when you write about it,  it barely makes it to a page...but mumbai? I could write an epic on just on one of it's aspects..thicker than an Ulysses..i could just create another blog that would have daily updates about the dichotomy of mumbai, or i could write an hourly journal on the people i meet and places i go..it's mumbai.

What could i write about ?

The local trains? That keep you on your toes literally. Where your time runs parallel to the mumbai locals. The daily fights and shouts in the compartments, the running over your feet, mausi whose legs are swollen with pus oozing out and still carrying a load a few times her body weight and girth..the designer wear clad fashionistas who cringe when someone passes them by, the kohl eyed eager college kids, the burkha clad women who tear off their naqaab in the safety of the women's compartment, the men who are courteous if you've accidentally gone into a the men's compartment(not really theirs technically but you know what i mean)   The locals where relationships are forged for lifetimes, having travelled are the same time, in the same compartments for years.

Mumbai, a country of it's own..it's neither india..it's neither maharashtra and nor can any community from any place in the world claim it has not a counterpart in mumbai. Mumbai is its own world.

Mumbai where nothing is still, nothing is static. It's always in motion. Mumbai is fluid. It runs, in trains, on roads, in cars, in buses, in rains and in your veins. 

Nothing divides in mumbai and then you lose count of the divisions.Whose mumbai? The Thackrey's mumbai, the migrant mumbai, the ex-pat mumbai. The night life mumbai, the morning of mumbai. When one life in mumbai goes to sleep, the other gets into action, scrambling to plays, to theatres, to cinemas, to pubs, to discs. And as they loiter back home inebriated in the wee hours, the other half rises, getting ready for another day in mumbai. Mumbai.

In mumbai every body who is somebody somewhere is a nobody and every nobody is the mumbaikar, it's soul. Where a bhaiya drives mumbai to its destination and a maharashtrian taxi driver may just dump you if you called him a bhaiya. The bais with their super fast time management skills could give many corporate honchos and our politicians a lesson or two. Mumbai where every community has a clan, where every clan moves with a pride and sense of identity.

The children who run away from home anywhere in india reach one destination. Mumbai. They sell books, combs, knick knacks and then they sell themselves. Looking up at models and role models in juhu, in taj, at nariman..they sport their style, the hairstyle, selling themselves bit by bit but the dream in their eyes alive. As alive as the fluttering clothes at dhobi ghat.

Mumbai , where houses are more precious than your life. If you have one, you're god. If you haven't, you dream of becoming one. Mumbai lives facing the sea and the creek..The west sea faces the rich and the famous, the west, the slum dwellers of colaba, BPT and Mankhurd, Mumbai. One side pays a million to get a sea view, the other half choses to stay away from the sea, the stink, the junk floating, the debris, the defecation grounds. Mumbai.

Mumbai where you spot a someone somewhere every other day, a filmstar, an activist and then they vanish into the cloak of anonymity. Where the children grow up in the schools of BMC where you fight for a  four hour slot, fighting for a place even to sit  or in a school like American School of Mumbai where you've an indoor airconditioned stadium , a cafeteria that sells coke at double it's costs.

Mumbai where a woman can chose to live alone. Mumbai, where she can break all rules. Live the dream of other women . Where a woman can travel alone any time of the day . Or Night. Mumbai, where a woman is safe and so walks with the confidence and poise of a tigress.

Mumbai where every story on celluloid in someone's reality.Where every reality is so unreal.  Mumbai where every dream is within your reach. In a mall,  just steps away.

Mumbai, where everyone is filled with so much of passion and mission. Mumbai where every eye has a dream, where every dream is shared. And in mumbai, i too dream, of being back, in my native land.

Mumbai where you suddenly look at the sky from the train at night and see a twinkle in the sky, you wait for it to move because you think it's an airplane hovering but laugh  at yourself  when you realise it's a star. You laugh because you'd given up hope of seeing a star in its polluted sky and you laugh at yourself for giving up hope in mumbai. In mumbai, it's life . And life is hope.


Friday, March 11, 2011

Dwand

i'm at a strange phase of my life..

i've been here before..and so i'm scared for myself..and for everyone around me..it's my phase in life where i've let my mind rule my heart..where every moment i am thinking and questioning..about the why's and why nots..about alternatives..about roads and crossroads..

i know i'll be reckless now, because i'm not afraid anymore..at least not regarding certain things like losing because i know there are a certain things in life that i'll certainly lose..and if i've to find, i'll find again..

i question a lot of things in me..specially where i've let people take adavantage of me..because i've been quiet when people have taken from me what wasn't rightfully theirs and i've taken from them a behaviour which i did not deserve..today, i still do not want to challenge other people when they do that but i question myself today why i do it? What is it that i let them..i let them wield a power to hurt, to pain..do they own me? not really, but i have let hem..do they own the pain and hurt they give me? No- because they don't even realise that.

i've made them too powerful..and that's my nemesis.

i question what is right. My inherent affinity to keep quiet when it comes to people i love..hoping that if i love them enough and if they love back, they'd understand without explaining. But i now understand love means different things for different people. You either understand that love or you move on..

I feel hurt and confused. But the time says i've to move on. 

There is a time when you have to realise that you are not the demon people say you are. It is not a sin to expect a hug, a smile, a patient ear, a look, a touch..It's not insane to ask  for a favour..And you have the right to receive too, a right to be cared for, to be loved..like you have..and for a change, perhaps, even when you haven't..Is it too much to ask?

( for all of us who're going through this with a loved one. You know it's for you. )


Sunday, January 23, 2011

Speedbreakers...


Life has a strange way of surprising you..teaching you..and telling you..that all that you had all figured out and laid out on a platter..well, that wasn't all.life turns your life topsy turvy just when you thought you had found your rhythm, found your peace.Just when i was writing about patterns in life and fighting and arguing that i see patterns in almost everything, life surprised me again.

i lost my wallet day before yesterday during my travel..the daily mumbai local routine from lower parel to navi mumbai.traversing daily from western to central to harbour line.changing trains at the most crowded and dangerous platforms.it carried all my important documents: my passport, my identity cards from office,my debit and atm cards, my membership cards,some cash and my sodexo vouchers.

It has happened to me a lot of times..a pattern probably..but again , maybe just my ridiculous search for a sequence, a pattern. i digress. As i was saying, most times when something has gone wrong i get a premonition. I am a great believer of karma. I believe that if i do something that i feel is not right, it comes back to me, in a certainly certain way. 

I feel this happened because of a few things. The first was my arguments and my stubbornness in my trying to find patterns and taking an almost insolent stand with my husband to justify that. Even when i was doing that, i was in realisation of my stupidity but i went on with it anyway. The second was my role in firing someone in my new workplace. Even though i still did not know him much and my heart i believed that the decision seemed hurried, i did it because it was an organisational requirement or so it was justified by myself. The third, i was reading a book called "River Sutra" by Gita Mehta. There's a chapter that explained a billionaire renouncing his life to become a jain monk which had me thinking how i would feel if everything that made me comfortable was taken away from me. If i too was at a crossroad where i had to fight my lone battle. Where i too was faced with challenges that were too big for me. How would i react? How would i behave? How would i feel?


When i got down from the autorickshaw infront of my building, i realised i did not even have a single rupee on me, not even to pay for the rickshaw,. i borrowed money from the watchman, went home , got the money from my piggy bank and went back to my office, all the way. And as i did, praying that i had left my wallet in my drawer i was pushed, squeezed, stepped on, caught between a crossfire, an eternal wait for a train just 3 minutes from my office due to faulty announcements when i  just couldn't run anymore, everything that could go wrong, going wrong...walking till my office, in my heart knowing i wouldn't find my wallet anymore, coming back yet again , all in the rush hour from 5.30 till 10 pm not even sitting down for a minute, all alone..

The police station visits, the calls to banks, going to sleep at 3, waking up early to do the cooking for a long planned party, running to banks to get  duplicate cards, attending a session with friends and coming back home to finish cooking before the guests arrived. In the meanwhile fighting with myself and trying not to have violent outbursts and not succeeding at all.

There was life-smiling its mischievous smile..answering my questions, questioning my insolence..there was life showing me a mirror..telling me that i still am not that strong as i imagined.that even a superwoman can feel broken and feel like giving up everything. That most strong of people have their weak moments when you want to just let go and lean on a pair of shoulders.

i also learnt, i'm still the same girl i always was. I still accept my failures and take responsibilities for things i did wrong. I am still questioning myself. I am still changing myself.

I do not know what i will do tomorrow, but today a small incident has shown me that life is a mystery and i can just let it unfold.The wallet is gone. It may just come back. I may just wake up and find that someone's put it on my doorstep. Like many times when i have learnt my lesson , all things may turn out right..or maybe not..I today see it as a speed breaker..a nuisance in the fast lane lane but necessary to save you from an accident...

Monday, January 17, 2011

Patterns..Life..Life..Patterns..

Life ..patterns..

tick-tick..tick-tick.

in the dates, the days, the years..

in numbers, in colours,in structures,in structuring.

a pattern in sarees, in clothes,in trousers,in shirts,in the tiny stitches,in the prints,the cuts..

a pattern on the speed breakers, on the sidebars by the bridge, pattern in the zebra crossing, the police cordon, the street lights,the neon lighted advertisements,the flags of political rallies,the banners of an upcoming event .

the way the lights come up as the sun goes down, the pattern in the sun itself going down, coming up back again, day after day..night after night.

the pattern in birds sitting on an electric line, the pattern in flying birds,the pattern in their feathers,the pattern in birds themselves.

the pattern in stars, the shapes in the cloud, the ripple in the waves.

the pattern in leaves, in flowers, in trees, in branches.

the pattern in art, in madhubani, in warli, in picasso, in hussain.

a pattern in the way we walk, the way we sit, the way we arrange our furniture,we fold our clothes,we keep things, a pattern in how we cook, how we wear clothes.

a pattern in how we sleep,how we wake up,a pattern in how we like to travel,how we don't, how we pack, how we unpack.

the pattern in smiles, the patterns in tears, the tear drops.

the pattern in dohas, in sonnets, in couplets, in haiku.

the pattern in prose, the pattern in poetry.

the pattern in ppt presentation,a graph,a projection on it, the sensex.

the pattern in milestones, in distances, in minutes,in weights.

the pattern in lines in a face, the pattern in the eye lashes,in the arch of the eye brows, the pattern in the lips.

the pattern in the grotesque, in the stitches of a wound, the pattern of a scar.

the pattern in sounds, the patterns that make it music, the pattern in raindrops.

The pattern of birth, of growing up, getting old, dying.

In the things we have done, in the things life has done to us.

in the decisions we have taken, in the decisions we haven't.

in the things that we have carried with us, the things we have left behind.

the patterns in things we say, the things we cannot, things we do not.

patterns in people who we remember,people we forget.

a pattern in the things we see,pattern in things that we don't.

a pattern in relationships, a pattern in their making, a pattern in their breaking.

a pattern in the life you lead, a pattern in life you chose.

a pattern in doing, a pattern in not doing, a pattern in undoing, a pattern in being, a pattern in unbeing.

tick-tick..tick-tick.

life..patterns...


Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Who's life is it anyway?

Someday somewhere someone commits suicide. And one life ends. And leaves a lot of people whose life comes to a standstill. Living but not living anymore.

I have always wondered what it takes to end one's own life? What is it that sends the person to that brink of life, the point of no-return.One of my cousins had committed suicide a few years back and i had met her only a few days before. She was so cheerful, so happy and someone who loved life and wanted to live it to the hilt. To this day whenever i remember her it seems so unreal that she would kill herself. 

What is it that sends people to that insanity ? What happens in that moment that you forget all ties, all love, all hope? What happens that makes one take the most precious gift of life. What do they avenge and whom? Who gives them the right to banish their families into a life of regret, guilt, pain, hopelessness and unending pain?

I feel so sad, so deeply hurt.And then i imagine what the people who're near to them would be going through.  One of my friends lost his sibling the same way. His sibling is gone and for us, so is he. We can't find the cheerful smiling guy we knew anymore. And i doubt, if we ever totally will. The pain, the remorse, the hurt, the finality of death is etched on his face.

You want to lend your shoulder to cry on, to say a few words to sooth , wipe away the hurt and pain from those eyes..but the shoulders are hunched and the words don't come and you can't reach out to your friend . The family is hurt, angry, in pain, still not in mourning.  A part has been forcefully wrenched away and the gash is too deep and too fresh that no words, no touch, no one can soothe.

Everyone i know..Please do not ever think about ending your life. It's too precious. And there's nothing in the world that can't be solved. And remember, you life is just not yours. There are other people who love you more than you love yourself.