Petrichor

It feels like the first dark clouds have started appearing on the horizon.

The dark famines have left deep cracks in the Earth, yet the focus is on those dark clouds. 

They have come with a calm, soothing promise.

Not like its wild sibling, Hurricane,

Who made me anticipate the rains, but laughed and ran away while I day-dreamt.

This calm soothing breeze looks at me with her promising eyes.

She promises me the sweet petrichor, and the tingling wet sensation on my skin.

I want to believe her, but the betrayals have made my faith skeptical.

I stare at those dark clouds to reassure wether they were really staying.

She smiled down at me.

And as I felt the drops on my cheeks and lips, she said, this is the law of nature my child.

The most beautiful shower comes after the driest famine ever.

The key is not to focus on the cracks, but to keep your eyes on the incoming dark clouds.

Because, if not today, they will definitely come tomorrow, 

For that is the law of nature, and nature never forgets.

Recreating the Masterpiece

Attention please ! The girl to whom this blog belongs is missing, and I am here trying to get back in touch with her, so that I can hand over her things...her life, to her. This post is a way to tell her to come and reclaim her life.

My life has become so boring of-lately, I'm not really sure if this really is my life, or am I living a pseudo-life. I dont know why and how am I taking things so lightly. I am so eased out regarding a few things. I have messed a few things in my life so much. My life looks like a big mess. But how did it all happen? Something is wrong... something is missing... but what? Maybe I have worn out my spark. Yes. The spark. exactly. The spark is missing. I dont feel enthusiastic about reading something new. Probably I really have lost my spark. But how do I get it back ? I feel so lost at times. Its like I am facing a new me these days, and I dont seem to like the new me. I prefer the old me. Although yes, I am inching towards the old me slowly again, but I want the old me back really really fast. I have become this extremely boring person who is boring me out too. I dont like reading anymore... I have stopped writing completely... the last time I really wrote was like a year back! Whoaa... what the fuck have I done to myself! I dont know. I. just. dont. know!

I have become this completely new person, who is so eased out about everything important to my old self. My old self took reading , writing , career , friends very seriously. My new self has stopped reading and writing , it is on the verge of fucking my career , and it has hurt some of my closest and bestest friends in my life! Now that is called some serious screwed up life! Wow...

But my life is going to have a happy ending. Yes. When on my deathbed, I will have zero regrets. I will smile happily before dying. I will live my life exactly how I have planned, and I will die peacefully. And since I'm not dying today... I still have time to correct a few things around. Because, well, as they say .... "Jab jaago, tab savera" ! :)

So, good morning Aditi ! Good morning to the old Aditi. And I hear the doctor say, the old Aditi will be back from her coma soon...very soon. She must follow some prescription medicines, and she will jump back to a healthy life. The medicines are nothing new... they are the age old ayurveda medicines, and have worked since times immemorial. So the cure is guaranteed. All that is needed is some discipline, and perseverance. That's all. She must start writing again, even if it is just a paragraph, but she must write everyday. And she must read everyday. Try and finish her pending list of books that she so lovingly bought and stocked up on her bookshelf. And well, pay some serious attention to her bloating body. A good workout? Or a fresh jog in the morning? Or maybe a dip in the pool? The prescription actually sounds fun! And I am very excited about it too. Excited to bring my old self back to life. I so miss the old me. I miss the spark in her eyes. I miss the spark in my life. So I will get back the spark. Anyhow.

Maybe this is real essence of life. Falling all apart, and then picking up all the pieces one by one, and recreating the masterpiece of ur life. For only when you move beyond fear, you feel free. And unless u r free, you can never build a masterpiece.

Cheers to this Zindagi !!
#LoveUZindagi #YOLO ! <3

Behtar... aur behtar...

There comes a point in life when everything comes to a stand-still. The path you were walking on since so long seems lost. You suddenly find yourself lost in the middle of desert. There is no enthusiasm...no energy...no fresh vigor...nothing new. The spice in life seems missing. You find yourself on an island, and even treading out in the open sea feels very dangerous. I am at that point of life. everything seems frozen. Life seems to have come to a full stop. You can see the Everest, but your feet feels glued to the ground. And although you want to reach the Everest, you don't feel encouraged enough to take the journey ahead. You lack encouragement...energy...enthusiasm. You feel like going back home since treading the remaining journey seems very boring and tiresome to you. You give excuses to yourself as to why you cant make it to the Everest, but somewhere deep down, you know you dont belong here, you belong to the Everest...up there, right at the top of the peak...thats where you belong. But without enthusiasm and energy, you cant even take a step further, forget climbing the Everest!

What do you do then ?

Run away? Stay right there, and keep convincing yourself why you are still standing there and not at the Everest. You know it is because of your own laziness, you know the truth. But you keep giving excuses... excuses to hide the scars... excuses to see yourself in the mirror. But are you really able to look into your eyes , and not feel ashamed? You are not. Because you know you got what you worked for. You know you didnt work as much hard as you should have. You know you are stagnant and stinking because you chose to. You know you could have been the Gangotri, but you chose to be the stinky pond because of your choice of actions.

What do you do then?

Sit there and sulk ? Or get up, take responsibility for your actions, and be responsible for your future course of life. Decide for yourself what you want to be... A lazy stinky pond? Or the fresh speedy Gangotri? Of course, being Gangotri isn't easy... there will be many rocky mountains that you will have to cross. Many impossible roads that you will have to cut and make a way for yourself. Many big ups and downs you will have to face. Many hard rocks will have to cut. And many a times stay stagnated at a place and work consistently and never lose hope. But the result will be immensely satisfying. The result will be the Holy Ganges. 'You' will be the Holy Ganges. You will be the epitome of purity and progress. You will be worshiped as a Goddess, and you will be renowned the world over. You will at the pinnacle of Everest... a place where you belong.

But at the same time, being a pond is the easiest. You sit at one place the whole day, see the same horizon every single day, and be part of the same daily chore, and keep sulking on the fact that you are stuck being a pond. The decision is always and always on us. The onus to be what we be in our life is always on us. Whether we be a river or a pond!

Of course, you will meet a few angels on your way. They will make the journey easier for you. They will help you when you are on the verge of losing all hope. But dont expect them to be by your side forever. They wont. They were sent for a purpose, which when fulfilled, they too will be gone. Cherish those magical memories, but dont hang onto them, expecting them to last forever. Nothing lasts forever. No-one stays forever. Learn to let go, and move on... on your own journey in life. People will come, people will go, but you must keep moving, till the very last day of your life.

So, life is not going to be a bed of roses, for anybody! But at least we can prevent it from being a bed of thorns. A simple ideology, a simple living, and a simple life is all we all strive for. But having accomplished these things for our own life, if we are able to make even an ounce of difference in somebody else's life, that is what really makes the difference. That is what really sets us apart from the others.

The urge to keep moving forward in life, and never be stagnated by anything is the real way to live life. The constant urge to be better than before, and make this world a better place than it was yesterday , is the real secret to life.

Just like a friend always says,
"Sometimes all you need is, Ghadi detergent.... behtar... aur behtar... aur behtar...."

Saying NO !

When was the last time you said NO to somebody ?

When was the last time you said NO to yourself ?

Saying no is an art. Its an art I wish I possessed. Because the dumb, kind, oh-let-it-be person that I am, I tend to just let things be... or simply allow myself to be fooled into saying yes, when I really want to say no. Saying no is as difficult for me as it is for a chain smoker to quit ciggies. They know its bad for their health, they know they must stop, but just knowing and thinking about it doesnt help an ounce. To actually quit your smoke-pot is a different ball-game altogether. Just simply saying no, eases your life of so many troubles which you later might have to go through. The problem again is my diplomatic nature. I just cant say no easily to anyone... hell, not even to myself !

I see a gola-wala...yeah, those flavored ice sellers, and think to myself... no, its not good for my health. And the very next moment I find myself asking for a kala-khatta flavour with extra spices on it. A friend asks me to do the extra work with a puppy smile.. and I think to myself, no way I'm doing it again this time, and to my own surprise I find my head nodding with a smile. Dont mistake me for a door-mat... its not like I let anyone or everyone take advantage of my helpful nature. But there are a few people you just cant say no to. And with those certain people I just dont seam to learn!

Saying no is such a necessity in our world now... because no matter what, you ought to be what you ought to be. Being good is good, but only at certain times... rest of the time, there is no harm in being a bitch. Because the people I cant say no to, often say no to me when I expect a yes from them. Maybe its my fault. I expect people to be like I am with them. Its like a expecting the tiger not to eat you just because you didnt eat him! Silly me ! Maybe being a herbivore is a thing of the past. Today, if you want to survive in this big bad world, you ought to go carnivorous.

A close friend of mine always told me to forgive and continue being good, irrespective of what you are getting in return. She always said, if we too start behaving like the ones we dislike, what is the difference between them and us? True, that was some food for thought. She was the one who always cooled me down everytime I got into a fight or one of my temper-attacks got the better of me. She pacified me with the same words every single time, and somehow to the libran ears it sounded convincing enough to cool down and apologize for my rude behaviour. But life is all about the middle paths... and same is the story in this case too!

Yes, true, middle path is the answer. A balance of yes and no does the trick. But to attain that perfect balance, is a lot of hard-work.

I read something in the newspaper today and loved the sheer beauty of the sentence and its meaning...
                     "  Firmness today, is the way to avoid confrontation tomorrow  "
...and so much has been said and meant in these few words. Saying this, I strive to attain that balance between YES and NO...

PS - Happy Earth day ! :D
CHEERS !

TIME HEALS ?

" Time heals... "

I have often found myself on the giving end of this particular advice. I've often been the shoulder my friends used to cry on... and I've time and again assured them, "time heals."

But does it really heal? Does it really heal all your pain and worries? Does it really erases all your wrong-doings? Does it really make you the way you were before you were shattered into pieces? If you are looking at me expectantly for answers, then forgive me, for I too am looking for the answers.

There are certain things that take eons to heal, assuming time heals everything, though it may take a little longer. But what if right when the wound is about to heal, right when you are about to bury the skeletons and move on to a fresh morning, a new day... you are suddenly reminded of the murder with intricate details. How would that feel ? If you are a masochist, then definitely, it feels like heaven ( I suppose! ), but when it comes to normal people, how does it feel ? It feels like time is not enough to heal. You probably need something else too. What else? I'm still looking for it.

They say, when you hurt a girl, you kill a part of her. But what when you completely kill her inside - out, and then leave her for the vultures to prey on. Can time really heal that? I shouldnt compartmentalize the girls. I dont have the right to point out to the men. Its just a matter of timing. Or is it karma ?

Karma is that rubber-band which stretches for a long time, and then snaps right back on your face, and sometimes leaves a permanent mark on it ! Maybe it is karma. What goes around, comes around too. And now I know, it really is true.

All we can do is wait and watch if time really does heals.

My Valentine....forever !

"Naa...naa.. Brave girls dont cry! You are my brave girl na?"
She nodded in response while wiping off the tears from her mud-smeared face. Her bright milky-white face was now full of dust, sweat and tears. The tears were leaving a trail on her mud-caked cheeks. Her cheeks were red hot and she was trying hard to control her sobs.
"You are my brave girl na?"
She nodded again. This time more swift and determined nods. Yes, she was a brave girl.
"And brave girls dont cry, hai na...?"
She managed a weak smile while violently nodding her head. Yes, she was a brave girl.
Her knees and elbows were bleeding, and her favourite frock was dirty. She almost recovered from her sobs and was feeling better. He was now telling her stories from his childhood, how he used to fall off from trees and scratch his knees and elbows, and sometimes break his bones. She was lost in his world, giggling at the funny stories, gasping and tsk-ing when he fell and hurt himself. Her pain was something she didnt remember anymore, she was now in his world, climbing trees with him, stealing mangoes and jamuns from the trees, bathing in river outlets, dozing off in the fields while being woken up by the cows or buffaloes grazing besides. She loved listening to his stories. They were her bed time essentials. They transported her to a world free from her mother scolding her, her tuition teacher asking her for the home-work, her school teacher running behind her with a cane stick, her brother snatching her favourite candy from her hand, their neighbour complaining her mom for every little thing she did, the stray dogs on the road chasing her. His stories freed her from everything that she disliked.

Without stopping his chain of stories he cleaned her wound slowly, nonchalantly. The oohs-aahs were involuntary, she wasnt aware of him cleaning her wounds, she was still cheering at him, while he played gilli-danda with the roudy boys of his neighbourhood  hitting the gilli as far as possible, and she would clap with glee. Her wounds were her least concern now, infact she had forgotten what happened half an-hour ago. There were so many more interesting things to wonder about, and he had opened the door to her imaginary world.

She could barely recall the last time she slept with her mother. Dada was her most favourite bed-companero. His stories would put her off to sleep, and she would get up cuddled besides him. He definetly was a magician. He magically made her smile and giggle, even after a bad caning from her mother. He helped her with all her homework. And magically he knew all the answers to all her questions! She would ask him the most difficult questions from her text book and he would answer them without even looking at her notebook! His handwriting was so beautiful, unlike her crooked, battered handwriting. He even knew the most difficult things of all, the multiplication tables! He knew them all! Once she asked him 100 100 za... and without even thinking or hesitating with err..errr...er... he simply said 10000. She even sat and multiplied it to check if it was correct, and yes it was! He truly was a magician! He knew everything! And the best part was, he was her favourite best friend, who would also sneak a few aath-anas into her palm every now and then when the kulfi-wallah made rounds of her locality in the evening. Not just that, he would also ensure that her mother didnt see the kulfi stains on her frock. He would run to her hearing her scream even in the middle of the night. And the best part about him was that he never let her alone in dark. He always accompanied her in the dark room, or dark lane, even if it was just a hundred yards away. He could made studies so much fun, and her dictation spellings, multiplication tables, history, geography used to be a cakewalk with him, she often wondered why her tuition teacher and school teacher could not be like dadu. Studying would be so much fun then! She would have loved to study and not hated books in that case.

Their bed-time ritual consisted of him narrating a fairy-tale  and she would beg and plead for another story, and this would continue till she dozed off. This meant it took her 5-6 stories each night to doze off. She couldnt help it, his stories were so interesting, dozing off was the last thing she wanted to do after hearing them. There were times when he would doze off in-between a story and she would wake him and hand him the thread where he left the story. She even didnt mind the repeat of stories. She just liked listening to him for hours before dozing off, and it could mean he exaggerating a fairy-tale , narrating the panchatantra stories or simply talking about his childhood. She just loved listening to him. His voice and arms was what she needed to sleep, more than stories. She needed him instead of her mother or father. He was a all-in-one for her. Give her dada, and she doesnt want anything else in this world, not even ice-cream or golas or kulfi or gol-gappa! He was her favourite...anytime, and she would never do anything which upset him, probably that was the sole reason she went to school and did her homework and learnt her lessons on time. He never had scolded her, and she got scared when he got angry, but somehow, even in that anger he always managed to give her a smile followed by a wink, and she'd relax again...getting engrossed in the things she did best...play and run around the house. He'd take her to her dance classes on his Lambretta, and she'd enjoy the ride with him more than her Kathak classes.


"You are growing up so fast!"  he'd always tell her, and she'd wonder how could she grow up fast when things around her dont change at all. He must be exaggerating, she often thought to herself. Little did she knew, that time really does fly. That one day, when she will begin to understand that time really does fly, and that she really is growing up quickly, and he's growing old quickly too, and that one day, time will run out. That she will have to race against time. That there will be no more story-telling sessions. That she will have to bid him goodbye so soon. That she will have no more have book reading competitions with him. That she will never again go for an evening walk with him. That he will never buy her a diary milk again. That he will never gift her a pen again. That she'll never again get to sleep with him. That he'll never again wipe off her tears. That he'll never tell her a story again. That he'll never smile and wink at her again.

Little did she know, that he was really a magician, who knew the preciousness and importance of time. Little did she know, that her dada was a magician too !

PS - Its Valentine's Day today... and I have never loved anybody more than him. He was, is, and always will be my valentine, forever ! So here's wishing dada a very happy valentine's day ! I know he's reading it too... so I just want to let him know that I miss him a lot.

PPS - Wishing all of you a happy Valentine's day ! May your love be as eternal as the sky...and as pure as the fire... May your life be filled with love of all sizes and shapes ! And may you have a lovely year ahead !

"Within you, I lose myself. Without you, I feel myself wanting to be lost again."

To love...
         Cheers !

MISTAKES !

"History tends to repeat itself  

if you don't learn from it."

One of my strongest memories from school days is wondering why do we have to study history. The logic I often applied to it was, the people in our history textbooks have done great work, agreed, but they are dead now, and it is all past, so why should we study about what people did back in those days? Why cant we study about people who are still alive and doing something worth-while? And my teachers often told me that we study history so that we don't repeat the mistakes our fore-fathers committed. But I remember arguing that we live in a completely different world altogether, neither are we going to construct temples like the Cholas did, or are we going to have another war like the mughals did, nor are we living in a colonial world now so as to learn how to get rid of the Britishers, so we wont be needing the satyagrahas anymore too! That was me when I was in school...I was naive, just like everyone in school days is. We are too naive to understand the realities of life. We tend to take everything on the face value. But that was forgivable as we were still kids!

Now when I am growing up, I understand the importance of history. Not just the history text books but also our own history. Now I understand how powerful history can actually be ! It can teach you so many lessons. They say, life is the biggest teacher, but I'd say time is the biggest teacher. Our past can teach us way more than we can readily grasp. Our past can show us those hidden mysterious paths and lead us to the other end of the tunnel. It is so strange in itself, the fact that your past can make your future, such a paradox!

Off recently, life has been testing me. Many incidents from my past started reappearing in my present, and it was my decision whether I wanted to carry them to my future or not. It is always our decision whether to carry our past into our future, we just don't realize it most of the times.

When we see anything from our past, we run towards it either due to nostalgia or to find answer to some unanswered questions. Either of the case, we are drawn to it, without realizing that we are actually unknowingly letting or past enter our future. Unknowingly we make the same mistakes again, and thus the entire complex cycle of past-events-ruining-my-present-and-my-future begins! And once it begins, it is very difficult to put an end to it, trust me !

To know that building our future is in own hands, and we are the one who shapes it, irrespective of what shape it takes eventually, is the biggest hurdle crossed. Once you know that everything is in our hands, that you are the master of your own destiny, you have the master key that will fit any lock you want. Of course, it takes great courage to take the responsibility of your life on yourself. To be able to say that my life is like this because of my own deeds is not a joke. You need a heart of steel and courage as much as the air on this planet. Its not going to be easy, but who said life was going to be easy anyway!

I do not wish to complicate it at all. The conclusion is very simple, you wish to move ahead in life, you wish to make your life better than you had till now, you want to make your life a success? Then there is just one mantra, learn from your past mistakes, and more importantly, do no repeat them ever again. Temptations will always try to divert you from your goal. There will be many temptations. your past may tempt you to look back once again...just once, but that once may be the end of all story! 

By this, I don't mean to say, don't make mistakes...hell no! make mistakes, make as many mistakes as you want, but there is just one condition, make those mistakes just once. Never repeat them. Always remember, If you don't have margin for your errors, your errors will kill you.