A few good things

I have these small pots in my house, with plants and flowers.
6 of them.

I never had a thing for plants, or anything to do with aesthetics of the house, till I got my own pad.

My mother has a beautiful terrace garden and gardening is a passion for her.

So I bought these, while she was here with me, and took tips from her how to take care of them.

After she left, the plants were not doing too good.
Some died, some turned into this reddish-grayish colour, which made them look unhealthy.

There was one plant, a small flower made of green petals, some variety of cactus I guess. That was the most beautiful of them all.

It started drying and dying, but I put my heart in it.

Took it out for sunshine, put fertilizers and water..cos it was really pretty and I wanted it to survive.

And it started breathing, the old flower petals fell off and I could see 3 small, petite buds coming out.
It was a weird feeling, something like giving birth...my own creation

Few days back Ma suggested that I should take out all soil from all pots, clear the roots of some plants and re-plant them.

I spent an hour in doing all that.

But the very next day my favorite plant died.
It was a sudden death. The 3 pretty flowers, all 3 of them, turned gray and shriveled.
I might have done something to the roots, in the process of re-planting.

It made my heart churn a bit when I saw them.

I immediately called Ma and told her in an anguished tone.
She just said - "Dont worry, I will buy you new ones when I come there"

I dint know sometimes such small things work wonders. I was instantly appeased.
I dint know Ma's words could work on me...even now.

I felt like that small girl, who used to go to Ma if a doll was broken.
And Ma would tell me "I will buy you the one you always wanted"

It was as simple as that.

After that, looking at the plant dint cause much grief.
I was assured that the pain I felt earlier, will be taken care of now.
By Ma.

If there is someone who tells you s/he will take care of whats gone wrong in your life, its all that we need at times.

Whether it is taken care of or not, might cease to matter later.

I realised we have to let that part of our heart untouched, a part which gets affected by other's small gestures..which I thought I closed long back

This thing called?

There was this thing in me
Which moved around...

Within me and outside of me

A Pulsating, throbbing being
Made of euphoria, drugs and tiresome happiness

As if there was a race, between molecules and atoms..of what I am

It used to reach any place, always before I did

And would paint them red/blue/green
The colours of my desire..

In a room full of people
It would sit between me and them

Letting me be secluded, yet making me laugh with them
Letting me be a person who could be loved

It was that which made my boredom with people tolerable
It was that which kept me interested, in most mundane things

It would shield me...from my nemesis..that's me

It left me now, leaving me to be hounded
By the other me

I have it sorted

Its easy to live, I have it all sorted

What does one want?
A few days of inebriation..followed by a lull

A home to rest your feet,
A wanderlust to break the inertia

A man to marry, to love or not..not necessary

Marriage gives sanctity to a lot of things
A bit of status, a bit of pride

A certain validity to your existence

Dont be bereft of it

Meet him on days when your body needs the warmth of another
And for remaining days, just recuperate..

Make babies, love them to bits and then leave them to themselves

Dont get into the details of anything
Just keep it shallow!

Discover a new city, a new facet of yourself
Keep the fire going..wherever it finds its flame

Ohh and you ask me what about the heart?
Well, it never belonged to anyone and it will never belong

Give it in bits and pieces..to someone for a while
And then carry along, the beauty of belonging

Dont try and build a monument from a deck of cards

Let your heart be your secret, your possession..And your only key
..To your salvation



Mann yeh baawara, kuch bhi maane na
Dhoondhen raat din kya baawara

Ma, there are wolves outside

I have always been wary of seeing a group of men laughing and joking around.
It used to scare the shit out of me and I used to freeze in my tracks.

The city I belong to, has a massive image for eve-teasing. And I have borne the brunt of it zillion times

One of the main concerns in my life, as a teenager, used to be : how to move around without a male escort

I remember my morning tussle with Ma, to let go of the male helper, so that he can accompany me till bus stand

Whether I had to go to the college and catch an auto, or go out to be with a friend..
There were always some group of guys out there to beat the shit out of me

It could happen just outside the house, within a few feet's' distance
I had to change my lanes, change the path many a times, just to avoid such encounters

One could be practically molested on the streets in broad daylight. Whether you are in a rickshaw or an auto..you were constantly in danger of being touched, pounced, squeezed, pinched
And not to talk about the verbal assaults one had to bear...one has to really let oneself go dumb, to be able to bear all that

The same followed in my post-grad. I was in a prestigious institute in my state, where there were 8 boys hostels compared to just 2 girls hostels.

We had a time of our lives each day, when we had to cross the boys' hostels, from our girl's hostel, to reach the insti.
we had branded some of the hostel numbers as "THE WORST" ones, and we would force ourselves to go dumb, deaf, stoic...every time we crossed these hostels

We would close our eyes, clutch our books to our bosoms, and hold each other's hands and just speak to each other and say "Dont listen to them, its Ok" and cross these hostels, while the guys would be ready to jump from their terrace, barking like dogs..all sorts of blasphemies..

We had accepted it as a regular thing in our lives. Whether we went to canteen or performed on stage, we just knew that all we would get is whistles, cat calls etc...but that dint stop us from enjoying ourselves

Educated, or un-educated..men have more or less made me feel the same

And right here in Bangalore, while I was coming back from work, my hands full of grocery shopping, it happened
Just outside my house, 20 feet away..2 guys on a bike crossed me and pulled at me

I could not do a thing. My hands were full of bags, and even though I shouted..they just turned around and gave me a hideous smile..

And supposedly I stay in a posh colony, and Bangalore is supposed to be a safe place?

I hope men realise some day what such acts does to us. The helplessness, the sudden burst of tears, the insult and a creepy disgusting feeling which stems from being a woman and not being able to control things!

Even now, seeing a group of guys together... having a laugh, makes me very uneasy..even at this stage of my life

So just a few days back, I had to make a presentation to my team in a conference room.
When I stood outside and looked in, I saw office mates, all laughing and joking amongst themselves, and for a fraction of a second my hands stopped at the door knob and I gasped : "There are guys inside!"

But the very next second I dismissed the thought and told myself "This is office and nothing can happen here", and entered the room.

This just made me realise that our teenage is never over.
All our insecurities we build back then, we carry remnants of it..for life..everywhere

Then sometimes words fail...

..And beauty takes over!




When beauty gets unbearable, and I cant contain it within me..the enormisity of it which sometimes wants to burst my heart..I tend to share it with the world..to let it out

All my babies fill me with that overwhelming feeling..

Just look at him in this pic, eyes full of stories, lips like a bird, cheeks pink and rosy, and a face worth million dollars..

My splendid, breath-taking Shretzi baby..Shrehanu!

A good writer

I have been wonderign what makes a good writer. I think a good writer is the one who is the totally in tune with oneself, with everything s/he feels. S/he is a person who can give simple words to every single feeling, crossing the mind.

Its not an amalgam of beautiful words, contrived sentences, difficult hidden expressions which makes a good writer. Its a flow of words..which makes you find yourself in the end.

Its something which when you read, jolts you like a shooting pain, like a waft forgotten frgrance, giggles and laughters gone past, it reminds you of a throbbing pulsating YOU

So when I read this poem by Kamla Das, I was reminded of the scribblins in my diary years back...when I tried hard to put what i felt, in simple words..but it all came out strange..and I was frustrated..
I think if I was her back then, I would have written this..

Until I found you,
I wrote verse, drew pictures,
And, went out with friends
For walks…
Now that I love you,
Curled like an old mongrel
My life lies, content,
In you….
~ Kamla Das
Getting a man to love you is easy
Only be honest about your wants as
Woman
.........
........
Stand nude before the glass with him
So that he sees himself the stronger one
And believes it so, and you so much more
Softer, younger, lovelier.....
.......
......All the fond details that make
Him male and your only man
........
.........
Oh yes, getting
A man to love is easy, but living
Without him afterwards may have to be
Faced. A living without life when you move
Around, meeting strangers, with your eyes that
Gave up their search, with ears that hear only
His last voice calling out your name and your
Body which once under his touch had gleamed
Like burnished brass, now drab and destitute

Between a man and a woman
There should always be some friction

Nothing smooth sailing, can ever ignite fire.....!!

Genes Story

I can see both my parents in me so clearly at times. Its like I am living outside my body and watching them take over me.

Some things just show up out of the blue and am taken aback by the similarities.Especially things I used to dislike about them, showing in me

My mother does not like to wear slippers while at home. I would take her case on that and scare her with stories about all the insects going inside her system through her feet, but she would timidly tell me that its too much of a task to wear slippers while roaming around the house.It used to irritate me.

And now I see myself doing the same..I dont feel like taking the effort to put on slippers each time I have to move from hall to kitchen to bedroom. I give myself the excuse that my floor is really clean..but I know this is my mother in me

My father has this habit of carrying a camera wherever he goes..digi-cam, video camera..all of it. And he keeps juggling between them all through his trip, taking inane snaps or videos. And none of his pictures would feature him.

We would make fun of him and at times shout at him for making such a major show about it that he has no time to sit and talk with anyone

And now I see myself doing the same..well definitely not to that extent..but I have started taking pictures like a freak.
Specially many dont feature me, which is so unlike me.
I can feel that the same bug has gotten into me. And its definitely not a penchant for photography.
Maybe its an urge to replicate beauty..or an attempt to stay away from people..I cant say..
And then there are mad eccentricities of my father which I could never understand and now understand so well cos I see myself doing the same, irritating things about my mother, which manifests in different ways in me, like cleanliness mania, trying to have an order in everything etc etc

The funniest part is all contradicting character-streaks from both my parents show up in me..sometimes pulling me apart and sometimes I can only smile in exasperation and say that one cant fight one's genes..there is no getting away from it!

Maybe this is the best gift we can give to the ones who gave us life..

Women are complicated..isnt that what we hear from every man..isnt that what we are made to feel each time we dont like something about men?

My foot!

Men are as complicated as us but they are cowards. As they cant deal with anything which makes them go to the recess of their minds.
They dont wish to address anything which makes them question their actions or a situation

Thats why they are so happy diverting their energy to sports, politics, video games, new gadgets..and everything which is not human.
By human I mean people living around them, with them.

Nothing is as simple as men make it out to be, and nothing is as complicated as men think we are..

Its just our ability to deal with minutest of our feelings..to get to the core of things..to understand things as they stand(and not as others might want us to understand), which brands us as complicated.

The other word for complicated could be brave.

Lets all agree to this, Amen!