From the Pages of My Diary

Do you remember that day

When we walked down the pebbled path

Shadowed by the gulmohars.

It was raining, just like today.

Our hearts were fluttering

Like the ripples on the river water.

The river, who heard our whispers

The sweet nothings.

I admired the red gulmohars

And you choose to give me a white lily.

I should have known then,

You never understood me.  

        

You told me the world is dark blue

While I saw it in rosy hues,

I used to speak to the moon

And you laughed it away as a dream.

You thought rain is all about cloud precipitation,

You would not believe me

When I said the rain drops were the tears of the moon.

In my own little way

I had created a world of beauty.

And you destroyed it.

You said the world is a rude place

And you rudely broke my sand castle.

I should have known,

You said verses are a waste of time.

Yet I am remembering you,

Trying to pen down those memories

In verses,

Verses which you never appreciated,

Just the way you never recognized the truth in my love.

I should have known then...

You were just a mirage.

Putting On My Silver Stilettos

I adore my ‘oh so sexy’ pair of silver stilettos. Whenever I slip my feet into them, I feel happy and pretty. But above all, I feel like dancing; just like the ‘girl in magic slippers who dances without stopping’. It was some fairy tale which I had read as a kid. My silver stilettos are my magic slippers, my ‘footloose shoes’. What better way to beat the moody blues in life than dancing those sad thoughts away. Thank god (and my shoe obsession) for my magic stilettos.

So, here is my suggestion to all you girls – invest in a pair of sexy stilettos. Get those in hot and bright colours – silver, golden, red, magenta, indigo, orange… let your imagination run wild. Don’t let the blues tie you down. Get your ‘spirits’ high with a few drops down and put on those really hot heels and dance till you chase those blues away.

Bright colours always work. Try on that scarlet lipstick shade. Trust me, red works like magic. Red – the colour of either passion or danger (read anger). Vent out your feelings by wearing that LBD, scarlet lip shade and those stilettos. Go out, let your hair down. You will certainly forget whatever you have been trying to forget.

Now all these must be sounding like some ‘Cosmopolitan’ gyan, but you have to believe me when I say I am speaking from experience. I am also listing a few other pointers which might help you beat the bad mood, whatever might be reason for that – heartbreak, argument with friends or family or bad day at work. Here it goes (follow them in no particular order):

• Buy a chick book. I will recommend a few – Chasing Harry Winston, Almost Single, Eat, Pray, Love, The Zoya Factor and Losing My Virginity and Other Dumb Ideas
• Go and watch a movie all alone in a multiplex. And don’t shy from laughing out loud whenever the comic scenes come.
• Retail therapy always worksJ. Get those stilettos, the flattering dress, the red lipstick, the shocking pink nail paint… the list can go on and on.
• Go for a spa treatment, facial massage, manicure, pedicure, and the best of all, a haircut.
• Sink in your teeth into the sinful sizzling brownie with vanilla ice-cream in Café Coffee Day. And please, don’t care about the calories!
• Have a girly night out. If your gal pals are away, call them and indulge in silly gossip. Gossiping (especially, bitching) always helps.
• Develop a new hobby – music, art, adventure sports… anything that will give you high.
•  Listen to music and dance in gay abandon, even when you are alone at home.
• Walk in the rains.
• Cook. Bake. Even if you have terrible culinary skills. Eventually, you might turn up a decent cook, if not a good cook.
• Keep a journal. You never know… you might be penning a best-seller!

Little pointers… but they always help when you are feeling down and out. I am talking from personal experience. So, try them and keep smiling!

The Unspoken Truth…

“Why do you expect me to speak out about everything? When you claim to be so intelligent, can’t you pick up the cue from my behaviour and subtle hints?”

This outburst is directed towards you ‘My Dear Gentleman’ (taking the liberty to be inspired by one of my favourite Audrey Hepburn classics ‘My Fair Lady’). I am not a feminist. I am just irritated with the ‘I-know-it-all’ attitude which men in general flaunt.

Picture this: I am upset and not in a mood to talk about the things that are playing inside my mind. But I truly wish he would understand something is wrong and would make an attempt to know ‘what’s wrong’. I will divulge on every minute detail if he asks, just once. One nudge and the floodgates will open. Instead, he decides to let me be, thinking I will start talking once ‘things cool down’!

Many of you girls must have gone through this. And many of you boys must have faced the ‘moody girlfriend’. Now I won’t claim that I am familiar the male psyche. But I believe that most of the men avoid asking the simple question, ‘What’s wrong?” simply because of two reasons. Firstly, they assume we will tell them all once our mood is fine and so they let us to calm down (this is because this is what they prefer when they are upset). They think they know it all. Secondly, they make the fatal mistake of making the aforesaid assumption. Please understand, God created two completely separate identities – Adam and Eve with different sets of needs. We Eves have completely different emotional requirement than you Adams. We want to talk, but you have to initiate it.

So men have the power; we have given you the power to avoid the misunderstandings that arise from this lack of communication. You presume you know everything and you know female psychology. Sorry my dear gentlemen, you can’t be more wrong. We are not so easy to be read and understood. You get to see what we want to depict or how we wish to appear before you. We, however, like you to take the lead. I don’t mean to insult your ‘intelligence’, but somehow you always fail to understand this basic rule.

Men always claim women are bad with directions and signals, but in life, they themselves most often fail to understand the signals we give and eventually, they are left stranded in the journey of relationship. I know we women are not perfect either. We will admit to it and then we will want the same confession from you.

I am not trying to bash your male ego. I am only trying to help, showing you a window to understanding us women. Pick up the hint my dear gentlemen!

Memoir of My Heartache

I am smiling,

Laughing at others jokes,

There is bliss on my face,

But some pictures are not worth anything.

The storm within me is yet to die,

Time will heal the wounds you gave

Or I hope it does.

I am trying to find solace in something,

But I don’t even know what I am looking for.

Do I wish you back in my life?

I know you will only hurt me once more,

The memories are so painful to be recreated.

I cannot be heartless like you,

Those moments are not easy to forget,

It never is.

You have left behind pain and confusion,

I am accepting them, with a smile.

If you ever have a moment to spare,

Do read my smile,

It is void of soul

For you made me aware of the death of love,

And what is soul without love?

Pain is there,

Oh pain…

The wound will heal,

But the scar will forever be etched.

And I will move on, finding another story of heartache.

Where is My Paper Boat?

During a recent trip to my hometown, while on board the flight, I looked through the window at the horizon. There laid the boundless ocean of clouds. Serene and without any boundary. I felt like I had discovered the omniscient ocean of truth.

I was going through a really tough phase in my life at that time. I was feeling clueless about my life, about myself. I was losing something. But let’s not get into that. I am trying to close that chapter and there is no point in scratching the wounded surface. The point here is that in those melancholy moments, I searched for hope in the ocean of clouds.

Thus began an inner quest. The first thing that came to my mind was a paper boat. Remember those paper boats we used to sail in the puddles during the rains? It would sound silly and very filmy, but I really wished I could sail a paper boat in that ocean of clouds! May be I was wishing for simplicity after the crazy and complex times.

Anyways, then I began to reminiscence about the simple things I used to do at different stages of my life. When was the last time I had read a really good book? When did I last bake the chocolate cake which everyone loved? What was the last act of sweetness I had done that made my folks happy? I came to a conclusion that I have changed but certainly not to a better person. I have grown into a selfish and materialistic 21^st century individual. But then again, I have definitely developed the capability to match up to the necessity of today’s life – ‘Survival of the fittest’. In the words of Gloria Gaynor, I can shout out easily, “I’ve got all my life to live, I’ve got all my love to give and I’ll survive.”

 I can and will fight to live the life on the fast lanes. But that doesn’t mean I completely give up on enjoying the little acts of simple joy and leisure. For instance, I would love to go to those patisseries in the old lanes of Mumbai that serve the heavenly desserts and other comfort foods. I have been reading about them, saw a few in movies and yet, I have visited none. I do need to scout for first editions of many books in the old world. I am yet to learn a foreign language, especially Italian (such a sweet romantic sounding language). The plan to learn to tune a few strings has remained just a plan… despite having an excellent guitar player in my brother, I never managed to learn the instrument. May be this time around, I will sign up for guitar lessons (fingers crossed, or should I say, fingers clawed!). Then there are so many places which I want to visit. To begin with, I am yet to visit and soak in the beauty of exotic Tawang in Arunachal Pradesh, neighbor to my home state. These are just the first few pointers of the list.

Looking at the calm ocean of clouds, I thought of these ‘things to do’. I don’t know when I will spring to action in this regard, but the very thought of ‘living my life’ ushered in a ray of optimism. Rising above the milky-white clouds, the sun beamed at me as if symbolizing the happy thoughts. After a long time, a smile escaped my lips.

Romance is Hibernating

On a girls’ night out this weekend, we went to this pub with motives of own. All of us had their own stories and we were actually weary of all the emotional baggage. So a few wanted to get high and dance the night away while I simply wanted to drink. A recent health scare doesn’t allow me to indulge in too much physical stress right now. But being away from the bottle for a month now, I desperately needed a few sips down my dry throat.

So there we were. My companions immediately hit the floor; I choose a corner with a view and my favourite pint. A bliss I have been missing or rather, avoiding since sometime.

Then I started to do something which I enjoy – observing people and attempting to decipher their actions and thoughts. I noticed an interesting phenomenon. There were a huge number of ‘girls only’ groups. Each one of them was letting her hair down without a care, not at all missing the company of a man. All of them were happy and high. I felt proud of this ‘girl power to have fun’.

Only after this my eyes darted towards another part of the pub. The part occupied by ‘boys only’ groups. Unlike the girls, the boys were poor performers. They were simply drinking, smoking and ogling desperately at each member of the opposite sex. Of course, a few were making feeble and funny attempts at dancing (or moving while standing at a spot). It was obvious most of them were looking for the chance to get lucky for the night. Poor souls, almost all of them didn’t even have the guts to make a move.

It then dawned upon me. “Where is the romance?” There was such a lack of ‘love in the air’ although there were many couples present. But there was hardly any love visible. Well, I know a pub is definitely not the perfect place to witness love. But at least from the few couples there, I expected a little show of love. But I was in for a disappointment. Despite close dancing with their ‘girlfriends’, many guys were eyeing me as they saw that I was drinking and sitting alone. Hence, the eternal tug-of-war between love and lust continued.

Romance, thus, was nowhere to be seen. Now being a believer of romance, I have a strong faith that romance is still alive somewhere. It is just in hibernation. I lamented this absence of romance and prayed for it to wake up from the deep slumber.

God must have been awake at that time and must have decided fulfill part of my wish. I heard Him and the presence of romance in the form of drum and congo beats. The resident drummer of the pub began to play the drums and the congos, accompanying the DJ. He was playing the music of romance. I was in a trance. The near orgasmic beats lifted everyone’s mood and life.

I was happy that my faith is at right place – romance is only sleeping, it just needs a little prodding. The right push will come along with the right person. I whispered into the air, “Don’t worry girls and boys. Romance is on the way. Till then, have fun.” 

Jack, Jim, Johnnie… Ekdum Absolut

Long back, I had watched an English flick where a female character stated quite merrily that the only men in her life currently were named Jim and Jack. She was caustically referring to Jim Beam and Jack Daniels as her lone time partners. I respected her for being able to accept and laugh at her loneliness.

I don’t remember the name of the movie or the actress, but the dialogue remained dormant in some corner of my mind. Personally, I have seen many women clutching to their Jims, Jacks and Johnnies (in this case, Johnnie Walker) to traverse the path of loneliness. And they are not complaining. After all, who needs a Tom, Dick or Harry, who would run away the moment a door opens, when you have such loyal and comforting companions! And they are strong and can sustain for long, just the way us women like it.

Now before anyone accuses me of promoting drinking, well, let me just say this, “Whom are we kidding?” These women are mature adults who understand responsible drinking. They are not alcoholics. They simply know how to appreciate the sensuous Bourbon. If a man comes along the path, he is welcome. But they would rather invest their trust on their glasses of whiskey, vodka or ‘Sex on the beach’ than in that man. And yet, none of them will ever turn into the female version of Devdas. No sir, women are always stronger than men when they need to move on, a fact proven by some recent study.

Being eternal romantics deep down in their hearts, women have the optimistic thought that they will someday meet ‘the One’. ‘The One’ who will also give them company while savouring Jim, Jack or Johnnie. Notice that they won’t abandon the companions of their needy times just because they have found ‘Him’. Women can’t abandon, never.

As for me, give me my poison any day (or any night) over some desperate loser. So, cheers to the ‘spirit’!

Unveiling another Chapter in My Mumbai Story

As the dark clouds enveloped the cityscape and the cool breeze caressed the trees, my spirits began to soar, imitating the pre-monsoon clouds. Monsoon. The magic word everyone loves who has lived the great Indian summer. It’s finally here.

And then it started… all of a sudden the Rain God descended. I longingly looked at the massive downpour from my office window. There arose the desire, the indomitable desire to feel the raindrops on my skin.

There was a desperate urgency to get drenched. I felt as if I have been suffering an unbearable thirst within my soul and only the Mumbai monsoon, The first rain of the year, could satiate this thirst.

And the moment arrived. I just closed my eyes, breathing in the aroma of each drop and freshly washed elements. I surrendered to the Rain God and offered a silent prayer, “Thank you for being there!”

I felt I was elevated to another world. I was back to my 12 year old self, the perfect age at the cusp of innocence and worldly-wise awakening. Well, that’s a topic to be discussed later. Today, it is about the monsoon.

Thus, serenity was mine… Rain is bringing peace back at my life’s doorstep.

I have always been a “Rain Girl”. After all, I had grown up amongst the lush greeneries of Assam which transforms into a paradise every time the Rain God visits and these visits are always more than often. Then while residing in Delhi, the capital of scorching Indian summer, made me value the essence of rain more and more. I know, rain is my elixir.

Then there were lovely tales of Mumbai monsoon. “Mumbai rains”… ever since watching ‘Wake Up Sid’, I have been preserving a romantic imagery of the monsoon in the city of dreams. This imagery includes a visit to the Marine Drive, to soak in the beauty of Mumbai during the rains. As a matter of fact, many people have confided to me that they have the similar dream, which actually makes me a member of a huge community.

Now that the Monsoon is here, it is just a matter of time when I tick-off another to-do in my bucket list.

Happy Monsoon :-)

Life In Abstract

Every time I start believing that I have finally shaped a direction towards my desired future life, I am awakened by a bolt from the blue. Mostly this bolt comes in the disguise of a perfect man (read Dream guy) and the jolt in the form of a pain in the heart.

Now how many of you girls or women alike feel this is true? From personal as well as tales from friends’ or acquaintances’ experiences, I can safely assume that there exists a sizable community that identifies with the event described in the first paragraph. Another important aspect that defines this demography is the fact that most members are working girls residing in big cities with many sustaining alone.

I would not claim to understand art but I do appreciate beauty and colours of a painting. Whatever little I understand about the abstract paintings, I am able to find the co-relation between such art and our ‘girly’ experience.

We think we have turned into mature adults who have finally grown to handle the reins of their own lives. After all, we have our dream jobs, living in our dream city all alone and able to afford whatever our hearts desire. We are 'smart'. Except we forget a few facts – we are women and our heart’s desire is unlimited.

As in a painting, the canvas of our lives has a basic colour, mostly a solid rosy hue. Then comes the abstract hues whose start and end points can’t be traced. There is confusion. Yet the painting emerges beautiful. But the confusion encompasses the heartburn.

We meet the irresistible Devil. Our ‘woman’s instinct’ warns us. Yet we go ahead, believing ‘He is the One’. Not even halfway, we realize the folly. Still we continue with a naïve attitude, hoping he will turn into the perfect one, calculating and analyzing his every move. We know it very well that he will never commit, in fact, he is not even considering. Curiously, even we are sure this is not the ‘Mills & Boon” romance that has been inked in our hearts and minds since adolescence. Despite being a competitive force on professional front, we strangely behave like a lost puppy in our personal lives, proving the old adage that we are the emotionally weaker sex.

We realize that everything should be over before getting hurt. But we keep on fighting for something which does not exist. And then comes the rude awakening and ‘the fight’. Without even surrendering our hearts, we experience heartbreak. First we cherish the few cozy moments of togetherness, then find solace in chick books or flicks and rock music, and then think really evil thoughts about without doing anything about it. Life, gradually, moves on.

The painting is now complete with the addition of the dark hues which rises like smoke above the basic rosy colours.