Slow Dance

This poem was written by a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital..


Have you ever
watched
kids



On a merry-go-round?



Or listened to
the
rain



Slapping on the ground?



Ever followed a

butterfly's erratic flight?



Or gazed at the sun into the
fading
night?



You better slow down.



Don't
dance so
fast.



Time is short.



The music
won't
last.



Do you run through each day



On
the
fly?


When you ask How are you?



Do you hear
the
reply?



When the day is done



Do you lie
in your
bed



With the next hundred chores




Running through
your head?



You'd better
slow down



Don't dance so
fast.



Time is
short.



The music won't
last.



Ever told your
child,



We'll do it
tomorrow?



And in your
haste,



Not see
his

sorrow?



Ever lost
touch,



Let a good
friendship die



Cause you
never had time



To call
and say,'Hi'



You'd
better slow down.



Don't dance
so fast.



Time
is short.



The music won't
last.



When you run
so fast to get somewhere



You
miss half the fun of getting
there.



When you worry and hurry
through your
day,



It is like an unopened
gift....



Thrown
away.




Life is not a
race.


Do take it
slower



Hear the
music



Before the song is
over.



------------
--------

Meeting Balki

Today for the first time I met a man of the film industry that I will always remember. Not because of who he is, but because of the image he created in my mind. R Balakrishnan (Balki) is the director of movies like Paa and Cheeni Kum, and is also from the world of advertising with adverts like Idea and Tata Tea Jaago Re to his credit.

Before I met him,I assumed he'd be like one of those celebs who throw their weight around, make people wait, whine about little things or simply just don't care. But this man totally proved me wrong.

He walked into the conference room with a smile on his face that was friendly and far from obnoxious. He greeted everyone present in the room casually and without any air of self-importance. He began answering questions of students, one after the other. The questions ranged from Censorship in films to cause related advertising to bollywood element in films to his career as an Ad-man. He heard every question and answered it as thoroughly as he could. He wasn't arrogant nor did he act as though he knew everything. He was humble about his success and modest about his luck. He was honest enough to tell us that alot of his work has come through years and years of experience and there have been times when he, like everyone else, has failed. He was so candid that he didn't feel like a celebrity at all. He patiently answered all the questions from the students and the media. He even allowed students to pose for individual photographs and signed many autographs too, all the while smiling and cracking jokes. HE didnt feel like somebody great even though he was. He spoke politely to everyone, quietly sipping tea and commenting on the rains in the city. He put everybody at ease and no one feared the man who has worked with stalwarts like Amitabh Bachchan and Tabu.

I've never been a celebrity crazy person, but this man made me feel like he was just one of us, and I knew that there might never be another chance of meeting someone of as famous, yet down-to-earth as him. So I felt no shame in taking a picture with him or have him sign my diary.

Thank You Mr. Balki, for this chance.

Road to nowhere

The journey to Delhi was just like before. If you meant the ride, the people, the roads, the sights- everything that really didn't mean a thing to her. On the outside nothing had changed in the journey compared to what it had been last year. But on the inside nothing would ever be the same. She knew that. Maybe he did too. She couldn't tell. But she knew that even if it did bring back memories to him, he didn’t really care. By the look on his face, she could tell that he never had. They’d been surprisingly close for him not to care. They’d been terrifyingly close for her to still not be over him.

She looked outside the window as memories flashed past, with the music blaring from her i-pod trying to block out the thoughts that came with those memories.

She stole a glance to her right. He was just inches away from her. But they could’ve been strangers by the way they were behaving.

How things had gone from lonely to good to great to confusing to complicated to bad and back to lonely- she had no clue.

And yet, every moment they’d spent together was carved in minute detail in her mind. She couldn’t get rid of them as easily as he’d gotten rid of her. She wasn’t as lucky as him to forget everything.

They were still miles away from their destination. But she was looking for reasons to prolong the ride. Because the thought of spending 3 whole days together as though everything was ok, was a little too difficult.

Not that she couldn’t do it though. She’d practiced the smile to unbelievable perfection; and yet believable enough to fool everybody. So much so that she’d even begun to fool him. Because the tiny speck of hope that she held was beginning to disappear. That slight chance that he might even pretend to care was slipping from her fingers with alarming speed.

Not that she had any control over his actions or thoughts or decisions. Far from it.

She wanted to get this trip over with as soon as possible, and with as much invisibility as she could manage. She wanted to get back home to her life where she could pretend he didn’t exist. She didn’t wish him any harm. She just wanted to get away unharmed. And she longed to get away from the city that had brought them closer.

The city outside her window came into focus- the city she had begun to love. Every street had fascinated her. Every monument had seemed to amaze her. Every person on the road held a unique charm with their own story. Even little things like the clear skies and soft gentle breeze seemed different and better. And silly as it may sound, it was because he’d made it seem different.

But as she looked out now, it all looked drab and lifeless. They just stood there, all grey and morose. After being lively and colourful last year, it hit her with an intensity she couldn’t understand. And even though she knew her imagination was getting the worst of her, it was as though everything glared at her and mocked her for her foolishness. That she was stupid enough to let one guy change the world for her. That she could let a few moments spent with him change the way she felt about herself and about life.

Right now, she hated herself for letting him ruin this trip for her. She’d made up her mind to ignore him as much as possible and she had been doing just that over the past month. It wasn’t as difficult as she’d thought. He ignored her just as well and it made things easier.

Then why did she hate the fact that he didn’t speak to her???

They were about to reach their stop. As she got ready to get her bags down, her phone beeped. She paused with her suitcase in one hand and pulled out her phone from her pocket. It was an unknown number. But she knew his number by-heart to recognize it.

She assumed it was one of those group messages that he’d sent which she usually ignored. But she still checked it.

It wasn’t a forwarded message.

He told her he missed her…

Blast from the Past- Sempiternal Scribbles

This has been borrowed from Mehak Siddiqui's blog http://sempiscribbles.blogspot.com/2010/07/blast-from-past.html

I take no credit for the same. I simply liked what she wrote.


Our paths crossed innumerable times,
for months. Yet we never noticed.
You were simply 'that tall guy' to me
until one day, life happened.
Fate happened,
Love happened.
One proper look at you,
and I was hooked.
Addicted.
I NEEDED to know you
and so began my quest
to be a friend to you,
a friend like you'd never had before.
I guess that in itself was an indication,
of the ruination I was stepping into.
You already had enough people;
and I was never much more
than 'just another one' of them.
Except for the fact that I loved you,
more than you can imagine
or will ever comprehend.
More than even I'd imagined.
And unrequited love is like disease
it only causes pain and problems galore.
Yet, we remained friends, good friends.
But I wonder why
I still cry over you
even when the feelings are gone,
more or less.
Why does a song or a movie or a place
automatically remind me of you?
Why do I hang onto your memories
when they trigger nothing but regret?
Why does it pain me
when you befriend pretty girls?
And treat them like princesses
when really, they're utter bitches out to hurt you
and everyone else.
Why do I feel upset
that you never compliment me, ever?
that you don't think I'm as close a friend as I think you are,
that you can notice the smallest niceties in other girls,
but can always find something to make fun of about me.
Why does it surprise you
when I prove I'm smarter than you think.
Why are you so ignorant,
to every quality I possess?
But observant of every fault?
Why aren't you ever keen to meet me
-the way you always meet your other friends?
Why don't you ever call?
Or say that you miss the good old days
when we would talk every single day?
Why don't I matter to you?
Why oh why oh why?
Sigh.
I pray someday you'll realize
the depth of the hurt you caused me
by your indifference and detachment
when my only mistake was to love you
love you deep, love you true.
I hope someday you'll see,
that I ain't as bad,
as you've always perceived me to be.

Once upon a Time

She couldn’t believe it. Maybe she’d heard wrong. There had to be some mistake. He hadn’t said what she thought he’d said. Should she call him back and ask? Just to confirm? Because there was no way he would’ve done this to her. And definitely not over the phone. He couldn’t have been so callous.

And yet, somewhere in the distance she could hear those tiny voices whispering in her head. They were saying things she didn’t want to hear. Because they were wrong! He was wrong! He wasn’t a selfish person, and there was no chance in hell that he’d do something like this to her. Not after everything she’d done for him.

She sat at the edge of the bed in the hotel room, her hand still clutching the phone as if her life depended on it. May be it did. She didn’t want to seem like those desperate needy women who just wouldn’t let go. But she was a needy desperate woman! She needed him! Now, more than ever.

How could he choose to abandon her at this point in her life? How could he abandon her at all? Hadn’t he promised to be with her “through thickness and thin” and “in sickness and in health” till death do them part? What happened to all those vows that he had made, holding her hand, that he’d love her forever.

She glanced at the photo frame she’d brought along with her that stood on the night stand. It was a picture of both of them laughing like a bunch of kids. It was taken a couple of years ago on their trip to North-East India. It had been her gift to him for finally getting the job he’d tried for over six months. They’d gone for a walk with a tour guide in one of the numerous tea gardens in Darjeeling and her foot had slipped on the dew laden grass. He’d caught hold of her wrist as he’d lost his own footing and they’d both tumbled onto the grass. The moment had seemed hilarious at that time and the guide, sensing a ‘Kodak moment’ had taken a picture.

That seemed like two different people in a different life.

The picture only reminded her of one of the few times she’d given up her dreams for him. She’d studied to be a journalist. And she knew she was good at it. It was her life and there was nothing else she wanted to do. But the beginning of their married life had been financially low and she’d taken up a job at a BPO instead. It paid good money. It was as simple as that. When things had begun to look a little better, she’d heard about a magazine in her city that was looking for a fashion writer. She knew that now, with their life back on track, she could take this job. But he’d found another job in a Bigger city he’d said, and after many fights, she’d shifted with him to the new city. It was at that time that she’d surprised him with a week long trip to the north-east with part of the earnings from her previous work.

Once again, when life settled down, she took up another lifeless job just so that they could stay together. But all that time she had still been looking out for her dream job. She’d given so many interviews that she’d lost count. But nothing worked out in his supposedly ‘big city’.

She knew that her constant failure at nailing the perfect job was taking its toll on both of them. But she held on, trying everything she could.

Just when she’d thought things were at their worst, she’d gotten a call from a newspaper in a nearby city that was looking for a daily columnist. She knew she was perfect for it. Even though it meant spending almost six hours traveling everyday, she wanted to do it. She wanted to be happy and she needed it to make their lives happier.

Today had been her interview and she’d decided to spend the night in the city that would give her big break. She’d been so excited that she hadn’t noticed his subdued, almost indifferent, attitude as she’d left the house. She’d reached the press office in time and couldn’t wait till it was over. She knew she’d get this job. She knew this was the answer to their problems. Life would be the fairytale she’d always wanted.

But it hadn’t ended like she’d hoped. She hadn’t got the job. They were looking for someone with experience, not degrees, skills or passion.

She’d called him up just an hour ago to tell him that she hadn’t made it. She wanted to be with him, so he could’ve held her as she’d cried. She wanted him to tell her that everything would be ok.

But instead, he’d told her that it was over between them.

Why?

She wasn’t capable of finding a job that she wanted.

She was slowing him down.

She was becoming way too dependent on him.

She wasn’t hard working or dedicated to her work with the number of jobs she’d switched.

The voices in her head were getting louder now. They eluded any kind of emotional, pitiful or denial thoughts. They were screaming out loud now. They were saying things she should’ve said to him. They were demanding for answers that she couldn’t give but needed them just as much. They were counting off reasons why he had every reason to stay instead of abandoning her at a point in her life when he was all she had.

Tears failed to come. Because despite those uncontrollable voices, she was still in denial.

This moment seemed like something from one of those million Hollywood movies she’d seen. It sounded just as dramatic and over-the-top. She could almost picture herself in a scene. The situation seemed perfect for the movie. She looked like those depressed heroines waiting for the glycerin in their eyes to do its job. She could almost hear the soulful music in the background.

All she wanted to hear, more than anything she’d ever wished for, was for someone to yell “CUT!”

Plum Blossoms

He watched her walk away in silence. He wanted to stop her but he didn’t know why. He knew that she wouldn’t turn around and come back to him. She’d said what she had to say. There was nothing left whatsoever. And he wasn’t sure that he had the courage to hear anything else after that.

He looked down at the table he was sitting at and saw the tea cups that the waitress had placed before them an hour ago. They stood there untouched and forgotten. He’d ordered before she’d come, so he had no idea he’d be sitting there all by himself.

Thank god he’d ordered just one plate of croissant. Atleast that wouldn’t go to waste.

He picked it up and the once moist bread crumbled between his fingers.

Perfect. Even the bread was a metaphor to his life that had crumbled as she’d sat in front of him, sobbing.

Why had she cried, though? If any one had to cry it should’ve been him. He was the one sitting alone at this stupid restaurant getting sympathetic looks from the couples seated at nearby tables.

But even the looks or the tears couldn’t put the pieces together. It still hadn’t registered in his head. He wasn’t ready to believe it. She was gone? Did she leave him or had he dumped her?

There was one sentence she’d kept saying over and over again in her speech that hadn’t made much sense. “It didn’t mean anything.”

What didn’t mean anything? Their four year relationship? Or the fact that she had slept with another guy?

It was somebody from her class, she’d said. Stupid college crowd. He should’ve known better than to date a girl ten years his junior. She was still a kid. This was what kids of her age do. They fool around and don’t need to settle down.

For him, he’d known that she was the one from the day he’d met her. He’d seen her dancing at his best friend’s wedding. He was so in love with her even after all these years. She had been too.

So then what happened? How did she suddenly feel like she needed a change? Something different, new and exciting? Was she lonely when he’d gone away on business for that entire one year? Had that guy comforted her when she was feeling low?

“It didn’t mean anything.”

Then why had she done it, dammit?!

He absent-mindedly toyed with the little pink flowers in the china vase.

He’d decided to meet her today because he’d wanted to ask her something important. He’d wanted to ask her to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

But they’d never gotten to that part. Oh hell. Now she’d never know.

She’d walked into the restaurant and it seemed as if the whole world around them had ceased to exist. As though they were the only ones there. She’d looked beautiful as always. He’d always thought that he was lucky to find her.

As he’d been talking about his day, she’d seemed a little preoccupied. But he hadn’t given it a thought.

When he’d reached for her hand across the table, she’d suddenly burst into tears.

He was taken aback. Before he could ask her what was wrong she’d started mumbling something about some friend in college. He’d tried to make sense of what she was saying. She must’ve said a lot of things in that one hour. But all he’d heard and understood was that she’d slept with her friend and that “it didn’t mean anything.”

So now what? She was going to be with that guy? And he was supposed to forget about her after this? It was over? Had she stopped loving him? Was he supposed to stop too?

He looked down at the flowers he was playing with. Plum blossoms, he recognized.

On one of their first dates she’d taken him to an art exhibition in her college and she’d fallen in love with a painting of plum blossoms. They were a beautiful pink, and filled the canvas like tiny spots of heaven. She’d told him that someday, they’d go to a place that was filled with pretty flowers like these.

That day had not come. And it never will. With a sudden rush of anger, he felt like crushing the flowers until each petal was beyond recognition. He wanted to destroy everything beautiful and romantic and everything that reminded him of her. He felt like flinging the vase at her.

But she was gone. And he’d probably never see her again.

Just then a waitress came up to him and asked, “Is your friend coming back, sir?”

She wanted to take away the extra cup maybe.

He simply shook his head.

“So it’s just you then?” she asked.

“Yes. Just me,” he replied and he watched silently as the waitress quietly cleared the table and with it, took away all the memories.

The Good Samaritan

This is a parable from the Bible.

A lawyer once, to test Jesus, asked Him what he should do to inherit eternal life. Jesus told him “to love thy neighbour with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind.” The lawyer then asked who his neighbour was.

To this, Jesus answered, “A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who both stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead. By chance a certain priest was going down that way. When he saw him, he passed by on the other side. In the same way a Levite also, when he came to the place, and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he traveled, came where he was. When he saw him, he was moved with compassion, came to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. He set him on his own animal, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. On the next day, when he departed, he took out two denarii, and gave them to the host, and said to him, ‘Take care of him. Whatever you spend beyond that, I will repay you when I return.’ Now which of these three do you think seemed to be a neighbor to him who fell among the robbers?” He said, “He who showed mercy on him.” Then Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

Luke 10:30-37

Today at mass, the priest explained the meaning of this parable. And in doing so, told us what some of the researchers and scholars said with regard to the behaviour of the priest and the Levite. The priest, he explained, assumed that the poor man lying on the road was dead. In those times it was prohibited for priests to enter the Temple after having touched the dead. And so the priest walked away. The Levite was afraid that the man was pretending to be dead and might attack and rob him, and so he too avoided helping the man. It is the Samaritan, considered an outcast at that time, who finally helped the dying man.

It makes me wonder, how easily we make excuses for not looking out for our neighbours. We’re always too busy for them. We always have something better or more important to do. We think we’re too good for charity. That it is the job of social workers and NGOs to help the downtrodden. Just because we’re more fortunate than most, we’re too proud to lend a helping hand.

Don’t we see it all the time? An accident on the road will attract a huge crowd. But how many will try to help the injured? The fear of a police case is greater than the desire to help the needy. You think that there are so many people, somebody or the other will help him. Why should I?

Are we so selfish that we think only about our happiness and comfort and safety? Are we so blind that we look away when we see people who are socially and economically backward? Are we so deaf that we refuse to hear the cried for help and compassion?

And it isn't about the big things in life. Even the tiniest of gestures means a lot to someone who's craving for just a smile or a hug or a kind word. It could be a friend who needs a shoulder to cry on. You might not be able to solve the problems in their lives, but just being there is still a consolation. So let's not ignore those who need us but cannot say so. If there is any way we can bring a smile on their faces, let's do it without thinking what we will gain out of it. It'll pay off someday, when you need it and you cannot find a reason to be happy. So let’s not think, even for a moment, that we’re better than the rest. If God has been gracious enough to bless us with the good things in life, then we must learn to share.

Not So Pretty After All

I have never understood what people see in her. There’s an entire section of humanity, who unlike me, wait for her with bated breath. They count the days until she’s in town. They plan their days around her arrival and hope she makes it on time. Even as I frown with disgust, I realize I’m one of the few people around this side of the city who dislikes her. I mean, sure, she can be pretty and refreshing and all that. But there’s nothing about her that has struck me as extraordinary. You need to have a different sort of taste to like her. Me? I’m not used to her kind of beauty. For that, you have to put up with her vices as well. She has her good points, but she’s messy and filthy and I don’t have the patience with her kind.She’s unpredictable, she’s a party-pooper and she gets you all lazy and drowsy. I like beauty that makes you sit up and stare. That makes you do things, go places- just for her, or atleast because of her. But she ain’t like that.

But I can see why people like her so much. I mean I saw it last evening as I was getting home from work. I knew she was in town because I’d received way too many phone calls about it and plus everyone at office was talking about her. It made me groan, the way people get so excited about it.

Anyway, I stepped out of the doors hoping not to run into her. And I’d just about made it home when she bumped into me. But that’s a different story.

So as I was sitting in the rickshaw, I noticed that she’d already been on the street that I was on. She’d left her trails. She’d left her signs- she’s so arrogant. I hate that she can’t keep quiet about her arrival. But there it was, right in front of my eyes. Proof that people are crazy about her.

The smile on everyone’s faces was unmistakable. One look at them and I knew that they’d encountered her and they’d loved it. Children, college students, men, women, people walking on the side walks, people in their cars, people in the shops and even those I could hear on the radio- everybody looked and sounded happy. I could hear their excited chatter. I could see them huddled in groups talking about her no doubt. I could read their minds from meters away. At every lane and at every corner people were singing and dancing and enjoying the fact that she was here and she was here to stay for another couple of months.

It amazed me for a while; that she had cast such a spell in just hours of her arrival. But the amazement soon turned to the much expected impatience as I realized, just a few yards from home, that she’d caused a major traffic jam at the junction. It satisfied me just a little bit that there were some like me who were irritated by the confusion and chaos she had caused. But she couldn’t have let me gloat in the realization that people disliked her. Because as soon as I stepped out of the rickshaw under my building, there she was, in all her power and glory. And she took her revenge.

God! I hate the rains. I don’t understand what people see in her.

Monsoon Blues

It's the first rain of the season, and it's already caused problems.

I woke up to hear an incessant noise on my window. I opened one eye to discover that it was pouring the proverbial ‘cats and dogs’. I’ve never been a rain person and now I know why. Before I could ignore the rains and go back to sleep, I heard a loud snap and the lights went off.

I heard my dad say something about a car downstairs and he left. I got out of bed and went out in the balcony only to find a semi river flowing down the street and around 4-5 men struggling to haul 2 cars out of a rut. It was a recently filled pipeline that gave way under the heavy downpour.

I turned on the radio on my phone to discover every radio station going wild with Bollywood rainy numbers and discussing the roadblocks in the city. Not good. It’s only my second day at college and it’s going to be quite a task getting there without getting drenched.

I can hear kids at a near by school going crazy seeing the rains, so for them it means a half day but for the teachers it’s a job of handling over hundred hyper screaming soaked-to-the-bone kids. They’ve got to answer to parents when the kids come sneezing to school the next day. Good luck to them.

It’s cloudy, no doubt. But it’s gloomy. It’s dark. I can’t see anything outside my window because it’s fogged up. I need to be in college in an hour. Its going to be quite a day.

Merry Christmas

Today in class we were given a 100 rupees each and asked to do a random act of kindness.

I did something that made ME happy before anybody else!

A few weeks back, I'd visited a group of street kids near my place
who, despite being immensely poor, had an incredible will to study and
go to school. There's a man called Gulab Rajput who very often gives
them school supplies and the look on the kids' faces was priceless. I
wanted to do something similar provided I ever got a chance.

Today I did. I made packets of pencils, erasers and sharpners, wrapped
them up in colourful packing and, along with a pack of parle-g
biscuits each, went around in Fatehgunj and distributed it among kids
from humble families who went to school. I distributed some to a
family of 7 kids who study under a street light, another with four
kids and 2 toddlers, a press-wala opposite my house who's 2 kids study
at his laari on a slab of stone, and an old lady's 2 grandchildren.

Christmas is my favourite time of the year, and this felt like it-
only this time, I was playing Santa Claus!!! :)