7-8 Lay them Straight!

I am tagged by Richa. And honestly I have been thinking what could be the ten things aboue me...

Well here goes nothing...

10 things that very few people know about me....

#1 I am scared of tall buildings....especially the closed barricaded ones.

#2 In fourth standard I aspired to be a doctor from AIIMS and find the cure of AIDS....those were the day:)

#3 After my Dad passed away, I started talking to him in my diary. The diary entry now always starts with Dear Papa...

#4 I want my stories to be made into Bollywood Movies...

#5 I started writin short stories when I was in ninth and my mother(who introduced me to the lovely world of books) took away all my books for my boards were approaching. The lack of books led me to write a story of my own that i could read!

#6 I started writing in the loo! & finished my first short story in the loo!

#7 I still give one blank call every year to my first crush from the net...can't help it...he had the sexiest damn voice I have ever heard!

#8 I wished to own a Retreat Spa...still do

#9 I am petrified of dying in a car accident.

#10 (Whew!) I am scared of being in a relationship. This fear is so intense that I would drive away any man who comes too close!

Sharma ji

She waited patiently while he talked on with Sharmaji, smiling at herself. It was a habbit with him. He would always forget that she was waiting on the phone. Finally she heard him instruct Sharma ji about another work, chuckle and then his voice back on the phone.
"Sorry." He said and she laughed.
"No need. I quite enjoy listening into your talks with Sharma ji."
She heard him laugh and then they were chatting, Sharma ji forgotten for the time being. And then again...
"Hold on,...Sharmaji..."
"Now what?" she asked yet she knew she wasn't being heard. The attention was back to Sharma ji and she held on.
"Sorry again." he said, reverting back to the phone conversation.
"You and your Sharma ji..." she joked.
They talked on for another hour and then she kept down the phone.

Wondering what is it? Well it's not a story. Its a narration of the routine telephonic conversation I share with my dear friend Gaurav. Everytime I have called him in the past while he was in office, I have waited and listened on to his conversation with Sharma ji. I have joked about him too. He was somewhere always there but of no concern to me. Then why am i writing a blog entry for him?

I called my friend in the evening and this is the conversation that took place.

"Hi Gaurav."
"Hey Kanz," (Voice strained)
"You ok?" I asked, a bit worried.
"I have had a bad day."
I smiled, thinking he got another of his scoldings from his dad. It was always amusing to listen to him narrate. But then there was something out of place. Maybe something wrong at work.
"Well..." he sighed, "Do you remember the infamous Sharma ji?"
"Ofcourse I do. What about him?" I asked completely unaware of what was coming next my way.
"Well...he is no more."
The words sank in rather slowly and the first words that blurted out of my mouth were..."How can he just go like that?"
"People just go like that Kanz"....

We did not talk after that. He needed time and strangely I did too. I have never seen the man, he was just the foreman at my friends factory. Never have I ever talked with him. Have just heard him talking in the background, heard Gaurav joking with him and laughed at my friend and joked about Sharma ji. That's all. Yet...

While i write this post I have tears in my eyes. And though he was a nobody...I felt that i had lost someone.

This is because I know all of us come across people who mean nothing to us. They are not our friends, family or aquaintances. They are just there. Lurking in the background as we rush through our life. They don't bring changes in are life, they don't matter. Yet...you are oddly aware of their presence. And feel their loss.

Do you know a Sharma ji?

Instant Coffee

Weird title. But then that was the first thing that came to my mind when I opened the page and decided to write a post where in I would share some of the weird questions of my life and then Tag Deepak and SUBHADIP...and Bharti...if i can manage to get her to come to my page...her blog has been dead too long
And Woodie...Kindly add a TAGGED AGAIN AND AGAIN...cause the same goes for you.

Basically anyone who goes through this....he he he

Its a very simple questionnaire....kindly keep the answers limited to a word or a phrase!

1. When I look at the stars...I Smile

2. Rains...a good book!

3. Happiness is...my nephew's smile!

4. Books...best friend

5. Men/Women(Whichever applicable)....can't do without!

6. Love is....a two way road!

7. God...Faith

8. Summer of 69?...Cafe Coffee Day

9. Pride....& Prejudice

10. Life...INSTANT COFFEE!!!!!

White Memories

Woodsmoke talked about winters recently in her post and reminded me of the white memories of fog laden mornings and white nights. And today I felt the nip in the air tug at my sleeve, gently transporting me back. And hence the story...


She rubbed her eyes, wishing to rush back into her warm blanket. Then she saw the tall figure standing in the garden, dressed in a white cotton kurta pyjama with a thin shawl over his shoulder. Looking at him she dragged her feet towards the door, stopping to collect her shawl and clutch it tightly. There was a dense fog cover and she could not see anything beyond the white silhoutte.
"Good morning." she called out and the man turned, smiling at his youngest daughter.
"You are up?"
"Hmmm...what are you doing?" she asked and he smiled.
"Breathing the fog! It's wonderful. Come and try." he said and she obeyed. Standing right next to him she was shivering uncontrollably while he was oblivious of the chill.
"Let the chill be one with you. Come in contact with nature and you would not feel cold." he instructed and she looked with her young eyes up at the man.
"But Papa..."
"Shh...follow me." He said and stood with his arms outstretched, as if embracing the fog cover. His eyes closed and his mouth opened as he took in the fresh air, filling his lungs with the white blanket. Momentarily he stayed in that position and then opened his eyes.
"Your turn!"
She hesitated, not realising how it could be of any good to her, yet she followed. Her father was never wrong.
Her eyes closed and arms outstretched, she slightly opened her mouth. The cold rushed inside and she felt the air travelling through her throat and settling in her lungs. There was an uncontrollable moment of chill as her chest constricted in the cold. And then, unbelievably she felt sweat break on her forehead. Her body adjusted to the cold. She was a part of her surroundings. She turned and looked at her father, his face smiling down at her.


She closed her eyes again and felt the wind caress her senses, her heart beat wildly for a second and then she was at peace. Opening her eyes, she looked around and saw her 5 year old son looking quizzically at her.
"What are you doing ma? I am cold!" he said, rubbing his eyes.
"Doing something that my dad taught me when I was your age!"
"What?"
"You would do it?" she asked and he nodded. He would do anything his mom would say...She was never wrong.
And then she was teaching him the way once someone had taught her. looking at the white fog rushing to surround her she opened her arms...

Two days ago is when this post should have come online yet due to work I coudn't do so. (i know its a lame excuse but it's true!)
Anyhow, what happened was a simple thing. As many know by now, my favorite spot in the call centres was the stairs outside the office where one and all could sit and chat for long hours (metaphorically!) with friends. And two days ago, after a long day's work I simply sat on the stairs and was reprimanded for the same!

It's professionally not acceptable they say! What can I say? I missed the good old days so very much!

Perspective

"When would we reach?" Shweta asked, cheking her watch for the tenth time in the last 5 minutes.
"Look at the traffic kid. Can't blame them. This is the worst rain I have ever seen in Delhi." Mohit spoke and looked back at the girl. She was happily looking at the rain, her face distorting everytime she looked at her watch.
"This is hardly anything." Shweta said and Mohit frowned.
"I agree. But then it is after such a long time we are witnessing a downpour like this. Delhi's weather has gone to the dogs I say!" Sameer joined in.
"True." Shweta agreed and looked at the rain. She loved it.
"What a life yaar...I mean..." Shweta said and Mohit frowned.
"What's wrong in this life?"
"Everything. Everyone is sleeping!"
"And missing the rain...perspective kid."
Shweta smiled smugly and looked at the long line of cars and trucks. The lights were blurring behind the curtain of rain.
"But we can't enjoy the rain!" Shweta grunted and Sameer lighted his n'th cigarette.
"Who said you can't?" Mohit asked and looked at Shweta with a wide grin.
"Life kid...enjoy the moment while it lasts!"
"So what you propose pal?" Sameer asked from behind the curtain of dense smoke.
Mohit looked at the traffic and then swiftly moved out of the cab as the driver made a noise. Shweta had no time to react, Mohit was already opening her door.
"Out!"
"You are crazy!" She laughed and Sameer looked with a silly grin on his face.
"Got that right!"
"Stop being silly. It's awesome! And you wanted to enjoy the rain."
Shweta looked at Mohit's face. It had not taken him time to be drenched. His hair were now plastered to his skull and water running down his face.
"No please. I'll get wet." Shweta resisted and backed towards Sameer.
"Well...what the hell." Sameer said and a while later he was out too...

Shweta looked with incredulity at the two guys, standing in the rain. She knew Mohit to be eccentric but Sameer?
"You coming out kid?" Mohit asked.
"No." Shweta said and made to close the door.
"Hey...come on. be a sport." Sameer said and Shweta hesitated. The rain looked too inviting.
"Today won't last forever Shweta!" Mohit yelled and Shweta stared. They were now standing in the middle of the road, laughing at her and then on a joke they shared. Mohit was right, she thought and looked at her shoes.

She breathed out and then knowing that it was perhaps the craziest thing she had ever done in her life till now she stepped out. The water was cold as it seeped through her t-shirt and glided down her back, driving all the air out of her lungs. Instantly life falled back in place. She was out of her home, it was three thirty in the morning and she was standing in rain. The guys clapped and Mohit bowed as if honoring a queen. Music was gliding out of the cab now and Mohit was holding her hand and swaying with the music. Shweta had a faint idea of how people would be looking at them, many would be laughing, some frowning and others not bothering. Without realising why she matched Mohit's step with her own and felt exhileration course through her.

Life...well...life was good.

Beyond the lights!

She looked wearily at the rain and then at her watch. 3 in the morning...
"Why do you have to go to office?" her sister asked, her face in shadows, sipping on the glass of water. They were sitting in their kitchen. She sighed, feeling all the more guilty. But somebody had to close the doors when she left.
"The cab should be here any minute now."
She nodded and looked outside the window. Rain would not stop soon. If only Shweta did not need this job! Feeling bitterness fill her heart she stopped thinking. There was nothing they could do. Shweta was still young. Hardly 20...But she couldn't tell her not to work. The horn brought action to the kitchen as Shweta stood up hastily.
"Bye."
She smiled and walked beside her younger sister, looking as she rushed through in the rain to her cab, Shweta sat in the cab, her face showing no signs of regret as she hastily started chatting with the person sitting in the front seat. She looked once at her and smiled as the cab drove into the darkness of the night. The tail lights dying away as the rain fell harder.

She latched the door and walked back to the comforts of her warm bed. Sliding in her blanket she felt the woman sleeping beside her move.
"Shweta left?'
"Hmm."
The silence stayed on for a while. Then she heard the sobbing.
"Ma?"
"She should be sleeping in her bed."
"Ma please. It's Shweta's choice. "

The woman looked at the bedside clock and then at the snap hanging by the wall. The steady breathing from next to her told that her other daughter was asleep. She stiffled her tears. She couldn't do anything...her eyes drifted back to the picture on the wall holding her first ever hockey cup and then towards the wheel chair lying close to her bed.

The rain fell harder still...

Waiting for Time!

Time, they say, will pass you by.

For me...time stayed. I stayed here, silently watching generations come and go. I heard the flute being played in the corner room, could feel the laughter gliding through the wind into my ears. I have seen it all. Yet not said a word. Men...of all shapes and sizes have crossed my path, some stayed under the tree, some looked over the wall and some simply drifted away into the night. Yes...I have seen them all.

Have felt the gentle steps of a child, playfully rolling a pebble. Have felt the fast steps of a young woman rushing past my gully...I have felt the brave soldiers stomping away with courage. Yet I have stayed.

With the passing time I saw the boulders turn into dust. With time I saw a seed turn into a wilted tree. Yet I have stayed where I was.

Many a secrets lie with me. And I stay here. I wish to walk away into time...I ask wind to take away those secrets into the depths of the desert, ask for rain to wash away the pain to the depths of the sea...have begged the drifting man to stop for once and rest by me...

Time, they say, will pass you by...

So it seems...

(Thanks to Deepak for lending me this beautiful picture.)

Last Words

"A wise man once said, when you reach the last page of the book...close the book."

This phrase was repeated in the movie Love bug and it has stayed with me since the time I first heard it. Pessimistic, cynical and perhaps depressing...I would not know what to call it. Yet it talks of the realities of life as we know it. How many of us have reached the end of something yet we hold on to the last memory with dear life, staying with it as time slips by our hands. What was that wise man thinking? What did he wish for us to do? To stop fighting or to simply accept the end and move on. Different perspectives. One is optimistic if we wish to see it like that; the other - indication of accepting fate.

Why am I talking about this...I woudn't know. But this is what came into my head when I decided to write this blog entry. I felt myself asking the all too important question...was I holding on to the last page of this book (read a certain issue in my life) or am I ready to close the book and move on to the next. But experience tells me that the last word is all too important in any book.

A few favorite last lines/phrases/words that make a book are

Happily ever after...

If...

Maybe, just maybe...

I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.

Truly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the world?

It made me wonder if i was to close the book...what would be the all important last line...

or on which line would i want to close this book...

I am still thinking...what would be that last line of your book?