The Letter

                    ....I shall wait for him. Do I deserve him ? His companionship ? Or is it the other way round ? Whether he deserves me ? Our eyes have met, locked with no feelings, many times. The moments we looked into each other were not at all uncomfortable. Silence spoke many times. He appreciated me in the past. We communicated-verbally, and eye to eye. Each of us made the other feel 'special'. And to some extent. We could go beyond. We didn't which's fine. I have a world of my own, he has his. We do not communicate much. Not the way we used to. Reason ? I told him, I felt for him. Though he didn't recede, he didn' t come closer either. I know he cares. Oh ! how much I want him to care. Its strange.we share the same land, breathe the same air, we meet often but when we meet we are farther apart. Its in his absence I feel his presence strongly. In a way I like it when I am not with him. I can have him much closer, at my will. I know I am selfish. I want all of him. I'll wait when I shall have him for  moments. And they will be frequent. I shall live a happy life, a fulfilled life. A solace to know that he owns me and I own him, in a way which the cosmos knows. Him, me and eternity. No one exists here. Utopia, one might say or some will say you both will get bored of each other. No, we are very much with people but what we share, the special place we have for each other, exists in a sweet mysterious way, a conspiracy, the universe shares.Sometimes its enough to know that he exists. I meet him in his own beingness. He does not know how often I meet him. Its a beautiful secret that I share with me. Its pain many times but I have endured. I shall wait...
                           Shashank read the letter. It had accidentally fallen off from her purse. She was in the kitchen, chatting with his sister. He wondered who this 'he' might be. And just when she came out with the coffee tray, their eyes met...in eternity and he knew it was for him. He was in a dilemma. How could anyone feel so strongly, he thought. He had never wanted to marry. He liked her company. He thought she was beautiful too. But that's it. He had plenty of other things to do. His regular Tennis sessions, his pals, the weekend booze party, the paragliding lessons he  was taking, his job, his writings, music...he loved music, played guitar at times. And then movies. Where was the time for the emotion called love ? But the words in the letter sort of bound him to her.  And she would wait ? Heck ! He hated to hurt someone and specially her. What did she mean 'own..'. How can anyone own ? Well its her feelings. But why should that bother him ? She knew his kind. Still she felt !! He felt like drawing her close and explaining what he was. But he didn't. Yes, she can wait. And he had to wati too, till he was clear about what was happening. How much of what he felt, was he comfortable with, did he really need that ? Companionship ? Now ? No these questions had to wait. He had no answer. Meanwhile he noticed the loose strand of hair slip through her forehead and onto her eyes and when she looked again, yes, he didn't see any  overt feelings. And they talked as usual and parted an hour later. Her phone rang and when she said,'Yes darling ! I am on my way...', his heart skipped a beat. He almost stopped her and asked who it was. She didn't answer, just looked at him as if searching for something in the depth of his eyes. She found nothing and she parted. He said,' I shall wait...'.

Innocence....Men

                     Anchal's mom called her up. Oh ! no, not again, she thought. Her mom had this one topic ringing in her mind, her younger son was not married yet. He stayed  in Paris. Her mom and dad had screened hundreds of 'bio-data's', sent some of the photos to Rajeev, their son, who to their dismay always rejected. The girls they liked, Rajeev did not. Simple. So once again she asked Anchal what could be the reason. Her mom had gone to temples, asked the priests, astrologers about the 'problem'. Anxiety got the better of her day by day. Anchal was worried about her hypertensive mom. So she decided she would go to her Mom's place, stay there for a month, 'see' girls for her brother and then fix one and come back. Her brother was also coming down to India.
                         Rajeev was a charmer. He had many friends who were girls and who even frequented their home. But he never went steady with anyone. Everyone wondered why ? Her mom always thought one day he will announce he's marrying someone of his choice. But that never happened. So Anchal asked him,' What's the hitch bro ?' 'Arey, ghanti tho bajna chahiye na', he said.  When I see a girl, somewhere the bell must ring Anchal.  'Well, you know what Rajeev, there was this Electronics engineer girl who was good looking, worked under Sameer (her husband), stayed with us for a day as she missed her train. And then it was a regular affair as we gelled well and she had no airs about being an Engineer, having a good job. What's more, she was intelligent too. And innocent. said Anchal. Hey ! hey ! just a moment Anchal, where is she ? I would like to meet her. Well, said Anchal, she is a Bengali and I hate to say this, she got engaged recently. What Rajeev said about the kind of girl he was looking for, intrigued Anchal. For one he was a man of varied interests. He was handsome and girls usually fell for him some of whom he had dated too. And what was he looking for ? Innocence. He said, 'Yaar mujhey bholi bhali, seedhi saadhi ladki chahiye'.( I want a girl who is innoent, naive...)
                    That triggered a chain of thoughts and Anchal remembered the day she had started feeling something special between herself and Sameer. Now Sameer had said the same words. He liked her straightforward approach and honesty. What is it with men ? Why do they want the girl they marry or a long term relationship so as to say, to be untainted, pure, almost something angelic ? Like owning up an impeccable diamond..There..ownership.They want to own. And what they own should be flawless ?
Quote Amir Khan about Kiran Rao...I love her smile and eyes....I just love the kind of person she is...She has so much integrity and honesty, that it's lovely.'

The Morning Strot

                         I hurried down the road, calculating the minutes it would take me to reach the Institute where I had taken up a new teaching assignment, I had opted the public transport of bus and rickshaws as an excuse for not exercising regularly at home. You had to walk down to the bus stop or to take an auto. So it served the purpose plus you could enjoy the FM's or listen to your favorite music as you walked down. It was a bit early in the morning though but listening to songs added rhythm to the walk and some songs sometimes triggered a chain of thoughts.
                 '.........kaheen to milengi, baharon ki manzil rahee' played in one of the radio stations. It was good to hear the song after a long time, in Lata's melodious voice. Flawless and sweet, her voice suited the Morning mood. Well, there were a line of autos with the drivers busy reading newspapers. Some places, the people are just not bothered about business. As I explained to one of them where I needed to go, he directed me to the other who pointed to the third auto. Exasperated, I finally managed to get into one of them, which sped past the grocery shops, the owners just opening shutters, the muncipality staff cleaniing the road, the dust shining like gold bathed in the early morning sun rays. The road side tea stalls were just getting ready for the morning 'chai' public. Sometimes the usual routine things which you ignore or which you just pass through, not bothering to even look at, give a sense of normalcy, i.e. a feeling of 'Yes, everything is o.k.'. The expression on people's faces while they start their morning chores, sort of telling you that 'the day had started'. The clothesline (which otherwise was a mismatch at the backdrop of the posh apartments) looked very homely today with the clothes hanging out. The city might grow with fancy apartments and glossy buildings but the 'old city' buildings, homes, have their own charm as well. Somehow they, like our aging parents, assure us of 'not everything will change in this fast paced world, some things are there to stay', sort of giving a sense of stability. The things that age before you and grow old with you are sometimes like the 'Easy chair, where you lean against and rock in peace' at times. A stressbuster perhaps ?
                  

Hello !

                            'Hello !', shouted Nishita on the phone for the 3rd time, still no response. All the why's, how's where...surrounded her mind. Why wasn't he talking ? May be the lines were not working properly. She had sent lots of messages on the phone and mail as well. No response. Strange plight in this 'wired' world. You know someone is out there seconds away from responding but still they don't. Or they preferred not to. Its all the more frustrating. Not knowing the whereabouts  is one thing and bliss, she thought.
                     She sat down to introspect. There had been an arguement between them. Oh ! how much she missed him, Why didn't he understand ? Or may be like her friend said, he may not be interested...cool. Let him go to hell then, a voice said inside. Then she did the crazy thing of tearing the leaves of a twig that was lying nearby and murmuring 'He loves, he loves me not'. Hmm ! what an impact the Bollywood has ! Said another voice. She was sitting on the grass overlooking a stream that went through the campus. Bless the greenery in the University. It was peaceful, and romantic, one more voice added. Oh ! why can't the voices inside keep quiet ? She threw some stones in the water, watching the ripples they created. How far did the ripples go ? She thought of the time when Sahil had been furious about what she had said. They were arguing about a common friend's dilemma. The girl was a Muslim, the boy a Punjabi. Should they marry ? Should they live in ? Sahil got wild when Nishita suggested they should go for live in. She aired her views openely. She was different. Many people mistook her. Strangely that didn't bother her. She thought Sahil was unusual too. He wasn't like other guys i.e. at least he didn't sound like other guys when he spoke. There was something original about him and she wanted to believe what he said sometimes. So she was surprised about the way Sahil got up and said 'Let's stop this here'. Guys get old fashioned when the lady speaks out her mind !
                     Fine she thought, I am what I am. Let him come if he is o.k. with that otherwise, I better move forward. She had an offer to go to the U.S.  That was something she was looking forward to. She reached home to find the appointment letter and she felt she had touched the sky. She reached for her cell and dialled 'his' no. again. Dammit. She cut it off before the call could materialise. She was happy she was in control at least for the first time in her life. She won't call him she decided. The heart can be convinced yes. She put on her favorite music and started to pack stuff. The flight was for 15th Jan. A good New year start....

The Escape

                          Mythili started her day as usual : share a cup of coffee with the hubby, send off the kids to school with their 'tiffins' and 'water bottle'. Then the man of the house left. Enter the maid, share a cup of tea with her, before both of them resumed their work. She then left for the bank where she worked. The older of her kids was 11 and the younger one 8. Things were going on as they do in most normal so called 'happily married couples's life'. What was different today ?
                    She had been feeling like this from past one and a half years. She wanted something 'else'. What was it ? She hadn't been able to figure out. She had good friends with whom she could share everything under the earth. But still that hadn't really helped. She had told her husband also. He just told her,'It happens at times.. Don't worry, things will be alright' plus n number of suggestions, he had given her. Men and their solutions ! Can't they be better off in this area at least after John Gray's famous Mars/Venus book ? Well so she had herself to blame for this unusual what would you call it ? urge ? desire ? need ? want ? The urge to be free, the desire to do the irrational/absurd/go wild, the need to be recognised a bit more, the want of a meaningful life ? Well she wanted all of these and at times only some of these. But it was the last which she wanted most of all. Why all of a sudden this when she was supposed to be 'happy' in the conventional sense ? Sweety heard her and had a hearty laugh. She had suggested going on a long drive, with a couple of girls and have a blast. Which they did. My ! an awesome time they had giggling and laughing till their sides ached. Ya ! that had been wonderful.
                     But can't it be like that everyday ? Oh ! this thought was eating her up. For once she even thought of contacting a counsellor. She had googled a lot too. What did it say ? Middle age crisis ? She didn't know whether it was that but she desperately needed to find a solution. One morning while she was taking the regular walk in the garden near her house, the idea popped up. She thought of taking the 'all women' trip organised by some travel agencies much to the chagrin of her husband and kids. But she managed to convince them  and went for a heavenly fifteen days get away to a hill station and surroundings. The first few days were exhilarating to the spirit, the mountains, the fresh air, the birds, that bliss called life in various natural forms. But day 8 she started missing her folks back home. She felt a bit guilty of leaving them behind. Why this escape from the people she loved, she asked herself. She had no answers. The need to be alone, just be oneself was so overriding that she felt it was worth spending rest of the days nourishing her soul with what she liked to do most. No sin there.
                        She came back rejuvenated, perhaps for a while. There would be answers like these in future too.

The Trip abroad

                                  'Finally the tickets have arrived', thought Kim. She felt exhilarated as well as apprehensive about the trip she was goiing to commence next week, with her son. It was going to be her first International trip. She always had the little voices of doubt squeaking inside but which she always managed to overcome and come out a winner everytime in any situation. Her sister had told her a hundred times over the phone how to find her way out of Dubai International Airport if there was no aerobridge available. Her son had almost memorised that. So she made sure she noted everything in a small diary, She had shopped a bit for the travel. The flight was at 4 am on Monday. She returnce from work on Saturday to find her son not feeling well.
                                 Heck ! Now what she thought and took him to the doctor who of course prescribed medicines. Poor li'l chap she mused. He looked down as against the peppy look he should have had on his face as he was so excited ! Anyway, the D- day arrived. They were at the Mumbai international airport which was four hrs drive from the township they lived. They were there by 1.00 a.m. (3 hours before the departure, all internationsl flights, her son reminded). Though he wasn't his ususal self, he didn't much groan about the throat pain he was having. Then started the 'Q' ordeal of immigration check. She read the form she had to fill up. Keeping the bags on a side, ( no coolies here to have the luxury of someone carrying the luggage for you, how convenient train travel is, she thought). Her son started grumbling. He was tired of standing. She asked him to sit down. 'Where ? On the floor ?' he said, 'No, Mamma, I won't'. Oh ! god these kids !, she was feeling as it is jittery.  She said,' C'mmon baby please co-operate. Don't get on my nerves. Sit down on the floor. It's o.k.' She didn't like to tell him sit on the bare cold floor with the state he was in but no choice. The price to be paid for international travel. Why can't they keep some chairs here, she thought. So she continued with the queue and her son kept on walking/sitting moving side by side. The immigration form filled, she looked around to check what fellow 'quemates' were doing. One guy behind her was struggling to read the form. He appeared lost.So many out here can't understand English at all, she wondered. Since she had to kill time, she asked the guy if she could help him and he like a core Martian replied 'No'. She said. 'O.K.' and once again pondered over 'Men mentality' ! After five minutes, the guy asked her if she could fill the 'Ration card form'. She told him, it was an immigation form and explained its purpose. To her horror, she found, he was bound for Riyadh and had to go en-route Dubai, but he had ticket only till Dubai. She asked him and he said he was going to take up a job in Riyadh and an agent had arranged. Meanwhile her turn came for the Immigration check and she guided him to approach the help desk. She was asked to go through ...6. She only partly heard that but instead of clarifying, went ahead in the line. She asked her son where the numeral 6 was. She couldn't find any sign board up. He said,' Mom, look down on the floor there'. And there it was 6 written within a circle on the floor. Children can be so useful at times, she thought. Moreover, her son was sitting on the floor. Well they were out through the gate and into the Boeing 747 of Emirates and her son was an altogether a transformed personaliy. He got busy checking the T.V. found that he could log in and stuff and very happily chatted with the Air hostess, tied the seat belt as if he was an Emirates regular. Hey ! Nick, few hours before you were a sorry face and what happened now ? The joy written all over his face, wiped off whatever nervousness she was having and he said,' Mom ! I am hungry. When do they serve us breakfast ?' Boys will always be hungry ! She laughed at his question and sat down relaxed with her son at the window. Nick wanted her to shop online on board. She said no.
                                 Well the flight took off and the food served was good. Nick was elated about the information on the TV screen about the height they were flying at. He chatted non stop and she wondered where all his throat pain had vanished. Anyway he was happy and she felt at peace. The giant started descending and she looked out of the window apprehensively ( she was scared of heights ) and saw multitude of twinkling lights. Dubai was waking up to yet another morning and she was touching a foreign ground first time. Wasn't it a special feeling ? They got into the bus after alighting and her son held her hand when it stopped for the transit passengers to get down. 'Remember, what Maasi told not to get down at the first stop, the bus takes ?'. Well they reached the gate and the 'Marhaba' service was really good. You need to pay extra and you are escorted out by a staff who does all the paper work,  issues the visa and leaves you right where your folks have come to pick you up. No hassels. She almost ran on seeing her dad and sister.
                             Everything looked beautiful and clean. The Sheikh Zayed rd, the Marina, the Burj Al Arab, the various cornishes, the gold souk, the Crown plaza, geysers at Al Ain and most of all the Desert Safari apart from the various malls to shop around. Her son enjoyed the Ski Dubai the most. She wanted to stay back forever. Now that the Burj Khaleefa was ready, as she reminisced about her last trip, she wanted to make one more trip to see the giant.

I am...

                        Siddarth Bakshi, said the person next to me, while introducing himself at a conference hosted by the University where I worked as an Associate Professor. 'And I am Sneha Menon', I said shaking his hand. He was the Director of a Pharma major, 'The Global Med'. The conferences were a kind of respite for us, to mingle with people, some of them interesting and some of them very serious like the research papers they presented. Well free food throughout the 3-4 days or a week if it was an International Symposium, with nothing to do but to look important by pinning the VIP badges, supervising certain things and best of all breathe tons of fresh campus air instead of the classroom-air circulated by generations old ceiling fans that had yellow blades. The students also looked sharp, well dressed and behaviour at their best, scurrying here and there, ever ready to be of help to any of us, eager to do what was said as compared to the submission of Assignments on time. For once we were all comrades all set to welcome our guests, make them feel at home in the academically charged environment.
                Well, Siddarth was saying something like, '..........Its a Hirani-Abhijit Joshi film...no questions....' and I came out of my reverie.
Me- What did you say Siddarth ?
S- I was talking about the famous '3 idiots'...Its only 5 % of Bhagat's '5 poing someone'.
Me- Well, I disagree. I have read it. I watched the film too but sorry, I didn't find anything new in what I saw. It was as if the book was being picturised with bits of Hindi cinema gimmicks thrown in.
S- Hey ! do you know what goes into writing a script, creating the scenes, directing it etc. ? In fact Hirani had the idea  earlier in his mind. So '5 point..' provided nothing but the typical college campus episodes.
Me- Well, I don't deny the efforts put in by script writer-director etc. but for me who watched the movie, I would say the book does have a major influence on the film. In fact you feel the spirit of '5 point someone'.
S-That's what happens when one reads the book and then sees the movie. See how much you have been influenced by the book.
Me- Excuse me ! I thoroughly enjoyed the book while I read (except for the four letter word used generously throughout the book as if to give an 'Angrezi' appeal, wonder if that is a hallmark of IIT-IIM students ? ). And who but a student in the campus can give the real account of what happens in the psyche of a hosteler in the Technological institutes. Its easy to write a script once the nitty gritty is there...
                    And it went on. I mean the discussion. While Siddarth stuck to logistics, I couldn't bring myself to neglect between the juicy entertainment the book supplied while reading and the same episodes being shown in 3 dimensions. I mean I think I ought to see the movie one more time in order to appreciate the film in terms of direction etc. Chatur and Phunsuk Wangdu are Hirani's wonderful creations. However one feels the essence of '5 pt someone' while watching the film.