Her mischievous grin

He was sitting in his car admiring the river flow by ahead of him. He didn’t know when he had stopped by the bridge, or for how long had he been staring at the river. The river with all of its calm flow and huge size seemed serene. He smiled, and pulled the car out in reverse before taking it to the main road. In just a few moments he had driven over the bridge and then took the right turn as he approached it. It would take him towards the mall where he had planned to watch a movie with her.

Her. Her, is where his brain would stop working on other things for a moment and just think about her. Her. He tried to take his mind of her for a while since he was driving. It was as empty road ahead except for the odd car or two far away. Since such empty roads were hard to come by at such times, he made good use of them and reached the mall much earlier than he had thought. After parking the car outside, he went towards the ticket counter to collect the tickets. He had already booked the tickets online and just showed the sms before signing on the receipt and taking his tickets.

Before he could wonder about what to do next, he could make out a white car coming towards the mall. It looked like her car from afar. As the car came closer it did not turn towards the mall parking but kept going on the road ahead. He shrugged and walked towards the coffee shop. He opened the door and walked towards his favorite spot near the glass pane. It was a wonderful spot as one could see the roads outside, and smell the aroma of the coffee coming from the coffee machine nearby. There was no lingering aroma today though but the barista was busy making something. He signaled for his usual to be brought to him. He calmly sipped his coffee and waited for her to arrive while lost in his thoughts.

A few moments later he could see her coming out of the parking. He walked into the atrium towards her signaling for her with a wave. She was talking on her cell but nodded her head after seeing him wave. His mind began to focus on her again. This time he was looking at her lips move such effortlessly as she spoke and felt that he could just stand there and watch her talk for long and admire the motion of her lips. He began to feel an urge to kiss her.

‘Not like this,’ he thought ‘tell her about it first. Tell her what she makes you feel.’

“Did I make you wait for long?”

“Nope not much, got here early enough to have a coffee though. Let’s go.”

He walked ahead but she didn’t walk with him, and just stood there with a smile on her face. He went back and tried to pull her by her hand. He tried to, but his hand just passed through. He didn’t realize it at first and tried to pull her hand, but it passed through again. He had a look of wonder on his face, as he looked up at her face. She had a mischievous grin on her face now. He couldn’t understand what was happening, and tried to pull her hand again. As his hand passed through hers, she disappeared in a puff of smoke. He stood there, shocked.

“Come on Rahul, aren’t we getting late?” She called him with the same impish grin and a wave. She was now standing behind him.

“What are you doing?” He tried to touch her waving hand again, but the moment he touched it she disappeared in smoke again.

“What happened Rahul? Why aren’t you coming?” and she appeared to his right.

This time she didn’t wait for him to touch her but disappeared again as soon as he turned.

Rahul didn’t know how to react as she kept coming and disappearing in clouds of smoke all around the atrium. His eyes just kept following her eyes. Her eyes that were full of mischief.

“Get up.”

“HHmnmnmn”, he grunted.

“Get up, I need to put this sheet away for washing.”

He turned around to see his mom come in to focus. He took a moment to check his surroundings. He was in his bed and his mother was pulling the sheet off. It had all been a dream. He got up and sat on the edge of the bed wondering about this dream. While his mom was talking something about the sheet, he was still under shock from what had happened in this dream. He didn’t collect anything of what was being told but just nodded before going to the bathroom. He had a nice long cold shower while he tried not to think about the dream. He quietly had his breakfast and kissed his mom on the forehead before leaving for the movie. He told her that since he was going for a movie, he wouldn’t be coming home for lunch.

He took out his car and drove towards the mall. Had it not been for the traffic that was normal for this hour, he would have been there earlier. He parked his car, and slowly walked towards the ticket counter. She was already standing there waiting for him. He collected the tickets before walking towards her. She was smiling at him. Just a regular smile at seeing someone familiar and quite unlike the grin he dreamt of. They hugged when he came close, and he held on to her for a moment longer than he normally would.

He wanted to tell her about the dream, and what he felt about her. He tried to reassure himself that she was real in that extra moment with her. But instead he just felt afraid.

A Hug Award/Tag

It’s been a long time since someone tagged me for a blog. Since this comes from a blogger whose posts I enjoy reading, I am having an early go at it. So this is also me saying a thank you to Vishal for his hug to me.

 The questions are as follows:  

1. What is the meaning of life? In simple terms, I believe that the meaning of life is to exist and be happy with it.

2. Happiness is all about? Happiness has always meant different things at different times. When I was very young, it meant having a bowl of Maggi (which stands true to this day as well). As I grew older it meant getting good marks in the school tests, and later it meant being able to play cricket without making an ass out of myself. At one time it meant being able to finish all of school work and get to snuggle with any of the Harry Potter books (which to this day makes my mum roll her eyes). Gradually it meant more things, like receiving a Google chat ping from a particular someone, making a presentation at work, and being at Barista with friends and chatting away. Right now happiness means to go through the day without having to shrug something off and cooking a new dish.

3. Why did you start a blog? I felt the urge to write. I had once maintained a collection of the short stories and poems I had written in a book that I misplaced, so I took to online logs. I came to know of blogging where I could not only write, but read things other people wrote. Soon, it became a box of wonders and happiness.

4. What is more important in your life relationships or fame? I will be honest here, I do enjoy fame. Ever since I was young, fame in the school or later in college and now work. I like to be famous, to be known for the things that I do or can do. However fame from people I do not know can bring only a temporary joy. Hence if you ask to me think over it, I will choose relationships. One may not have loads of fame, but if you have good relationships then it will be all worthwhile.

5. One thing which you like the most about blogging? The people I come to know. Many of my friends, people on FB, are there because I came to know of them through blogging. Some of you are just awesome people, and should take a bow. Some of you are people whom I have not yet met in person, but I know about your life through what you share with me on the blogs and Facebook.

6. What’s the best decision you ever made? Buying capris. India can get hot many times, and Capris are a welcome relief for me. I would wear them throughout the year had it not been for the chilly winds in mid-winter that travel up them and try to freeze my privates. Seriously speaking though, they are so comfortable.

7. Do you believe that unconditional love really exists in any kind of relationship? No. Love cannot be unconditional. Sometimes we think that love is unconditional when the person being loved does all sorts of things that the lover may not like or would pain them, but the lover still continues to love them. That is not unconditional love that just means that the object/person of their love still means a lot to them. They would gladly go through that pain because they still value their love (or are flipping idiots to stay in an abusive relationship)

8. What would be your first reaction if your physician recommends you to see a psychologist? Hain?! Yup, that is what I would say. Of course it would be interest me to all sorts of levels to understand why my physician thinks that I must visit a psychologist, and more so of inputs the psychologist would give me. I would want to get a second opinion of a different psychologist and see what they say as well.

9. Do you believe in Karma, if yes then what are bad and good karma according to you? Yes. Karma is nothing but what you do and allow to happen. People around us see what we do and allow to happen, and take that as to what we are ok with. They in turn do the same to us. Sometimes karma can come from intentions as well as from results of our actions. I may intend for something bad to happen for a person, but my acts can lead to something good happening for them (or the other way around).

10. Do you believe in rebirth or afterlife if yes then why? I have stopped trying to actively think about it. I am in no way qualified or of expertise to comment on this, since I don’t know anyone who has come been reborn or is in afterlife. What if afterlife doesn’t have a way for us to communicate with them? What if afterlife is the things we imagine as fiction? What if once we die, we just die and cease to exist while only a select few of us get an afterlife? What if there is not afterlife? So this is only a ‘what if?’ and loads of questions to think about for me.

11. What is the best moment of your life? It is difficult to zero in on one particular moment, as there have been many such moments for me (and are for everyone). However if I think about it, then the one best moment of my life is when I began to think for myself. I don’t know when that moment came for me and when it is for you, but there is a moment from which you can think for yourself. You can think that what is right and wrong, what can or does make you feel happy or sad. The moment when you know can want a particular thing, when you can express desire. When you can be the ‘I’ in ‘I am’, it is that moment that I speak of.


As per the tag, I nominate this tag/hug to few people. I may miss some of you guys, but these are the people that come to my mind for this right now:
  Shail Di
  Ushu
  Hitchy/Supremo
  Ms. Dey
  Rinzu
  Pixie
  Cracking Saks (who is as of now on an indefinite blog composing hibernation)
  Ritu
  IHM
  R's Mom

 If you’re reading this and want to do this (tagged or not), please let me know of the link so that I can connect it to this post.

Will you marry me?

Dearest,

When one thinks of marriage and all the ceremonies that are associated with it, one can traditionally come up with images of gatherings of friends and family. The ceremonies beforehand, new clothes, festivities, the 7 rounds about the fire as the priest chants or the bride in a bright white gown with the groom in a black suit as the minister declares them man and wife and so on. The reception after that with the wedded couple on the stage as people take turns to wish them and pose for a photograph with the gifts they carry, and everyone smiling all around. It is indeed a wonderful sight to imagine with you in a sari and me in a sherwani.

Except, that it is not why and how I would want to marry you. I want you for how you are in your everyday. Yes, we will look better in our wedding dresses, having selected what to wear after careful choosing and scrutiny, with many man hours of effort in making us look better than we normally do. But, people don’t appreciate the effort in the everyday as much as I do. How you effortlessly carry off your daily sense of wearing. You don’t wear a sari in your everyday, but have you looked at yourself when you wear your daily clothes? Of course you have, but you haven’t looked at yourself from my eyes. There is a sense of awe I feel when I look at you in your everyday because in it your apparent effortlessness tries to hide the effort of the day to day. I find a trace of accomplishment in you that comes with being comfortable in one’s skin. When I say I want to marry you, it is this you that I want to marry. It is not the marriage of the sari clad and the sherwani clad that interests me, but that of you in your jeans and tee and me in my capris and shirt.

I understand wanting to celebrate it with our friends and family as one does at all occasions. I however, at times feel that marriage ceremonies are mostly like societal approval. I don’t want their consent to marry you, I want yours. I want to celebrate being together with you first, and friends and family later. I don’t think that my vows to you will be any more sacred with the holy fire as witness will be any more sacred than the ones I make to you when we’re alone in person. I never have believed, that having a fire or holy chants while we take our vows make our relation any stronger. It is the efforts that we put in the everyday that will make or break it, not the seven rounds we take around the holy fire as people shower us with flower petals and our parents get teary eyed. I definitely want to get a legal marriage certificate, as that would enable me to extend benefits like insurance and other things to you as it serves an advantage in my eyes.

So yes, if you want to celebrate with a large wedding then we will have that done. But marry me before you do in front of the rest of world. Let what it means to be ours, before it is so theirs.

My dearest, will you marry me?

We respect husbands more than wives

The term ‘you’ is a universal term in the English language in the sense that you can use it independently of the person’s sex, age, position, etc. You may be calling out a boy or a girl, your boss or your subordinate; it is still ‘you’. This however, is not the case when it comes to Hindi. In Hindi there are two different terms, namely ‘Tu’ and ‘Aap’. ‘Tu’ is used when addressing some one of the same age/position as yourself or lower while ‘Aap’ is used for someone who is older and/or commands respect.

 Long time ago I was watching a movie with mom when the lead character while talking to his mother, addressed her as ‘Tu’. I began to take notice of this and observed that in many cases the father would be addressed as ‘Aap’ while the mother was addressed as ‘Tu’. This had me totally miffed, and I asked mom why it was acceptable to address the father with more respect than the mother as both are equally parents to a child and cheekily asked if I should be calling her ‘Tu’ now. She thought over it a bit and said that because kids bond over more with their mom while they are bring brought up instead of dad, they think of mom as a friend and confidante and hence address her as ‘Tu’.

 I raised a brow in apprehension and asked her what about the families where kids bond with their dads too, and consider him as friends. To that we don’t have an answer. In fact kids don’t bond with dad so much (because the dad is away due to work or other reasons such as resting after  being back from Over time , social activities, etc.) he is more of a distant character. As one never gets to have as free a hand with him as mom, and must behave in his presence to not disturb him, he commands more respect and gets addressed as ‘Aap’. Which is also why you will have many people who refer to their moms as Ma, mom, etc, but refer to their dad as Pitaji, Babuji, and so on with the ji being added to convey respect.

 This however is not just the matter of kids addressing their parents but a matter of the dynamics of a man and woman in a relationship. I have seen couples call each other ‘Tu’ before marriage and have the girl shift to calling the guy ‘Aap’ post marriage. Many a times he doesn’t have to ask to be called so, but the wife calls him so by default. In the event that she calls him ‘Tu’ as an equal (because horror of horrors, a wife and husband are to be equal in their relationship), someone from the family or friends will take her aside and go “HAAAWWW!! You should call your husband Aap, show some respect.”

 You get many people who tell the wife to show the husband respect. Show some respect, yes, but why should she not be respected as well?

 For those of you who are wondering, I still call address mom with an 'Aap'

Quiet Conversations

He was walking down the road when he crossed her shop. He had stopped momentarily with no intention walking in when with his next breath he took in the fresh, warm aroma of hot cake. The kind that makes you take a deep breath and fills you with warmth and joy. He walked in, guided by his nose and saw her laying the cakes out. He gestured with his finger for one and she smiled as she put one on plate for him. He sat down and took a small bite while she smiled in return at his happy smile.

Written for 100 words on Saturday - Week 9 Prompt: Quiet Conversations

A proud owner of a custom RM painted tee

Quite some time ago I came across RM’s blog when she had commented something about Baroda on a friend’s post. RM stands for R’s Mom, simply because she has girl whose name starts with R.  Soon I began frequenting her blog. Apart from bringing up R with RD (R’s Dad), she known for blogging, reading, rolling eyes, and making awesome sambhar. Few of her blog posts also mention about her painting tee shirts as a hobby. These are in Warali designs and she mostly makes them for R, friends’ kids and nephews/nieces. One fine day I happened to request her to paint a tee for me as well. Being the nice person that she is, she said she would do it as long as I sent her a tee of the right size. This makes sense because imagine the horror that would happen if she painted on an L size tee when I am clearly a size XXL. I would have to exercise loads and drop sizes to fit in that tee. So I promptly ordered a tee online to be shipped to her, which she painted and sent me back. Ladies and gentlemen I am now the proud owner of a custom RM painted tee shirt. *Applause**Readers look in envy**some readers will now roll their eyes*

 

 Moving from left to right, on the top is a chain of people holding hands and guys on the left have started doing the wave. Below that we have an adventurous guy who has jumped of a plane, which is flying into an unsuspecting bird ahead. Now we see a bunch of balls lying to cushion said guy’s landing, a reflection of the sun and a tree of fireworks (maybe for successfully parachute jumping off the plane). The last row has a bunch of herbs which will be used for cooking a feast, a guy with a really long arm trying to empty a bottle of chilli sauce in to a pot while another person tries to stop him as a headless horse is just being itself and walking around trying to be away from whatever explodes from the cooking vessel. When I first opened the tee I had held it sideways and the last bit looked like an octopus tentacle to me, which on holding the tee properly I realized is a train on a mountain. I will still pretend that it is an octopus tentacle.

 Thank you RM for such a wonderful tee, I hope you go professional with your tee shirt painting and it becomes a success. :D

When a three year old is raped by her father

This is the story of Isabel (name changed), a girl who was raped by her father when she was three years old. Please let this sink in to you, she was raped by her own father when she was three years old.I found this news piece while surfing twitter.

This is about the trial of a French foreign ministry employee Pascal Mazuriera against whom his wife Suja Jones has filed a complaint for raping their daughter. Isabel had been telling this to her but she couldn’t bring herself to believe it at first. Finally Isabel was able to reach to her mother who had her tested who told that

“He made bobo on my zheezhee (hurt my genitals).”“He put something filthy in my mouth.” 

According to the tests done, Isabel had “genital lacerations, rectal gaping, an absent hymen, and sperm in her vagina”. It was when these results came out that Suja Jones finally filed a case against her husband. On filing the case this is the advice she was given by a police woman:

‘In our families, we don’t take this kind of thing outside,’ recalls Jones. “She said I should have found a way to ‘help him’ myself.”

Please explain to me how this is just a family matter. Rape is a serious crime, and like all crimes should be reported and after an investigation and trial the rapist must be punished. By hushing rape up and keeping it as a family matter you are only letting the rapist know that he can get away with it. This will not help.

 Although initially a happily married couple with the husband showing no such signs, there were some developing traits that should have rung bells. Suja Jones says that “I thought he was amazing and I was nobody. I let him decide things, even things like who the children could or could not play with. It was subtle, but he was the boss.” A relationship is about two equals and one cannot dictate or be the boss.

 According to Jones, sometime after the birth of Isabel her husband turned violent. She says he hit their oldest son and he hit her twice during a pregnancy. Mazurier needed hospital treatment after hurting his own hand by pounding on a door she was hiding behind with the children.

 Violence is never a part of a relationship. You are never safe around a person who hits your children and you, pregnant or not. These are tell-tale signs of an abusive person who can snap at anything which he may deem as a provocation and lash out.

 Suja Jones also says , “The man I loved, who was a good husband in a respectable position, held by many in such high regard. I thought ‘if he says it was the soap that hurt her, then of course it was the soap that hurt her and how wrong of me to pay attention to what Isabel was saying”

A person maybe of high public regard or someone you love but that does not mean that he is not a rapist. Listen to the person who is telling you about it even if she happens to be your three your girl. In spite of what we may think kids can recognize a wrong touch from a normal touch. A person’s social status or regard has no bearing on what he does when he is left alone with someone. This is especially so when people tend to hush up rape.  

What irks me the most though is this:

“When a woman is raped,” says 38-year-old Jones, who was born and raised in Calcutta, “it is her own fault. When a little girl is raped, it is the mother’s fault.”

When a woman is raped it is NOT her fault. When a little girl is raped, it is NOT her fault. It is the RAPIST who is responsible. Stop with the victim blaming. Stop people from raping, do not ask people to stop themselves from being raped.