365 days!!!
Smile Please. My first snap of the year 2009 taken on 1st of January resembles to that taken on 31st December. It just resembles and is not the same. Why does this happen??? In a matter of 365 days, have i changed? The truckloads of laughter and spoons of tears, the quilts of happiness and shower of blessings, changes a lot many things, every year. The resolutions and the promises done in the New Year change their meaning as you approach the year end. The things you craved for in the first half, no longer holds any importance to you in the later one.
And the last day, the 31st, makes you feel that the entire year was an unopened gift, which you won’t be allowed to open in the next year. So folks make a plan to wine and dine, to make up for the past. But does this one day will make any difference to time gone by? Or in other words, will just one day cover up all the 365 days? Will it bring back the January you decided to fly kites with those school friends of yours? Or that October when you missed your mom’s birthday?
But celebrations on this last day, is an attempt to make up for the past, which is good for sure. But can on this eve of New Year, can we promise ourselves, that this celebration will not end. Not at least in our hearts. If I forget my mom’s birthday, I will celebrate whenever I remember it. Even if she is thousands of miles away, then I will gather my friends and relatives and celebrate wherever I am. Positive vibes will fly away to her, making her feel good. This year I wont let the spirit of companionship die. This will go on for years. A revolutions of sorts that sure gonna bring good times.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
that unknown phase
I went there. Although i feared the anonymity of the place, yet it being the last resort, i went there. The place was not much crowded, just a few groups chatting among themselves. They didn't notice that i had come. As i rambled through the crowd, i started searching for familiar faces. I knew that there were none. But i think it's a human tendency to find someone familiar, a creeper, to whom he can relate in this abstract world. Just a few steps away, there were scores of shacks selling everything that the world needs. But only a few found their takers. Because everyone doesn't need everything, everyday.
Soon the whispers transformed into murmurs. The crowd started staring in a particular direction. A lady dressed like a princess, was approaching us. Her divine smile knew no bounds. She glanced here and there and everywhere, every little corner...as if she is blessing us all. She was passing the crowd and within a few moments, she was out of sight. Her appearance made me sure, this was the familiar face i was looking for. My eyes pierced the crowd, but she was nowhere to be found. She made me think. Was she a part of this crowd, or she existed just in my thoughts!! A reality or a fantasy. Even the crowd appeared normal, no whispers, nothing; as if nothing had happened. Where is the lady? Noone answered me. At least, one thing was for sure. She was no less than an angel. If only, i was her.
My feet took me towards the stores. An array of accesories greeted me. Of all, what caught my eye was a multicolor kaftan. The colors, texture and its feel reminded me of something. Something very distant. As if, I fell in a deep well. It was somewhat odd but also familiar at the same time. I felt relaxed. A shrieking cry broke the spell casted on me. A small girl had slipped off the parapet of the terrace but was caught by a man standing below. Probably the wailing lady at the parapet is her mother. She rushed past the terrace and in no time, took the custody of her daughter from that Stranger. This incident had built a strong relation between two unknown persons. An hour ago, both were strangers...But now, they have a connection. The crowd started dispersing. And in no time, got involved in its own work.
I was compelled to buy the kaftan. i wore it then and there, reminiscing my childhood. As i moved towards the bridge, my mind wandered to the girl who slipped off the terrace. Her mother's shreik was an evident enough that she was afraid of losing her baby. Then why the same mother doesn't shreik when she bids farewell to her daughter. Why does she is eagerly waiting to loose her daughter to the big bad world out there. Perhaps, she thinks that just as the man who caught her daughter when she slipped from the terrace, her daughter's husband will save her whenever she falls.
My thoughts took me to the bridge. I stood near the grill, watching the blue waves. Life, to me, seems an endless wait. Need for something or someone occupies our mind. This time, i wanted space. A space to breathe, with no questions occupying my mind space. In the morning, i moved out of the house. Not leaving it forever, but at least leaving it for time being. That time, i dint know the time i would return. So i silently moved out. Noone in my family knew i was here. The daily ordeal at home had brought me to this bridge. I think this was to break the shackles of routine. For this, the bridge is a perfect place. Just like its name, it bridges the gap between my soul and my mind. It answers many a questions which get dumped in the old trunk. i began emptying the trunk. My thoughts were dumped at the end of it. Many a things above them had occupied my mind. They uncovered exposing my true self to me.
This morning was so odd. I had felt so lonely when i was leaving the home. The market which i visit everyday, seemed quite different too. I felt as if everyone was watching me with questions in their eyes. This is the same market that welcomes me everyday. Then why such behaviour today? Is it because, i was on my own today? i felt as if the crowd knew my inhibitions. Or it might be due to my inhibitions that i felt the crowd different. Also that divine lady. She seemed like my other self. However much i deny, but sometimes deep in my heart, i want the crowd to talk about me when i pass. Then that multicolor kaftan which resembled my colorful childhood which i miss. Again that lady resembled my mother who is worried about her daughter.
Why is it that we keep on craving for things? Its like one thing takes us to the other. This reminds me of a poem which i was ask to mug in my childhood. Without understanding its meaning, i jotted it down in my diary..but now when i read it, i know this is the state of every mind these days.
"For a want of nail, the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe the horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the want of a horseshoe nail"
Our wants ensure us that we are doomed, or atleast make us feel that we are. Why is it that. It starts from a tiny one like just needing a means to commute which suddenly trasforms into a Merc or a Limo.
My stream of consciousness took me into a distant land. Only to be tapped by a passer by to move, as i was blocking the way. I hurriedly stood to brush my clothes. With the passer by, even the lonely bridge had a companion. But the bridge knows, this is ephemeral. This is the same with people in our lives, who come and go, leaving an impression on our minds, sometimes good, other times bad, which is judged by the life as and when it unfolds. Cause today's bad might be tomorrow's good or the other way round.
I refolded my stole and smiled at the ocean (after all, till now he knew all my secrets) The waves bowed as if asking me to hug them. I did. I waved them and found myself walking towards home.
Soon the whispers transformed into murmurs. The crowd started staring in a particular direction. A lady dressed like a princess, was approaching us. Her divine smile knew no bounds. She glanced here and there and everywhere, every little corner...as if she is blessing us all. She was passing the crowd and within a few moments, she was out of sight. Her appearance made me sure, this was the familiar face i was looking for. My eyes pierced the crowd, but she was nowhere to be found. She made me think. Was she a part of this crowd, or she existed just in my thoughts!! A reality or a fantasy. Even the crowd appeared normal, no whispers, nothing; as if nothing had happened. Where is the lady? Noone answered me. At least, one thing was for sure. She was no less than an angel. If only, i was her.
My feet took me towards the stores. An array of accesories greeted me. Of all, what caught my eye was a multicolor kaftan. The colors, texture and its feel reminded me of something. Something very distant. As if, I fell in a deep well. It was somewhat odd but also familiar at the same time. I felt relaxed. A shrieking cry broke the spell casted on me. A small girl had slipped off the parapet of the terrace but was caught by a man standing below. Probably the wailing lady at the parapet is her mother. She rushed past the terrace and in no time, took the custody of her daughter from that Stranger. This incident had built a strong relation between two unknown persons. An hour ago, both were strangers...But now, they have a connection. The crowd started dispersing. And in no time, got involved in its own work.
I was compelled to buy the kaftan. i wore it then and there, reminiscing my childhood. As i moved towards the bridge, my mind wandered to the girl who slipped off the terrace. Her mother's shreik was an evident enough that she was afraid of losing her baby. Then why the same mother doesn't shreik when she bids farewell to her daughter. Why does she is eagerly waiting to loose her daughter to the big bad world out there. Perhaps, she thinks that just as the man who caught her daughter when she slipped from the terrace, her daughter's husband will save her whenever she falls.
My thoughts took me to the bridge. I stood near the grill, watching the blue waves. Life, to me, seems an endless wait. Need for something or someone occupies our mind. This time, i wanted space. A space to breathe, with no questions occupying my mind space. In the morning, i moved out of the house. Not leaving it forever, but at least leaving it for time being. That time, i dint know the time i would return. So i silently moved out. Noone in my family knew i was here. The daily ordeal at home had brought me to this bridge. I think this was to break the shackles of routine. For this, the bridge is a perfect place. Just like its name, it bridges the gap between my soul and my mind. It answers many a questions which get dumped in the old trunk. i began emptying the trunk. My thoughts were dumped at the end of it. Many a things above them had occupied my mind. They uncovered exposing my true self to me.
This morning was so odd. I had felt so lonely when i was leaving the home. The market which i visit everyday, seemed quite different too. I felt as if everyone was watching me with questions in their eyes. This is the same market that welcomes me everyday. Then why such behaviour today? Is it because, i was on my own today? i felt as if the crowd knew my inhibitions. Or it might be due to my inhibitions that i felt the crowd different. Also that divine lady. She seemed like my other self. However much i deny, but sometimes deep in my heart, i want the crowd to talk about me when i pass. Then that multicolor kaftan which resembled my colorful childhood which i miss. Again that lady resembled my mother who is worried about her daughter.
Why is it that we keep on craving for things? Its like one thing takes us to the other. This reminds me of a poem which i was ask to mug in my childhood. Without understanding its meaning, i jotted it down in my diary..but now when i read it, i know this is the state of every mind these days.
"For a want of nail, the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe the horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the want of a horseshoe nail"
Our wants ensure us that we are doomed, or atleast make us feel that we are. Why is it that. It starts from a tiny one like just needing a means to commute which suddenly trasforms into a Merc or a Limo.
My stream of consciousness took me into a distant land. Only to be tapped by a passer by to move, as i was blocking the way. I hurriedly stood to brush my clothes. With the passer by, even the lonely bridge had a companion. But the bridge knows, this is ephemeral. This is the same with people in our lives, who come and go, leaving an impression on our minds, sometimes good, other times bad, which is judged by the life as and when it unfolds. Cause today's bad might be tomorrow's good or the other way round.
I refolded my stole and smiled at the ocean (after all, till now he knew all my secrets) The waves bowed as if asking me to hug them. I did. I waved them and found myself walking towards home.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Damned
The best brains together with weight gains
Says who???
Talks like a parrot, eats like a carrot
Cares who???
There’s no tomorrow, so today I borrow
Minds who?
Nuthins so great in life to be
But they say life itself is
Soo soo great
I might like a mango. But they don’t
So this makes me an outcast
It’s the herd that is to be followed
And pride that is to be swallowed
My life’s movie has a background score
It sometimes slow, other times a roar
Listen no comments, bear no brunt
Feel and forget everything upfront
This is my life, no sweet no sour
Attitude will take me very very far
Ohh my my i am so late now
For the time being, it’s ciao
Says who???
Talks like a parrot, eats like a carrot
Cares who???
There’s no tomorrow, so today I borrow
Minds who?
Nuthins so great in life to be
But they say life itself is
Soo soo great
I might like a mango. But they don’t
So this makes me an outcast
It’s the herd that is to be followed
And pride that is to be swallowed
My life’s movie has a background score
It sometimes slow, other times a roar
Listen no comments, bear no brunt
Feel and forget everything upfront
This is my life, no sweet no sour
Attitude will take me very very far
Ohh my my i am so late now
For the time being, it’s ciao
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Three Jewels
It is a cold December evening in the holy city of Gangtok. The market place is full of tourists and cows. The vendors are screaming at the top of their voices. Jishu is sitting alone in the confines of his shop. He owns an Antiques Showroom, which he acquired from his late father. Business is good. Feeding his family is not much of a problem, as he is unmarried, even though he is 46. He just has an ailing mother to take care of, back home. Jishu was always fond of antiques. Not just because his father owned the showroom. He simply liked them. There was always something unsaid about each one of the antiques in the showroom, which he could feel, yet could not express in mere words. There was one in particular, a Buddha bust, below which were engraved the words:
Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami
He could never figure out what that phrase actually meant. He was not ignorant of the word meaning of the phrase. It meant, ‘I am going to Lord Buddha’s sharan.’ However, that was surely not, what it actually meant. Jishu wondered, ‘How can one just isolate one’s family and all belongings and leave for Lord’s sharan? Wasn’t it the duty of the head of the family to take care of all, rather than leaving them at destiny’s cradle?’
A sharp cry suddenly brought him back to reality. All thoughts of Buddha and his sharan vanished into thin air. With a faint thud, all the lights went off. The entire street felt ghostly. A sudden chaos emerged from the crowd ahead of him on the streets. The very crowd, which was cheerful and joyous just moments ago, suddenly began to panic. It was stark dark out there. Candles lit up soon. The murmuring increased.
In the midst of it all Jishu was surprised how beautiful the street looked with just a few candles that lit it... Soft light spread the entire street and particular incense relaxed him. The sound of his favourite chant “Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami” filled the atmosphere intriguing him to the core. He gazed the street anxiously waiting to see what was all this about. Orange robes appeared on the lanes holding candles. There was something on the face of these Buddhist monks which made Jishu stare at them, he not even blinked for a while. He was lost in their charm.
The procession soon passed. And everyone was same as before. Except Jishu. A seer emptiness filled him. He was not able to concentrate. The chant kept repeating itself in his mind. He hurriedly saw the antique and felt the inscription “Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami” He was touched. He knew something was coming, which will change his entire life, inside out. Something that awaited him all his life. He decided to find the soul, the essence of the chant. That day he asked his neighbour the way to the Rumtek monastery.
Jishu was up around 4 in the morning. He left a letter on his red wooden table addressed to his mother. He began for the monastery. Jishu felt as he was guided by some unknown light to reach that mysterious place. And unknowingly he started chanting “Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami”. When he was halfway through, there was a magnetic attraction that drew Jishu to his destination. He reached there and found himself among orange robes and smiling faces. A sermon was about to start under a huge banyan tree. He joined it and waited impatiently for it to begin. Little did Jishu know that this sermon will transform him completely!
“Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami”
Putthassa loka dhammehi Cittam yassa na kampati Asokam virajam khemam Etam mangala muttamam
Meaning He whose mind does not flutter, by contact with worldly contingencies, sorrowless, stainless and secure. This is the Supreme Blessing
Bodhi further said, “The Buddha's teaching can be thought of as a kind of building with its own distinct foundation, stories, stairs, and roof. Like any other building the teaching also has a door, and in order to enter it we have to enter through this door. The door of entrance to the teaching of the Buddha is the going for refuge to the Triple Gem — that is, to the Buddha as the fully enlightened teacher, to the Dhamma as the truth taught by him, and to the Sangha as the community of his noble disciples."
In all, “To do no evil; to cultivate good; to purify one's mind: This is the teaching of the Buddhas. --The Dhammapada”
Jishu pondered over the lines. That night he saw a dream, a unique one. He was following a blue light amidst the woods. He woke up hurriedly and decided to leave for home. In the morning when he reached home, he told this to his mother. His mother, however, knew what was coming. She didn’t respond. But after a while, she asked Jishu that if you become a monk, who will take care of us. Jishu remained quiet. He left.
Jishu’s antique shop didn’t have many visitors that day. He uncovered his favourite antique and felt the inscription, for the fifth time in the day. He knew his true call. Buddhism had summoned him. But he was in two minds. He wanted to take care of his family, as it was totally dependent on him. And if he leaves them in that situation, he won’t achieve true salvation. He explained his situation to one of the bodhis. He received a reply which cleared his anxiety. Buddhism doesn’t mean hermitage, it means salvation. The essence of Buddhism lies in three jewels. One who achieves that shall achieve salvation. “Buddham Sharnam Gacchami” I take refuge in the Buddha. I take refuge in the Dharma. I take refuge in the Sangha.
Jishu began practicing Buddhism. His new life was the mirror of Bodhi principles. After he was relieved of worldly responsibilities, he attained salvation by practicing The Three Jewels. He always had his favorite antique by his side, one which guided him to Buddhism.
A sharp cry suddenly brought him back to reality. All thoughts of Buddha and his sharan vanished into thin air. With a faint thud, all the lights went off. The entire street felt ghostly. A sudden chaos emerged from the crowd ahead of him on the streets. The very crowd, which was cheerful and joyous just moments ago, suddenly began to panic. It was stark dark out there. Candles lit up soon. The murmuring increased.
In the midst of it all Jishu was surprised how beautiful the street looked with just a few candles that lit it... Soft light spread the entire street and particular incense relaxed him. The sound of his favourite chant “Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami” filled the atmosphere intriguing him to the core. He gazed the street anxiously waiting to see what was all this about. Orange robes appeared on the lanes holding candles. There was something on the face of these Buddhist monks which made Jishu stare at them, he not even blinked for a while. He was lost in their charm.
The procession soon passed. And everyone was same as before. Except Jishu. A seer emptiness filled him. He was not able to concentrate. The chant kept repeating itself in his mind. He hurriedly saw the antique and felt the inscription “Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami” He was touched. He knew something was coming, which will change his entire life, inside out. Something that awaited him all his life. He decided to find the soul, the essence of the chant. That day he asked his neighbour the way to the Rumtek monastery.
Jishu was up around 4 in the morning. He left a letter on his red wooden table addressed to his mother. He began for the monastery. Jishu felt as he was guided by some unknown light to reach that mysterious place. And unknowingly he started chanting “Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami”. When he was halfway through, there was a magnetic attraction that drew Jishu to his destination. He reached there and found himself among orange robes and smiling faces. A sermon was about to start under a huge banyan tree. He joined it and waited impatiently for it to begin. Little did Jishu know that this sermon will transform him completely!
“Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami”
Putthassa loka dhammehi Cittam yassa na kampati Asokam virajam khemam Etam mangala muttamam
Meaning He whose mind does not flutter, by contact with worldly contingencies, sorrowless, stainless and secure. This is the Supreme Blessing
Bodhi further said, “The Buddha's teaching can be thought of as a kind of building with its own distinct foundation, stories, stairs, and roof. Like any other building the teaching also has a door, and in order to enter it we have to enter through this door. The door of entrance to the teaching of the Buddha is the going for refuge to the Triple Gem — that is, to the Buddha as the fully enlightened teacher, to the Dhamma as the truth taught by him, and to the Sangha as the community of his noble disciples."
In all, “To do no evil; to cultivate good; to purify one's mind: This is the teaching of the Buddhas. --The Dhammapada”
Jishu pondered over the lines. That night he saw a dream, a unique one. He was following a blue light amidst the woods. He woke up hurriedly and decided to leave for home. In the morning when he reached home, he told this to his mother. His mother, however, knew what was coming. She didn’t respond. But after a while, she asked Jishu that if you become a monk, who will take care of us. Jishu remained quiet. He left.
Jishu’s antique shop didn’t have many visitors that day. He uncovered his favourite antique and felt the inscription, for the fifth time in the day. He knew his true call. Buddhism had summoned him. But he was in two minds. He wanted to take care of his family, as it was totally dependent on him. And if he leaves them in that situation, he won’t achieve true salvation. He explained his situation to one of the bodhis. He received a reply which cleared his anxiety. Buddhism doesn’t mean hermitage, it means salvation. The essence of Buddhism lies in three jewels. One who achieves that shall achieve salvation. “Buddham Sharnam Gacchami” I take refuge in the Buddha. I take refuge in the Dharma. I take refuge in the Sangha.
Jishu began practicing Buddhism. His new life was the mirror of Bodhi principles. After he was relieved of worldly responsibilities, he attained salvation by practicing The Three Jewels. He always had his favorite antique by his side, one which guided him to Buddhism.
Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami
Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami
Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami
Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami
Buddham Sharanam Gachhaami
Monday, November 2, 2009
They, me and the state
They sing the Dance of Death
For me it’s the Band of Boredom
They call it a sense of Ennui
For me it’s the essence of existence
When for them it’s the awakening
State of Lethargy is for me
And for them it’s a tough fight
An easy recipe for me
There are words eaten by them
Mine are free-flowing and endless
They seem in a state of urgency
It’s a delayed duty for me
They think its Gender Differences
It’s Wavelength Difference for me
They know it’s beyond their etiquette
But a call of protocol for me
For them it may be just a thing
Like a world it’s for me
Then it’s a small step for them
But a wide gap it is for me
For me it’s the Band of Boredom
They call it a sense of Ennui
For me it’s the essence of existence
When for them it’s the awakening
State of Lethargy is for me
And for them it’s a tough fight
An easy recipe for me
There are words eaten by them
Mine are free-flowing and endless
They seem in a state of urgency
It’s a delayed duty for me
They think its Gender Differences
It’s Wavelength Difference for me
They know it’s beyond their etiquette
But a call of protocol for me
For them it may be just a thing
Like a world it’s for me
Then it’s a small step for them
But a wide gap it is for me
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Greater, Greater, Life on a Crater
Imagine something greater
Like life in a crater
This City is full of pits
We are living life in some bits
Lets escape to the moon
For april, may and june
Not only 'tll be calm
My wounds'll also heal
Wont go alone there
To my folks, 't wont be fair
Sorry dude, no sms on moon
i promise, 'll return soon
Air for breakfast, crust for lunch
for dinner, 've moonlight to munch
Play and talk and talk and talk
early morning, 'll go for walk
No mosquitoes to bite me out
No boss on me to shout
It would b a perfect holiday
After that 'll shift for everyday
All set to imagine everything greater
Flyin' off for life on a crater
Like life in a crater
This City is full of pits
We are living life in some bits
Lets escape to the moon
For april, may and june
Not only 'tll be calm
My wounds'll also heal
Wont go alone there
To my folks, 't wont be fair
Sorry dude, no sms on moon
i promise, 'll return soon
Air for breakfast, crust for lunch
for dinner, 've moonlight to munch
Play and talk and talk and talk
early morning, 'll go for walk
No mosquitoes to bite me out
No boss on me to shout
It would b a perfect holiday
After that 'll shift for everyday
All set to imagine everything greater
Flyin' off for life on a crater
Saturday, October 3, 2009
If I feel, I will
If I feel depressed I will sing.
If I feel sad I will laugh.
If I feel ill I will double my labour.
If I feel fear I will plunge ahead.
If I feel inferior I will wear new garments.
If I feel uncertain I will raise my voice.
If I feel poverty I will think of wealth to come.
If I feel incompetent I will think of past success.
If I feel insignificant I will remember my goals.
Today I will be the master of my emotions.
The person who has written must have gone through many philosophies. Finally he came to a conclusion that its our emotions that play our life, not others. Others emotions are a consequence of ours.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Chained Thoughts
Living my life in a viscious circle
Oblivious of a corner
Nor a destination
Dried out of fascination
My ambitions are dependent
And thoughts are chained
Have a particular stand
Which is hard to understand
Its not out of happiness
Nor a sorrow may be
But it is full of dreams
Unbaked though it seems
Want to free the minds
Of surfaced dependency
No doubt its a parasite
Which needs a tough fite
For me, its not money
Rather its convenience
Which makes life busy
And my head dizzy
A bag full of questions
Hunting for solutions
But i think its dependancy
Which hurts my fancy
A bath in my thoughts
Followed by a weep a cry
Stop!!! lifes not tough
Rather it is rough
Its not my fault
For its my make
Finding faults here n there
Ending its a stupid fair
Sayin sorry again n so
Will not make things better
By pumping a guilt factor
Fifty gallons per hectare
This is no poetry
But my chained thoughts
Spilling outta everywhere
Changin lanes in fast gear
Oblivious of a corner
Nor a destination
Dried out of fascination
My ambitions are dependent
And thoughts are chained
Have a particular stand
Which is hard to understand
Its not out of happiness
Nor a sorrow may be
But it is full of dreams
Unbaked though it seems
Want to free the minds
Of surfaced dependency
No doubt its a parasite
Which needs a tough fite
For me, its not money
Rather its convenience
Which makes life busy
And my head dizzy
A bag full of questions
Hunting for solutions
But i think its dependancy
Which hurts my fancy
A bath in my thoughts
Followed by a weep a cry
Stop!!! lifes not tough
Rather it is rough
Its not my fault
For its my make
Finding faults here n there
Ending its a stupid fair
Sayin sorry again n so
Will not make things better
By pumping a guilt factor
Fifty gallons per hectare
This is no poetry
But my chained thoughts
Spilling outta everywhere
Changin lanes in fast gear
Thursday, September 17, 2009
What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That's not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that's the burden of a year.
by Ella
That's not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that's the burden of a year.
by Ella
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
the other day i read a book, the Book
Earlier in childhood,I use to emulate my mom...waiting for the day when i will look exactly like her. Her dressing sense, minimal make-up, foot-wear and every little act. One thing i got from her is her habit of reading, and i m glad to have this legacy of thoughts.
The other day i read a book. a series of reasons lead me to read the book.
I have always waited to grow up. In school, waiting to go to college and in college, waitin for a job. Our lives are an endless wait, inspite of enjoying the present, we wait for that utopian future.
I got a job finally after waiting for two months at home. I was happy indeed. But on job, I used to wait for Holidays; yes that's the wait. During college vacations, I use to hunt for odd jobs to kill time; and on jobs, I hunt for odd vacations to find some time.
This went on, and sometimes lack for time for myself, added to my frustration. But one day, I was awarded sudden vacations. I was diagonised with pox. Indeed God is great. Mild pox gave me some time to watch all those movies in my archives which were being postponed for quite some time. Then sleep...aah utter pleasure. During school, I hated sleeping in noon, but now, its like amrit.
But after first two days, i started missin work to my surprise. My friends told me to paint, (i did); some told me to read (i completed a book)..all this was done in the first two days. Then one of the good friend told me to read Shrimad Bhagwat Geeta.
I rememebered I brought one from my Granny. (surprisingly, her name is Geeta and she loves reading the holy book, in fact she reads it in parts almost five times a day)
I started reading.
The book is magical i must say. Or in other words, blessed by Lord Krishna, the almighty. I found solace in the alluring words. It gave me hope, that if i perform my best, no one can stop me from satisfaction. they say "teaching" is not important. but "what you learn, what you absorb" is important.
And i learnt about "karm". Its always necessary to occupy yourselves with some or the other thing. it is whether you are learning something i.e. getting knowledge from the surroundings, or else you are executing what you have learnt earlier. And that's the case, we have an objective right from our childhood, to reach the next stage(like the video game) from school to college to job to promotion. Or from single person to best friends to couple to family.
Even when we think, we are not doing anything, say, just sitting in the backyard watching nature, we are learning. We are learning to be selfish like nature, which always gives fresh things to us, when on the other hand, we give her only misery. And that what makes each person different from other.
My mantras from the holy book are:
Work to learn. Learn to work
Not to think about the result
Not to take unnecessary stress
Never doubt anything
Pray God before having food
Not to be jealous
Expectations lead to worries
Anger hurts yourself
Don't be afraid of anything
Maintain balance (sukh me adhik khush na hona, na dukh me adhik dukhi)
I know i m not the write person to comment on such a holy book which has touched a lives of millions. But i tried to make a point of what i understood and observed by making sense of words.
I was able to relate to the book, and person of every age can do it easily, i think. It gave me solace to my warring mind. Now i think i will try to mellow down (at least for some days) and try reading it again and again.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Stranger in my own world
It’s the wait
It’s the wait that makes me live longer
That makes my thoughts wander
And my feelings go fonder
what makes me ponder...
A second look at the time
Couple of hours to go home
Cup of coffee, stare at the lappy
And a round of chats
With ol’ n new friends
Finally home in the company
Of family and neighbors
Food, rest and li’l bit work
A bed and a book
With phone on my side
A ring from a friend
Ends the eternal wait
Chitter, chatter n gossip
Blanket from toe to tip
Snores chase the chores
Morning again haunts me
It’s the packing that we
Engage the entire time
Rush to reach the office
Not to be late again
From home to office
We just work
Packing and re-packing
Hunt for what’s lacking
Is the crux of being
The wait makes me stronger
Makin moments stay longer
Day after day I wait
To become a stranger
In my own world
Friday, August 21, 2009
what a life!!!
WHAT is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:
No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?
one from me:
No time to visit the next door buddy,
And sink in the life with gossip study
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Period
even after two cups of coffee, I am engrossed in these beautiful lines by Davies. How apt!!!
When Maggie Ma'am read out this poem in fifth grade, it was yet another mugging job for me. At that time, I beleived that such a situation is not common and holds true just for the poet. Years have passed, and with time both the poet and the reader have lost in time's books.
Time and again, I used these lines to begin a presentation. Even then, I was not able to relate to them, it's just a phrase after all, isn't it?
And today when my boss assigned me jobs after jobs, (making me realise...even the word "holiday" will be looked as "murder"), the first thing i uttered was "what is life"
then the entire poem scrolled across my eyes...
here i am a eeny-weeny person giving a take on life...
Life is large and abstract just like ocean, i cannot actually hug the mighty ocean. But when i stand on the beach and fold my hands, i feel it's presence. Isn't the same thing with life. One can actually talk to life and feel relieved. Some people term this thing as "talk-to-wall" or other terms as craziness, but for us creative thinkers, that's the only route to think in abstract.
When we pass a street these days, we overlook what's happening in our surroundings. It's just the traffic signal that can make us stand and stare, nothing else. And that time, we see how others are coping with life, some are struggling to cross the road, and some even for food. At that time, we think that if only we could help them out or be a part of their life. It's not that easy as I think it is. Sometimes, we flash a smile to such strangers. And the next moment, we are instantly included in their lives by the smile they flash to us. It also happens that our smile is returned with a frown instead of a smile and that's when we realise that smile is not an easily available thing in this world. This is when I yearn for solace. I find solace in solitude amidst nature! It's always the case with me, sometimes I yearn for a good company for a conversation over coffee. But other times i hunt for solitude. That's when i start crying automatically, even when there's no need to. How frivolous life is! isn't it? In the race of life, we are not even able to give time to ourselves. It' always friends, work or traffic. Suddenly we realize life is not made of moments, but of chores. And that's what I hate about modern life. After yearning for time for a long period, when we finally get it, we don't know how to use it. Amidst this hullabaloo, that beauty regimen waiting since eons is taking a backseat. We get time to read cosmo tips on quick-to-dos "before goin to bed", but not to apply those.
The situation is that there's no night, no day, just a list of jobs, which if not completed have to be followed tomorrow.
Stop...Think...Act
Take time out and breate easy, because...
a POOR Life this, if full of care
We have no time to stand and stare...
Come on people stare...
Not those handsome hunks or beauty babes, but stare at your own life and mind it..not other's life!!!
We have no time to stand and stare?—
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:
No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?
one from me:
No time to visit the next door buddy,
And sink in the life with gossip study
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Period
even after two cups of coffee, I am engrossed in these beautiful lines by Davies. How apt!!!
When Maggie Ma'am read out this poem in fifth grade, it was yet another mugging job for me. At that time, I beleived that such a situation is not common and holds true just for the poet. Years have passed, and with time both the poet and the reader have lost in time's books.
Time and again, I used these lines to begin a presentation. Even then, I was not able to relate to them, it's just a phrase after all, isn't it?
And today when my boss assigned me jobs after jobs, (making me realise...even the word "holiday" will be looked as "murder"), the first thing i uttered was "what is life"
then the entire poem scrolled across my eyes...
here i am a eeny-weeny person giving a take on life...
Life is large and abstract just like ocean, i cannot actually hug the mighty ocean. But when i stand on the beach and fold my hands, i feel it's presence. Isn't the same thing with life. One can actually talk to life and feel relieved. Some people term this thing as "talk-to-wall" or other terms as craziness, but for us creative thinkers, that's the only route to think in abstract.
When we pass a street these days, we overlook what's happening in our surroundings. It's just the traffic signal that can make us stand and stare, nothing else. And that time, we see how others are coping with life, some are struggling to cross the road, and some even for food. At that time, we think that if only we could help them out or be a part of their life. It's not that easy as I think it is. Sometimes, we flash a smile to such strangers. And the next moment, we are instantly included in their lives by the smile they flash to us. It also happens that our smile is returned with a frown instead of a smile and that's when we realise that smile is not an easily available thing in this world. This is when I yearn for solace. I find solace in solitude amidst nature! It's always the case with me, sometimes I yearn for a good company for a conversation over coffee. But other times i hunt for solitude. That's when i start crying automatically, even when there's no need to. How frivolous life is! isn't it? In the race of life, we are not even able to give time to ourselves. It' always friends, work or traffic. Suddenly we realize life is not made of moments, but of chores. And that's what I hate about modern life. After yearning for time for a long period, when we finally get it, we don't know how to use it. Amidst this hullabaloo, that beauty regimen waiting since eons is taking a backseat. We get time to read cosmo tips on quick-to-dos "before goin to bed", but not to apply those.
The situation is that there's no night, no day, just a list of jobs, which if not completed have to be followed tomorrow.
Stop...Think...Act
Take time out and breate easy, because...
a POOR Life this, if full of care
We have no time to stand and stare...
Come on people stare...
Not those handsome hunks or beauty babes, but stare at your own life and mind it..not other's life!!!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
A place where I belong
Her place is so lethargic...but deep down in my heart, I love that lethargy once in a year. There's no noise to wake me up. only sounds of cuckoo, cows or a cycle horn. Only when the sun rises to its full might, that the light starts troubling me. She gets up early in the morning to feed the pigeons followed by strolls on the terrace. You can see her when she turns around. That's when we run up to her and listen all those stories which develop in our absence. The place where she used to feed the pigeons is now taken over by the court, 'cos the owner could not pay the bank rent. But she says, she won't stop till the new family comes and stays there. We hear azaan by then, there is a charm of this chant and i fell to its hypnotism each time those words fell to my ears. She asks us not to stand near the paraphet, or else we might fall. And being girls, we obey her unlike the boys; she then finally closes the terrace and we follow her downstairs. The door is very traditional and it’s not possible for us to unlock it by ourselves, so mornings are an opportunity to sneak in the door when it’s left ajar by her.
Earlier she used to go for walks, but now her weak legs can't afford her this luxury. (though walks have never been a luxury to me on the cost of dear sleep)But back then, we were always asked to promise to wake up early and accompany her. After breaking 2-3 promises, we used to keep them. Even after all this, we use to insist her to return in tonga (horse cart)All this is followed by a royal bath. According to her, the water being saline, we should bathe with the rain water collected in the underground tank / well. She then assures us of healthy hair and glowing skin. Breakfasts on the open lobby is indeed a welcome thing. Dry chapattis and achaar (pickle) with bhujia keeps our tongue rolling. Plus the sparrow which feeds with us, from our plates is a welcome gesture. I used to wait for the traditional sweets to arrive. I love to go for shopping in the market.
The market is in and around the place where we stayed. The small lanes and staring eyes made it a mysterious lot. I like to go the sabzi mandi (grocery) tempted by the orange candies there. Then the shopping for bandhanis (tie-n-dye) suit pieces which are my favorite ones. But she never allows us to go to market alone. We are always accompanied by Ramu Kaka, so that people respect us knowing the family we come from. I love gathering for lunch in the dining room with a television and after the heavy gulping, the calm afternoon siesta. Tea, rose milkshakes and fruits for evening with my cousins is the best thing. Better than this, I love when she opens her ancient chest. There is something or the other which I find useful each time. She creates a mystery factor before opening it and I love it.
The evenings are made melodious with bhajans and kirtans. She is not good at singing though I like her chanting. We kids then play dark rooms (a game) in uncle's room. She asks us not to damage his belongings placed in the showcase. After dinner, we chat while she oils my hair or sometimes trims them herself. She teaches us all those things which mom forgets to teach us.
It’s been years I went to that place due to higher studies, job etc. And I think will never be able to enjoy all those moments too as she now lives in the city near my place. There will be lethargic mornings, but not in her lap. And azaans have lost in the din and bustle of the city. The sparrows come to meet us but through the iron bars in our gallery. She still has her mystery cupboard but it is all open, not as huge as earlier one. She chants the bhajans, no doubt, but in the backdrop of television noise. All this will never be the same. She has not changed, but the circumstances have changed. She is the same old nanny but the spirit of the place has changed.
Earlier she used to go for walks, but now her weak legs can't afford her this luxury. (though walks have never been a luxury to me on the cost of dear sleep)But back then, we were always asked to promise to wake up early and accompany her. After breaking 2-3 promises, we used to keep them. Even after all this, we use to insist her to return in tonga (horse cart)All this is followed by a royal bath. According to her, the water being saline, we should bathe with the rain water collected in the underground tank / well. She then assures us of healthy hair and glowing skin. Breakfasts on the open lobby is indeed a welcome thing. Dry chapattis and achaar (pickle) with bhujia keeps our tongue rolling. Plus the sparrow which feeds with us, from our plates is a welcome gesture. I used to wait for the traditional sweets to arrive. I love to go for shopping in the market.
The market is in and around the place where we stayed. The small lanes and staring eyes made it a mysterious lot. I like to go the sabzi mandi (grocery) tempted by the orange candies there. Then the shopping for bandhanis (tie-n-dye) suit pieces which are my favorite ones. But she never allows us to go to market alone. We are always accompanied by Ramu Kaka, so that people respect us knowing the family we come from. I love gathering for lunch in the dining room with a television and after the heavy gulping, the calm afternoon siesta. Tea, rose milkshakes and fruits for evening with my cousins is the best thing. Better than this, I love when she opens her ancient chest. There is something or the other which I find useful each time. She creates a mystery factor before opening it and I love it.
The evenings are made melodious with bhajans and kirtans. She is not good at singing though I like her chanting. We kids then play dark rooms (a game) in uncle's room. She asks us not to damage his belongings placed in the showcase. After dinner, we chat while she oils my hair or sometimes trims them herself. She teaches us all those things which mom forgets to teach us.
It’s been years I went to that place due to higher studies, job etc. And I think will never be able to enjoy all those moments too as she now lives in the city near my place. There will be lethargic mornings, but not in her lap. And azaans have lost in the din and bustle of the city. The sparrows come to meet us but through the iron bars in our gallery. She still has her mystery cupboard but it is all open, not as huge as earlier one. She chants the bhajans, no doubt, but in the backdrop of television noise. All this will never be the same. She has not changed, but the circumstances have changed. She is the same old nanny but the spirit of the place has changed.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
its just mee
Am I ditto like Calvin
Who has just his Hobbes
with him as a friend
who exists just for him
he just sees his parents
day in and day out
does not like his
female friend
neither his miss wormwood
for me hobbes is my soul
i talk to myself
jus like calvin talks to
Hobbes
even i hav many people around
its jus more of me
everytime
i talk to everyone
tell them my plans
my problems
my dreams
but am i being true to 'em?
at times i jus don knw
y i go sad suddenly
i jus want to be with me
because ppl ask me reasons
of which i don hav any replies
do i have to give reasons
am i liable to give reasons
everytime
even when i tell them
to leave me alone
their questions lurk me
when i go happy again
am i not the master
of my own mood
y i hav to behave as
others do
i have started believing
i am jus a mask
my face has lost
or its jus inside
but this mask is
a permanent one
a mask
which cannot be removed
which cannot be chased
which cannot be adopted
its just meee
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
You could be...
You could be my Facebook boy,
You could be my status message,
You could be my late night Yahoo messenger,
You could be my longest Gmail conversation,
You could be my internet addiction.
You could be my Orkut relationship status,
You could be my G chat photograph,
You could be my You tube download,
You could be my Stumbleupon stumble,
You could be my internet addiction.
You could be my MP3 songs most-played,
You could be my Firefox widget,
You could be my Google search,
You could be my Wikipedia wiki,
You could be my internet addiction.
You could be my Blogger compose page,
You could be my last login,
You could be my word verification,
You could be my HTML,
You could be my internet addiction.
think what
Is this the right time?
or should i wait for long
this would be too early i think
nah! i will ask them to wait
i guess..will they agree
hmm..what to do?
my life starts with questions
and end at long long ques
sometimes i think
is this only me
who thinks and
keep thinking for hours
don't others have problems
in their life
or they just don't agree
or they vent their feelings some
other way perhaps
anyways, i can't stop thinking
but can i stop worrying
over problems
surely, i can
but...
is "but" my middle name
can i never move over but
fuhget it
i think therefore i think i am
Monday, March 30, 2009
the escape
Inside me there’s a hollow
A desire to follow my dreams
To work at my will
And feel like a bird
Inside me there’s a call
A decision to make on my own
To stay with whom I like
And ferry the boat aside
Inside me there’s a chase
A track to pursue with ease
To breathe the fresh wind
And never look behind
Inside me there’s a life
A thought to express for all
To give away everything
And escape to…
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Slum doesn't have dogs anymore
A loud applause to something which is better than the rest, the best. Something which has given a new meaning to the word slumdog. something which proves knowledge doesn't require education. something which affirms love knows no boundaries, no religion. Something which we now know as Slumdog Millionaire.
I loved the movie to the core. I felt as i was reading a book. What depressed me was the attitude of Bollywood towards it. The hosts of KBC denying to play a role in the movie. Second, making a furor about the portrayal of Indian slums in the movie. Let me tell you, the movie was far more better than showing those slum children becoming a local goon or smoking cigars. Why people here are not moving over family drama and celebrity hype. We can see that movie didn't hype and performed well compared to recent movies which didn't do well in spite of great hulla. There's a trend which has been created, mar down good things by negative publicity. Shooting of Deepa Mehta's WATER was banned in India, which was shot in Srilanka finally. Indian media was full of headlines, "Indian movie WATER won accolades abroad". but the day when the shooting was stopped, it stopped being an Indian movie.
Has it been a movie which shows slums in poor light, the furor of public would have been well accepted. but this shows a slum boy to be a millionaire. second thing, the use of word dog is very controversial, but this was used to show the mediocrity of the person living in slum. What about the TV Reality shows, which are making kids work day and night. Still, no one comes forward to ban these shows which is robbing kids of their innocent childhood, teaching them green words. When Ashu, a dhaba owner can win roadies and big boss, why cant a slumdog. ha! double standards.
One thing that i didn't like about Slumdog Millionaire, is that all the publicity has just been given to the elder actors. not the kids who gave a brilliant performance. A huge round of Applause for the kids. I sincerely want India to come up with better movies, each time, every time.
I loved the movie to the core. I felt as i was reading a book. What depressed me was the attitude of Bollywood towards it. The hosts of KBC denying to play a role in the movie. Second, making a furor about the portrayal of Indian slums in the movie. Let me tell you, the movie was far more better than showing those slum children becoming a local goon or smoking cigars. Why people here are not moving over family drama and celebrity hype. We can see that movie didn't hype and performed well compared to recent movies which didn't do well in spite of great hulla. There's a trend which has been created, mar down good things by negative publicity. Shooting of Deepa Mehta's WATER was banned in India, which was shot in Srilanka finally. Indian media was full of headlines, "Indian movie WATER won accolades abroad". but the day when the shooting was stopped, it stopped being an Indian movie.
Has it been a movie which shows slums in poor light, the furor of public would have been well accepted. but this shows a slum boy to be a millionaire. second thing, the use of word dog is very controversial, but this was used to show the mediocrity of the person living in slum. What about the TV Reality shows, which are making kids work day and night. Still, no one comes forward to ban these shows which is robbing kids of their innocent childhood, teaching them green words. When Ashu, a dhaba owner can win roadies and big boss, why cant a slumdog. ha! double standards.
One thing that i didn't like about Slumdog Millionaire, is that all the publicity has just been given to the elder actors. not the kids who gave a brilliant performance. A huge round of Applause for the kids. I sincerely want India to come up with better movies, each time, every time.
Friday, January 23, 2009
I think...
I think...
Near the river at the bank
To the sky in the evening
On a hill by the bench
I think...
By my mother when sad
For my sister when is bad
At the table to my mirror
I think...
During exams when confused
Making excuses when caught
Feeding mind when bored
I think...
Peace the state in terror
Feed the needy in hunger
Save nature in slumber
I think...
Funny ideas on this blog
So you people can log
Write sumthin and hog
I think...
Do you think???
Near the river at the bank
To the sky in the evening
On a hill by the bench
I think...
By my mother when sad
For my sister when is bad
At the table to my mirror
I think...
During exams when confused
Making excuses when caught
Feeding mind when bored
I think...
Peace the state in terror
Feed the needy in hunger
Save nature in slumber
I think...
Funny ideas on this blog
So you people can log
Write sumthin and hog
I think...
Do you think???
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
I am Mrs. Satvinder Sahani, you see
Burrrpppp!!! Generally people wake up yawning, but she is our very own Satvinderji who is DIFFERENT form the rest. She wakes up very early in the morning. According to her, quarter to eight is very early (while her son leaves for school at eight). A cup of steaming hot elaichi tea is her preference (bed tea, you see…after all,she is already very tired burping). A moment late and she screams her lungs out and bellows across the room like a raging bull. Knowing this, Kala (her PERSONAL maid) makes sure that the tea is ready at 7.50 sharp.
She laments every morning that she needs to wake up so early at the crack of dawn. She says, “But what can I do…I have to work na...what will we eat otherwise!!!” Her son sniggers from the background. He takes his “only” mom as he is his only son with a pinch of salt. For who would believe this statement?! The richest family in South Delhi and a problem of Food!! That and several other statements are easily uttered. Satvinder loves to victimize herself.
After her usual rounds of chitter chatter, she drinks her piping hot tea (which is not hot anymore). It leaves behind a milky moustache that she is too bored to clean. A long stretch and she walks to bathroom for a quick bath. She arrives in a Pink Turkish Towel (bought from Canada, you see) after her (just) 45 minutes long bath. She mumbles “Cleopatra had donkey’s milk for her bath everyday, next time Sunny’s Papa (aka Mr. Satvinder Sahani) goes to Egypt, I’ll ask him to get me some too” (she and her husband share the same name)
She stands in front of the mirror and looks at her reflection with utmost affection. There she stands 5 feet tall with amber eyes and silky hair. “My Gawd, she exclaims, I’m becoming more beautiful everyday. I think the cactus mud pack is working”. The buck tooth that so forms the caricaturist feature of her face, doesn’t exist for her, they simply don’t. And neither does the pump stature. The silky long hair pleated with matching ribbons and beads and blue kohl forms an important part of her looks. She chooses a bright red satin kurta and teams it up with a bright yellow salwar. “I keep only bright colors in my cupboard baba,” she explains with fluttering eyelids, “they bring out my personality so well na?” She barely fits into the salwar kameez, tiers peeping through the back. But she is simply unaware. She smoothes her kameez and smiles in delight. She utters, “Sohni (beautiful) Satvinder is finally ready ji”
She heads straight towards kitchen “ Kala, I will bake my specialty chocolate cake, today. I bake it so well…even Mrs. Fernandes liked it”. Her maid is not a penny less. “But you had burnt it last time and Mrs. Fernandes thought it was some sweet sabzi”, Annoyed Satvinder retorts, “don’t you talk too much”. At breakfast, she devours 3 aloo parathas (she’s on a diet, you see) and karela juice, “Mrs. Agarwal toh has cucumber juice everyday. That is not good for skin. Don’t I look young, Sunny beta?”
The Activa drives her to boutique every morning at 10.30. It’s a shop of lehengas and kurtas for bridal wear in the most posh place of Delhi – Connaught Place. She clicks and saunters through the main entrance of the boutique making her place very evident to the workers. The very stature – domineering – does not allow workers to express themselves they are a subdued lot. She screams and wails at the employees for the slightest problems they create.
So there she is a “Page 3” personality – domineering, confident, indifferent to the world. She attends parties regularly. A laughing stock she makes of herself sometimes. Popular in a weird way – much like the Rakhi Sawant of Mumbai – can’t live with her and can’t live without her. She is a MUST invitee at every party in South Delhi. She loves getting dressed with the latest outfits in her store. People look twice at her. Her bagful of gossips keeps her friends engaged and so not a single person is ever bored of her.
Recently she has been invited to be the brand ambassador of a beauty clinic, recently opened at Carol Bagh. The owners have convinced her that no one else could do it better. Her popularity, her figure, confidence and grace are the perfect milestones to deliver the product. She stands in a bright auburn kurta and stand beside the banner of the beauty clinic, “Come & See the difference”, she exclaims as the sniggering cameraman looks on. This would be perfect frame for the funniest shots they say. A ‘perfect’ bakra for their weekend launch party. Would ‘Satvinderji’ be affected….nah! She’s too indifferent for that.
She was informed that the billboard will be put up for public view on Sunday. Yes, Sunday would be a perfect day, Satti thinks, as people go for outings on that day, and she will receive many calls for “such an AMAZING work” (standing near a banner without talking gibberish is an achievement for Satto. She reaches the venue early dressed in the same very outfit that she wore in the ad (it would be easy for people to recognize her, you see). One glance on the banner and she faints. The banner had two ladies. You all think Satti faints because she didn’t get all the limelight. Nah! It’s because Satti stands on the left hand side of banner with “BEFORE” and on the right hand side the other lady has an “AFTER” sign. She was portrayed as a fat lady (which she is NOT).
But Satvinder didn’t change at all, “they wanted someone beautiful for the ad, someone who wears good attire and looks smart, just like me”, she explains, “what they mean is, you are beautiful before, you will remain beautiful after”. She got her share of calls for, “Such an AMAZING work (explanation)”. She had become all the more famous but she never did an ad after this incident (she is DIFFERENT from the rest, you see).
(based on character sketch by Ruj)
She laments every morning that she needs to wake up so early at the crack of dawn. She says, “But what can I do…I have to work na...what will we eat otherwise!!!” Her son sniggers from the background. He takes his “only” mom as he is his only son with a pinch of salt. For who would believe this statement?! The richest family in South Delhi and a problem of Food!! That and several other statements are easily uttered. Satvinder loves to victimize herself.
After her usual rounds of chitter chatter, she drinks her piping hot tea (which is not hot anymore). It leaves behind a milky moustache that she is too bored to clean. A long stretch and she walks to bathroom for a quick bath. She arrives in a Pink Turkish Towel (bought from Canada, you see) after her (just) 45 minutes long bath. She mumbles “Cleopatra had donkey’s milk for her bath everyday, next time Sunny’s Papa (aka Mr. Satvinder Sahani) goes to Egypt, I’ll ask him to get me some too” (she and her husband share the same name)
She stands in front of the mirror and looks at her reflection with utmost affection. There she stands 5 feet tall with amber eyes and silky hair. “My Gawd, she exclaims, I’m becoming more beautiful everyday. I think the cactus mud pack is working”. The buck tooth that so forms the caricaturist feature of her face, doesn’t exist for her, they simply don’t. And neither does the pump stature. The silky long hair pleated with matching ribbons and beads and blue kohl forms an important part of her looks. She chooses a bright red satin kurta and teams it up with a bright yellow salwar. “I keep only bright colors in my cupboard baba,” she explains with fluttering eyelids, “they bring out my personality so well na?” She barely fits into the salwar kameez, tiers peeping through the back. But she is simply unaware. She smoothes her kameez and smiles in delight. She utters, “Sohni (beautiful) Satvinder is finally ready ji”
She heads straight towards kitchen “ Kala, I will bake my specialty chocolate cake, today. I bake it so well…even Mrs. Fernandes liked it”. Her maid is not a penny less. “But you had burnt it last time and Mrs. Fernandes thought it was some sweet sabzi”, Annoyed Satvinder retorts, “don’t you talk too much”. At breakfast, she devours 3 aloo parathas (she’s on a diet, you see) and karela juice, “Mrs. Agarwal toh has cucumber juice everyday. That is not good for skin. Don’t I look young, Sunny beta?”
The Activa drives her to boutique every morning at 10.30. It’s a shop of lehengas and kurtas for bridal wear in the most posh place of Delhi – Connaught Place. She clicks and saunters through the main entrance of the boutique making her place very evident to the workers. The very stature – domineering – does not allow workers to express themselves they are a subdued lot. She screams and wails at the employees for the slightest problems they create.
So there she is a “Page 3” personality – domineering, confident, indifferent to the world. She attends parties regularly. A laughing stock she makes of herself sometimes. Popular in a weird way – much like the Rakhi Sawant of Mumbai – can’t live with her and can’t live without her. She is a MUST invitee at every party in South Delhi. She loves getting dressed with the latest outfits in her store. People look twice at her. Her bagful of gossips keeps her friends engaged and so not a single person is ever bored of her.
Recently she has been invited to be the brand ambassador of a beauty clinic, recently opened at Carol Bagh. The owners have convinced her that no one else could do it better. Her popularity, her figure, confidence and grace are the perfect milestones to deliver the product. She stands in a bright auburn kurta and stand beside the banner of the beauty clinic, “Come & See the difference”, she exclaims as the sniggering cameraman looks on. This would be perfect frame for the funniest shots they say. A ‘perfect’ bakra for their weekend launch party. Would ‘Satvinderji’ be affected….nah! She’s too indifferent for that.
She was informed that the billboard will be put up for public view on Sunday. Yes, Sunday would be a perfect day, Satti thinks, as people go for outings on that day, and she will receive many calls for “such an AMAZING work” (standing near a banner without talking gibberish is an achievement for Satto. She reaches the venue early dressed in the same very outfit that she wore in the ad (it would be easy for people to recognize her, you see). One glance on the banner and she faints. The banner had two ladies. You all think Satti faints because she didn’t get all the limelight. Nah! It’s because Satti stands on the left hand side of banner with “BEFORE” and on the right hand side the other lady has an “AFTER” sign. She was portrayed as a fat lady (which she is NOT).
But Satvinder didn’t change at all, “they wanted someone beautiful for the ad, someone who wears good attire and looks smart, just like me”, she explains, “what they mean is, you are beautiful before, you will remain beautiful after”. She got her share of calls for, “Such an AMAZING work (explanation)”. She had become all the more famous but she never did an ad after this incident (she is DIFFERENT from the rest, you see).
(based on character sketch by Ruj)
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