Just for you mom

On this mothers day, itzz a different feeling.. Unlike the other years I m not there with mom physically but she still is pretty much the backbone of my life and also the oxygen of everything I do.
being a mom is not the easiest thing in the world and that also to two teenage girls. Its definitely a challenge but the ease with which my mom handled it is just amazing and that happened because she never behaved like a typical worried mom, she has been our silliest friend and the best confidant. Most of the times she jokes and asks us about  our new crushes. She might be worried for us but it never comes on her face. the way she sacrificed her little pleasures for us is something only she could have done. When we lived together before i came to Delhi, most of the times i took mom for granted which we all do at times. But being away from her has taught me to how special and important mom is. Sometimes itz like I just say hello and she asks me "What happened, are you not well." I am amazed at her instinct. I am so thankful to have a mother like her. Thank u ma thanks for everything you have done for us. I would be the best person on earth if I could become half as good as you are. So patient, kind, satisfied, good natured and god fearing. Itz truly ablessing to have you mom . thanks

The exam time I miss

Exam season is just over and the excitement to enter a new class is unspeakable. The smell of new books and looking at  the report card again and again is so special. The care with which new books are handled is just a remarkable feeling. Exam time may come with a stress but it also reminds me of the wonderful teaching sessions I had with papa. Yes most of my childhood, I was taught by my father since nursery to class six. A normal day would be coming back from school, followed by an afternoon nap, then playtime with some neighbourhood friends, my favourite tv time and then study when papa returned from work.
It usually started around 10 and ended in an hour or so. In exam time, he would skip an entire day to teach and help me with studies. This was his commitment in which he gave up all his leisure time to tutor me. There was  his unique way of teaching. if I would ever forget a verse of a poem or a spelling, i had to repeat it ten times and later even while going to sleep he asked me to repeat so that I learn by heart.
Most of my books fascinated papa more than they would do to me and he spent late hours reading my new books.After my exam got over we both discussed the whole paper. The exam time is finished now but I havent forgotten the lessons I learnt from him.
I never said that but I want to say it now thank you pa you made me what I am today. Love you..

soul sisters

March 15, 1994, 2.30 pm,,,
Town Ambala. was born a girl white as milk, chubby and rosy like an apple. She just looked a baby angel. I saw her in amazement and couldn't get my eyes off her. I gently touched her fingers and she held my index finger like she didn't wanted to leave them. She is my lil sister whom we named Disha practically because it rhymed with my name Isha.
I remember praying for a baby sister before she was born as I always wanted someone who could play with me and yes I got it. I am five years elder to her but she never called me 'didi' except in cases of crisis!!
We grew up and went to the same school and soon I became the protective elder sis who took care of her even in school and during recess. But yes we did fight like an friends and me y other siblings. She sometimes to express her anger locked me inside the room .(Yes she locked me!) Most of the times she always jumped in between my friends and me to play with us. Then came the study phase when I used to help her giving her English lessons. ( She thought I explained them well) and also the quiet lessons on friends and boys when she was growing up. Some of our best memories were when we out on annual holidays and had loads of fun playing badminton and fighting also. She turned 17 this March and has grown up to be a tall chick . Ya she is 5  feet, six inches, that does make me feel envious at times. You might find her shy and reserved but once she knows you she won't leave any stone unturned to make you happy.  Even though  we are apart the bond has become stronger and love her even the more. Thanks Dish!!!! you are sweetest lil sis I could have asked for.

The holiest holi

Holi came and went yesterday. My memories of holi go back to my childhood which meant Family,food and fun. the day previous to Holi, we all used to gather in what we call the 'mohalla'. A round place with houses on all sides and a well in between. There used to be a fire lit and everybody had to pray and take rounds around the fire. I as a kid went every year with Daddy and do the pooja. After the pooja was over everybody wished each other and put some 'gulaal' and leave. The next day we all woke up early in the morning and put oil all over from head to toe so that the color came off easily. We then went out and put colors on each other.Sometimes my sister and me filled balloons with water and threw on the people from our terrace. Exhausted after a wild array of colors there was food to indulge in . Sometimes dahi vadaa or rajma chaval, gujiya, samosa.
This year I there is no Holi celebration as there are assignments lined up to submit. No one here would lend his/her precious time to play with me.No good food, all that there is work and a vacuum. But I am happy for my family which played like always. Amidst the assignments and cooking, there is a desperate soul who misses every holi spent at home.There is a smile on my face while I wish everyone on phone and a longliness to be with them once again, to eat with them again , to feel their presence.That was the holiest Holi. Its been one hour since I stood on the terrace watching kids play. I soon gathered composure and went back to the assignments.

Ghar ka Khana

A red bag lay on the sofa of my Delhi home. It was a big one and i was told that it had things for me, it had come from my home. Apart from the things for me,it has food also. Exciting I thought, travelling in the metro I couldn't keep off my mind from the thoughts of'ghar ka khana' which is not just immensely missed but also has the potential of emotional charging. My metro ride took me around 45 minutes to take me home and these minutes were just a reminder of my grandma who has cared for me more than my mum. I reached home and rushed to the kitchen to see what has been sent. There were pranthas, subzi and achhar. Not a big meal really.
the moment I opened the foil and saw six pranthas. I'll have just one, my mind said that. my heart said two is fine sometimes. Picking one of them reminded me how my grandma must have got up at 5 in the morning to make them and pack it up herself .She is 65, agile and caring, she has a big black mole on her right cheek and I remember been fascinated by it when I was a toddler. Since my infancy she has been the central point of my life. There was one instance when I was infected with measles in class eight. She made me sleep with her for ten days and every night, she stayed awake to stroke my back with neem leaves. I use to sleep but not she, never got irritated or tired of me. She cooked for me separately and made sure nobody disturbed me. My exam time was a big treat. she cooked whatever I said and her endless milk sessions and advice to study more and exam tips. She gave me love, time and care. Even now whenever I am home she makes sure she cooks my farewell meals and also pack some for Delhi. I never said this but i love her to death and she means the world to me. Thats what Delhi has done to me. Taught me the value of  the valuable. Thanks Delhi.
And ya I ate 3 pranthas that day!!!!!!!!!!

That town called Ambala

Sometime back I overheard a group of people in my college talking about a town called Ambala and procurement of explosives from the railway station there. She said, "you know that place Ambala, police found explosives in the car there near the railway station." Hearing this my whiskers got alert. Ambala railway station is not just 'that' place for me.
Its my hometown. A place where I have been nurtured and the railway station there apart from being northern India's main junction was also a landmark junction in my life.
It was the place where I met 'him' first time and shared first glances with him. Its the place where
I get down now when I reach Ambala and still look around to create the same nuances. Though not a very
happening place, it has usual places that a station or a bus stand will have, recharge shops, eating joints and dhabas,  beggars going around for alms, a bus stand adjoining it and hence constant cocophony of horns and traffic.
A few steps away is the public library and you enter the cantonment area where there is an army station.A little distance away from the cantt area is the Staff Road where there is a red building that was my school and also a central point of my life, fourteen years there and thousands of lessons learnt and forgotten . Peeping inside from the iron gates, one can see a statue of mother Mary and a chapel. Left from the school gate a lonely road takes you to a small lane from where only one vehicle can cross at a time. There stands a small little house where a family of five live. Welcome to my friend Abhi's home.
Ambala has only one main market place and in the midst of that stands a four storey house painted in light yellow, its my home. Seeing that building even from a distance gives me joy.
As my state of trance ended, I realised myself being in Delhi, which can boast of metro and many many more but nothing gives me more joy than the Haryana Roadways bus which takes me to  'that' town. Thinking these nostalgic thoughts I walk down to the metro station listening Jagjit Singh's ghazal 'Hum to hai pardes mein , des mein nikla hoga chand.'

Being with my first love again...

What an afternoon it was!!three hours with the first love of my life whom I have known since I was a little girl. My first love has always been with me, it  has never disappointed or ignored me, embraced me whenever I went to its arms. My love is hard bound and in many versions, its none other than  books and my afternoon was amazing at the Delhi book fair. Being there and having to see so many pieces of excellence was a great retreat. Not just that I also got to try my photography skills too.
My first encounter with books goes back to when I was four or five years. It started with magic colouring books which had paintings and when applied paint with water, they would become colourful.Then later happened Panchtantra, followed by Enid Blyton and Nancy Drew. The mystery novels always kept me petrified. But I learnt about life, love , friendships from Chicken Soups. They were a good refuge from all my teenage turmoil and also a big thanks to the only book shop in my town the English Book Depot where i made  numerous visits while returning from school.
As I grew, I wanted to know more on life and spirituality which was in abundant in Paulo Coelho from whose books I learnt signs and omens and Brian Weiss's Many lives, Many masters too.
They are my best companions till date and always will be. Thanks

Last two days...

Yesterday was a pretty exciting day, if described in literary terms.  It comprised of Work, more Work, conversations with uncle, dinner at Bercos, conversations again.
A pretty ok day but there was something sad about yesterday which I am trying to figure out. Work was fun, Dinner was good, may be the conversations were diluted with melancholy.
My conversations with uncle consisted of mostly family talks and the my desperation to be with them again.Its been more than a month since I saw them. The last time I met them was only for half a day. Delhi is great, it is but there's a vacuum in me, I miss something.Sometimes food and more importantly care. Nobody here bothers to stand and question my well being even if they do its just "oh hi hw ru,, u ok na." which is as good as not asking me. There are a thousand other things which I dislike about the city and its hostility but there's just one thing which keeps me here- My work, which I didn't get easily at all. But even then I am happy and grateful to the almighty for a wonderful family and friends. May be I am thanking them today because I am far from them. Thank you!!!!!!!!!!

An unforgiving life..

Today i met a family which lost a young bride to HIV. She was 23, and had committed suicide probably because she was HIV positive and depressed. Her in laws had to signs of sorrow on their face instead they were glad that they got rid of her, their son could now remarry and have kids.
Strange are the ways of life. It seemed the family had segregated her and her husband stayed away from her. Thats what that girl got after 3 years of marriage. Isn't love about humanity and feelings and not just physical intimacy? It is understandable that her husband had to avoid intercourse with her but he could still love her. little gestures could make a woman feel wanted and cared. How difficult it is to live with a man without his care , love and attention?
I am forced to think about the frustation of a bride whose husband runs away from her sight and avoids to be in the same room with her. Don't they know HIV doesn't spread by sitting and eating with some people.
Other than this story today I learnt some of life's little tricks , one of them was to sought out the petty differences which can bother us and spoil relationships.

Daddy's Day

Today is my daddy's birthday. Daddy, my late grandfather who left me in 2004, its roughly been 8 years without him. Life's has been one big struggle since then. Daddy was wheatish,tall, had a broad nose and a smile on his face always. In winters he could be spotted sporting a tie and a three piece blazer, agile and amicable. He was 60.He was born after Shivratri hence named Bhola Nath. This is the first time I am uttering his name since eight years. Its not that I haven't remembered him.Whenever I am sad, his memories pamper me. these memories go back to my childhood which were full of scooter rides, ice creams, school trips, doctor visits with Daddy. you could easily call me his PA. I used to do his paper work of the court dates, put his eye drops at night, stand on his feet to ease out his pain. In return he gave me some rupees and a few shellings everynight. Life's was so fullfilling. After he left, i suddenly felt orphaned and jobless too. Now it was only a juggle between school and tutions. I missed a bit of him everyday. In all these years without him my family and me have grown and learnt. but none of us miss him now probably our wounds have healed, we have learnt to live without him. But on his birthday i would thank him and almighty for blessing us with a person as beautiful as him. Thanks, RIP daddy...

Daddy's day

Not just another day..

It was not just another day in the reporting team of the Indian Express, the mornings were usual with usual stuff. When I reached the Express at around 12, a news awaited me, my editor told me that I had to visit JNU for a story. The 3 letter word rang an alarm in my mind and took me back to March 2011.
It was onset of spring, the trees in the JNU campus were blossoming.There was hustle bustle for new admissions and a tension of final exams for the old ones.My first visit to the varsity was to collect admission forms for masters course.It was March 14, 2011 that day. It was ' his' birthday. Lets call him 'S'. It was 'S's first birthday with me. As I lined up in the queue for the forms I glanced tenth time on my phone. Each time expecting a call from him. Expecting that he would say please come back early, we'll celebrate my birthday together.
It was 2pm and I had finished my work, it was time to head back home. I sat in the car and again checked my phone. Wait there was a message! it said, "wat will u get for me?" It meant S had asked me to come early. atleast I thought so. and this thought made me feel happy and wanted.
Sitting in the bus and looking outside the trees running behind me, I kept on thinking of the birthday celebrations. I finally reached and my dreams came to an end. The call never came and his birthday was never celebrated with my presence.This year his birthday celebration will be different. there will be no one waiting for his call, no one he can ask gifts from, As for me I'll continue to report in JNU till the elections there.