Country Roads

It’s just my blog, not an assignment. I don’t have a topic, or rules, or word limits. How difficult can writing ‘something’ be?

It’s not difficult. And I mean that about the writing.

What is difficult is making the effort, keeping that promise to yourself, committing time. I do it for my job, for my family, even for friends and neighbours. Yet I find it so difficult to find time to do a thing for myself. I feel guilty. The kid is home for only a few weeks, I spend the whole day at work anyway and then I again sit down to write? There is so much more productive and important work to do, and yet I sit down and write? I doubt myself-why am I even writing. This stuff is not going to change anybody’s life, it is not going to change anything in my life, why am I even doing this?

Maybe I am doing it because of the challenge. To see whether I can keep the commitment, whether I can write. It is definitely because Swathi pulled me into the challenge, and I can see others like me making the effort too.

But most of all I think, it is for the satisfaction. It’s like coming back to your hometown after many years though you are a very different person now. Most of the landmarks have changed and the people the family next door has moved away, but that gnarly rain-tree under which you waited for the school bus is still there. 

You turn into a lane and remember happy times and your old self. You connect back to something you have left behind, and yet never left, just forgot. You have to get back to your new life in the new city. You promise to visit more regularly, but that is up to the plans life make for you. You are just glad you could come this time.

This space is that hometown for me. It is difficult to break the daily routine, to take time out for myself and even get into a mind-frame where I can hold an idea for 15-20 minutes and write about it. I may give up one day when the struggle gets too much. For now, I am just glad I could come.

The Red Carpet Effect

Disclaimer: Sometimes drunk and very, very tired sound the same. I am the later. But I am not giving up on the second day of the challenge.

I wanted to write more than a post for the sake of a post. I wanted to write something that made sense. That connected meaningfully. That was upbeat and happy or at least mildly positive.

Woman proposes. Traffic disposes.

I drove through Bangalore traffic.

On a rainy evening, after a very long day at work. Through a 9 km road which has almost 1.5 km of it completely dug up since last year-oh yes, and that excludes two other dug-up junctions, since last July. 

The number of cars has increased exponentially, and the IT companies in the IT city still don’t want to empower their employees to work remotely. So, we all crawl at an excruciating, knee aching 5kmph. 





And then there is no signal to play live music, I don’t have the energy to download and save it in advance and the radio channel plays a song with lyrics that go:

 “Hot summer, ऊपर से मैं भी hot
आजा साथ लगा ले मेरे दो tequila shot
And just do that, do that, do that, do that पानी वाला dance.”

It’s a wonder I can write a grammatically correct sentence after that!

Sensible and meaningful are a decade away.

Maybe one day I will take a day off just to write (all CLs and SLs for this year are over). I will sit on a swing in my balcony (currently it is blocked by an old sofa no one wants to buy and have been planning the remodelling for the last three years), sip coffee and listen to real music on the Bluetooth speakers currently appropriated by my daughter – maybe on that one day, inspiration will visit again and will be stringing out words that make sense. Maybe one of those days, I will even complete the novel I had started to compose while in college (and which I plan to complete every ‘next year’).

For today, it has been a task just to put one word after the other and post. Apologies if it’s someone other than a bot reading my post. Please hold on, I will get there-one day.

The December Challenge

Once upon a time, I was a somewhat regular blogger. A mommy blogger bringing up two kids who provided adequate content for me to write about. I wrote to share. And I also wrote to keep myself sane. When I would go mad over the super-stressing incidents of the day such as finding one school sock missing on a Monday morning, I would write and laugh about it. 

The kids grew up and went to boarding school. Mommy-hood didn’t seem so much fun anymore. I would try to get back in that ‘mood’, reconnect with my blogging network (that was such a support), and resolve to get back to writing. It wouldn’t continue. The other bloggers had also moved on. Everyone had different challenges. All of us were ‘super-busy’, we didn’t know it then, but it was possible, and we did get busier. We lost touch. And the blog became something to go back to-one day.

Is today that day? I don’t know. Today is definitely an attempt. A resolve to write everyday. I am already scared. After marriage, kids, work, when was the last time I did something everyday, just for myself? Today is an attempt to do that. To do something for myself-write. To reconnect with myself and hopefully with the others like me. To write for the sake of writing.

These posts more of an exercise in testing whether I can still write, whether I can keep doing it everyday of the month. The posts may not be fun. I think I have changed as a person since then. Or life has changed. These may not be scintillating. I don’t have much interesting stuff to write about these days. I am too depressed about what we are doing and becoming as a race to write optimistic, upbeat posts, and I don’t want to write bitter, sad and angry posts either.  So, it’s also an exercise in finding ideas to write about. Now that gets more overwhelming. 

Let me see how it goes. Wishing myself luck.

Experiments in ensuring the kids new their language(s)

A prompt on the Momspresso blogging platform nudged me to write this post. It took me back to the days of mad hands-on hit-and-miss parenting experiments. Most of my posts are now more reflective or borderline morbid. Maybe it's a 'phase of life' thing. Well this one is from another phase:

We live in city where if you step out to any public space-an event, airport, or a bus you get to hear a cacophony of languages: Telugu, Kannada, Tamil, Hindi, Malayalam, Bengali to start with. In a situation where adopting any one Indian language over the other seems to tread on regional pride, most people have adopted English as the link language.

So much so that my children's generation now speaks and thinks in English as their first language and falter to even complete a sentence in other Indian languages. At one point, I thought it was ok, language is for communication. If the kids find English an easier medium to connect with people, and they anyway need it for school, let them use English exclusively.

But then a language is much more than a tool for communication. It connects you to an entire culture, your traditions and your heritage. Determined to preserve the connection to their roots for my not-so-interested children, I have tried multiple experiments over the years.

Assigning languages to people:
Using only Bengali while talking to grandparents. Speaking only in Hindi with parents.

Outcome: Slow, painful and yet at times hilarious conversations. (4-year-old telling Ramayana to her grandmother: taar pore ora Ram ke jungle-e bheje dilo. The literal translation: Then they fried-off Ram in the jungle). The convoluted conversations would end up with the grand-parents speaking in English. It was a bit confusing and even I would end up mixing the language and person.

Assigning days:

Saturdays were declared Hindi days; Sundays as Bengali days. These became the most peaceful days as the kids were still not fluent enough to fight without English. Given a choice between not squabbling or building up their vocabulary, they adapted soon and now we had cat-fights in three languages! I am not sure whether this was a good move or not.

Movies:
Yes. Bollywood was far more successful in teaching Hindi to my kids then any enforced language class. It still took some time to catch up though any there would be real confusion like the time my then 6-year-old watched Band-Baaja-Baraat to wonder in the end: But who was Baraat in the movie?

It was more difficult to coax them to watch Bengali movies, so I started with a fun-movie Bhooter Bhavishyat. They enjoyed it, so I pushed my luck with another comedy, but this with a bit of partition history, Goynar Baksho. That went well! Excited, I tried playing more contemporary movies but then my luck ran out- “Can we see only Bengali Ghost movies?” I guess the other facets of culture will have to wait.

Travel:

There are large parts of the country where English doesn’t work that way. And kids learnt it on their own. While in Delhi they picked up the Punjabized Hindi, in Bangalore they learnt to intersect it with 'aiyos'. In Rajasthan, they interacted comfortably with the neighborhood children in colorful Hindi and my elder daughter told me with pride how she bargained in Bengali, in Banaras!

School:
I think this was the most effective channel. My children went to boarding school and broadened their horizons beyond the confines of family and region. They had friends from all parts of the country, were exposed to songs and movies in multiple languages and they learnt to appreciate unique facets of different cultures. If there was a weekend movie in Marathi, they would make a Marathi speaking friend sit with them and translate all the words, beyond subtitles.

Now they insist that while Bahubali was dubbed very well; to enjoy the songs, I must listen to the Telugu version! That’s the circle of life, I guess.

Andaman Travel Notes

When you grow up on the fringes of a desert, water all around seems to be a fascinating phenomenon. Visiting Andamans was thus on the bucket list for a long time. Finally made it, but it was a very short trip to do justice to all the information I had gathered. Sharing the pointers so that they can be used again and again.

Since it is an archipelago of tiny, unique islands, you need to decide which islands you want to visit, then check out ferry timings and plan accordingly.

Package vs DIY Holiday-Book a package with local transport if you are travelling with babies or senior citizens. Autos are easy to find and quite reasonable in Port Blair (much easier than Delhi or Bangalore). Most hotels can be booked online and there are quite a lot of guest houses and homestays.

Data connectivity was almost non-existent and even hotel internet connectivity is mostly unreliable. Download all important information and do online bookings before you leave. You may end up paying cash at times because even card payments get stuck due to Internet. Fortunately, there are enough ATMs in Port Blair and Havelock.

Places

Port Blair-needs to covered because it is the entry point.

Must do: Visits to the Cellular Jail, once before 5 pm to see the structure and then after sunset for the Sound and Light show (tickets available online at https://www.andamantourism.gov.in/etourist/)

Note: The Hindi show is better than the English one.

Nice to do: Walk down the Marina Park, Watch the sunset from Marina Park or Chidiya Tapu

If you have more time:

Ross Island (Colonial era building and churches) and Jolly Bouy islands (Coral reefs seen through glass bottom boats. You need a permit for this island and hence advance planning will help); There are lots of local travel agents in the city who book ferry tickets and help with permits. Out hotel travel desk was dysfunctional, so we wasted a lot of time. Check if your hotel/guest house/travel agent before you start -it will save a lot of time and hassle while on your holiday.

Note: All museums, Marine Parks, Entry to Jolly Bouy etc are closed on Mondays

·      Havelock (It’s now Shaheed Island): Pristine beaches with silver sands and a gentle aquamarine sea. Options for diving, snorkeling, sea-walk among corals, long bike rides winding through lush forests, trekking through mangroves or just sitting in a quiet cove and watching the sun paint the sky and the sea with streaks of pink and gold.

Note: Stay at Barefoot @Radha Nagar beach if you want a serene, picturesque holiday; @Dive India or others near Govind Nagar if you want a more activity filled one. Radha Nagar beach is more scenic but also quiet and isolated.

These were the places we missed, but hopefully will cover another time:

Neil Island: Ideal for bike rides, trekking up the natural rock bridge, snorkeling and scuba diving. Connected by Ferry from Port Blair and Havelock.

Baratung: Limestone caves and a drive to the near-extinct volcano-can be covered from Port Blair.

Inter-Island Transport is the key factor you need to plan your holiday around

There are only a few ferries between the islands so it’s best to book these in advance and plan the rest of the activities around them. (Just don’t have a heavy meal just before boarding one.)

Government Ferry: It’s slow, but efficient and cost-effective; causes minimum sea-sickness and you meet more people. Flip-side: tickets need to be booked physically at the ‘STARS' counters located at Phoenix Bay Jetty, managed by the Directorate of Shipping Services, 3-4 days in advance and are often pre-booked in bulk by local travel agents.

Makruzz: A high speed catamaran ride. Pros: Fastest option, managed efficiently, comfortable, spacious seating in air-conditioned decks. Can be booked online (http://www.makruzz.com/site/) Cons: It can be a choppy ride, especially on a windy day. Saw too many people puking around us.

Green Ocean: I guess this is the in-between option. Fast yet comfortable, one of the boats has an option of letting you come on the deck for a breather and of course the experience. Online bookings are possible (http://greenoceanseaways.com/)

There were some more private ferries which our auto-wallah insisted were faster and cheaper but we weren’t adventures enough to explore them.

Clothing-It was hot in January, the sun-burn blisters kind of hot so arm yourself with long-sleeved clothes, hats and sunscreen for all day. And long-pants to wars off the mosquitos after sundown.

Language-A combination of English and Hindi is sufficient. If you know Bengali and Tamil you can converse with practically every islander. (The Jarawas and the Sentilese will probably not talk to you anyway).

Shopping-Didn’t find anything unique which I wouldn’t find on mainland so didn’t explore beyond a cursory look at a few souvenir shops.

Our Itinerary:

Day 1: Port Blair

 8.30 am flight from Bangalore. Reached Port Blair around 11.00 am. Checked in and had lunch. We stayed at Megapode Nest-has a great location and views, but that wasn’t of much use since we were out most of the time. Bad service, hence won’t recommend.

2.00-4.00 pm: Explored Port Blair in an auto-visited the Jetty’s, booked ferry tickets and walked though Aberdeen Bazaar

4.00-5.00 pm: Cellular Jail

5.00-7.00 pm: Watched the sunset from Marina Park, generally lounged around

7.00-8.00 pm: Sound and light show @Cellular Jail

Dinner @Ananda-supposed to be on of the better restaurants. Found it ok-ok; Back to hotel.

Day 2: Port Blair to Havelock

Left for Haddo Jetty to catch ferry after a lazy breakfast at the hotel. Our ferry was at 12.30 and they told us to report and hour earlier and we listened to them ☹. I guess reaching 20-30 min earlier would have been sufficient. Ferry was slightly delayed as they waited for other boats to clear the Jetty. Reached Havelock at 3.45 pm. Had lunch at the Barefoot shack right at the jetty and then took an auto to the hotel. Reached by 5.30 pm but missed the sunset @Radhanagar beach-it sets much earlier here. Hung around the beach still but retired to our room early as there isn’t much to do here after dark.

Day 3: Havelock Beach Hopping

We rented a scooty (two-wheeler rental shops are everywhere) and drove to the harbor. Took a boat to Elephant beach-not possible to drive to it because of mangroves. The other option to reach there is a guided trek but we didn’t have that much time. Elephant beach is tiny but buzzing with activity. Besides the usual water-scooters and banana boats it is snorkeling and sea-walk through corals are the main attractions.

Our boat had to return early because of bad weather-seems to be a usual occurrence.

We drove around Govind Nagar area-most of the hotels and resorts are in this area. Had a good lunch @The Full Moon Café. Saw Kala Pathar beach and came back to Radhanagar.

Day 4: Havelock to Bangalore

12 hours of travel using all means of transport:

Taxi to harbor->Ferry to Port Blair->Auto to Anthropological museum and Brewberry’s Café->Walk to the Airport->Flight to Bangalore-> Airport Bus to home

(Excuse the choppy writing-working on too many ERP implementation courses at the moment)

Suggestions:

Add one or two more days to Havelock and explore Neil Island.

Add one more day to Port Blair on the return journey-explore Baratung caves or just chill before you come back to the mainland.

I wanted to add pictures to the post but that may take some weeks, so posting it right away.

The Story I Never Wrote

For years it was in my plan.

I had a vague sort of plot,

and an idea of the ending,

But wasn’t sure how it began.

I knew what it would be about,

Once I sat down to write,

It’s just that I wrote more in my head,

Than on paper or computer.

So, the story which never got told;

blew around in bits and pieces.

Then came the storm and the rain;

the wind howling through cracks and crevices.

I saw how fragile is this life;

And how tough is this strife,

I felt more than ever before,

That I may not get the chance any more.

I need to write right now,

But the story which was waiting to be read,

Lies in tatters, bereft and shred;

and now it feels like even the words are dead.

Because it's too late

Today, I lost an old friend with whom I wasn’t even in regular touch. I came to know about it through Facebook. All day long there were posts tagging her photo with shocked ‘What Happened?’s and sad ‘RIPs’.

So many of her friends posted about fond memories and what a wonderful person she had been. I kept wishing that she could read those messages.

With all the technology we have, could some geek make it possible? Just to tell someone how loved they were, after they are gone?

Because we hardly get to tell them while they are around,

Because we have so many other responsibilities to fulfill, 

much more important than keeping in touch.

Because we have so many other things to consider like ego and pride to take the first step,

Because we keep putting off the things we need to say for yet another day,

Because when we finally want to say it, they are just too far away.

Quitting

Wishing everyone a Happy New Year! (I know it's almost mid-January but this is the first post of the year, so...)

Strange topic to being the year with. Yet, maybe this explains my absence from the blog for a long time. Does this mean more posts going forward? It means hope, definitely.

I have been in a bad work situation. And I kept getting a lot of motivational advice from genuine well wishers on trying harder, adjusting, accepting.

And then I read this article on how a frog is cooked in hot water. (Ugh! Don't know why anyone would want to do that, but that's besides the point here.) If a frog is dropped in hot water, it will jump out, create mayhem in the kitchen and bring the Master Chef audition video to an abrupt end.

However, if you increase the water temperature slowly, the frog will go through the stages of being mildly uncomfortable, restless but still drifting; more uncomfortable but still mobile; and then extremely uncomfortable and trying to jump out. Now it can't jump because it's muscles are wasted away and have lost their strength.

I see it happening to people around me, in work and personal life. The situation is bad-they adjust. It gets worse; they accept, they work harder, they change, they wait. The situation becomes unbearable; then some try to jump, but can't because the world outside has grown too different and daunting. Some don't even try because they are too numb to feel the pain, devoid of will, or courage, or hope. They accept and wait.

Are they wrong?

Should we jump at the slightest discomfort?

Then what will happen to all relationships/careers?

And won't it be like admitting we are losers, that we are not strong enough to stay and fight when so many others are fighting bigger battles around us? 
"Isn't it like running away," I asked a friend. "Yeah", she replied nonchalantly. Then she looked at me seriously and said "Sometimes, that's the smartest thing to do."

What if we leave it till it's too late? I couldn't figure out how to pin-point the defining moment when to stop accepting.

But I did realize one thing, I needed to jump before I lost belief in my own worth or hope.

Papaya Leaves

I don’t even have Papaya as a fruit. I don’t like the smell and the memories it brings of recovering from illness.

But when you are told your child has dengue and papaya leaves are the best medicine for her-you are looking for them as soon as land is visible from the aeroplane. I was already calling my friend+neighbor who is familiar with the apartment garden, from the taxi on the way home from airport to check if we had a papaya tree. As soon as my daughter was fed and settled in bed, I went down to hunt with my best kitchen knife.

Finding a tree to climb

There was no papaya tree at that spot or anywhere else I could see! My friend’s phone was unreachable, and the building gardener was on leave. Another neighbor I called was sure there was a tree but could not recollect where.

I grilled the electrical maintenance guy: “Yes, there a tree here, we cut it last month.”

I had to restrain myself from using the knife on him.

I think he read my expression as he took a step back and apologized: “We planted two new ones, they’ll bear fruit soon….”

“Oh, you want the leaves?”

I don’t know which one of us was more relieved.

Then comes the JUICE

How do you juice the leaves? The citrus or the non-citrus juicer? The mixie? None of them seemed to be effective. I called friends and searched on YouTube but could only manage to extract a teaspoon of juice from one giant leaf.

I stuck the other leaves in my tall flower vase and moved on to the other juices as the other generic advice was to keep giving her fluids. (One doctor advised 3-4 liters per day, another said 1.5l most friends suggested ‘as much as you can’; I set the target at 3l).

When doctors tell you, there is no treatment but to observe and support; your kid is burning up with shooting temperatures and then falls listless with dramatically dropping platelet counts; you remember all the horrors dengue can cause and yet need to remain calm and reassuring-desperate faith is all you have to pull through.

I think it is that faith that brought unexpected help from different quarters: my maid took over the responsibility of getting fresh leaves every day and juicing them too (with far more efficiency); a friend advised me on diet and even offered to treat her through quantum healing; and another friend made me get in touch with her ayurvedic doctor and explained Baba Ramdev’s video on treating dengue with fruits and herbs.

Since regular allopathy wasn’t helping much. I tried everything else-kiwi, pomegranate and mosambi juices, coconut water, aloe-vera, wheat-grass and of course-papaya leaf extract. 

(New learning: You can’t get a glass-full or even a cup-full of it. The leaves need to be chopped and pounded or ground into a rough pulp and then squeezed to extract a tablespoon of juice. This much is enough, according to what I learnt-more than 30 ml in a day may cause stomach discomfort.
Another one: Too many forced fluids can case bloating and too many frequent trips to the toilet; 2 liters are good enough).

The beautiful part about desperate times is that it brings around wonderful people who care and share and give you strength to pull through. Thanks to all of you, my girl was soon well enough to argue and make her own plans and bully me into agreeing with her. Maybe some of the tips worked, your prayers and wishes definitely helped. The papaya leaves are out of my flower-vase now. Thank you!

The STORY

It is a little embarrassing-to type in random musings to be read by someone, somewhere is one thing. To be ‘read’ by people whom you know is another thing. Yet, it is so nice to know that so many of you celebrated my tiny victory.

So thank you very much for taking out the time to read this story.

The context: a short-story contest organized by TOI Books where the prompt was given by author Nikita Singh. These lines were supposed to be used ‘as-is’ in the story, within a word limit: “I didn’t think I would ever fall in love again. I know that everyone says that after a heartbreak, but the difference is that I’m not heartbroken. I’m not cynical, or pessimistic, or sad. I’m just someone who once felt something bigger than anything else I’d ever felt and when I lost it, I honestly believed I would never have that again. But... I was 22 then and life is long. And I’m feeling things right now that I haven’t in a long, long time."

It would be great if you could share your feedback too –on two levels:

a) What did you feel about the story-your first reaction?

b) What were the flaws/errors/logical gaps you felt? Questions you have? What would be a better story?

It would help me ‘hugely’ in my bigger project of writing a collection of short-stories about women we meet every day.

Phew-pasting the story I sent without further edits as Pooja, my chief reviewer is out of the country :)

The Fire

Too numb to feel the rain soaking through her clothes, Naina slipped to the wet ground. She stared transfixed by the flames leaping in the dark; wild, unrelenting, and merciless. They were not merely cruel but scathingly indifferent as their deep red core devoured what was dead, reducing it to ashes that would get trampled into dust and then merge into nothing. Covered by a shed, they blazed alone after everyone else was chased away by the darkness and the rain.

Naina had walked in to the funeral ground out of sheer aimlessness, or maybe she was meant to be here. Something inside her had also died that day. Her dreams, her hopes, her plans, and her first and only love - a big part of her was dead now. Fire was supposed to be the messenger between the mortals and the Gods. In that moment, it seemed like the flames were burning inside her and the heavens were crying for her pain.

She had been so sure Rahul would propose today. Hadn’t he been hinting at it for weeks?

She still had to wait for years to complete her MBBS, then her residency and a PG degree; but surely they could get together as soon as he got a job? They had been in love since high-school and going away to a college in a different city had been heart-wrenching.

Rahul had found it unbearable: “What about me? Is being a Doctor more important than being with me?”

Naina knew Rahul was upset because he would miss her and so she had spent the last four years juggling between her studies and meeting Rahul. With the increasing pressure of studies and hospital duties it was becoming more and more difficult for her. Rahul had been getting frustrated. Maybe it was also because he had put his college degree on the back-burner to focus on his dream of playing football; and that too was getting nowhere.

Naina was sure of the power of true love to conjure up any solution and she held her breath as Rahul talked about his chances at football, his job offers, and his family’s hints at finding a girl for him. She realized he’d jog around the bush for hours and days so she’d cut in tactfully and taken charge of the conversation.

Rahul’s reaction had been completely baffling. He had acted surprised and sorry for her: “Oh Naina, I was afraid of this when you kept insisting on meeting me so often.” He told her about the girls who kept falling in love with him, his career plans, his family’s expectations…his words washed over Naina as she listened in a daze struggling to comprehend the words she was hearing “….never thought of you in that way…we were always good friends…will always be your friend…”

There were so many accusations she could have hurled at Rahul, so many truths to mock his words but she had known there was no point. She wasn’t sure whether it was pride or shock which made her smile at her own foolishness, agree to remain a good friend and walk out erect, smile firmly in place. She had continued walking, for what seemed like hours and miles till she had come to the deserted corner of the funeral ground.

The rain had stopped and even the fire was now an exhausted pile of embers.  Naina dragged herself up and moved on.

*

Five years later….

Naina shivered and moved closer to the fire. That was a good move to stay out of reach of her friends who would pull her along to dance to the blaring music. On any other day, Naina wouldn’t have needed any coaxing. She would have been the life of the party, enthusing others with her ‘Joie de vivre’. Today she was still reeling from the shock of the day.

She had tried her best to wriggle her way out of this party. “I am too tired, you guys carry on...”

 “Naina, it’s not a routine appointment that you can reschedule.” Her flat-mate Sonia refused to listen “It’s Holi and the date and time is fixed and you have to come. You can leave early if you want—or you might get over your stress and actually enjoy yourself.”

Naina knew she had to get back to normal and having fun with friends who cared, sounded like the best prescription for the moment. So she had dressed up and come but she was losing the struggle to keep her ‘everything’s fine’ mask on.

That one appointment kept playing on her mind like a video on a loop

When the nurse had announced ‘Next patient-Mrs. Komal Choudhary’, Naina had taken a quick look at the medical details before looking up with a warm smile, and she had frozen.

He was in the room; staring at her in shock, his wife nudging him forward as she greeted Naina politely.

Thank goodness for the nurse, who got them to their seats with robotic proficiency and began reeling off the patient summary to Naina. The jargon shook Naina out of the stupor of a woman looking at everything she had dreamt of, and lost.

“I have seen your file, Mrs. Choudhary. Before you and your husband make any decision, I’ll explain the options...” Naina shifted to her ‘efficient doctor’ mode as she blanked out all thought and talked about ovulation and sperms and timing to the man she had once thought would be the father of her own children, and his wife.

“I’ll write a few tests you’ll need to do and then we can meet with the reports sometime next week.” Naina handed over the file to the nurse already in position to whisk out the couple who had overshot their consultation time.

She was still shaking from the effort of not breaking down during the consultation as she stood staring at the flames of the Holi bonfire. It was supposed to be a cleansing fire, one which celebrated the joy of vibrant colors after a harsh cold winter. It reminded her of that fire years ago, the one which had scalded and ravaged her heart.

“Naina your dupatta is on fire!”

One of her friends yanked her back while another stamped on the smoldering dupatta.  The ribbing started once everyone got over the scare “You must have been thinking of something really hot.” “Were you trying to become another Holika?”

“Do you want to go?” Sonia pulled her aside.

“Yes. But you stay on. I’ll call a cab.” Naina dusted the ash off her clothes and darted towards the exit.

Sonia ignored her as usual and walked towards her car. Naina stepped in and belted herself, too distracted to get into a futile argument. She leaned back and closed her eyes. She opened them a minute later when there was no sound of the car starting.

Best friends could be such a pain!

“Now what? I want to go home Sonia, I need to get out of these clothes.” She met Sonia’s stare head-on “And nothing else is wrong. I had a long day in the hospital and I am just tired.”

“You were thinking of that creep from high school who played football. Come on Naina, I know your Holi story. The way you still dream of that fairytale moment when he had touched your face to put gulal-that was ten years ago Naina. Grow up! That creep was sleeping with other girls while you were sending love-letters to him. He dumped you and married the Agarwal heiress-isn’t that reason enough to get over him?” Sonia paused for breath.

“I met him today.” Naina whispered.

“Oh….”

Naina giggled, it was so rare for Sonia to run out of words. “…and that is why you were burning up...”

 Naina cut her out, “Shut up! He had come with his wife for a consultation.”

“Oh, Naina. What rotten luck! How could you cope with that? Were you Ok? I hope he has enough sense to go to a different hospital next time; that will save you from looking for a reason to drop them as patients.” Sonia gave her a long look “You know you can’t be their doctor, don’t you?”

 “I don’t know. I have to grow out of my teenage fairytale as you keep telling me. Today was a surprise, that’s all. I’ll have to learn to be ‘normal’ around him. Why should I run away?” Naina unbuckled her seatbelt. It didn’t seem like the car would be moving anytime soon.

“Because there are times when running away is the smartest thing to do! Look at yourself now. Why do you want to go through this and worse for months? Or do you actually want an excuse to meet him….”

Naina was used to jumping into the conversation the moment Sonia paused, “Hmm. You are right. I do need to find a closure with him before I can move on. And this may help me find... you know...the chance...Do you think I could prick him with a lethal injection or should I just bobbitize him?”

“That’s the spirit!” Sonia looked relieved for the first time that evening. “So do you want to go home and plot out the details of your sinister closure right now or go back to the party and have a drink to celebrate moving-on?”

Naina’s phone rang and she answered it before replying to Sonia.

 “Hey…Oh I am perfectly alright...Yes perfectly…It was just a spark which fell on my dupatta...No...Actually we are still here…in the car parking…yeah...sure…”

“Dr. Manas?” Sonia had as usual, filled in the other half of the conversation herself “He heard that you were on fire and he came here?”

“Yes” Naina gave up fidgeting with her seatbelt and opened the door “And in answer to your previous question, we are going back to the party. They are bringing out the colors and the buckets and I need a good drenching to wash off all the soot on me.”

*

As Naina had assured Sonia, meeting Rahul and his wife was easier the next time. She even managed to answer his wife with a small smile and look in the direction of Rahul’s shoulder while answering his queries.

“It is a simple surgical procedure. I would recommend it. But you can always take a second opinion.” Naina offered them the excuse to visit another doctor as she returned the file to Komal. Rahul reached for it as Komal bent to pick up her handbag.

There was a zap of electricity as their fingers brushed against each other’s and Naina’s eyes met Rahul’s with a jolt. He looked haunted!

The door opened with a grating sound as the nurse ushered in another patient.

Naina stomped the memory of Rahul’s eyes out of her head ruthlessly, and focused on her work.

They came back for yet another consultation and then to plan for the surgery and then for the pre-surgery procedures. Naina managed to stay ‘normal’, polite and composed. Sonia eased up on her interrogations after every ‘The Creep’ appointment as she called him. She didn’t know about the accidental touches which were growing more frequent, the looks which tended to linger, the embers which continued to smolder.

After the time Rahul’s fingers rose almost as a reflex to brush back the stubborn lock of hair which kept falling over her eye, Naina recommended another doctor to them. “Dr. Mehta has an impressive success rate. He was my Professor in college and you are lucky he agreed to take you on.”

“Thanks Doctor, but I felt comfortable with you.” Coming from Komal, it felt like a warm compliment. Naina had stepped out of her irrational hatred of the woman she had been dumped for, and had started accepting her as a smart, beautiful woman who just happened to be a bit luckier. “Don’t worry. He is a wonderful Doctor and you can always call me if you want to discuss anything.” 

Rahul had been the one to call. He also insisted on meeting her outside the hospital now that she was no longer his doctor. They did have a lot to talk about. They had been friends once and then lost touch completely. And now that Naina knew private details about his marriage, their conversations grew more candid and intimate.

Naina had been able to make out how things were between him and Komal from observing them together and picking up the nuances, but Rahul still needed to talk about everything. He was deeply unsatisfied and knew that he was living a mistake, but he was working for Komal’s father, he was going to be the father of her child and he didn’t think he had any other choice. Until now. The day he came and announced his decision to Naina, she knew she had found her closure.

“Are you sure?” Sonia had been surprised but thrilled with Naina’s decision.

“Hundred percent.”Naina was feeling at peace after a long time, “I didn’t think I would ever fall in love again. I know that everyone says that after a heartbreak, but the difference is that I’m not heartbroken. I’m not cynical, or pessimistic, or sad. I’m just someone who once felt something bigger than anything else I’d ever felt and when I lost it, I honestly believed I would never have that again. But... I was 22 then and life is long. And I’m feeling things right now that I haven’t in a long, long time. I knew we would take this step, but there was something holding me back. Now I can look ahead.”

*

Naina was resplendent in red as she leaned forward and added a dollop of ghee to the fire and repeated the mantra “…Swahaa.” The flames crackled merrily as they conveyed her prayers to the heavens.

Rahul stood glowering at a distance, watching her glow in the halo cast by the happy flames, blushing as Manas nudged her mischievously while he leaned in beside her to add his prayers“…Swahaa.”  

Naina had been dating Manas all this time! She had been talking to Rahul as just a good friend! While he had been cribbing about his marriage and his frustrations, she had been contrasting them with how she and Manas felt when they were together. While he had been blurting out his clumsy plan to find happiness for himself within a stifling relationship, he had been helping Naina finalize an early date for her wedding with Manas!

Komal laughed with the rest of the crowd as Manas brushed back a lock of Naina’s hair and she elbowed him with a bashful look. Rahul crushed the bunch of flowers in his fist, resisting the urge to throw it in that fire as they burnt his hopes to ashes.

Talking about Poetry

Not many people read my blog now. So it is more like the early days-a random diary which the Internet saves for you. A space to write just for the fun of playing with words. 

This one started with a conversation about one more thing I don't understand too well-modern poetry! 



In our days, we had to learn our poems. How does one do that without the cadence?

They as usual, shrug it off as another example of my ignorance

Poetry is how Wordsworth describes daffodils,
it makes you feel like the cloud o’er the hills.

Poetry for me is all about the rhyme;
and the music which stays with you over time.

What makes a poem, mom, is the rhythm;
the kids insist but I can’t agree with’em.

So they try their best to explain:
when you feel that punctuation is a pain,
when you have words, but not the patience,
to find more to complete the sentence,

You just write what you think and feel,
forget the grammar, and focus on the zeal,
and that is what makes great poetry.
It’s the thought, mom, not the symmetry.

Oh well, it’s most likely that they are right,
but looking out on a dark, silent night,
the words in my heart playing around,
are ones that had thoughts, and the sound.

Butterfly

To the eighteen-year old, poised to take on her flight

Do I wish for time to turn back;

and live those moments once more?

Or, that it just stood still a little longer;

letting me hold you close and tight?

Or, just feel it slip through my fingers,

as your wings flutter out of their cocoon,

and the glorious hues burst out,

sparkling in the dazzling light...

The Empty Chair