Ah another one

So the new year has come and I am still wallowing in the last one. Wondering what was right, what was wrong, made some pretty good decisions, some rather nasty ones, like the rest of you... So maybe we are all industrial clones with problems, happiness and trouble, maybe we are a part of a manic inter-galactic game where we are mere pawns in the hands of others. Or a reality show for those whom belongs extreme boredom- where our daily lives become a-la- "The Truman Show". Well, chin up and smile at the new year and lets all keep our fingers crossed!

"I'm looking for love," gushes Carrie, "real love, ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love. And I don't think that love is here in this expensive suite in this lovely hotel in Paris."

Carrie (Bradshaw- Sex and the City) found this love at 38! Wow, that’s a long long bloody wait. I love the line though.

Faith

I have been contemplating for some time now about posting about my religious views. I recall a friend saying that it’s nice that I am "religious' when she saw me visiting a Gurudwara on Lohri. So i started to wonder out of the blue, in the shower, today. Am I? What constitutes religious? Praying, thinking of god, doing namaskar or bowing your head at every passing temple (happens an awful lot in India you know), cleanliness, or just doing your deeds and hence your karma? The holy man at whatever place of worship is, he does it for a living, like I advocate and doctors medicate. So what makes him give up his life in devotion? Is it his passion or is it his faith? Clergymen/pandits/maulvis have rape cases against them too...is that religious?

On most mornings I wake up with a small little prayer. I just look up when I want to say something to "God". It’s been months since I have entered the mandir at my house. So what am I? I even try bribing him in my talks, like if you do this I will feed so many of “your” people, or help them or do "your" deeds. Get it? I like to think of myself as religious but not in the conventional sense of it. I would not waste money over lavish extensive ceremonies in the month of shravans (got something to do with our agrarian roots?). I would rather build a school in my native land when I amass enough. And if I still have more to spare...give it away at charities...food schemes… destitute homes, lunch at prisons. I think that is religion. Serving people, hence god.

My faith however does make me question Him every once in a while. When I hear of a 5 year old girl raped, see hungry children on the road, read of the mentally challenged chained to beds.... I wonder, does He do this too? Then why do I go back to Him asking Him to redeem all these people of their pain and suffering.

And I do not even want to start on extremists, because they are just warped people with the most warped version of politicised religion. Blind being led by the nose...forcing simple unsuspecting people like you and me into either victims or reactionaries, driving educated members of our society into the fascists' street. Some react by denouncing their faith or the outwardly expression of it at least to escape being attacked at the cost of religion while some wear it with pride and defiance.

But go ahead and pray for I know he listens to some of us. Thankfully, I am one of the lucky few. No complains Big Man. I may crib once in a while but I am essentially happy.

SC

He looked like a sunflower he told me. He bought me 61 roses one day, my favourite- assorted red, white and yellow. The one that was extra was red, for what it signified. He left them on my door step with two chilly peppers- one red and one yellow, with a scribbling on them- “I have the hots for you”. It made me smile and blush. I knew who they were from. They were from the eternal romantic, the man who is a fabulous artist, a brilliant singer, a poet and probably the best player with/of words. He had taught me about my microcosm. He used to make me feel giddy and stupid, pretty and ugly, smart and dumb all at once. He made me feel like a woman and a girl. He saw me twirl in a hippy skirt once and told me, “I want to own you when you do that”. He bought me a watermelon the first time he met me (a la “Satte pe Satta”) and looked like a jehadi straight out of a terror video (my roommate totally freaked out!). He sang “Last kiss”, with Ravi on the guitar and would have made E. Vedder go green. I still have the recording. He gave me a beautiful sketch once, fought with me and took the sketch back :-) That man is sitting in some obscure corner of Shillong/Poona. Lost in time... Lost due to my disinterest... Lost in translation... Lost due to misunderstandings... Lost due to 7 years spent in the vacuum between us... Lost because sometimes we make good choices, mostly we make silly ones and later sit and wonder why. So when they say in the movies and the countless annoying forwards that “when you care for someone let them know”, heed to them and heed well, lest you are the kind of person who likes carrying guilt and regret all over the world. SC, you owe me a painting still...

Like water for Chocolate

Love came and went... Or did it? We talk about falling in and out of love as if it were a joke. Like it’s vapour, condensed one minute and evaporated the next. Like it’s time-less yet time-bound. Like it will lapse into pages of history and remain only there, not to live forever in our hearts. My music player tells me how stupid love is. I think not. I think it’s beautiful but is that all that I have- a random thought? I don’t remember the feeling. At all. The teenage rush, the pink blush, the high and the low, the wrenching, the tears of joy. A part of me feels dead to the word “love”. I thought love was in the streets of Paris, the gondolas of Venice, in the London-Eye, on a train to Rome... But that is a blur now. Like a bad print of a silent black and white movie with moving images that are barely discernible.

My shampoo bottle says, Ques. “Which food induces the feeling of falling in love”, Ans. “Chocolate”. I am sitting with a big bar of chocolate, hoping to be hit soon...

Tattered and lost

It’s generally our own we have a tough time impressing. They think we never do enough, or worse that we don’t even try. It’s the world outside of our protected/protective microcosm, which appreciates our sense of being or intellect in general. The microcosm survives on their collective efforts but the single cells never truly integrate. As critical as we all are of our families or closest friends, we love them, mostly to bits and never understand why they can’t just accept us for who we are, and accept our follies, shortcomings and our failure to live up to their expectations.

One drowns in thoughts everyday and yet comes out alive, sometimes bouncing sunshine off to others, sometimes deeply grey and different. I lose myself in my books, in my random scribbling, in my social life, in my thoughts. I lost my beloved 7 year old hand-made paper jute wrapped tattered notebook that I have written so frequently about. It’s like losing a limb, for the ardent scribbler in me who mostly doesn’t transform those hand-written notes into the fluidity of MS Word. I will have to find a new world of thoughts to drown in....

The inspiration and the consideration

I decided to become a lawyer when I was 16 and this decision was influenced by a hoard of factors- my favourite aunt is a lawyer, I saw “A few good men” and of course the infallible Ally McBeal. Today, I sit here wondering, 10 years later, why? Why a freaking lawyer? I waste and waste my skills way, the ones I hope I possess.

My father has always told me that I’m a “jack of all trades and master of none”. Probably right.

So I sat, amused, slightly chuckling, in the middle of those enlightened and those living in self-inflicted darkness. There was rumble, the sound of mindless gibberish. I sat, apart from the others, like a minion amongst the higher-ups in a magnificent court, watching the queen give her sermons. Like chickens running amok and the court jester juggling balls, the proceeding was a little fun, a little annoyance and a lot of work. The minion only dreams of a life far away, on a distant land, with a beach and a mojito in hand. So... Lawyer huh?

Falling

The subtle amusement played on her face as she watched him trying to cook. He leaned over from behind her and held out two pepper crushers, one with brown pepper and one with red pepper in it and waited. She smiled and pointed at the red pepper. He zoomed out back to the kitchen counter and washed the cilantro, chopped the chillies and took out the roast. The aroma waved its way like incense smoke all the over the room and she caught a whiff of it. He had been waiting for her all day and was almost done with the kitchen when she reached his door. Something about her made him nervous, also got him excited and then made him fall for her. He wondered when he could let her know just how he felt. She was the most mysterious woman he had ever met. She talked in riddles, played with words way too much, read books he didn’t, painted what he couldn’t decipher... But yet, he seemed to know her. Yet, he knew he wanted her.

Unwrap

The lights began to dim and fade away. The only thing that stood between her and the champagne was the long drive to the man’s place. She got onto the highway and there was a steady stream of traffic on the other side but her side, her side was bare and barren. Fog made her blink a couple of times, but there it was, in all its glory, a black sedan which had joined her side somewhere. To her, the sedan appeared magically, for there had been no exits on the way so far. She came close enough to read the number plate, it had in a small inscription above the number plate, a strange symbol, like an om, but not really an om. She felt the need to follow the car... about twenty minutes later her phone rang and the urgent ringing brought her back to her senses. She snapped out of her daze and the sedan disappeared... It disappointed her, the sudden disappearance of the strange car. She drove to her destination, wondering what would have happened had she followed the sedan... The mysteries in life are the most intriguing and at the same time, invigorating for you don’t know what you may unwrap...

Spilled the tea and made my day

She was in the middle of an extremely busy day. Someone came around and left a beautiful bunch of assorted roses on her desk and she didn’t even notice. She kept working and drafting and making calls and writing furious notes and typing. Post-its and flags of various colours are the only things she could see the whole time. Her eyes flipped from the flickering screen to her notes and back. Someone left her another bunch of flowers in the evening, this time her favourite- orchids and she still didn’t notice. Her deadline had taken over her life for a while. She spilled her hot tea gone ice cold and messed up her work clothes. The brouhaha got her to mindlessly gaze at the flowers. She smiled wryly and opened the two notes. Two notes, same person, two invites to the same dinner, a date with pepper roast and champagne. She called the concerned person back and confirmed her availability for the dinner. Suddenly, the air cleared, she felt relaxed and continued working this time without any of the previous mental clamour. Sometimes, we need a small catastrophe to remind us of the lovely things in life.

Indolence unlimited

People must be waking up at this hour in my country, funny how I call it mine, like I own it. But this “waking up” is literal and not metaphoric. Unfortunately, we all sleep all day, all week, all year long. We sit and abuse our country like indolent, ignorant idiots... we complain about the dirt, the smell the shit on the roads, the poverty but who causes it? The Government or the “outside forces” don’t have a secret vendetta to keep most of us below poverty line, so who is to blame? Tough question and a very simple answer- we are to blame. Enough of us don’t work in development sector, most of don’t care about corporate social responsibility and while it is nice to know that the Tata’s do a lot, it just isn’t enough. How much time does a friend of mine sitting in a plush corporate office with air-con keeping him/her cool and comfortable, spend thinking about the under privileged. I am not suggesting that people in the developed nations do a lot of development work, but we as a young growing nation, need to. We need to participate in politics and we need to make more responsible administrative and police officers. We need to use our education for the betterment and development of our country, but well, we chose to use it to make dollars instead, nothing wrong with that if you contribute or create awareness or do your little bit. We need to do so much but all we do it talk and discuss and contemplate. It annoys me no end. Please stop talking and start doing. Please don’t say India sucks if you aren’t doing anything to make it better.

Boomerang

Before my flight, I got complemented on my smile and eyes by two different people, they were obviously doing their holiday good-deed! On the flight, I met a fellow crusader and we had a long discussion on trafficking of minor girls and how their rehabilitation was a huge issue in Minneapolis. She told me how they were trying to help the victims to change their lives from living on welfare to becoming a tax payer. Pleasing indeed. I stepped out of the airport and saw criss-crossing cemented snakes, whisking away gigantic land-ships and the smaller steel boats. The zig zag made me feel nauseatic but just about then a gush of bay-air hit me in my face and lifted the tired old spirit and egged it on to discover the new land. I loved the city, the quaintness of it, the beauty of it, the fact that it had a water body all around it, the big red bridge, the quiet streets, the bustling black Friday shopping crowd, the fact that it was American and yet reminded me of Paris and the fairy tale Florence. Through the crooked streets and old piers, I discovered a familiar emotion, fondness... Through the vineyards, I saw my version of the French Riviera. When I left the city two days later, I found myself dragging my sleepy bones through a boring conversation about doctors, their kin, real estate prices in California and about common Punjabi contacts. Ah, my lucky lil brother, he sneaked away while he could, pest that he is.

The boomerang has come a full circle. The sadness associated with disappointment had hit her, yet again. God had given her a super-power! The power being the ability to attract the wrong kind of people, and if they were alright, she had the power to turn them away. Perfect, wasn’t it?! The world is so full of perfect surprises and she would just wait for hers to come her way. The boomerang pierced the mind and the heart and made its way to the soul. The battered soul held out a last ray of hope and happiness to ward off the impending doom. Help always comes from unexpected quarters and the ambulance of hope was speeding to the troubled soul. Will it reach in time?

Yet?

Do you have the feeling that the understanding of world hasn’t come to you yet? Do you, maybe, also feel that you haven’t learnt enough? Are you satisfied with your life, your job, your friends, your love? Are you essentially a happy person or do you yearn for that something or someone special missing from your life?

In Coventry, on a bus, a while ago, I met this old woman from India who kept beaming at me and finally I smiled back and asked her did something special happen? She said she’s going back to India after 20 years. Then my 80 year old neighbour in Bombay, Daulat asked me what kind of law I practiced, and if I could initiate proceedings against her husband. She saw the concern on my face and burst into peels of laughter and said that she only wanted to sue him for leaving her alone 10 years ago (he had a terminal illness). Today at the airport, in transit, I met a woman who lost her child in a miscarriage two days ago and kept smiling at me and asking me about my job. Lost and found. Lost sadness, found happiness. Have you, yet?

Smoke from the book

She had not made up her mind. It dilly dallied between and weighed the pros and cons. The sound of shahnai zoomed through the speakers and she tilted her tired head when she remembered old times, the lost school of grey and blue, the forgotten college of black and white, and the faraway university of snow and green. The insanities of life had been hovering around her head and finally came crashing on her petite mind in one swish blow. She is taking time off from the world to find her lost self again. She opened the book and like a waft of wind, the words rose from the pages and collected into a smoke cloud of thoughts over the paper. Like enchanted dust, it swayed and formed a mind of its own. It was going to teleport her, yet again :-)

Swisssie-land

7:25am (Swiss time) November 22, 2008

Today I have no news to read, no connection to the internet and for some strange reason, my Wi-Fi seems to be acting up. Armed with a book, a laptop, a cuppa green tea (the best I have ever had) and a Danish pastry, I start my day at the Zurich airport. Off one long flight and shortly to be on another long one. So here I am, embarking a new journey, visiting new countries, exploring more airports and still no one to have a conversation with except a brief exchange with the Punjabi woman travelling to Florence, out of Punjab for the first time, let alone India. I took her up to her terminal and bid adieu, lost as she was otherwise. Humans humans everywhere and not a word spoken. Conversations I do not understand, gestures that I can’t interpret, lonely empty shops, a lot of lights and yellow/red chairs. Thank god for my little red PC, or I wouldn’t know what to do for six whole hours. And then I met a wonderful lady from Bombay at the internet spot, who had just suffered a grave medical mishap. She was all smiles and help despite her condition. There is something we find, in the places least expected, in the corners of the world where we seldom go, and that something is compassion and uncomplicated, unconditional love. I sat and set my vacation responder for my professional email ID. Adios work- for a whole three weeks!

Coffee and news- the world becomes a “disturbia”

We get up in the morning, go to work, make coffee, read newspapers and wonder what has our world come to. Honestly, I am getting sick of how we as a race are progressing, because we aren’t progressing at all. Malaysia announced yesterday that it is considering issuing a fatwa against practising yoga. The draft of the edict has already been submitted for review and consideration. We talk at length about freedom of speech, expression, movement, to practice religion, to live to get justice. But then which nation really allows us this democratic freedom, and worse, what about the nations which are not a democratic state? Yoga is an ancient medical, holistic, meditation system and for all its wonders, it does not purport to change or challenge any religious views or violate written texts of any religion.

On the bright side though, the lawmakers in U.K gave their final approval to a bill committing Britain to cut greenhouse gas emissions by 80 per cent by 2050 and became the first country to have such a legally binding framework on climate change. Ah, at least someone’s trying. May I suggest to all who may read this to at least get a green friendly email signature and also not to print excessively.

Stars

We are all made of stars. Well some of us are. The last week flew by, like so many others and held in its fold, some beautiful surprises. Kush bought a brand new Yamaha piano in Singapore (with his own money!!) and called me up the other day and played “comptine d'une autre été” from Amelie for me. It was lovely. Then a friend and I jiggled on “desi girl” in the parking lot of a convention centre. Then I cooked up some complicated dishes for some friends and generally had a good time. And of course, the Charlie’s Angels continued their tirade all over south Delhi, generally spreading Zingoo virus and infectious smiles. Life has been on a good roll, where one doesn’t mind the work, loves the friends and lives in the moment. (*Knock on the wood*). We are all made of stars.

Deep-end

She stared at the photograph for a while, wondering about what the future may hold for her, was this to be a part of the life to be? The smoke made spiralling curves and rotated away in the thick air. There were the insane number of pending things, a bane for the ardent procrastinating soul. There were the calls to make, the proposals to write, the drafts to finalise, the letters to be written, the research to be done, the painting to complete, the bank that needed a visit, the friend with a cold who needed chicken soup, another one who needed her anyway. So she still stared blankly at the photograph. A man standing in someone else’s kitchen. A man who lived in another reality, or maybe existed only in her vivid imagination. She enjoyed her work and her evenings and didn’t want to break that routine. The vines in the garden grew deeper and darker and made evil gestures at the budding roses. The roses stood quietly, with complaints to make, but making none. The vines stood in combat mode, but not yet attacking. One day the twain shall meet and who knows, when they both mature, they may make the loveliest little garden.

Thank You

A lot of people have asked me why I have renamed by blog as “Woman with Parasol”. Well, I love a painting with the same title by Claude Monet and also generally tend to think of myself as a woman holding a parasol over others. Where our parasols are held high and the mind is without fear... That would get Tagore turning in his urn/grave/Ganges.

I have made some new friends and found some old ones in the closet of the dreamy past. I have a stand-in miia of course, in the form Mr. Gill, despite the amount of time we spend insulting each other.

There is a general prevailing feeling of gratuity and I would like to thank a long list of people here (I generally do not go into a tirade of my personal life, but well, there is a first for everything). I have met so many people in the last 26 years that I feel a need to tell them, that I care and thank them for being there:

Mum/dad- for being you and letting me be me and for the blood in my veins, for your honesty, help, TLC, and for being super

Karan Bansal- The balanced, mature younger one, for being born

Karanvir Gill: For being my pillar, my support, my friend and so much more, and for always being the ubiquitous sounding board, miss u Gilly boy

Sayak Sahu: For teaching me about love and life, for being the one but not nearly, for teaching me the meaning of "unconditional"

Shikha Khera: The silent love of my life, the one who endures and endures my oblivion and frequent disappearances and is still found standing by me

Nitin Aggarwal: Tintin, the misadventurer :-) the most honest friend one can ask for, the one you can count no matter what, the one I will always care for no matter what.

Bani Dhillon: The teddy bear, softie inside, softie outside, the ever forgiving and loving friend

Navneet Gill: for knowing and loving and caring and being there

Anna Puthuran: The soul sister, the fellow vagabond, the mutual admiration society, the witch and the lover, the child and the mother, all rolled into one, I live my life through her, things I can’t do, she does them for me

Shreya Datta: The older sister I never had, hell the sister that I never had. The hardcore bong, the one who I just can’t do without, and have never needed a reason to be friends with her. We connect ... period... right Gina?

Priyanka Chirimar: The senior I care for the most, the confidante and the mentor, the lone weed in the willow, the strongest thread in the weave

Rohit Syal: My friend from the last century, perhaps the last birth, my friend who is me in so many ways, we are the same people in different circumstances and situations, same wine in different bottles

Gurman Singh: For the being fellow prankster, the joker, the friend and now the doctor

Kanwar Brara: The boy who became a man, someone I admire deeply for his perseverance, there is nothing we haven’t shared and talked about, he kept me going through the toughest phase in my life.. Thank u Kanwar

Titli Datta: Means so much more to me than the butterfly will ever know. I value her opinion, love her sense of humour, admire her outlook on work and life, the friend from my last job I hold very dear

Supriya Mahajan: For being the kali maa, the lovely feisty lady, the lovely friend and the super confidante

Xerxes Ranina, Kamni Ahuja, Thomas James, Vani Panicker, Ajit Anekar, Liberata Fernandes, Manav Raheja, Shabana Raikar, Vishaka Vaswani: For making my first job easy, for making me feel like I was going to school every day- sans exams, for being such a big emotional support in Bombay

Shubhra Chatterji: for all the colours in my life, for all the random jokes, the past revelations and jubilations, for midnight snacks, for rides in rain and for being herself. Shu.. love u

Abhay Jhina and Kaustubh George: For being the closest friends in college, the two people I believe in truly, the two who I love for hoards of reasons, but mostly their honesty, affection, mad sense of humour, crazy ideas and intellect

Manvi Priya, Vibhor Juyal, Ronojoy Basu and Jaskirat Bawa: for being the loveliest juniors ever

Shikhar Kacker: For being an unconditional, giving and caring friend

Neha Varma: For being non-judgmental, for being the drinking buddy and the fellow man-hater

Vishal Yaduvanshi: For the reality check he often provides me with, and for being such an ardent admirer of my writing, thanks Yadu

Supriya Yadav: For redefining the word “sweet” and the one Bihari dame who simply rocks

Tenzing Choesang: For having smaller eyes than me, thank God! Just joking. For being a sounding board, a fellow old woman, a fellow single woman, and a friend in need who is really the friend indeed :D

Aman Sidhu and Aparna Jain: For being great friends and comrades, for being there for me at Warwick, for being the family that we didn’t have there

Dwijen Rangnekar: For his unflinching support and concern, for his help when those responsible did not help, for being a wonderful human being, a friend and a professor and for the much needed guidance at all steps

Class of 2005-2006, LLM, University of Warwick: For electing me chair of SSLC and for all the support always

Moneesha Lanba and Vani Panicker: For being the best roommates ever and for the mindless jokes, endless cups of coffee, Reiki and Bruno healing sessions, for knocking some sense into me when I needed it the most

Ajit Anekar and Alok Tewari: For teaching me how not to let success get to you, how to remain humble, young and polite, how much fun Corporate Law Firm Partners can be, and what great friends too!

Jyoti: For finding me and for letting me know you

Indira Jaising: For replying to a year old mail (which changed my life)

For all those who I may have missed, sorry but do let me know ;-)

U-turn

So here we go into our mid-twenties crisis. In our age and day, the only thing that comes for free and in abundance is depression. Perfectly nice kids like us, feel hollow inside. Everyone I know yearns for a special someone, and has been contemplative off late, and their contemplations circle around the same question- why are we doing this? Why are we pushing ourselves so hard? Is it worth it? Will we reap something in the end?

We will. Really… We have just started our life, just started making money (okay, so I don’t figure on this money making list, but what the hell!) and we will find what we are looking. We just need to stop looking too hard. The crossroads and blind turns may have their dead ends, but mostly, one finds a danger sign there. We know not to take these plunging turns, and we know that its best to take a u-turn and look for the pleasant endings.

Keep on moving

She had a heart which wanted to belong to everyone, but pursued little, or nothing… She didn’t want the permanency yet, she wanted no attachments, no strings, no love, no hate, nothing to like or dislike, no shadows, only endless dawns and dusks to keep her company... Only the static sky to remind her that she’s its own. In this pursuit of indifference, she had moved time and again only to find that one place would always be home for her, no matter where she went. It was unsettling, the thought of having something constant. It stifled her freedom and choked her love for the ones who made what she called home.

The gypsy’s soul thumped blood into her veins, she seemed to belong to the moving canvases and the roll of the horses, from an era bygone. Love and pain, come together, not without each other, ever. Love has gone and so has pain. All that remains is apathy for the unknown. Another journey, another day, soon…