Showing posts with label potpourri. Show all posts
Showing posts with label potpourri. Show all posts

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Stages of our microwave oven



STAGE 1: The day we bought a microwave oven, my mother read the oven manual thoroughly and arranged for a demo from a trainer of the shop to get herself familiarised with all the functions of the oven.

STAGE 2: Immediately after its arrival, the oven stole the limelight from all other electronic gadgets/equipments in our home, be it, our new plasma television, or the new treadmill, or the split A.C etc. Mom excitedly would show the latest ‘hero’ of electronic gadgets to all the neighbours and relatives who walked into our home.

She donned gloves and baked pizzas, grilled sandwiches, cooked idlis and curries in the oven. The entire kitchen process happened within the 4 walls of the oven and she became the expert of microwave cooking The stove took a ‘back-burner’ and was shun to the attic of the kitchen.

STAGE 3: Weeks later, she still used the oven but only to re-heat the left-overs of the previous day and recycle them the next day.

Usually I and my dad try to go for extra helpings and finish the items that day itself, lest my mom refrigerates the left-overs and presents the same items the next day also, which we manage to gulp down without grumbling but with long, sad faces.

Before the oven, my mom used the stove but finding it little cumbersome to heat on the stove, she would mostly give away the old food to the maids. But with this oven, my mom found re-heating easier and quicker. I and my dad found ourselves eating stale food every other day and mom would take a lot of holidays from cooking. How we would curse the oven then!

My mom reasoned with us that ‘conventional cooking’ is the best, and cooking the food over the flame rather than using ‘some rays’ enhances the taste of the food. The stove was dusted clean and put into use.

STAGE 4: When my mom resorted to conventional cooking, the oven lost its identity and the real reason of its existence. It has been many months and now my mom uses the oven, only as a cupboard to store her purse or to hide things from us.

Once, my neighbour brought expensive calorie-laden cream chocolates. My sister ate only them and skipped food. My angry mom hid the chocolates safely inside the oven. My sister searched the fridge and entire house but she never was able to guess the hide-out place.

STAGE 5: Lately, she thinks the oven is very bulky and occupies too much space on the kitchen platform. It won’t be late before my mom banishes the oven into the storeroom alongside the miserable and neglected equipments such as vacuum cleaner, electric kettle, electric roti-maker, toaster etc, all of which lay idle, rusted and redundant, leading a futile existence. 

My mom has a fad of buying every modern gadget and is amused in it for a few weeks, then her transitory interest diminishes and the poor gadgets are ordained to rust in the murky corners of the storeroom.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

If You Only Knew




She wanted to go home to celebrate her birthday with family. I was adamant that she should celebrate it in the hostel with her friends. With her best friend. Me.


I was confused thinking about the right gift for her from many days. She was my good friend and how could I ever repay her and let her know how special she was to me. Birthdays are the perfect time to express love and friendship and let one know how important that one is.

Greeting card? Chocolates? Trendy anklets? Branded watch? Teddy bear? Plaster of Paris show piece? Parker pen? …………


Finally I zeroed in on chocolates. I bought a gift for her many weeks in advance and waited more than her for her birthday to approach. She has a sweet tooth…just absolutely adores everything sweet and chocolaty! I went to the Forum mall where I know a shop which sells candies, confectionaries and chocolates exclusively. An ultimate place not to be missed by any choco-lover! I selected the best assorted foreign chocolates in all flavours- choco with rum, raisins, almonds, orange, strawberry, melon, tooty-fruity....


Finally it was the day of her birthday. With the gift of chocolate pack, I attended her birthday bash. She was cutting the cake. I went near her expecting I would be the first person to get a bite from her cake as normally best friend gets that chance. I stopped in midway shocked that she was feeding another two girls the first piece of cake. She made a new best friend and completely ignored me which broke my heart! Everyone who thought we were best pals were surprised too and wondered what went wrong between us. I was embarrassed and just fiddled with my cell camera pretending to click photos of them and acted as if I am very cool with this unexpected new development. A shocking twist in the tale it was!


I didn’t feel like staying through the rest of the party. This new development was not sudden, I admit. It was right there in front of my eyes, but I failed to see it would be this harsh on the face. Of late our friendship was going through a rough phase that I should have foreseen it. But completely ignoring me was too inconsiderate and callous on her part. I would have never done that even to my worst of enemies.

The gift of chocolates with its shiny wrapper lay in my hands. Waiting to be given and to be received. I clutched it tight unable to find a way to wade through the crowd and give it to her. She was the cynosure in the party hall, dancing, laughing loud and having the best time in the world with her new friends. That’s right also. It was her birthday and she was supposed to be happy. And I was wrong to take things for granted and not trying hard enough to not let her go. I was wrong to be jealous that she found new friends. Maybe I couldn’t make her happy. Maybe I couldn’t be what she expected from her friend. Maybe…


I called her on her mobile to wish even though I was a few feet away from her. She received it coldly as if I was some stranger. That’s what I am now to her –a no-one, just another random person she came across.I walked out of the party.

I threw the gift on the way into a trash bin. It was useless when she wouldn’t acknowledge with how much love I brought it to her. How unlucky was my gift that it couldn’t accomplish its intended destination!

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Airborne


Running with echoing footsteps
on my terrace
flying paper kites colourful and bright

Watching my kite conquering the sky
splattered with clouds
soaring with birds taking flight

I felt bitter sweet nostalgia gripping me
going down the memory lane
Reminiscing childhood days
when I've flown kites and paper plane

I wish I were a kite
escalating to heights
creating rungs to the sky
chasing unfulfilled dreams
eyes with leaping imagination
discovering new lands
across the unknown boundaries
challenging the gusting winds
unceasing to ensuing predicaments

I'm at awe, at how just a bit of paper
grows wings and transcends horizons
while I'm here grounded for life
yet to sprout roots underneath

I wish I were a kite
with wisdom controlling my chaotic sanity
like the string monitoring the kite
from running amuck

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Discovering The Oasis Of Dreams



The sun emanated heat mercilessly that reflected from the vitreous sand of the desert.The vast expanse of barren terrain stretched in all four directions till the horizon.


The sky was bright reddish orange blazing like a furnace. I shielded my face and body from the roasting fire with my hands but there was no escape from the sun rays which pervaded ominously. There was no shade anywhere in sight. Not even one faint streak of green till my eyes could gaze.


I was wandering barefoot beyond and forth in search of my dream destination- the oasis of life.

My legs quivered with fatigue. My lips parched and throat dried with thirst. The intensity of the heat burnt me up firing and twinging my skin and sucked up water dehydrating me. It felt as if someone was poking my throat down till the chest with a fiery fork.


The air felt papery thin and light in the heat and couldn't fill my breath. I had to take gulps of it from my mouth too, and though how much ever I sucked in with my laborious breaths, I felt dizzy and light-headed.
The gust of wind baked my airways as I inhaled.There was a tinge of blanched redness that coloured my skin. My sandpaper tongue stuck to the dried pallet and teeth.

My feet seeped in the heaps of sand, and it was very tiresome striding in the sinking sand. The soles of my feet were blazing in fire.


My thoughts were muddled. I could see wild imagery of sparkling water of oasis dancing in front of my eyes.The oasis- my dream destination. It disappeared the next second and reappeared again.

I couldn't distinguish reality from visions and mirages played hide and seek with me every moment deceiving my perceptions and tricking my every step farther away into the deadness of the land.

I wanted to howl and cry but the tears never came from my dry eyes.

I wanted to scream at the crest of my voice but only faint shrills came from my dry throat.

My heart was slowing down, the beats now only faintly audible and weak. I fell face down on the sand.

But in my innate heart I was happy- happy that finally I could have made it to my destination of oasis if I wanted to.


But you know what...I didn't want to. I decided not to proceed towards that oasis to check whether it really existed or that my eyes were just deceiving me. Perhaps I was afraid to find out the truth. I was afraid to bear the heart breaking disappointment I would have to go through after learning that the dream destination which was a part-and-parcel of my night's dreams, was actually just as barren and dry like the rest of the desert.

May be it would not have been a desert.Possibilities are there that it could have been an oasis- an oasis of life, of hope, of fresh spring and greenery right in the heart of the dry lifeless desert.

Sure I would have missed a lot by deciding not to venture there and confirming my doubts. May be the oasis would have given me a new life, being a quenching answer for my parching thirst.

But what if it was just like the rest of the desert? All the dreams I have spun for six years, thinking that, 'yes one day I will find my oasis , and then I will no longer have to suffer the drudgery of the desert' would shatter like a thin pane of glass in split seconds. How could I live through my shattered dream?- the very dream which is making me live in the first place...


So my dream destination was just a stone's throw away from me and I died a happy death in the belief that I succeeded.I could have actually walked there and drank the water from the oasis and lived, but I decided otherwise.

It was better to die happy in a false faith that there existed my destination right there at my reach and I've succeeded in my journey...than to have had discovered that my laborious efforts had bit the dust and that my journey set out to find my dream destination never actually existed.


Some dreams are meant only to be dreamt. In reality there are quite different from the virtual images you've created. Don't make an effort to make them true. It would be shocking to discover the truth that they don't stand up to the fancy image you've painted. Better just be satisfied in your dreams.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Special day

It was a special day for me. Would it be special for him too?

I had no particular plans as such for my birthday. All I wanted to do is head to the beach and gaze at the orange sunset with him.

But I had to go alone. My heart was sure that he would still come later and erase my loneliness. He could be angry with me, but I know his anger would melt on my birthday. He would soon stand beside me to make us a sweet couple.

The beautiful sunset and its image glowing on the sea, waves splashing out against the rocks, cool breeze flowing by around......all this brought a smile onto my face. It is everytime that the sea looks this beautiful.

I don't know why, but I never noticed all this before. Maybe it was because, at those times all I used to think was about someone else.

But this time, there's no one else to think about.

With a broken heart and tears rolling down my cheek, I wrote 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME' on the sand.


Everything was the same...same place, same time of the year, sane sunset, same waves, same breeze....but the absence of him made a huge difference.


A wave came swirling and erased all those words. Others would mark out that as bad omen. But I considered those waves as a friend who came to wish me 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY'.

All the sad memories and thoughts melted away and I celebrated that special day with the nature around. My loneliness on that day was hurting me, but those waves who came like an uninvited pal in my party were like a sparkle in the darkness and an elixir to my wounds.


P.S: Written by my 16 yr old sister, Akhila.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Dear Santa - The year as I retrospect

From
My room,
India, Asia

25th December 2008

To
Santa Clause,
Teens wish granting wing,
Head post office of Artic circle,
North pole

Dear Santa,
Thank you for my new patiala dress my mother bought last week. Everyone told me that I looked pretty in my pink patiala. And also thanks for giving me 'gone with the wind'. I wanted to read that book from so many months. Would you get me 'Andromeda' by 'Micheal Chricton' this time? Please do something to convince my parents to take me to a trip to Araku valley and Vizag. I'm dying to go there! Please give good marks for my li'l sister in her boards. Please keep my parents healthy and happy.
I tried baking a cake in the new oven we bought, Santa. But it didn't come out well. Never mind that. When I'll be sleeping on my bed at night, leave Andromeda novel by my bedside.Please don't forget to bring some other nice gifts in your sleigh for me. I have hung extra-large sized socks by my bedside so that you can leave many gifts. And yes, the socks are not stinking. They are washed and perfumed.
I want to relate to you some notable events which happened to me this year. I'm alerting you, this is going to be a long letter!
I’ve seen bright days. Dark days. Been happy. Been sad.
I had an eventful and momentous year. Last Christmas I wrote a letter to you asking for fulfilling some wishes. They had been granted. My heartfelt thanks to you.

My birthday in April went fine. But I couldn’t enjoy much as I had to take 2nd year exams the next day. I am happy with my 2nd year results…77%…I couldn’t have asked for more.

I had a great summer. I had been to an adventurous trip to Bengaluru, all by myself, for a whole month. I had a great time with cousins and old friends --Sup, Souj, Prash, Skanda and Pri. I miss Bengaluru now. My heart roams in the streets and lanes of Jayanagar. While I was on a morning walk in Jayanagar one day, I saw a beautiful Bungalow built in wood and bamboo with creepers adorning the gates and with a green garden around the house. I had decided that I would come back to B'lore to buy that beautiful house when I started earning money. It would be mine someday. Hopefully.

And then 3rd year started…back to the same routine of college and studies. I took part in poster presentation on the topic ‘microsponges’ in Vishnu College. We had pharmacy week celebrations in our college. I took part in the essay competition. As a part of pharma week programme, we pharma students went to a nearby village for surveying the commonest diseases people suffer and the drugs they use. We had a rally on the topic ‘safe use of prescription medicines’ and we had to convey the message with banners and pamphlets. It was a nice experience. That day I felt I was a true pharmacist and I did something to help the society in my own small way.

Last Sunday, I was very happy. Nobody could be so cheerful and merry. I was the happiest person in the world. I was flashing smiles to everyone I came across, for some innate happiness was surging inside me. It happened for the first time ever with me that I was that happy. Until then I thought I was an unlucky girl and that my wishes were never granted. I had a spree of jolts and sad moments one after one, again and again, few years ago. I forgot to smile then. But on that Sunday I was happy. But something was constantly warning me and I had fears that smiles at present are a premonition of ensuing predicaments in future. It is a sin to be so much glad when so many people are suffering. Some omen was hinting me that this was just the calm before the violent and boisterous storm and sadness would claim my smiles.

And precisely then I got a call from my classmate saying that the results of 3rd year, 1st semester were out and I didn’t clear pharmacology. I was so shocked! I couldn’t believe that. She had to be wrong! I wept bitterly for sometime. There was no way I could have flunked in it! It’s my favourite subject and I always scored well in it. I wanted to do Masters in pharmacology. And here someone tells me I failed in it! What could have possibly gone wrong?? Why did that happen to me? How could I show my shameful face to my parents, who expected so much from me, had so many hopes pinned on me??

Later I got a call from her again, that she heard the results wrong and that I had cleared all the subjects. Thank god for that! I was so much relieved. For a few moments I thought that all the world for me was lost and that the ground was swept off my feet! I was in utter confusion and distress. I would never forget the despair I went through. But it made me realize...what if I really couldn’t clear a subject? I promised myself that I will always study well and never allow such a situation to ever rise. Santa, please promise that I will fare well in my studies and career. My studies are always my priority.

Tonight I will celebrate Christmas with my sister on the terrace with some nice music playing. I have nicely decorated there. Hot and tasty bread sandwiches are on the menu. I’ve downloaded ‘Rab ne banadi jodi’. My sister and I will be watching the movie on the terrace.

Have a merry Christmas Santa! Thanks for giving me such a wonderful year and I hope that all the years which follow will be as promising or even better than this year for me, for my family and for everyone in this world!

I have been a good girl this year. You know what exactly to give me right? If I stayed up late, will you hug me?

Say hi to Rudolf for me. He might have a tough time tonight carrying heavy load of Christmas goodies in the cart.Is it very cold there? Get yourself red coloured warm woollen clothes. I will write to you next X-mas again. Happy New Year in advance! Bye!

Love, Aparna, Age 19

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Of Promises Kept And Broken





*********************************************
“ 


I ran out of sunscreen in Iraq! I must have turned atleast 3 shades darker, shooting in the sultry sun !”, she was complaining.

“Your smile is breathtaking”. I said and broke her chain of conversation.

“You liar! You don't notice my smile! You are always lost in your own dreamy world and stare bleakly into my eyes!”, she said.

She was immersed in an animated description of her latest adventures in Iraq. She was proud of her brave stunts of acquiring an exclusive footage of shocking war revelation. That's her job. She is a war journalist. She is posted to terror stricken and tension centered war zones of the world.




She trekked the rough terrains of Zagros mountains in Iraq, in a camouflaged dress, survived only on the water of River Tigris for 2 days and shot secretly at the enemy's camp from behind the rocks. The video footage was to be submitted to the BBC news channel and the anti-terrorist intelligence. She captured the terrorist's conversations, all by herself, in their camp which revealed their strategies and future targets.


I wasn't listening to her talking about her experiences in Iraq. I was transported to the beautiful land of Kashmir...six years ago....that was where and when I first met her.

And fell in love eventually.




I was a tourist to Kashmir. A bomb raid broke out by terrorists. Everyone who were boating in the Dal lake previously were fleeing for their dear lives. I ran towards the shelter of apple woods. In the midst of all this chaos, I saw her shooting with a video camera from behind the thick apple trees.

Love at first sight.

There was a mystique glint of bravery flickering in her eyes.

That's what I liked in her – her eyes and her bravery.

There was no one around. She was startled at first. Confirming that I was harmless, she came forward and dressed my bleeding hand with her scarf.

That was just the start.

During my stay at Kashmir, we exchanged our mobile numbers, talked late into the night and went out in the snow every other day. I must say she talked a lot. A very talkative girl she was!

Our love blossomed in the beautiful land of Kashmir-- rightly called ' heaven on earth'.




******************************


I was scared for her...for her life...of her dangerous job.

I pleaded her, persuaded her and pestered her at many instances to quit the job. I wanted us to get married, move to Dalhousie and happily live ever after...always...forever.





She was very adamant of her journalist job. At first I thought she was being headstrong.

One day she told me, “my parents died in front of my eyes in the hands of the terrorists. I was barely seven then! I've dedicated my life to do everything possible in my own small way to uncover their strategies.”

It was then that my love to her took a new dimension. I started respecting her job. My love for her grew even more in intensity.

Relating to those horrid childhood incidents there were tears in her eyes.

Nonetheless, the mystique glint of bravery flickering in her eyes didn't fade away.




That's what I liked in her – her eyes and her bravery.



********************************

I was scared.
True.

I was scared for her.
A lie.

In truth I was scared for myself. I can't live without her! I can't envisage a future for myself without her being beside me.

“Hey don't be so gloomy! Do you think I'll die so easily and sacrifice you to the other pretty girls !!?? No way! I'll be there for you...always...forever.” She teased.

I asked ,“ Promise?”

She replied, “ Promise! I rarely promise anyone. But if I do, then I value it with my life!”



***********************************

When she was away covering news in the war zones, my time would go out of sync with the rest of the world. I would lose track of days and dates. My time was divided into two phases-- the time I was with her and the time I waited for her. I would wait frantically clutching my mobile in my hand for that one call from her, assuring me she's safe and sound.

She feared nothing. She was brave.

She had her priority – her aim of exposing the activities of terrorists.

I had my priority – it was 'she'.

*************************************


I was in the airport. I got a call. I could not believe my ears! My head was spinning...my whole world went topsy-turvy!


*************************************

It was 2 days for my birthday to arrive. She was in Sarajevo reporting the war there live.

I urged her to come back.

She said yes.


It was a promise.

It seemed she had a surprise gift for me and wouldn't reveal it till we met. I pretended to be very much interested to know what the surprise gift was. I didn't want to be a spoilsport.
In truth, the gift didn't matter to me.


It was her coming back from Sarajevo after 2 months which truly was a gift to me.

**************************************

It was the day of my birthday. I went to the airport to receive her. I was waiting for her eagerly. Finally the flight arrived.

But... there was no sign of her.

I waited for her for another hour.

I heard my cell phone ringing. I was sure it was her. Smilingly I answered the call...but ... it was a male voice.

“I am from BBC news. I'm really sorry to say...but she is no more. She was killed in the war at Sarajevo”.



These words changed my life. For worse.

*************************************

She did keep her promise to come back on my birthday. But it was not the intact her. Her body was flown in a coffin to the airport. Her luggage was recovered and handed over to me.

I thought I would celebrate my birthday with her lively self around.


I was wrong.


I laid beside her lifeless body and for the first time in my life I cried.



I don't know for how long I cried.

My tears were exhausted. Nonetheless, they could not alleviate the emotions which burnt my heavy heart.

At night, I was flipping through her luggage. The surprise gift she planned for me was a hand woven kerchief with my name embroidered at the center.


It was as if she was consoling me not to cry and wiping my tears with the kerchief.

I preserved everything belonging to her....somethings tangible which lay safely in the cupboard...and as far as those intangible moments were concerned...they were there to stay in my memory, always...forever!



*****************************

It's been 3 years now. I still couldn't forget her.

Every night, from that day till today, I get scary dreams. She would be writhing and wriggling in pain just in front of my eyes. She would scream at the crest of her voice for help. But I would be handcuffed and helpless to rescue her. She would die every night again and again in my dreams.


I fear sleep.


Every day, those beautiful moments I spent with her keep flashing back. Everything and everyone remind me of her. No matter what I do, I think of her and her thoughts send pangs of pain in my heart. I try to suppress the pain, but the feelings gush out and churn my heart. I take sleeping pills to switch off from the pain.


I fear being awake.




Someone said that love is a bucketful of emotions. So true!

Her voice reverberates in my ears--“ Promise! I rarely promise anyone. But if I do, then I value it with my life!”


She did really have to value the promise with her life. She had to forgo her life...our life!!

It was a broken promise...a promise unkept...a promise unfulfilled.

I am so frustrated that, I want to kill her again and again for her broken promise. Why did she leave me alone??






************************

“You liar! You don't notice my smile! You are always lost in your own dreamy world and stare bleakly into my eyes!”


Yes, I used to lie about her smile. It wasn't her smile or lips that I noticed. I used to look deep into her twinkling eyes. She had an unflinching flame of bravery flickering in her eyes and the brunt of the horrifying images of her parents dying in front of her.

Her eyes spoke for her.

He eyes said it all!

That's what I liked in her – her eyes and her bravery.





Monday, November 10, 2008

The affidavit

afi
I've been pestering Dad for almost an year for buying digital camera. I'm fed up with the conventional camera and with the whole lengthy process of it.I'm lazy in the first place to take the reel to the photo studio. O.k just in case I hand over the photos to the studio ...I hate frantically waiting for the photos to get developed...and finally when these photos arrive...they don't come as I expect(sigh!). This happened everytime-- with my birthday photos, party snaps with friends, photos of family holidaying, the college fresher's day etc etc. You either find me closing my eyes in half of them...or I am still setting my hair or dress being unaware that the photo has been already clicked 2 minutes ago...or give a crooked smile that scares anybody's guts off !So kudos for this revolutionary digital camera--which has refined photo shooting and made this task much more enjoyable. I can delete bad snaps and choose the ones I like.!

I've been convincing dad that my neighbour has it, my friend Priyanka has it, my cousin Souj has it , so why can't I own one? You get the point there right. From past 1 year I failed miserably to persuade him. What not have I tried?? Blackmailed him, tried coaxing him up, buttering up, stopped eating food for a day to put up strike and done pretending to be a good girl in front of him. He has so much grit and determination that he has refused to give in or give up. And so am I ok....neither will I admit defeat so soon.I still am not letting my father be victorious...that battle is yet to be conquered.
And I've devised a final fool-proof plan which is bound to succeed. The affidavit...yes official one. You see the 'Govt. of India' seal there? It is fully original. Here was my plan...not just one of it...but 2 of them..plan A and if it fails plan B.


Plan A-- Here's the rough master idea for you folks--
Take a blank sheet -->Go to dad-->Ask for autograph(Dad's a big sucker for fame...yaps off as if he's a big celeb.So he's bound to fall for this one!!) --> Rest is all in this geniou's hands...edit it as I want....add any number of complicated clauses and fabricate it to suit my needs. (Give a thumbs up to me!!)


Plan B -- My back up plan--
Tare off the affidavit --> Flip it into the trash bin --> Fall on dad's feet --> yell, cry, weep make a hella noise!!
But guys plan A succeeded fortunately(yaay!!). Rest was all history! Dad went berserk. Finally he calmed down. He finally agreed to buy a digi-cam soon!!.. but on a mutual agreement. Dad wanted to add a new clause in the affidaavit that I should get 80 + % in my 3rd year 2nd semister exams. Well, they are anyway to be conducted in next April. So my dad might as well forget about the whole episode by then and on the contrary I am to get my digi-cam just in 2 - 4 days!! yippie!! So I thought there's no harm in signing the agreement.

Finally I got my sister to sign it as an eye-witness to this. So, folks 14th November is a big day for me. In case my Dad fails to keep his word ,I along with the help of my sister, with the proof of the affidavit, have a full-fledged official right to sentence him to jail. Just joking!! ...it won't go that far. Umm..hopefully.He won't leave much of a choice to me if he fails to purchase one.

Will post if I did really purchase one or not. Bye folks!!




Wednesday, September 3, 2008

The other side of me



If you ask me who I am, I would say that I am a lifelong student. I may not be perfect, but I am always eager to learn something new, or from my past mistakes. There’s so much to gain from life. I remind myself to keep all my senses open, to know something new every single moment and what’s more wonderful than to have a reliable sixth sense or gut intuition which you can trust, to guide you the right path!

My dad gets transfers often. The new posting could be anywhere in the country..north, south, east or west .I have lived in five different cities and attended 7 different schools and 2 different colleges. I have a feeling we are nomads living in a mobile van. I always felt like a displaced person. I was the new kid on the block- an outsider, creating barrier to make friends. It was a very disruptive life. Each time I would start making friends it was time to say goodbye. Somehow this made me tough from inside, for good, that I have encountered various people, each with their own peculiar personalities. This made me independent. I don’t wait for anyone and don’t expect help from anyone. I am versatile—modern with a touch of conventionality. I can be garrulous or taciturn, rebellious or obedient, innocent or clever, confident or doubtful, brave or timid, simple or intricate. I am a blend of diverging personas. I really could not figure out who I am or what I am yet. I discover something new about myself as I live on, and constantly amaze myself with my potential, which eventually surfaces out, and about which I knew never existed in me.

I love my thoughts, my ideas, my abilities, my strenghts, my weaknesses, my personality, my mentality, my soul, my life and everything else which makes me, 'me '. I always dot an ''i '' or write the word ''me'' or sign my name with a heart...filled with a sense of pride, reverence, love and self-respect for myself.




Words are my forte. I can play with the English language and manipulate the opposite person to give in and say something by which I can have an advantage over him. I treat English language with veneration. The one commendable job the Britains did by ruling over us was to pass on the English legacy to us. I am so communicative and expressive in it. Not even my mother tongue makes me so comfortable. In all those new schools when I had to reach out my classmates and teachers, only English would come to my rescue. It was a bridge between us.

I’ve always found solace with books, novels, magazines and comics. I came to know a lot from them. Even back in school I used to look forward for the library period and I bet all my classmates in the number of books borrowed. I loved the literature class back in school. Our English teacher was very inspirational and she had complete command over English. It was she, who instilled the seed of love for prose, poetry and creative writing. If I were not studying pharmacy today, my choice would be, to become a column writer for newspapers.. or hopefully even a newspaper editor.


My English teacher once said that at the age of 21, one would be living the happiest moments of life. I am waiting to become 21 and wish my age would freeze then and there. I wish I had the power of turning back the time and rewinding the magic of 21 even after I cross it.



I might be only 19 but its like I've already lived a 30. I have witnessed so much in such a short span of my life...different people..different mentalities..different culture..different language..everything divergent and totally contrasting the previous place. I have traveled a lot and seen all there is to see in India...umm…atleast a major part of it. I agree that India holds a lot of beauty and tourist delights that it would take a lifetime to completely enjoy it. But nevertheless you can say I've 'been there, 'done that'.



If you asked me to define life, I would be at a total loss of words. I could say ‘it is a span of time and a series of experiences between life and death’…but on second thoughts ..isn’t life much more than that? The more you live the more enigmatic life becomes. And this enigma itself is the beauty of life. I think no one ever, however great one is, can define life in its ‘real’ sense, because no body has lived truly and to the fullest to provide a suitable definition to life. That’s because a lifespan of 100 years is very short to truly 'live'.


A 100 years is just a speck of grain in the hourglass to truly behold the beauties of earth. I would like to go on a world tour someday. Meeting different people and customs has become an inevitable part of my life though I welcomed it or not and now it has become my passion. I used to despise making new friends. I used to be shy trying to pretend I enjoyed being a loner. But now I have changed a lot. I am hungry of meeting new friends. As I come across someone new, it might take me time to melt away the emptiness in conversations, break the ice and delabel him as a ‘stranger’ but once that happens I am very talkative and it is very hard to zip my mouth. There is no stopping me when it comes to gossiping on the topic of books, music and movies—my 3 lifelines.

I am so used to new places that my stay in the place I live currently is making me suffocate and I can’t wait to get out of here and discover a new city. I am getting bored out of life here. Its like I am sleepwalking through my life. Its like I’ve already lived my life and living the same day again and again with nothing exciting or eventful happening. I am adventurous by heart but till now there came no chance along—no bungee jumping, no paragliding, no trekking, no camping and of that sorts. My time has gone out of sync with that of the world. I am still waiting for that one chance to prove myself and to show others and... even to myself who I really am.

My dad said he is expecting a transfer next year. I hope all these moments until next year melt off and in no time I get transcended to a new place and make new friends!


Friday, August 15, 2008

The perfect gift





I went to exhibition yesterday night with Manisha, Dilip and Padmaja. I had lots of fun..went on to the rides..columbus, giant-wheel, brake-dance etc etc and ate a lot. While coming out I saw a vendor selling bubble-liquid. I got reminded of this story I read from reader's digest and instantly purchased it. I gave it to my sister to play. She was very happy!

"But what will you take for her?”

Nitin asked me. He seemed almost as anxious as I was on this occasion. Okay, so that’s what friends were for… but right now he was not helping me at all.What would I take for her? The instant answer was “Myself” but I thought it was safer not to say anything. Nitin was the earnest type and he would not like me making light of the situation. The situation? My planning to propose to Richa. Big momentous occasion on the cards. All planned by the small guy.Did I say ‘small’? I didn’t feel that small. I felt like I owned the world. After all, Richa was almost mine, so to speak. And who wouldn’t be happy with a girl like that. She was everything I wanted in someone I was willing to spend the rest of my life with. She was fun, witty, charming and the best part was she understood me. Well, over the last couple of months, I too was faintly beginning to understand her. Nitin’s verdict of Richa being a 'good girl' notwithstanding, I knew there were many times when I could have torn my gelled hair in despair trying to figure out what was it she wanted to say when she clammed up and said, “Nothing”.



There were times when all she wanted to do was tell me about her day. Which was fine as long as she did not ask me about mine. I mean work was work, what else did one say about it. Then there was a time when she picked up a bottle of bubble liquid from a man selling balloons on the road. “Grow up”, I told her laughing, yet somewhat embarrassed. People on the street were staring at us, though they were all smiling indulgently at her. “ Why should I?” was her quick rejoinder. I had, as usual, no answer to that as a bubble settled on my nose. But over time, I think I can understand her. No, maybe I understand myself better. And our relationship. I now know for a fact that we are definitely different.I know that I need to lend her a listening ear time and again. She simply wants to be heard. And I have told her that I really do not need to share every office issue with her.

I know that when she gives me space to have my night out with the boys, she is expecting that one-minute phone call to say that I still think of her. Easier said than done when you are in the middle of a heated football discussion, but I can do it now.

“So what are you going to get her” interjected Nitin into my thoughts. “Do you know what I suggest?” I smiled. I didn’t want to know. This momentous occasion would be ours. Richa’s and mine. I was going to propose to her. The setting would be perfect. And I was going to take a bottle of bubble liquid for her.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Issue Topics- GRE

The issue topics I wrote about in my GRE class. I was appreciated by my teacher for my essays and got the highest score in the class. I was so elated then and went to treat myself with paneer fried rice. I have a flair for creative writing. Maybe I will become a column writer for a reputed newspaper like 'The Hindu' or 'The Indian Express' some day. I wish there is a 'Aparna's column' just like 'Paul Krugman's column'. In my school days too, I could see the satisfied smiles from my English teacher whenever my essays would be up the desk for correction.


1) ''If a goal is worthy, then any means taken to achieve it is justifiable'
In this fast paced world, people have seemed to have broken their ties with ethics and morals. Froth has formed on ethical temperament and reasoning which is preventing them to perceive and acknowledge the conspicuous variation between fair and unfair means. People hardly take time to evaluate their deeds and give a second thought to the question “Is this unfair path I’ve chosen to achieve my goal really worthy?”
World renowned personality Mahatma Gandhi truly quoted ‘They say the means are after all just means. I would say means are after all everything. As the means, so the end.’
Pure goals can never justify impure or violent action.The end justifies the means. So, I would have to say that I believe that the goal is less important than the means because doing the morally correct thing is what makes the end worthwhile. Ghandhi’s noble means of non-violence in envisioning the goal of independent India alone broke us free from the shackles of British clutches as against to the violent means adopted by many other freedom fighters.
According to me there can exist no unworthy goal. Goal is the purpose we live for, and we strive for it by all means possible – fair or unfair. To assert that even unfair means adopted to achieve a goal can be justified is a mistaken idea and has a flawed reasoning.
A person who adopts unjust means to achieve a goal will have to regret at some point of his life. His pricking guilt conscience doesn’t allow him to relish his success. He will soon realise that this unjust means of achieving a goal is ignoble. As opposed to this if a person strives hard on the right and honest path, though he won’t achieve his goal, he realises that his efforts were worth it and he will have an innate satisfaction about his pains regardless of his gains.
For instance, in an exam if a student secures even a university rank by malpractice it will be of meagre value. On the contrary if he attempts the questions fair and square, he can analyse his performance and the areas he requires thorough preparation. This realisation is much more valuable than his securing a university rank.
All goals seem worthy enough to oneself. There’s no question of an unworthy goal. A thief steals with a good aim of feeding his wife and children and convinces himself that he is doing nothing erroneous. In the name of Almighty terrorists from Pakistan commit brutal crimes and kill innocent laymen. For them ‘Jihad’ is a holy war and a noble end and means in itself. They christen themselves to be ‘warriors of the god’. I often wonder how merciless killings can and mayhem be justifiable in the name of ‘Jihad’? A terrorist would adopt immoral means which lacks code of ethics. He is blindfolded and fails to distinguish the crystal-clear contrast between just and unjust. He will be under the aegis of the worthiness of the motives and commit many atrocities in the excessive fanatism of seeking his goal. Though it may seem noble enough to him, he will not be granted amnesty. Our legal system and constitution doesn’t justify unfair means and sees to that a wrong-doer is convicted however pure his goals may be.

Maharastrian fanatics of ‘ shiv sena’, feel that people foreign to Maharastra from north and south India had migrated to Mumbai. They are angry that Maharastrian customs and Marathi language are at stake due to cosmopolitanism. They feel that Marathi locals face competition at schools, colleges and offices for admission and jobs and are breached of their prerogatives. It is an invasion into their culture and encroachment into their land. They presume that others are inflicting north and south Indian customs into their’s. As a result Maharastra is losing its true identity and its culture has become amorphous. They show their outburst of anger and resentment and resort to evil means in the defence of their goal of securing and reviving Maharastrian identity. They claim themselves to be ‘sons of soil’ and forge ahead to any extent in driving away foreigners from their land. Their means can’t be justified.
The LTT group of Sri Lanka want a separate province for tamilians in Sri Lanka. They employ violent killings ad heinous crimes to achieve their goal. Instead they should proceed legally, fight elections and then form a government in Sri Lanka.
Maoists and naxalites in A.P, Orissa etc. commit gruesome crimes to achieve proper wealth distribution and reduce the discrepancies between have’s and have- not’s. They cogent themselves saying that their goal is pious and pure. No doubt about it. But the path they have chosen must be pure enough too. Following this, thefts of Robin hood who stole from the rich to distribute the wealth among the poor should be frowned upon.
American government presided by Bush suspected that Iraq was harbouring many lethal weapons. In order to seize them and disarm Saddam Hussein, America waged a war against Iraq which claimed many lives, blood and wealth. Many families were left bereft. This created many Osama Bin Ladens who out of retaliation and vengeance blasted the twin towers and the pentagon. Diamond cuts diamond. Violence seeks violence. Peace invites peace. They say ‘where there’s a will there’s a way’. True, if there’s a burning desire to achieve a goal, there will be million, but not one means of achieving it. But the means should be fair and just. Instead of violence America should have had negotiated and brought pressure on Iraq’s economy by creating economic restrictions and cutting down export supplies with which eventually Iraq would have been compelled to surrender.

In some instances people adopt cruel and cunning means. The classic example of this can be dated back to Greek history when Greece after years of trying to conquer Troy finally gave up and gifted a horse to Troy. Actually the Trojan horse was a dubious plot to trick the Trojans. Troy was burnt to the ground. I agree that ‘everything is fair in love and war’ but this earned the Greece a derogatory reputation till date. This gave birth of the abashing adage’ Beware of Greeks bearing gifts’. Many historians criticise their conduct even today.

Foe research and clinical trials many animals like guinea pigs and rabbits are sacrificed for experiments and for a noble cause of breakthrough invention in medicine and science. This is very inhumane and government has imposed a ban on animal tested products.

Some day or the other cruel means adopted will pay and will lead to one’s own downfall. A student doing malpractice in exam has good chances of getting caught and get debarred. Sprtstars like Jesse Owens who win race by energy boosters will be debarred from sports and earn a bad reputation not only to themselves but to the zeal of sportsmanship itself.
People only recognize and appreciate honesty and sincerity. Sania Mirza may not be World No.1 but she is still bolstered and cheered worldwide. Even if she loses the game people will encourage her but if she won a championship with the aid of steroids, the same people will despise her.
For each one of them their goal seemed worthy enough to themselves, but the unjust path chose by them got them bad reputation and they certainly will have qualms about their deeds tomorrow if not today.
If unfair means is justifiable then the world would be full of terrorists and anti-social elements spreading antipathy and animosity in the sole misconception and fallacy that to achieve their goal the wrong path trodden by them can be excused.. Hence ‘honesty is the best policy’. Only honest means to achieve a goal is justifiable.

2) ' An academic discipline alters the way we percieve the world. After studying the discipline we see the same world as before but with different eyes.'
Knowledge is an abstract matter which we acquire in the ongoing process of our life, meant to fabricate our thoughts, conduct, ideas, perception and senses in a matured and polished way. The sources from which one can imbibe knowledge can be academics, history, environment, from people, culture, sports field, nature etc. We later extract these fragments of knowledge by divulging into the layered depths of our minds and conflate it in a way the situation demands, when we confront with various circumstances in life. Academics are meant to lend morality to our demeanor and thoughts, provide etiquette and healthy habits, prepare us with the technical and vocational skills required to pursue our career and to win daily bread, and to equip ourselves with all the tools required to confront with situations in life.
According to me it is fully justified, to assert that academics transform the way we perceive the world. We see the world like never before in a different angle. Academics fine tunes our personality. It is affirmatory that academics provide rose-colored spectacles to our sight and by devouring these spectacles, we see the intricate details of facts, and clear and cogent explanations given by science for the questions of ‘how’ and ‘why’. We no longer see the hazy world and blurred doubts of an inacademic. Instances which we couldn’t understand or interpret earlier attain a newer meaning and conceptualization. Academics molds our mind and we start to ponder over real life situations from a different view point. Images converge and diverge to our eyes for our mind to assimilate and interpret in a matured way. We can offer explanations for the most inexplicable and perplexing mysteries of the world for which without the academic chiseling of the mind we would wonder of the plausible reasons.

Often, as a child, I would get scared of the very thought of what would happen if I traveled to the end of the world. Would I just tip off the cliff and get sunken in the murky inferno below? After I attended my academic classes it was reassuring to know that our earth is not flat and I would return to the same place from where I started. I also remember wondering how suddenly a blooming flower would metamorphoses into a plump fruit. I later came to know that it happens so due to pollination of bees.

Without academics rising and setting of sun, the day-night cycle, changing of seasons, the rainbow, and the rain will be considered to be divine manifestations of the Almighty. An academic on the other hand understands that the rising and setting of sun, and day-night cycle are due to rotation of the earth, change of seasons is due to revolution of earth, rainbow is yet another case involving physics principles of refraction of light rain through the rain drops and rain is due to evaporation-condensation-precipitation of water from water bodies. An academic knows that gleaming pearls are nothing but mere sand particles entrapped in an oyster and shining diamonds are nothing other than an allotropic form of unimpressive coal.
People without academic fabrication of their minds would be innocent, ignorant and superstitious. For an inacademic with no knowledge of geography floods are angry deluge of gods. Earthquakes, whirlpools and storms are the manifestations of evil spirits playing havoc on mankind. Where as, a learned has a different insight towards these mishaps. He has learnt that earthquakes are just seismic and tectonic plate disturbances, floods occur when rivers are overfed with rains and, storms and whirlpools arise due to wind current disturbances. He even has knowledge on how to prevent these predicaments and equips himself to safety.
Chicken-pox and leprosy patients were once preconceived that their souls were ingested by evil forces and they were battered upon mercilessly to drive away these spirits. This precognition resulted in more misery to the already miserable patient. With science and technology included in our academic curriculum, we now have adequate knowledge to prevent and cure many diseases.
An academic understands his responsibility towards his society, contributes to the progress of mankind, is mentally and physically healthy, differentiates between just and unjust, understands his purpose of life and has knowledge on his prerogatives and duties. On the contrary a person who is not shaped with the academic bent of mind wanders off in this world without understanding his duties. He doesn’t ‘live’ but merely ‘survives’. It would be crucial to bring this difference into limelight. Men are created to ‘live’ actively and be responsible by utilizing each second of his life fruitfully, where as animals are genetically predisposed to equip themselves with basic instinctive knowledge which is inherited from parents to their off springs just to ‘survive’ life and pass their lives on earth.
An inacademic may not understand the function of T.V and stares blandly at the images screened, wondering how come he is able to watch a cricket match happening in Leeds from his own home. On the contrary a person with academic knowledge knows that the images are transmitted by satellites to cable stations which later reach the T.V tubes. He knows the mechanic and electronic circuits operating in it. He can even repair any faults in T.V. With academic learning innovations, inventions and discoveries become possible. The heights of the skies and depths of the ocean can be conquered and are no longer distant dreams.
Without academics there would be no explanation as to why a chameleon changes its colors, why a firefly emits light, why a flower is so richly colorful, why tides soar high on a full-moon day, why moon changes its phases, how babies are born, how was life created on earth………An inacademic may think that man had suddenly dropped onto the earth from nowhere and believes in legends of Adam and Eve. But a person with knowledge on anthropology appreciates Darwin’s theory of evolution and that we are just advanced creations of apes!
In conclusion, if a person is inculcated with academic discipline, he is lent with rose-colored spectacles to see the world in a crystal-clear way and hence he strides ahead with confidence. While a person who is not learned will see the world in a murky way and he toddles with uncertainty.

Friday, December 21, 2007

Dear diary





I read in a newspaper about how a diary—a mere memoir of day’s events saves the day. A lady suspected a possible murder threat from her enemy and penned down his name in her diary besides her day events. She was murdered in a few days by him,tactfully without leaving a clue leading to him. The police investigated her room and finally came to know about the culprit from the diary and got him arrested.

Then I realized that I should start writing my events in a diary too. I made it my new year resolution. My English teacher during school days used to encourage writing diary entries. I thought to try my hands on it. On a second thought it occurred to me that my life’s daily torpid routine wouldn’t be exciting enough to mention in a diary. Nothing extraordinary and fascinating happens with me. I have seen my life as if I already lived it… the same circle of friends, family, college, endless exams and studying. Every dawn I wake up to the morning light, there’s nothing to which I look forward to.

I decided to go for it anyway. Ruben was my inspiration as he told me that my life is interesting enough. Who knows…my diary too could save the day one day.

Dear diary

11.00 A.M Good morning diary! I woke up at 10.30 today. It’s a lazy Sunday. Mom was angry that I got up very late told me she didn’t give me breakfast as a punishment. I thought, ‘shoot! Its lunch time anyway.’

11.30 A.M Had my brunch. It contained nothing worth mentioning.

11.45 AM In these 15 mins I thought of the possible things I could write in my diary.

11.50 AM My sister was watching T.V. …some cartoons…doesn’t interest me. T.V is always under her control. I never get to watch my favourite shows on the T.V.

12.00 noon Yawning!…called up my friend so that I could go to her friend’s place. She was out to theatre for a movie. Everybody seemed to have a great time except me.

12.30 PM Siesta time! My favourite!….my eyelids are drooling already..nothing like sleeping on a hot afternoon.

12.40 PM Couldn’t sleep…maybe because I got up just a couple of hours ago. My family was sound asleep. I will try studying class notes…pharma analysis…damn sure to make me sleepy.


12.45 PM The idea didn’t work.I reviewed the contents of the diary and stifled up 2 yawns. 2 hours of the day are spent and still nothing eventful.


12.50 PM Now I thought of how uneventful all my days were spent…from the day I was born to this day...my whole life as a matter of fact. My life has no aim, no adventure, no fun. I even doubt my very own existence. I am of no use as a human being…nothing more than a piece of trash in bin. I am an unnecessary load on earth. Even if I die tomorrow nothing would be lost to mankind.

12.55 PM I opened today’s newspaper. So many events and so much news. I had a quick glance at the headlines, lethargic to read the whole content what the news reporter had to say…
The frontpage news--’STF to wipe out naxals’…PM said, ”We can’t rest until we have eliminated naxals”
Good….didn’t he say something similar in yesterday’s news and the day before and back then too?? He doesn’t seem restless to me.

1.00 PM I was still reading the Sunday paper
‘T.V loses to youtube—more and more people prefer to watch videos and serials through the internet.’….This is what I do exactly. I can watch what I choose in youtube. With T.V its in the broadcaster’s hands.
‘Beckham gifts a book to wife Victoria on christmas’…Is this called news? My dad gifted many books to my mom. Why couldn’t that get into the paper?

1.05 PM I turned to sudoku section to solve it. It was already solved by my dad. I turned the page to astrology section called ‘Your day today’--
Aries-‘New ventures and adventures are on the way. Things may be challenged in your life in such a way that you find yourself difficult to hold on ground’…yeah? ..so that’s why I find today boring as always…all crap!
‘Romance will dominate your day. Best time to talk with your beloved.’ Really? I liked this. Only problem…there’s no beloved yet.
I continued to read ‘Your smaller details may reward you with large returns’…Bingo! Now this made sense. So that’s why I am penning down smaller details in my day’s events in my diary.

1.20 PM Thinking deeply I wondered how come there’s so much news everyday. That is so much contrary to my stagnant life. I really admire a journalist and news reporter’s skill to make extraordinary news out of ordinary happenings. He can turn out an ordinary event into a much hype sought propaganda and publicity news. He has a knack of hunting for what people would like to read exactly in the morning newspapers. He sniffs the tang and odour of news with his nose. Nothing interesting can escape from his glance and from the newspaper .The lives of celebs and sport stars, the rumours, the movie reviews, the political clashes…they all make interesting crispy tit-bits along with a cup of strong coffee early in the morning.
This taught me to turn my morbid and melancholic life into something exciting. It only depends on the angle of prospective and thinking. The question is …how?

1.30 PM Enough of paper now! I read my diary entry again. Rubbish! I felt like tearing it all up and throwing into the bin. However I still hung on my resolution.

1.45 PM The story of the murdered lady and her diary kept popping into my mind now.I reviewed if I had any enemies who would want to get over with me. My neighbour—my biggest enemy was a possible threat…but no..she doesn’t have the guts to kill. Then there’s my classmate who always competes with me for grades. Otherwise I am a very generous person with no enemies at all. Actually nobody cared whether I lived or died.

1.50 PM Felt hungry now.I had a chocolate bar slowly for whole 5 minutes.

1.55 PM I finished with the last bit of chocolate just when I was writing this sentence. I wanted to test my culinary skills. Its been years that I cooked.

2.03 PM I went to the refridgerator to check what I could make. There were no eggs to bake a cake. No carrots to make carrot halwa. No milk to prepare kheer. No bread to make sandwich.

2.05 PM I found cucumber. I peeled them sprinkled salt and ate them raw for salad. No cooking pains…no mess in the kitchen…healthy ...fast and simple to make.


2.10 PM I am wondering of what to do next. Something interesting to write in my diary, which would appeal my readers. Though it’s a personal diary and I wouldn’t allow anyone to read it, its not actually personal anymore. I have a hunch someone read my diary secretly 2 years ago. I wrote about my feelings about a silly teenage crush I had those days. I found the diary strewn on the bed and that was when I discovered that somebody sneaked in and read it. I was infuriated. And now I really pity the person reading my diary behind my back. If he would read this one, he would surely yawn 10 times! I don’t like to bore people. I am desperately thinking of the possible interesting things I can do to pep up and jumpstart my day today…something which would appeal my readers incase they read this secretly, without my knowledge.

2.15 PM Its sad that people don’t respect privacy and poke into other’s personal domain. On the other hand our mind and our memory is impregnable and the thoughts and feelings propping up inside there are safe and indecipherable to the outside world. Sometimes really silly and funny thoughts come into my mind and I feel glad that no body can know what’s cooking in it. If somebody had the power to decipher my mind like the cartoon character Jean Grey in X-Men, who is telepathic, they would know what a fool I am and be disgusted at my thoughts.

2.30 PM Now I know why people blog being blogger anonymous. They don’t want their identity to be disclosed and at the same time they want their shoutout space so that they can voice their opinions and record their life. A blog is a chronicle .It would be great to return after 30 years and open the site and go down the memory lane and cherish those good old moments.

2.45 PM I always had controversial ideas about blogs. The whole world has access to it. People come to know about our weak points and start to take advantage of it. Why should we allow anyone to peek through the window into our private lives? I guess its to share feelings with the world and its because people want someone to read their write-ups and comment on them, to know their views and suggestions.

2.50 PM Diaries are so similar to blogs. The only difference is that with diaries you have your privacy guaranteed. But you should keep it out of reach of those sneakers.

3.00 PM I am not sure of what I am thinking and what I am writing in this diary. I am letting my thoughts trail off leading to nowhere. When did all this chain of thoughts start? That’s why I don’t like clairvoyant people, that is, people who can read other’s minds. Now you sure would laugh at my silly and foolish ideas, which have no valid point in them if you read this.

3.15 PM Have to change the refill of the pen. I am running out of patience too.

3.30 PM Am I boring or is it that the day is boring? Or is it both? Or is it something else? If it is then it is what?

3.31 PM 5 hours of the day have been spent and still nothing interesting to write about.

3.32 PM I had a glance at my wrist watch to note down the time for this entry.

3.35 PM Time is very witty. It flows off when I am watching my favourite show. I try to desperately turn back time then and try to hold down every second. But no it’s in a hurry.
And when it’s a holiday like today and I want it to speed off, it comes to a standstill, lazily and every second takes eons to tick. This is theory of relativity by Einstein.

3.40 PM I am listening to the watch as it ticks. Melodious music.

3.45 PM I am still listening to tick-tock sound of the watch. This reminded me of a similar rhythmic sound of the heartbeat.

3.50 PM I counted the number of my heart beats to pass my time.

3.51.30 PM I counted a 35 by now.

3.52 PM My heart rate is 70 per minute. Good that means I am healthy.

3.55 PM I wanted to count my breathing rate too.

4.00 PM I couldn’t breathe properly as I was conscious of it.I quit this idea of counting.

4.05 PM I turned to a new page as that page of the diary was over.


4.07 PM I tore the pages of the diary, crushed them, flipped open the lid of the dustbin, threw them into it.

An Idle mind is a devil’s workshop. I am waiting for my college to start and that would resolve my boredom. Am I boring or is it that the day is boring?

Thursday, November 8, 2007

Are you at the other end of the bridge?


Nostalgia gripped me when I looked back at my photo album. It was a class picture filled with memories...that are just a part of bits of photo paper now.

I was cleaning my shabby room after lots of pesterings from my mom.I retracted old class albums in the process.Its been years that I've had even a mere glance on them.They were a part of past.Flipping through the photos,and recalling bitter old memories I felt so nostalgic.They were all my friends once.I don't know where they are now,how they are now.

I was surprised I remember all their names...Santhosh,Rachana,Madhuri,Varsha,Tanmay, Athulya....Athulya...that name woke up a sick, strange darkness in me.

We were classmates from U.K.G to class III.I always admired him in class secretly.He always stood first in class and was a favourite among teachers.He was a really cute boy..with a pink face and chubby cheeks.He was a rich kid and half -American- born.He let only 'class A' people in his friends circle and obviously I was'nt a part of it.He rarely looked in my way, let alone talking to me.

My joy knew no bounds when my teacher made him my benchmate in class III.He was sitting to my immediate left!!Oh how I used to love going to school then.There used to be only awkward silence between us.We rarely spoke to each other.I used to feel my heart racing even to ask him if I could borrow from him a pencil.

It was his birthday the other day.He throws up pompous parties on his birthday to which I was never invited.It was break-time and he was distributing party invitations among his close friends.I was lying down on the desk gloomily and wondering of all the possible ways I could impress him and get admission to his 'class A' friends group.Maybe I should buy an expensive b'day gift and win his heart...But what do I give?...he has everything in this whole world.


He came from behind and interrupted my thoughts.


Him:Aparna
Me:(startled): Yeah. Happy birthday Athulya.
Him:Thank you.Well, here's the invitation for my party.My house address is mentioned in the card.The party is at 5รณ clock.I would be glad if you could make it to my party.
Me(with dropped jaw, dilated pupils and stammering):Eh...um.....su-sure.I w-would be r-really h-happy...
He did notice my tension and smiled back at me.The sweetest killer smile any boy could have.Next he distributed toffees in a bowl to the class.He came to me offering chocolates in the bowl.
Him:Which chocolate do you like?This is with nuts and fruit and that's with almond and this's with raisins...

I really had difficulty choosing the right one with so many options available.Seeing me perplexed he picked up a 50-dollar chocolate from his pocket which I guess is a special gift from his grandpa in America.He distributed only 2 -rupee candies to others but gave an American imported chocolate to me!I could see people getting jealous around.I muttered thank you to him.It felt really nice inside that he gave away a special gift to me.And all these years I thought he didn't care about me.He looks at the other way when I look at him as if I did'nt even exist.I thought he would'nt even know my name and he offered to invite to his party to which only his close friends are allowed.I was totally wrong.Maybe even he wanted to befriend me.But I guess neither of us had the guts to break the ice between us.

In the party I had a great time,played many games and ate delicious food.I won in 'paasing the parcel' and got a goody gift in return.We became good friends in the party and from the next day in class we were totally comfortable with each other and clicked on really well.


 



He used to come to my house too for collecting notes if he was absent to class.And whenever I go to his home he used to teach me a great deal about computer.

That was 11 years ago.My dad got transferred to Bangalore later and I lost contact from him.I don't have his phone number now.And its been too long.I don't think he would even remember my name now.I don't know where he is now.The last time I heard about him was from my old friend that he was preparing for IIT and looking for studying in abroad.I thought of searching for him in orkut but I don't know his full name.I let those memories fade away from my mine too...until I saw that photo album.


I don't know of what importance I hold to him in his life.But to me he is my best friend.I don't care if he doesn't consider me as his friend now or if he does'nt even remember that a girl called Aparna existed and that I was his classmate once.You must have heard of one-way-love.This is one-way-friendship.


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