missing my country

MISSING MY COUNTRY…

Life tends to be weird at times. Here I am, all set for my new journey in United states of America, and suddenly feel that my footsteps are still not ready for the move. I do love my country, but never thought I loved it so much making me cry at odd moments when I remember those silly things I could do here and probably can never do there.

Around six months back, I was excited to the core about going to a foreign land, experiencing a new life . All of a sudden, that happiness seems truncated. The things I hated the most suddenly seem to be endearing. I was travelling in a rickshaw that day. Normally the eunuchs who come along at the traffic signal and start touching you irritate me the most. Not because I hate eunuchs, but I just feel they may not be genuine and a male may just be wearing a dress of a female claiming to be a eunuch. But that day when one of them said, “ Baby, tumhara life accha hoga,  tum bahar pardes  jayega padhne”, when I simpy ignored he said “ koi baat nahi baby, khush rehna “I just couldn’t hold my tears. I don’t know if he was genuine or faked up but it does need a heart to keep saying and wishing good things for others in the scorching sun of Mumbai especially when the person you are saying good things about prefers to royally ignore you or hurl foul words at you in frustration.

I wait happily these days for me to get jammed in traffic. I yearn for people to honk horns, and yell at each other. I don’t know when again will I see these warm Indians bonded together again. Those silly fights in second class ladies compartments, make me feel that we are simple souls who believe in pouring our hearts out or just crying loudly when frustrated. In second class compartment females talk freely about their lives with each other, share their troubles , discuss prices of vegetables. The first class compartments , which I loved travelling earlier seems like they are aping the west .. In first class compartment, u seem to find females with trousers and a suitcase or a makeup case in hand, totally cut off from the world. I will miss everything right from the stinking smell of the fighting fisherwomen to the lovely train journey till KEM holding the big fat pharmacology book in hand, trying to mug those deadly medicines in the train. When I happen to see an Indian wedding or an Indian funeral on road, I just feel heaviness in my heart. The road side paani puri , vada pavs and dabeli are the only foods I hog these days . The old grandmas going to temples together render so much serenity to this country. Vegetable vendors screaming “paach ke teen limbu” seems like music to my ears now.

This year when I went to vote I realized that this was probably the last time I would vote here. I had a very tight schedule too many patients to see, and I was wondering if I would get time to vote. When I went inside to cast my vote, I was suddenly so touched by what met my eyes. Old frail people struggling to climb steps, people with fractured limbs walking with crutches, all geared up to cast their vote. This I felt was the spirit of a true Indian. If old people like these still have faith in the political system, why shouldn’t we youngsters? That time I decided, no matter how tight my schedule is when I come back, I shall surely vote.

It’s really sad that it’s while departing my country, I have discovered a true India . I just hope that the fast developing west doesn’t rob me ever of my Indianess.

AM SUPER ANGRY TODAY

People have always labeled me as a sweet girl who is just too good and too innocent. So then all my rights to express anger suddenly become truncated, even an iota of resentment or anger is like the eighth wonder for people. Not getting into any altercations then becomes a question of maintaining a reputation. So what do I do when I feel like getting wild at people and feel like bashing them black and blue? That when such a stupid blog emerges, when my anger takes the disguise of words and even they bark back at me.

I am super angry today, and there seems to be dearth of words to write which is making me fume with anger even more. At times people loves to get wild at me and I am really really tired using every single sulci and gyri of my brain to figure out why they love to lash out at me? At times they get onto every single nerve of mine. Every muscle of my vocal chord wants to yell at them, but everything is suppressed. I have tried all. Counting numbers, taking god’s name, tearing papers( this gets more reprimanding for creating garbage in house).please save me from this hell, I want to escape away to some fairy tale world (there also the poor cindrella is tortured by her mother…no no hell no, real world is fine. Heheh… my poor quality humour is making me laugh…finally anger vented out. Depression over. Now I can get back to talking sweetly with everyone else. Even Gandhiji must be getting angry but I am sure even he must not have resorted to such a unique method like mine.

Someone has said that why lose 60 seconds of joy for every minute of anger. I haven’t lost my joy…even when I am angry I am doing something that gives me tremendous joy.writing a pathetic blog.hehe.

Everyone has fights with people, I am fighting against my anger.and yess the battle is won at last.

God’s techno world

For some smses we don’t have to pay

message gets delivered and finds its way

someone up there is chatting with us

through the window of our mind when we happen to “buzz”

why do u need an ipod when music surrounds us all

God’s mp3 player has all melodies from thunder to cuckoo’s call

At God’s playstation every game we play

ranging from superwomen to battered wife each day

from a handsome hero to the real one who fights daily for his pay

God designed brain like a digicam with instant memories to store

and viewing them is simple by opening the “dream “door

man’s so called inventions are just reclycled from God’s plan

His mastermind simply executes it through a certain human clan

dont ever give up

DON’T EVER GIVE UP!!!!

I HAVE ALWAYS ASKED GOD WHY HAS HE GIVEN ME SO MUCH PAIN?

WHY DO MY EFFORTS SEEM ALWAYS TO BE IN VAIN?

DID I DO SOMETHING THAT WAS NOT RIGHT?

DESPAIR ALL AROUND NO HAPPINESS WITHIN SIGHT.

I TOO SAW A DREAM AND WANTED IT TO GROW

AND SEE IT FLOURISH INTO A BEAUTIFUL TOMORROW

I WANT TO BE A DOCTOR I HEARD MY MIND SAY

THOSE UNSPOKEN TEARS WASHED MY DREAM AWAY

I WAS LIKE A LITTLE BUD WAITING TO BE A FLOWER ONE DAY

BUT BEFORE IT COULD BLOOM THE BUD WITHERED AWAY

WALKING ON THE FOOTPATH MY MIND WANDERED BY

MY ATTENTION WAS DISTRACTED BY A FAINT LITTLE CRY

I SAW A BEGGAR TRYING TO PICK UP A SMALL ONE RUPEE COIN

NO HANDS NO LEGS YET HE WAS TRYING.

HERE I WAS NOT WANTING TO LIVE ANYMORE

AND THERE HE WAS FINDING KEY TO A LOCKED DOOR.

WHAT WAS HIS DREAM?JUST WANTING TO BE LIKE ONE  OF US?

WHAT WAS MY DREAM?WELL NOTHING BUT A FUSS.

THAT ACTION OF THE BEGGAR SURE MADE MY DAY.

AND I THANKED GOD FOR SHOWING ME A WAY

DEFEAT DEJECTION DEPRESSION WHATEVER U FACE.

DON’T EVER GIVE UP TO BE THE WINNER OF THE RACE.

my perfect match

will there be a hand i need to hold?
with that held hands my feelings unfold

will there be a finger to wipe my tear?
and that wiped tear makes things seem clear.

will there be a shoulder to rest upon?
when even the most stressful life will seem to move on.

will there be eyes to look at me?
that look in which my world i see.

will there be feet to guide me in each step i take? and
hands that support each decision i make?

will there be arms to hold me tight?
and tht hold makes things seem bright.

i dont need words to make me gay
even that silence has everything to say

i dont need some one who is perfect you see.
i just need someone who is perfect for me…

freedom at last

TRUE FREEDOM…

Inside a dark room lay a girl with a voice screaming out her thoughts. But nobody is listening to her. She feels a vacuum all around her. No wonder the sound isn’t travelling. Well light does travel in vacuum but where is light in her deep dark life?

Who are her parents? She ponders. Her father could be amongst a hundred people her mother slept with. And her mother just brought her in this world because may be it was too late to get an abortion done. Now she is surely living her life for a purpose of continuing the tradition of prostitution her mother preset for her.

Her name is Apsara and she is born to serve the people of this hell. In this red light area there is one thing red… the anger fuming inside her. And there is one thing green…those lush green patches that she can see outside her window. Green signifying freedom…its too distant for her but she would reach there someday.

A knock on the door silencing her thoughts .. and surfacing just one thought of losing her self identity with each passing day. A hefty man screaming “ its your turn tonite”. TURN… . how conveniently he is using this word as if this is something she is waiting for. “Do not disappoint the sahib” …yeah rite.. she is appointed not to disappoint anyone but herself.

Walking in silence with heavy steps she sees a cobweb in one corners with a fly trapped in it. That fly knows that the spider is ready to pounce on her yet she is struggling for her existence. The fly in her attempt to free herself comes out of her cobweb but dies on the ground. Apsara notices this and knows what to do next.

Locked in the room with a thin lanky old man looking at her in lust she knows she will not let her self respect go down the drain. Picking up a pillow she puts it on his face and sees him suffocating to death …a feeling that she goes through everyday.

Then she throws herself out of the window of that locked room and feels the open air touch her soft face as she dies. There her corpse lay facing lush green patches. This is where she always wanted to be. Her soul now has no limits and boundaries. For some suicide is a sign of failure ..a sign of weak individual..but not always..at times its freedom .suicide may scientifically mean killing one’s physical self but it may be freeing one’s mental being.

In case of Apsara now her soul will surely serve the people of heaven.

being beautiful

Being Beautiful

Sitting on the beach, she stared at the azure skies . The balmy wind touching her face, trying to wash the tears that kept flowing by. This was the same place where every possible hue of the sky showed her a new dream.

A year back, on this very beach, Yash had proposed her. He had written on the sand

“ I LOVE WHEN YOU FROWN, I LOVE WHEN YOU SMILE.

WILL YOU BE WITH ME ALL THE WHILE?”.

He was her best buddy, and this kind of reaction was not what she had expected. She frowned and said “ Do not irritate me by your stupid pranks.” She always enjoyed his bantering her. The wicked thrill he used to get after badgering her to the fullest by his silliest remarks used to fester her the most.

But this time he was serious and in no mood to joke.

“ Come on Yash, this is just an infatuation, and don’t ever think I am going to say yes.” His otherwise jovial countenance was gloomy. Finally she said “ Exactly after a year lets see how much of your love persists, I am sure till then you shall tell me that you are in love with that hot babe standing there on the beach.” “ Impossible Ayesha, I have loved you always. Forget it , you will not understand the gravity of situation now. We shall surely see in a year’s time”. He said

Coming home that day, Ayesha pondered over what had happened. She always thought of her ideal husband to complement her. She always believed that her man will be handsome, chivalrous and a perfectionist. Yash nowhere fitted into the picture. He was like this stupid prankster yelling at her, forget being chivalrous. “ He doesn’t look good either, we will be a total mismatch.” She thought.

Ayesha had a lovely countenance, her ever shining eyes adding glow to her fair complexion. Her million dollar smile was enough to make any handsome guy fall for her. Yash on the other hand was fat and dark.

Days passed by, Ayesha lost her sister in an accident. Ayesha was her family’s strength now. She could only vent her feelings to Yash . His shoulders were the only support to cry, so that back home she could pretend that everything was normal. She was completely ignoring her persistent ear ache, turning a deaf ear to Yash’s advice of visiting a doctor.

Though he cared for her like no one would, was with her through her ups and downs, she still had these staunch ideologies of “ PERFECT MAN”. Tomorrow was the day when one year would be over, she thought and she was contemplating of ways of refusing his proposal and yet not hurting him.

Her ear ache was troubling her. The next day she got up. As usual washed her face and as she gargled, water was coming out coming out of her left side of the face. She could not blink, nor frown. As she attempted to smile, her mouth was distorted. Her ear infection damaged her facial nerve.

In the evening , she was sitting on the beach with tears flowing from her widely open eyes and a stoical expression. She was waiting for Yash to come. With tearful eyes she smiled at him, expecting him to be horrified at her ghastly face. Without saying anything he walked away from her and in minutes she could not believe what her tearful eyes read. On the sand were words:

“EVEN IF YOU CANT SMILE, EVEN IF YOU CAN’T FROWN

LOVE PERSISTS DEEP DOWN”

She still can’t remember, how long she hugged him. Her facial distortion, untwisted her staunch ideologies. The sky was once again filled with every possible hue, as they both were walking towards a new promising dream.