Thursday, 28 June 2012

Everyone’s story

This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
Of a friend

Passing by our school, I see our playground and every memory blinks a different light in my head, blurring my vision with their watery escape. Friends we made, fought with, waited in the morning to arrive, parted ways every afternoon, right here. Every solace found, every game played, every moment celebrated, every person cursed, every period bunked -too much to remember and nothing worth forgetting.

Why did it have to end
And why do they always say
Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past
Well that's too much to ask

It's just another phase of life, you have to let go. Every good thing shall pass, making you a better person, life is too short; so relish the times you get and later relish the memories you made. Every time your heart aches with the pain of sweet moments lost in the past, you delude yourself – thank god for facebook you say. We can at least keep in touch. Though you are told it’s no use living in the past, who can really truly move on? Do you and damn, can you, forget the good old times??  You “add” all your old friends, your pillars of strength, in hope that you will never let go – that you will always have someplace where you know solace, friendship, love and open arms await you.

Live and learn
Well the years they flew
And we never knew
We were foolish then
We would never tire
And that little fire
Is still alive in me
It will never go away
Can't say goodbye to yesterday 

Everyday you come online but you barely do much - you play ghost. Facebook laughs at you, tempts you to come in, teases you as you keep track of your friends, tries your moods as you wonder what to tell them, how to tell them that you miss them, and laughs again, more sarcastic than ever, as you decide there’s nothing to say. It’s a daily routine, even though you barely talk to each other, even with the distances in between, you await to see their daily routine of activities, and when you don’t see any likes, shares or comments – you tense, wonder and pray for their well-being. It’s just a little fire in you, a longing for them you can never, and will never, express – it’s something you can’t hide or reveal. You cling onto the only connection left between you two, you can’t say bye.

No regrets
But I wish that you
Were here with me
Well then there's hope yet
I can see your face
In our secret place
You're not just a memory
Say goodbye to yesterday
Those are words I'll never say

And even though you don’t know how much I still care, or you probably don’t realize how intensely I still care, I try to reach out, but you don’t quite catch me. I attempt to remind you I exist, my best friends, my partners in crime - but it seems like you have moved on. Was it really that simple for you? You barely respond inspite of the ease of it, and I wonder if there is any hope for me with you, I worry if I have lost my old friends – hopes shattering through tears in my eyes, the flame shivering in the storms of reality, or perhaps my delusion. I look carefully at your profile again, but I don’t recognize you anymore, maybe a little in bits and pieces - I see familiar patches, but not the same whole. You may have changed or moved on, I may not be as important to you as you still remain for me- but I cannot replace you in my heart, I will continue to pray for you. As realization dawns on me, I cannot distinguish between my friends and these familiar strangers.
One request – can my real friends please raise their hands?

This used to be my playground
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy

song credit : madonna 
please be kind, it's my first ever song-fic.
in memory of friends i made and lost, and the friends i didn't get a chance to make yet lost them.

Wednesday, 27 June 2012

So much to learn – so little time

4:45 – I run to the kitchen to make tea.

I tiptoe into her room, place the tea cup on the dressing table. She moves a little but doesn’t wake up. I take a quick look at the clock on the wall- its dot 5. Thank god.
  She sleeps like a peaceful child. And that’s all I pray for her, to lead a peaceful life, to not have any more drama is her life- because she’s seen enough & it’s only fair that, now, she gets to see content days .
 I used to believe in the Chinese curse “may you live in interesting times” and she used to refuse vehemently. I have grown up to believe it too.- because she taught me to never ask for something that could break you,  that “interesting times” would also be hard and trying – and of course I learned it the hard way.

 My mother  and I are poles apart – we are like fire and ice, and as a rebellious teenager, I would often swear  that I would be nothing like her when I grew up , but here I am today – a subtle replica of her , a forgery of the same woman with, say, the signature of my father  on me.

5:10 –  mummy.
she’s not getting up inspite of me calling out to her, day well-spent  taking its toll. So I nudge her gently. She always told me to wake up my brothers from sleep in a gentle manner – something I never did earlier (and I think they didn’t deserve it).  Waking up to a new day – it isn’t nice to wake up to someone yelling at you to hurry up.

5 :15 – mummy utho na. (mom wake up)
One of the things my mom and I never agreed on is the concept of retaliations , the joy of sweet revenge. I have always believed in a tooth for a tooth, but she believes in overlooking, then making sure it’s not getting out of hand, if yes - intervene , if not - forgive. 
She always told me that if you forgive easily – people might take advantage, they will think you won’t mind just because you don’t say it out loud and make a fuss of it.  Still  forgive.

Her heavy figure breathing serenely, composed in the confines of her blanket, a safe haven. It seems silly, but I find peace when I see her all calm and tension-free. The gratitude I feel for her – I can never express it in words or deeds. She seems lost in her dreams. Dreams I hope she gets to see, I wonder why I don’t know what she dreams of. I think hard and see a flash-back of her saying “ a parent’s biggest dream is to see their child grow up and be a good honest person- to know that they have raised their kid well.” I hope I can live up to her dream – and be the person I want to be at the same time.

5:40 -  Finally after all the nudging  she wakes up. 

Kitne baar bola hai beta, paaanch baje utha do, lekin nai, tumko laptop se fursat mile tab na. ab kitne der ho gayi, aao kitchen mein aur help karo.(how many times do i have to tell you wake me up early but of you leave your laptop then only you will have the time to think about other things, now its so late come and help me in the kitchen.)

 I can just laugh at this daily dose of love, and hope I can be at least half the mom she is. When and if, I have kids – I want them to know her , to spend time with her and to learn from her.

Tuesday, 26 June 2012


Every once in a while something happens, something that shakes you up from inside, that moves your entire life around, something that makes you want to run, scream, fall, do something. Not just do anything - but something that is worth this life you are leading.
It may not happen to you, it could happen to someone you knew, or someone around you or may be even someone you didn’t know at all.   It revives your worst fears, your uncertainties, teases your emotions, urges you, begs you, manipulates you. 

A similar incident moved me to start this blog. Death. Of a dear one, and then of an acquaintance, and then of a random person at a friend’s collage, and then of an innocent baby somewhere in my country – repeatedly telecasted on the news channels….  Too many deaths, too many losses, for me to keep calm and hold myself together.
As I wept, silently, praying for their well-being in the hereafter, I "re-realised" that this life is too short to procrastinate; it’s here today, gone tomorrow.
How many of us live to see the days we dream of, how many of us live to fulfil the promises we made, what is the guarantee that something I want to do, I will be here tomorrow to do it?? So many that we know of move on into another world without living up to their dreams, barely experiencing life, and that is what upsets me most. All I wanted to know was why did they go so early? Did our prayers fall short? Did no one pay attention to them? Did anyone bother to fulfill their dreams? Didn’t they have any dreams? Life should have been fair enough to at least give them a chance to live their desires. It feels almost guilty to be alive when kids younger than you pass away. 

Weep not, Death is the just another journey, my mother tells me.
But it’s not this journey; you don’t live it like you live here. I weep some more.
All I want is to be someone before I die, I don’t want to live, and leave, without ever attempting to fulfill my dreams. And all I dream of is to be a good friend, a good companion, a good person who has made some tiny difference in this big bad world. Well mostly anyways.

With this, I hope to allow you a peek into my mind while I muse about life as I know it.
Don’t judge me, just walk with me and you will find a good companion, 
and I hope your time here will be well – spent.
Welcome to my head and my heart.