Life is just a bowl of cherries!!

Pause

2013-04-30T23:35:00.001-04:00

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 39; the thirty-ninth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "Break"

There I was, at the railway station. I had ran for about 5 minutes and I was panting like an old woman, a proof of negligence towards health. When I looked at the indicator I realised that the train was late. Hush, I almost said aloud. I had to reach early today (though I don't remember when was the last time I did not had to reach early).

The place was crowded and as a woman got up for the train downtown, I managed to sneak fast to fill up the vacancy. The fan above was whirling and as it swept gush of wind on to me, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude. Now that I had a seat, I began to worry about the train. Our project was near to go-live, the client was demanding one and we were all so short of time. The deliverables had to be reviewed and I had to squeeze time from my work to do those. All this was really taking toll on me. It was exhausting, physically and mentally. Work was on my mind day and night. It didn't leave me alone in my dreams too. It appeared like a snake, sneaking and hissing perennially reminding me of the pile of work unfinished. The thought itself was such a terror. I sighed. Why can't I just pause the whole worry thing for a minute. I needed a break.

I heard noises and realised that the crowd had grown and the whole platform was filled up to the edge. “What happened?”, I inquired to the woman on my left. “Uh?”, she said and I judged her to be kind of creature similar to me, all lost in thoughts of everything else but the present. I just smiled, how hopeless we were. God save both of us. “Some wire is broken at Kurla and so the trains are all held up. And to add to the problems, it’s taxi strike too”, a woman to my right answered. “Oh! When will it be fixed then?”, I said with worry. “Well. They didn't say anything about that but I don't think it will be quick”, she said with coolness which I found very appealing.

So there’s no way I can reach office? And with taxi strike, with all the rush, bus was out of question. I called up office and apprised them of the situation. Okay, they said. Rupa will take up my role for the day, they said simply. Okay? They said okay? I was bewildered. How I always thought that each one is irreplaceable and any absence would mean utter chaos and problems only. But that’s not true! They can do without me. I did not have to be there all the time. The fear in my mind was created by me. It was a futile fear.

So I need not worry, I was telling myself. All these days, I was working so much that it seemed so weird and alien to even think of a holiday. But this is it. I told myself. You are free today. Free! Free!

I don’t know how it happened but all the thoughts about work were simply dropped (it had never worked before even with effort). Somehow the fact that nothing could be done, this resignation, seeped through my mind. My mind became cleared of the clutter and I felt myself relaxing.

I could have returned home but instead, I sat back, looking at life I had never watched before even though I was a part of it, playing my role, only as an absent commuter. But today I was a bystander, one in full awareness, watching and feeling the colours, black, white, dull, vibrant. I could hear the sound that filled the surroundings, hushes, swearing, questions, answers. It was a mess but it was splendid! Situations! It brings so much out of people.

The worried woman to my left looked paranoid and I tried to talk but I guessed it was not about the train, I let her be. The woman to my right was watching closely, cool as a cucumber, the smarty. She had figured the ultimate answer before me. The woman with a kid who was stretching at the edge, was continuously looking in the direction of the rail tracks. The kid was smiling, he had already figured that today would be a holiday. Hurray! he must be thinking. it won’t be wrong to think that he already had the plan of how to spend the day.

I was feeling good. I had never been so close to life. My mind and heart was in full acceptance, fully aware. I watched the young couple who found some extra time for their extra talk. They looked oblivion to the disorder around. I watched the man selling bhel, his face happy with the extraordinary day when he could carry home the extra money. I watched people straining ears, head tilted, to hear every word that the speaker announced, in Marathi first, in Hindi next and then in English. It was fun when they looked at each other and shrugged when they did not understand a word of it.

What a life! Where was I all this time? I was the fool who was cribbing and carrying the burden from office to wherever I went. But now that I realised, I dropped all the extra baggage and accepted the new lesson learnt. The Lesson of life!

P.S : This is a fictional account :)

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: Megha Haware, Participation Count: 11

The Pursuit: Part 7 (Final)

2013-03-17T02:24:00.001-04:00

…continued from Part 6. She then began to run around the ruin. He followed and saw she was standing looking something at the ground. He looked down. A closer look revealed that it was a human body.

He was interrupted by someone, “Who was it? the tribal man?” Rishi nodded. “Yes, it was the young man”.

“When the police investigated, the whole thing was brought to light. Rahul returned to the village after a few days and found what had happened from the girl”.

The girl told him her story. She was from the village below the ruined fort. One of the elder man in the photo was her husband. She was married off to him when she had turned fifteen. It was common in their tribe she said but she didn’t wanted this fate for herself. She rebelled and it was during those days that she met Nathu, the young man in the photo. They fell in love. He was from the other village at the top. Their path never crossed and nobody came to know. They started to meet secretly. The husband used to go to the city on Saturday to get the weeks household shopping. He also used to spend a night in the village on the path at his uncle’s home. It was all a routine. In those nights she used to sneak away and come to the pond to find Nathu invariably waiting for her. They used to spend time talking, making vows, repeating the promises and then return to their homes with new dreams for the night. Those few hours filled their lives with immense happiness and hope. They spent the rest of the days and nights waiting for next Saturday when they would be together again.

On the night of storm she had sneaked out before time and after a long stroll enjoying the forest she had entered the pond. How peaceful it was under the water, calm, cold. She liked to swim, in fact she could stay under water longer than normal. It was a second home and she felt like a free pisces under the cold water. After some time it started to thunder. She understood that there would be rain. But the time of meeting had passed and Nathu was nowhere to be seen. She was waiting for him desperately.

But then it started to rain and she saw Rahul. He had moved to the small arc but it was too narrow and insufficient to provide any protection in the storm. He needed help and she took him to the ruin. Leaving him there she escaped from the left door. She saw there was light in the adjoining chamber and that Rahul will be safe. Hardly did she realise that the one she was waiting for desperately, was right there in the next chamber. That night she did not meet him. Nor the next week and also the following. With Nathu gone, her life was useless. Her life was ruined for eternal.

Days were passing. She continued to come to the lake and wait for Nathu heartbroken. One day she met Rahul again. And then he showed her the photo. She was awestruck to see her husband and Nathu in the same frame. How could that be? Did he knew about their love affair. And when Rahul narrated his story, this became clear to her. Through his story that she came to know that her husband was also there in the same place on the dark night.

As Rahul repeated his story and she added her bit to it guessing what may have happened. He mentioned about the small kid. She told him the small kid was her step-son, child from her husband’s first marriage. He had thrown the child’s mother out of the house for some feeble reason. The villagers must have found Nathu before her and must have confronted him. They must have been warning him when Rahul entered the scene and they had to stall their plan. She said it must have been the child who must have guided them in handling the situation. He had inherited the cunning and selfish trait from her husband. But with these traits what she had noticed was a fatal and precarious streak that was building in him.

What Rahul had seen in the fort was an illusion, presented by the men, them as the harmless villagers while Nathu as violent. All the while his only attempt must have been to escape but they had held him back. It was unknown why he did not just shove them and escape. She said she was sure he must have been worried for Rahul, that’s why he wanted to warn him and was trying to talk to him but Rahul thought he wanted to fight him.

The men had revealed in interrogation that they had passed fumes of poisonous plant that they had bought for Nathu under Rahul’s nose. Rahul passed out and they were free to carry on with their plan. Seeing Rahul down, Nathu had rushed to him but Ganga, the other elder had brought down a stone on Nathu’s head. It was a fatal attack and he died on the spot. The kid was the one who still had not forgotten about the photo. He tried to delete it but it was too complex for him. He stamped it and threw it in water. They discussed and had a common understanding that a traveller like Rahul was not a threat and that he will just get up the next day and leave the place never to return. The two elders carried Nathu’s body to the back of the fort. They had to struggle as it was bit heavy for them. That answers for the foot prints outside, Rahul thought.

The girl was crying inconsolably. Rahul understood how difficult it must have been for her. She kept repeating, she knew her husband was a selfish man but she never knew that he would actually kill Nathu. His eyes welled to see her so anguished. But there was nothing that he could do.

“It was so unfortunate. He could have saved a life. Had it not been him, maybe Nathu may have escaped” Rishi’s voice was sorrowful as he narrated the sad end.

“What happened to the girl? What happened to the murderers?”

“The case is going on. The men have confessed” His voice was getting softer.

“You didn’t see her. She cried like…My hear went to her.” Rishi continued. His words struck the friends that it was Rishi, it was his story. He never told them, maybe it was closer to his heart and brought the vulnerable Rishi out. They didn’t dwell on it. Rishi continued.

“ When she cried with her face buried in her hands, the difference between us vanished and I could feel the pain she was going through. I felt like someone very close, like it is my little sister, crying over the tragic permanent loss. I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was see her cry. But that day I realised….how lucky we are. We get everything, without any struggle. But still we crib. We take everyone everything for granted.”

They nodded, he was speaking the truth. We have forgotten the value of value. Someone asked, “Is she all right?”

“She vanished”, Rishi answered. “She couldn’t be found anywhere. A missing report is lying in the police file. But nobody cares about disappearance of a poor tribal girl.” He paused, “But she is a brave girl”.

Somebody put his arms around Rishi’s shoulders. “I am sure she will be all right” his friend said.

Rishi smiled, nodding he said, “Yes. I am sure. She is a brave little girl’ Then he wiped his tears and looked at them, “The lake is close by. We can go there. Maybe she has returned!”

The End.

P.S. After a long long time, I’ve written a story this long. Actually I started for a small one, originally the first part only. But then I went on. I thought about it a very much, so much that when I woke up next day, the first thing that came to my mind was the story. I wondered if I was thinking about it in my sleep too.

I have tried to write the story differently, in all passive tone. I don’t know how much justice I have given to the story this way. But I feel strongly and honestly that the last part could have been better. But with passive tone, I was not able to come up with better way to write it. But maybe when I come back again to this story after some days or months, maybe I have improved and could think how good this story was and what could have been better. Happy writing and Happy reading.

The Pursuit: Part 6

2013-03-15T11:28:00.001-04:00

…continued from Part 5. He thanked them and left. All was well but a simple fact that the kid was talking the local Marathi language while he refused it’s knowledge on that night. He let it go. He was really fantasizing too much. He continued his way up the mountain taking rest every one hour or so.

He now headed to the lake. It was again full moon night when he was at the same place. He was panting as he reached the plain. The dry grass was making swishing sound as the wind played with it. The water was making the slight sounds as it rippled and shimmered in the moonlight. Every thing, every movement was so much same as the last time he was here, that he had that uneasy feeling like the one that deja vu gives you. Everything repeated as if it was the same night. Everything except the presence of the girl. He searched the water surface in the darkness with urgency to see her, with an anticipation but at the same time his heart filled with dreadful fear that he might never see her. She was not there. He sighed and sat down. He decided to spend the night there and continue with the original plan to trek to the top in the morning.

It was when he lied down and closed his eyes that he could feel the presence of another being around. He sat up and looked around frantically. Another look at the lake revealed what he was here for. The girl was sitting silently by the water. She turned to look at him. ‘How can she be a spirit? How can she be my imagination? No she was alive, in flesh and not his fantasy’. He went to her and sat beside her. He assumed she recognised him as she did not move. He felt the solemnity in her demeanour. ‘Was she sad?’ They sat like that for sometime. Then he tried to start conversation. He wanted to know about her. ‘Who was she? Where did she go that night?’

To start with he introduced himself. ‘Rahul’, he said pointing to self. He could hear her breathe. There were gasps. She had been weeping. ‘Your home’, he said making inverted V in air. She pointed at towards the valley, ‘down in the village’ she said in the Marathi. She was still sombre. Sensing her sombre mood he stayed calm but inside he was happy to know that she could talk marathi. She can now answer to his questions. Then quickly realising, he produced the photo from his bag and flashed light on it. The men too were from the same village, that may break the ice. But when she saw it, she snatched it from him. Her eyes went wide and fixed on him with questioning gaze. ‘Where did you find him?’ she asked. ‘Whom?” he wanted to ask but instead he said, ‘The shelter, where she took him that night’

She stood and started towards the ruins. He ran after her asking why she was running. But she was in her own spell. He followed. In few minutes they were at the ruin. She ran from one chamber to another searching for something. There was nothing to be found. He could not understand her frantic search. ‘What was she looking? Was it the men? What was it?’

She then began to run around the ruin. He followed and saw she was standing looking something at the ground. He looked down. A closer look revealed that it was a human body.

He was interrupted by someone, “Who was it? the tribal man?” Rishi nodded. “Yes, it was the young man”

“When the police investigated, the whole thing was brought to light. Rahul returned to the village after a few days and found what had happened from the girl”

…to be continued

The Pursuit: Part 5

2013-03-13T10:42:00.001-04:00

…continued from part 4. The whole thing, the events, the doctor’s revelation, everything was disturbing. Nothing was fitting in. Who were they? Was he accidently poisoned or with intent to finish the eye-witness. Were they on a run? Should he go to police?

He had made up his mind. He decided to go back. Not only to find the truth of the events. But for the girl. He couldn’t forget the girl and it was almost everyday that he dreamt of her. Not that she was very beautiful but the whole extraordinary circumstance that she had appeared and disappeared made him curious. Her face with the silver ornaments shining against her face kept appearing before his eyes. They gentle way that her petite face had rose through the water with rain dripping was not the thing to be easily forgotten. Even then he had followed her enchantingly and she continued to enchant him in the thoughts. He had to meet her. After that he will be fine and continue with his daily life, he was sure.

When he reached the foot of the mountain he remembered the person who gave him lift last time had mentioned about the tribal village. He decided that he will make his way through it. The reason was that he had something that had added a thin possibility of discovery of the truth of the whole mystery. While changing the mobile phone he found that the memory card was undamaged. The photo he had taken of the tribal men was intact and he had brought a photo print with him. He was filled with apprehension as he saw the small huts that dotted closely on the mountain slope. Should he back out? What if the men in the photos were really goons. Was it that he was a fool who wanted to step in the lion’s den? Even as he thought his feet kept walking and he found himself facing a group of men under a large tree.

He skimmed the faces and as he eyes reached the last of them, he recognised. The two elder were sitting there. They had smile on their lips, it was clear that had recognised them too. The young guy and the kid were missing. He was glad about the absence of the young guy. He wanted to ask about that night but stopped when he realised that it would be vain as they would not understand anything he would say. Ram Ram, he greeted them. Ram Ram, he heard the greeting from behind, he felt his strength draining as the thought of the youth and his aggression passed his mind. He turned reluctantly and sighed as he saw the kid. But he noticed that the kid had greeted in common local language and not tribal. They smiled at each other and he gave a chocolate bar to him.

When they talked the kid told them about the night. It so happened that they had all dozed off to sleep and it was him, the kid who had woken up in the middle of the night and had found out that the storm had passed and the sky was clear again. He then woke up the rest. The kid then tried to wake up Rahul too but he was in deep sleep and did not respond. So they left him to rest.

Rahul sighed. It was all simple and he had been a fool to thing the other way. Probably he had done too much thinking. Or probably he was fantasizing a little too much. He wanted to ask them about the girl but remembered the reaction last time he had tried to talk on the matter. He thanked them and left. All was well but a simple fact that the kid was talking the local Marathi language while he refused it’s knowledge on that dark stormy night. He let it go. He was really fantasizing too much. He continued his way up the mountain taking rest every one hour or so.

…to be continued

The Pursuit: Part 4

2013-03-11T12:18:00.001-04:00

…continued from Part 3. He tried to sleep but the last event warned him against it. But his body was too tired and refused to cooperate. His eyes closed and his mind into oblivion forgetting about the storm, the fierce youth, the photo and the mysterious girl.

As Rishi stopped, the others said in unison, “Then what happened?”

He woke up to find himself alone in the ruin. It was already morning. The sun was up in the air.

His watch indicated 11 am. His stomach was twitching and he felt sick. He ran outside. As he threw up, he saw something in the puddle of water to his right. It was his phone. There were number of random footprints around. He picked his mobile and tried to remember how it landed there. He tried to recollect if it fell out when the guy came to him for the fight. But it was in his hands and it did not fall, he could remember it clearly. Maybe they tried to steal it. When he tried to operate the phone, he found that it was ruined and was useless. As he handled it, a possibility flickered in his mind.

“Were they some thugs, the villagers? Did they do him something that he doesn’t remember anything?” someone asked interrupting Rishi. The others shushed him.

Rishi shrugged and continued, “The last he remember of the previous night was the queer smell that he felt. He couldn’t remember if it was real or just a dream”. He went on.

Rahul thought about the comrade, they could not be thugs. Coz all of his belongings were with him. But then they had tried to either steal or ruin his cell. Could that be because of the photo? Were they some wanted murderers? He shuddered at the thought. If that was true, he should thank God that he was still alive. But how believable it was that some murderers left a defenceless witness back. It could not be true. Maybe the kid took it and may have thrown it in the fear to be caught.

He collected his bag and started walking. Feeling weak physically and with the stomach creating issues, he decided to back off. He took lift on his way. He was relieved to find that his helper could speak his language. After talking to him he found that there are two tiny tribal villages. They speak their own language. One was some kilometres up on the mountain and the other was downwards and was close if you take go around the mountain. But that was all that the man knew.

“Did your friend go the village to find out?”

“No. He was frail, his health had worsened. And apparently there was no reason to go back. All his belongings were good, except for his cell”, Rishi answered. He continued, “After reaching home, he recovered. The doctor found poison in his blood, possibly entered his body through fumes.”

“Ohh!” there were sighs from his friends. They were hooked. Rishi continued.

The whole thing, the events, the doctor’s revelation, everything was disturbing. Nothing was fitting in. Who were they? Was he accidently poisoned or with intent to finish the eye-witness. Were they on a run? Should he go to police?

He had made up his mind. He decided to go back.

…to be continued

The Pursuit: Part 3

2013-03-09T08:42:00.001-05:00

…continued from Part 2. The chamber was dark but there was a light coming from the right opening. There should be another chamber over there, he thought. Little careful he stepped in.

“What happened? Was the girl there?” someone asked with urgent curiosity.

“No”, Rishi continued, “She was not there. She had vanished. Or perhaps she sneaked from the left opening of the other chamber although she did not had any reason to do so in the grave circumstances of the storm. But there were people inside”

“So she was a spirit? Bhoot? You are making this up, Rishi!” they all grunted protesting

“No. Why would I?” he protested.

“Just like that. Just to make the night more amusing”

“Oh no! You think I am this creative. (pause) I can stop if you think it’s all fake” They all looked at each other and shrugged. “Okay”, they said, “Carry on”.

There were people inside, sitting against the wall. Light flickered from the lantern hanging from the ceiling. It was enough to introduce them to each other. There were two elders, one youth and a small kid, all tribal from appearance. It was difficult to identify the age of the elders but the young guy was bony and with slightest of fat. The kid must have been 8 to 9 years. Their body reflected day to day struggle for living and their eyes stared at entry of the new stranger. By their gestures, he guessed that they must have been talking but they refused to continue. They all sat silent. Quite odd, he think. He said Hello to them but it went unanswered. He talked in Marathi, the local language, be they shook their heads. They were all watching him, the elders with a questioning gaze while the youth with defiance and fire. Rahul acknowledged the flair and decided to keep distance from him.

They all sat for sometime with small conversations happening between the villagers. They were talking in their native and not a word was interpretable to Rahul. But Rahul was sure that it was not some small talk, with the intensity they talked that something much important was under cover and they were discussing and arguing and his entry had brought halt to it. But there was nothing that he could do. As he had a nutribar, he offered them some, only the kid accepted, others refused.

He wanted to ask them about the girl. But how would he convey it? With his hands, he made the curves of woman in air, but got frowns from them, their eyes narrowing. How stupid was he. He could be misinterpreted for worse. He gave up. With such an interesting subjects sitting in front of him, his mind urged him to take some photos. He played with the idea for sometime and then he took out his mobile and stood by the opening from where he could take a good shot. In a fraction of second, just when he clicked, all of a sudden the youth stood up with such a swiftness and ferocity that Rahul’s heart almost stopped. The others were quick to hold him back and make him sit. If not for them he would have been wailing on the floor.

They scolded the youth. Rahul understood nothing but he interpreted as warning not to act foolishly. The youth was not happy, fire shining in his eyes, hands restless, he was squirming in his seat. Rahul cursed himself. These guys were here with some reason, perhaps an important meeting. I was an intruder and had brought stop to whatever they were doing. It is only good for me to stop being foolish, mind my own business and leave with the first light, he advised himself and nodded to self.

He tried to sleep but the last event warned him against it. His propped his eyes wide but his body was too tired and refused to cooperate. His eyes closed and his mind sunk into oblivion, forgetting about the storm, the fierce youth, the photo and the mysterious girl.

…to be continued

The Pursuit: Part 2

2013-03-07T10:30:00.001-05:00

….continued from Part 1. Rishi sat down on the uncut grass and began his story.

My friend, Rahul is also a hippie at heart. He likes to travel by the untraversed path. It gives him adrenaline, he tells me. It was one of his offbeat trek. The one that he will never every forget. He was trekking up the mountain in the Western Ghats. He said there was an easy way to the top but he had found a dirt path and the prospect of traveling by that path was enticing to him. The jungle was safe as the animals were minimal and restricted themselves to the jungle at the top. He had anticipated sparse habitation along the slope of the hill and was carrying enough food with him. The only risk was that the jungle was dense and brilliantly cunning. It was a mirage and could loose you all the while you think you are on the right track. He took the risk and started on the tiny track.

It was the beginning of June and the monsoon had not reached Maharashtra. But the climate had been cooler than it should have been and he expected some drizzle. But he was lucky and there were no surprises. He kept walking as the cool breeze unwound him of his tiredness. When it was dusk, he decided to camp. It was not yet dark. He found a place that rooted him as soon as he stepped there. It was a fine place. The ground was flat, defying any indication that it was actually a place on the mountain slope. The grass was dry and swayed in the cool breeze making a swishing sound. In this noise was getting mixed was the soft sound of babbling water. The water reflected the sunset colours. The whole set up looked like taken from some enchanting sequence of a romantic novel. His fatigue vanished and he felt relaxed.

Just when he was about to sit by the water, there was a lightening followed by a thunder. It was completely dark by now. There was a commotion of clouds that startled him. He saw a movement in the calm water. He looked around and ran under the rocky arc a few feet away. He was right, it started to rain. Just then he heard the bubbling sound in the water. Something was inside and was coming out. He frowned trying to concentrate on the silhouette.

He sighed when he saw it was not an animal. With the sudden flash of lightening that illuminated the scene, he saw it was girl. He could not believe that she was under the water all the time he was there. Her head was now out of the water. He saw the big silver ear ring and nose ring that stood out on her dark face, a tribal girl, her parkar-polka stuck around her body and water dripping from her face. The whole scene brought him goose bumps. He noted that she was unaware of his presence. It was just a fraction of second of illumination and then it was dark again and he could see her no more but did sense that she was now out of the water. The rain by now was coming down in sheets. He noticed she made some hissing sound.

She did it again. After an effort of concentration he realised that she was addressing him. She was making sign with her hands over her head indicating house. She was moving towards the the dense of trees and was making signs to him to follow. He complied, he needed a shelter or else he would definitely get sick. The rain was trying to make it difficult to trace her but it did not hinder him. He followed her like a snake following the movements of the charmer’s pipe. After sometime she stopped and he realised they have reached a ruined fort. She stepped in the chamber and he followed. She wasn't inside. He saw two openings, one to left and another to right. The chamber was dark but there was a light coming from the right opening. There should be another chamber over there, he thought. Little careful he stepped in.

“What happened? Was the girl there?” a friend asked with curiosity.

“No”, Rishi continued, “She was not there. She had vanished. Or perhaps she sneaked from the left opening of the chamber although she did not had any reason to do so in the grave circumstances of the storm. But in the other chamber there were people inside”

“So she was a spirit? Bhoot? You are making this up, Rishi!” they all grunted protesting.

…to be continued

The Pursuit: Part 1

2013-03-05T11:40:00.001-05:00

“Sometimes someone else’s grief gives you more pain than yours”, Rishi murmured looking distractedly at the cloud passing animatedly in the sky. It disappeared in the trees only to reappear in the small gap of the dense forest. They were in the veranda of a small cottage at the outskirts of Nimbude village.

After an eventful day of adventure followed by extremely delicious food, the friends were lying down in uncut grass watching the clear pollution-free sky dotted by the stars, their mind dabbling in the double pleasure discussing the day and relive it. They had immensely enjoyed the jungle safari and were very happy that they had consented to Rishi's suggestion to come to Nimbude.

It was a lovely night and they felt at peace like never before. The wind and abundance of nature melted all their tensions. After a long time they were together, talking their hearts out. As the night wore, their topics drifted from gratitude to complaints. They took turns to keep names and criticize their life and relations. Why couldn't they have a perfect life? What can they do to make it perfect? Rishi listened neglectfully as they discussed to make it perfect but only by trying to change everything else but themselves. “What do you think?”, somebody shook him. “What do you think Rishi?” he repeated. “Me? You really want to know?” Rishi refuted. He stood and looked up to the moon. It was a fullmoon night. Then he answered their question.

“You guys are fools. When you have faithful partners who love and care for you, why are you running around for something else? What exactly do you want?”. His answer silenced them. They were not expecting this answer, not from Rishi. They were aware he had a breakup last month but he wasn't the emotional kind. In fact he would just joke about his fleeting relationships and move ahead. But this was a different Rishi they were listening to. Where love was last word in his dictionary, here he was, filled with emotion, his words carrying a hint of sadness, not fake but urgent and convincing of some unknown reason he wanted to convey.

His face looked soft with emotion, his eyes contemplating and staring in the air. “This place brought some memories. About a girl, a friend had told me about”.

They waited and when there was no answer they said in unison, “Tell us”. They were looking at him with interest in spite of the booze. He sat down on the uncut grass and began his story.

My friend is also a hippie at heart. He likes to travel by the untraversed path. It gives him adrenaline, he tells me. It was one of his offbeat trek. The one that he will never every forget.

… to be continued

Fragrance of love..

2013-01-06T00:23:00.000-05:00

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 35; the thirty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "...and the world was silent again"

He scrapped the black edges of omelette off the pan and put in his plate. He ate it silently by the window. It was 5 pm and yet it was dark like midnight. The darkness of the night contrasted the snow that accumulated on every object exposed to the harsh nature. He finished his omelette within a few seconds. His stomach growled. He needed food. He wished his wife was with him here. It must be 3:30 am in India, he thought. His mobile phone began to ring. He looked at the display. It was his wife calling.

“Ayu, you are still awake? It must be 3:30 am”, he enquired.

“I am missing you Adi. I feel very lonely. I wish you were here with me”, she shared the agony in her heart.

I wish too, he wanted to agree but he stopped himself. “We talked in evening, sweetie. Talk to mom you'll feel better”

“She had to go to brother, he is not keeping well. And her presence would not have made any difference Adi because I need to talk to my husband, you”

“She should have been with you. Aniket has family to take care of him. You are alone there. Have you closed the door and windows well?”

“You know Adi, it's raining here. This time of the year, it had never rained before. It's raining as if it will end the world today. Will it? We may die without seeing each other. It’s crazy, my mind. It brings some crazy thoughts. I feel restless alone and so in crowd. Its like the world is a big wild crowd and I am the sick lonely soul in search of don’t know what”, her voice restless.

He knew his wife was going through a difficult phase. They were married for just three months when he had to fly to Canada. She wanted to come with him but it was not possible. They both missed each other terribly. He had busy work schedule to drown into during the day but Ayushi had to bear with the loneliness day and night. He had talked her into a job. She went for it but then after a couple of weeks she resigned complaining loss of interest. His job was very satisfying and that was a relief for him but when he returned home he had nothing to do.

That was the time when his mind and soul engulfed in loneliness almost everyday. He called her every evening and they talked for hours. They laughed, cried, teased, revived their wedding memories. It was the time when time stood still, the distance vanished. The love overflowed all words and emotions and no force could keep them from the happiness that they felt in this time.

But as days flew, Ayushi grew restless. She started complaining about not being able to be with him. It was a matter of less than two months and after that he will be beside his beautiful wife. He tried to console her but she had drowned herself in silence and spent sleepless night in pain. Today was one such night, he realised. He had to free her from the loneliness and make her sleep.

She spoke and he came back to the present. “You remember the Chafa** plant that we planted a year ago before you flew to Canada?”, he noticed the quiver in her voice.

“Yea, you had built a shed to protect it from rain”, he chuckled, trying to lighten her mood. She was always protective about whatever and whoever she loved.

“Yes, it has grown now. It grows beautiful rainbow flowers. There is such a beautiful symmetry in it, the flowers are of same size and each petal of same shape and mix of orange and pink colour. And it’s fragrance is hypnotising. I get a few beside my bed before I go to sleep”. He smiled, he remembered her mentioning that when they had planted it.

“But I can't get the flowers today. It's difficult to step out in this wild rain. (pause) I don't think the tree will survive this storm. It's going to die. I could protect it no more”. He was worried about Ayushi’s tone. Her words carried her plight which he now empathised. He could feel the loneliness she felt, the tears that welled in her eyes. He realised she had called him for help though she didn't knew this.

“Ayu”, he said, his voice tender. “Are you by the window?”

”Hmm”, she replied.

“You see the tree?”

”Hmm”, she affirmed.

“I wish I was there with you. (pause) But Ayu, I could still see the tree, as if I am beside you watching it. The rain drops patterning on the leaves and flowers. You remember how we have fought about the plant. I wanted rose and you refused. You were so adamant”

“I just wanted a plant that I can see grow before my eyes. It would be a mark of our married life. I wanted to see it grow big before our eyes, blossom and spread the fragrance as our marriage matured”

“Ya, I know dear. You were always the sensible one among us. You see the tree, Ayu? It's grown, blossomed and livens up the surrounding with it's fragrance, doesn't it? You wanted us to see it grow big. You said you wanted it to be a mark of our marriage. Then it is, I see it is. Even if I am not there Ayu, I see it's grown, like us, like our relation. It has grown strong, like our bond. It can survive hundreds of such storms, it will. I don't have to be with you physically, I am already there beside you watching the tree. It's beautiful, isn't it? I love you Ayu. And I will be with you very soon. Right beside you. To smell the flowers and to hold you. To listen to the songs of birds on our tree, chirping and butterflies hovering. I love you sweetheart. I love you very much. It has been a beautiful day and now it’s a beautiful night. You know, I dream of you every night. Will you dream about me tonight?

“Yes I will”, she said, blushed and she tucked herself in the bed. The noise in her head had shut, and the world was silent again. The rain patter which earlier sounded fatal now rang romantic chimes and the smell of the Chafa sneaked through the gaps of closed windows and filled the room. She closed her eyes. She felt close to him like never before and his sweet voice whispered from the phone in her petite ear, I love you Ayu. Good night. Dream about me.

***

NOTE: **Chafa in Marathi is Champa in Hindi, Plumeria in English. This plant grows beautiful flowers and is most fragrant at night

***

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: 08

Children of heaven, movie

2013-01-04T20:28:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I watched “Children of Heaven”, an Iranian film by Majid Majidi. A few weeks back a colleague introduced me to Iranian films. ‘Their cinema is famous. They pick a simple topic, and create a beautiful film on it’, he said.

Children of Heaven deals with a brother and sister and their adventures over a lost pair of shoes. It was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 1998.

The movie is filmed in Persian language and you have to read subtitles to understand but it doesn't make it less interesting. Believe me it doesn't.

The film is beautiful and gets close to your heart not because of any extraordinary theme but just because of the opposite, its simplicity. It's simplicity is it’s charisma. And the direction, a magic.

The film takes us into the very common life of an Iranian home and after a few minutes you feel you know the family. You empathize with them and think how their life can get better. It's a film which will hold you while watching it but will makes you contemplate more after. There are couple of things that you dwell on after watching the film, the simple life, the rustic yet cinematic streets, the bond between the children and teachers, Irani education system. Moreover, the problems faced by a poor family, the love and bond between the children and their parents, love between the siblings, the determination of the children to manage with a single pair of shoes, not to avoid spanking but because they know that their father cannot afford to buy new pair before the month end and they don't want to burden him.

The music is minimal but the background score is perfect at the highlighting shots. Some of the scenes are brilliantly shot, the one when Ali and his sister goes to the girls place to get the shoes back, the girl running after the shoe when it falls into the gutter, the other one when Ali promises his sister that he'll come third and gift her the shoes, then the intricately filmed race, the memories flashing on his mind while running and the most beautiful, the climax when he immerses his feet in the pond and the fishes kisses his feet. There are many shots and those who have watched the film will understand.

The film and the director is extraordinary and I am going to watch the other films by him. Those who love content cinema and good direction should watch this film. Also, I think parents should show it to their children.

[ Must Watch ]

Dear John, book review

2012-12-28T12:28:00.003-05:00

"Dear John", this book would never have been on my desk. Though I like to write romance(though I don’t remember when was the last time I wrote romance), reading of this genre was never my cup of tea. Actually it happened so that I had heard praises for the film, "The notebook". And my sis the other day watched it and liked it a lot. So I decided to watch it. Now the question was, whether to watch the film first or to read the book on it. Now I have read Nora Robert(writes romance) earlier and I knew I can't read anything of the genre.

It's that my sis's vacation has started and shockingly she wanted to read book, A book but one that will not need any amount of thinking. She started searching for teenage romance. For me it’s like, God! These books are so dumb. But she wanted it nevertheless. So I thought about The notebook. But it was already in circulation, so the picked next book of the same author. I know I don’t need to write all this but thoughts are pouring out my head and I am glad that I read this book. In fact my sis must have read just 50 pages but I have completed the book already. Now about the story.

An angry rebel, John dropped out of school and enlisted in the Army, not knowing what else to do with his life--until he meets the girl of his dreams, Savannah. Their mutual attraction quickly grows into the kind of love that leaves Savannah waiting for John to finish his tour of duty, and John wanting to settle down with the woman who has captured his heart. But 9/11 changes everything. John feels it is his duty to re-enlist. And sadly, the long separation finds Savannah falling in love with someone else. "Dear John," the letter read...and with those two words, a heart was broken and two lives were changed forever. Returning home, John must come to grips with the fact that Savannah, now married, is still his true love—and face the hardest decision of his life.

The book is written in three parts. The first one is about the time when the two meet and fall in love. Now reading this part was difficult for me. It was mushy with lots of repetition and I felt to discard the book a million times. But I have this necessity to complete every book that I pick up. So I continued. It was okay.

The second and third part is about the their lives in separation. Now I have to say this that even though the first part I felt mushy, I think it was the base of the 2nd part, and then I felt the same mushy parts beautiful. I mean the way it was written was beautiful. In second part, I could make sense of the first part. And the third part was much more beautiful. It was sad but this was more than a teenage romance, it was about reality, true love, hurt and emotion, of love, betrayal, care, desire. I think the writer has done such a marvellous job that I had my own screenplay running as I read the book. And the book touched me, it was wonderful.

I liked the story. But more than that I admired the author's skills to use the perfect words to get the situation or emotions reach out to you. The best example of that would be the ending, it couldn't have been better written.

Highly recommended
My rating - 4 of 5 stars

The story is...

2012-12-23T10:19:00.001-05:00

They were on the couch, holding hands. She was resting her head on his shoulder. Some movie was playing on tv but it looked comical without any sound. No words were exchanged between the two but felt all the same.

She shifted and looked in his eyes, My Perfect husband. As he looked in her deep brown eyes, he smiled, how lucky they were to be together. She had the most amazing eyes and an such a loving heart, my Perfect wife. They were so much in love.

He could see a tear forming at the corner her left eye. He leaned closer and whispered, I love you! I will always love you, and held her closer. Even without words, they both could feel the deepest emotion erupting in the other.
Then suddenly, suddenly, the tv went black. He closed his eyes tightly till it hurt.

Hey mister-good-for-nothing!, a voice echoed behind him. It was pungent, mocking voice.
Food is on the table, I'm having dinner. Come over if you want to have it. I am not going to wait for you. She murmured a curse. He turned. His bitch wife was holding the remote. She was red in anger and so was he. He stood up helplessly. His mind cursing. God! Reality is so bitter. So, so bitter. What I have married into?

The Odyssey

2012-12-13T10:41:00.001-05:00

*** My original post was deleted :( I don't know how. Tried to recover, but no luck :( So I have just saved my old post content to this new post..

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 34; the thirty-fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "Of-Course, I'm insane"

"Are you insane?", some woman asked in hysteric voice.

The ladies compartment was moderately crowded. My eyes drifted in the direction of the voice. She was middle aged woman, dressed in a nice cotton saree with a suave floral pattern. She was sitting on fourth seat diagonally opposite to me on the other side of the train aisle. Her authoritative and arrogant face implicated the ilk of government employee who send back the customers complaining either that some unwanted document was missing or it was their tea time/lunch time. In her lap was a polythene bag containing green peas. She was picking out the peas and the other ladies around her were pretending to be helping. Together, they looked like a knock out gang.

They all were looking hysterically towards the girl in the window. She was wearing a stylish shirt and trouser which made her look quite odd in the gang. I was intrigued and inadvertently started listening. The train was slow, journey long, with no other way to pass time, I thought, it's okay, I need some entertainment!

"Off course", another woman said.

The pretty girl sighed as if stepping down but then the next second she started animatedly with new found courage. "Don't you think instead of sulking and grumbling everyday, it's better be off that job and do what you actually love"

"Leaving such a high payment job for a hobby which can't give even half of your salary!" The woman next to her said shaking her head left to right. Nobody seemed to be convinced with the girl's argument. "How come your parents gave you the permission?" the woman continued.

Somewhere behind me, voices were getting louder. I tried to concentrate and focus on the gang talk."You know what?", the girl continued, not ready to give up. She had a confidence in her voice and her face reflected happiness, like it was a decision of precision and that would change her life.

She continued with a relentless urgency to prove herself, "Yea! You are right! Of-course! I am insane! You think it that way b'coz you all have forgotten how to live life! Is this the way to live life? Look at yourself. What you have become? A schedule. A timetable which is planned by someone else. Weekdays by office and weekends by your husband or saas. Get up at 5 am. Make breakfast which you yourself don't get time to eat. Rush for the train. Reach office and crib about everything the whole day. As clock strike six, rush for the train, squeeze yourself inside. Once reached destination, stand in Queue for the auto. And after all this maneuver, what's next? Wait sulkily for tomorrow which would be exactly the same junk.

You think it's insane to leave a good paying job, but I think its wise to get free of this rollercoaster ride which does not give you any amusement but instead makes you puke and dizzy.

You are looking at the monetary loss but plainly ignoring the satisfaction you get from it. Few months of work that I love will give me much more happiness which years of unequal work will not give me" She let out a heavy sigh.Why was she defending?
Everyone fell silent. Even the girl flushed about her speech and started looking out of the window. I knew what everyone was thinking. Same what I was. Is this true?

The sound behind me grew louder and interrupted my contemplation. I turned around to see what was the fuss about. Two ladies were quarreling over seats. Each was trying to raise her voice over the other. Both the parties repeated their point again and again and again. Then, one of the two blurted a curse. This threw the other in fit. She wad shaking in rage. Their quarrel was right on the thin line and was just one cross-word away from a real-good woman-fight. The ladies who were earlier listening and some enjoying, now looked tense. They knew fighting women are very unpredictable. They may slap each other, abuse or they may just end it up with a few bad words. But anyone from the spectator might get hurt. In between their shrieks, there was a sound of someone singing.

A few boys had sneaked in the ladies compartment and were hanging out at the door The guy began to sing loudly. Now the whole compartment was turned into a mess. The irritation was visible on everyone's face. I looked at the other gang. Some of women were looking at the fight, some were looking at the singer with a twisted face while some just sat looking out of the window. I guess they were still contemplating the girl's speech or trying to stay peaceful in the outright chaos. A lady among them said, "It's good philosophy to talk about. But life is not so kind". She was still stuck to the question and she looked hurt.

The guy seemed to have taken the attention as encouragement and he started to sing louder. He was hanging out without realizing the risk. Now everyone stared at him with a minacious look. Then all of a sudden, the situation changed. Everything seemed to happen in flurry of moments. As the guy continued to threw his voice up singing oversmartly, a train came from the opposite direction and the next moment everyone heard a loud sound of a tight slap. The song evaporated and the compartment turned silent, complete silent. All mouths flew open. The singer had his hand covering his cheek. The astonishment faded, realization dawned and smiles curved on everyone's face. There were roars of laughter. The chaos has disappeared, fights forgotten, confusion about purpose of life lost its influence and the crowd of individuals turned into a single gang.

I couldn't stop laughing, at the oversmart singer's fate but also to think how the gravity of moment has changed it's course. I almost said aloud, Yea! Such is life!

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: Megha Haware, Participation Count: 04

Rangoli 2012

2012-11-15T12:05:00.001-05:00

Happy Diwali to you all!

Diwali means lights, lanterns, sweets, crackers and rangolis. Some of my Diwali rangolis -

The Comedians, Book

2012-08-14T14:31:00.001-04:00

This post comes almost after two months. But I am thankful that it’s not due to compulsion of filling the space. Most of my past posts have been book review, as is this one. Usually, before I request a book from librarywala.com, I spend considerable time in searching book fitting the mood. After spending quite some time reading spiritual books, I wanted to read some fiction work. I don’t remember how I landed on this book. But after reading I was happy about the catch.

The Comedians

Three men meet on a ship bound for Haiti, a world in the grip of the corrupt “Papa Doc” and the Tontons Macoute, his sinister secret police. Brown the hotelier, Smith the innocent American, and Jones the confidence man—these are the “comedians” of Greene’s title. Hiding behind their actors’ masks, they hesitate on the edge of life. They are men afraid of love, afraid of pain, afraid of fear itself...

***

Has it been difficult transition for you from contemporary read to a classic? Well, it always has been for me. There are times when I have put down the book never to pick up again. I feared that this book too has same fate, returned without reading. But it completely surprised me. The book is such that it doesn’t grab your interest on it’s first page but gradually and smoothly you get involved in the story, the characters and the life.

The author Graham, narrating as Mr. Brown, warns us of Haiti, as to the other characters and takes us through the life there. He meets Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Mr/Major Jones on the ship. Jones is visiting for (doubtful)business and the Smiths for the cause of ‘Vegetarianism’. When they all land on the Haitian soil, the story begins. It’s when we read, do we know there is some country out there which is completely with different and difficult life.

As Mr. Brown gives us a rough ride through the country, the politics, the indifference towards life, more apt death, he also takes us through the complexities of life, the mind and thoughts of the three characters. He refers them - Smiths, Jones and himself, as comedians, living the comedy of tragedy. While he Smiths with their comic ‘Vegetarian’ agenda look like the comedians, they emerge as heroes and the Jones, the comedian, who has his art of making friends by making them laugh, and who is dreaded by Brown, turns out like his twin.

For me, the book is semi-fiction. It gives picturesque info about the Haitian life, it’s hideous politics (Greene is also said to be spy/journalist). At the same time it also exposes to the vulnerability of human nature in relationships. The most I like in the book is the artistic way it is written and the mind / relationship elements that it touches, be it about love / lust / patriotism / cruelty / jealousy / shame. One thing I regret is the un-translated French conversation that you come across now and then.

If you don’t mind reading heavy books and are a fan of story telling, I would definitely recommend this book.

The devotion of suspect X : Book Review

2012-05-15T09:56:00.001-04:00

Yasuko Hanaoka is a divorced, single mother who thought she had finally escaped her abusive ex-husband Togashi. When he shows up one day to extort money from her, threatening both her and her teenaged daughter Misato, the situation quickly escalates into violence and Togashi ends up dead on her apartment floor. Overhearing the commotion, Yasuko’s next door neighbor, middle-aged high school mathematics teacher Ishigami, offers his help, disposing not only of the body but plotting the cover-up step-by-step.

When the body turns up and is identified, Detective Kusanagi draws the case and Yasuko comes under suspicion. Kusanagi is unable to find any obvious holes in Yasuko’s manufactured alibi and yet is still sure that there’s something wrong. Kusanagi brings in Dr. Manabu Yukawa, a physicist and college friend who frequently consults with the police. Yukawa, known to the police by the nickname Professor Galileo, went to college with Ishigami. After meeting up with him again, Yukawa is convinced that Ishigami had something to do with the murder. What ensues is a high level battle of wits, as Ishigami tries to protect Yasuko by outmanoeuvring and outthinking Yukawa, who faces his most clever and determined opponent yet.

The book is nothing less tricky than the main character Ishigami, who misleads the police investigation of the murder and in the end surprises us to the core. This book is a different and an innovative package. First of all the backdrop is different, a Japanese setup, Japanese names. Tough the murder event is commonplace, it has an intelligent twist. It is not the murder but the after events that are of significance.

The stand out point for this book is that the book is not about how the murder happens or what leads to it. That part of the story moves quite fast and the later part, the plan for escape is the main story. And another highlight is, this book is not about the who-is-the-murderer search. Here the murderer and his plan is right there for us to read, know his moves, yet it succeeds in engaging us. It’s completely different than the usual mystery novels that we read.

The character build up is very strong and after a few pages, we have all these character ready in our mind playing their role. I liked the fact that, initially we get familiar with the characters and with time we get to understand the characters more but by the end of the novel we know their complete personality.

The relationship between mother and daughter even tough written less about, is enough to get the subtlety of the relation across. Also the friendship between the two researchers and between the physicist and the detective is quite well built. It’s a fast read and after first 40 pages you get eager to turn the page. Although I wish the end would have been different but… There is a film that is in making and it will be interesting to watch it.

I recommend this book and my rating is 4 out of 5 stars.

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When Journey Meant More Than Destination

2012-03-04T05:52:00.001-05:00

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 25; the Silver Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'When Journey Meant More Than Destination'.

शोध तुझा

पहाटे सकाळी मी उठले
अंधारी मन्द धुके पसरले होते
दुर कुथेतरी धुंद बसुरी वाजत होती
जणु मला स्वतःकदे मोहीत होती

कळोखी चिम्ण्या चीवचीवत होती
थण्ड झूळूक अंगी रोमांच आणीत होती
धुक्यातून एक सावली उमगली
मनातली इच्छा जणू पूर्ण झाली

धावले तुझ्याजवळ सगळे विसरुन
पण ती सावली गुप्त झाली मला भूलवून
शोधीत फिरले इकदे तिकदे तुला, कान्हा
तुझी बासरी ओडीत माझ्या मना

माझी घालमेल तुला कळत नाही का?
माझ्यावर तूला प्रेम नाहीका?
हळू ह्ळू सकाळ उजळीत होती
धूके विरून बासरीही मंद होत होती

आजही नाही भेटलास तू, कन्हा
विरहाने अजून व्याकूळ केलेस माझ्या मना
पण हाच विरह तुझ्याजवळ नेतो मला
ह्याच विरहात प्रेमाचा प्रवास मी अर्पण करते तुला

- मेघा हावरे ©

PS : After a loooong time I have posted on my blog. I was into this so-called writer’s block. But it was a coincidence that I looked at my reader and saw blog-a-ton’s new post. And after a long block suddenly this poem flashed in my mind, but in Marathi. I wish I could write it in English. But translation would kill the original. So I kept it just the same with a hope that readers would understand Marathi since it is Devanagri script, just as Hindi. Hope you enjoy it!

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Please…

2011-12-04T23:57:00.001-05:00

I stepped out with a trust
Years back when I left this place

With dreams achieved
That I will return with grace

But shattered here I am
To see the locked door

Oh dear, You were my lifeguard
I feel like I'm swept off the shore

All the love that you showered on me
I was a coward not to take

I knew I made a mistake
Though my words may seem fake

(sigh)
But how does it matter now
Now that you are not here

And now this longing
And love I have for you

I don't understand
What to do
How to bear..

- Megha

The Blogging Affair, a book review

2011-11-15T14:03:00.001-05:00

Till today, I refrained from reading Indian authors. For one reason that like Indian television which have been jinxed by daily soaps, contemporary Indian books are jinxed by relationship themes. But nevertheless, how right it would be, to stereotype every Indian book? Every book should be given equal chance.

When I read the summary of the blogging affair, it sounded like an Indian television crime detective version. The story goes like this.

A young woman’s body found murdered in a suburban flat…evidence reveals that she had been having an affair with a married man…to the seasoned police force it is like just another one of those routine love triangle affairs…or so it seems…till they are stumped by an piece of evidence in a form they’ve never even heard of…some newfangled notion called…a blog.

An anonymous blog confesses to the crime…...it’s ramblings capturing the ebb and flow of a criminal’s mind taking shape…and challenges the conventional wisdom of the police…who would just as well pin the crime on their favorite suspect…the man at the center of the affair.

A hapless husband and a lost lover…struck by the loss of his loved one…is busy reconstructing the fond memories of his extra marital affair as he carries on with his daily life…and completely unaware that the law is tightening its noose around his neck.

The inspector in charge is sure he has his man… to him it’s just a matter of tying a few loose threads…and the blog is but a distraction from the investigation of the real clues. But his deputy…an unconventional thinker...dares to think otherwise. Who is right and who is wrong? All depends on the answer to one simple question.
Whose blog is it anyway?

The story is mixture of marital relationship, infidelity and crime investigation. The story moves forward in three parallel course. One is the protagonist's narration taking us through his regular life. The second is the blog which with it’s every posts, takes us back to past through his adventurous life events . The third is the investigation of his girlfriend’s murder. Of the three, the first two facets are handled very well by the author, kudos for the effort. Whereas I think the investigation part is not given enough justice. The emphasis is more on the stressful relationship between the bully and the other manipulative inspector, who are assigned the murder investigation. Unfortunately, the investigation part remained a bit simple and predictable.

About the author, its his first book and I think he has handled the plot very well. Specially a difficult theme with husband who is completely immoral with his lustful wandering, the writer has done a wonderful job of leading us through his thoughts and understand the character. The author has a very good hand at punning. I am impressed with the way he has put simple things in a very subtle way. Here’s an excerpt from the book -

“Unfortunately they never told us that the ones who really make it big are the college dropouts.Or they did but we never got it. Why? Because becoming big means betting big. Makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean if a guy cannot even risk dropping out of college, the guy does not have it in him to risk everything he has to run a business.

I would tag the book with Relationship more than Mystery. However I would flag here that due to plot’s demand, there are lot of sections in the book which are in intimate and which needs readers discretion. I don't want to add any spoilers to the review so I leave the book for the readers to enjoy and asses.

Overall the book is a good read. I wish the author all the best for his future works. I can see a very good writer in him with huge potential. I think he is very creative and he can do much better than this. By saying this I mean that the best of him is yet to come.

My 3 stars to the book and 4 stars to the writing.

Teamwork

2011-11-05T05:14:00.000-04:00

What's the word when we work in group or team? I think it is Trust. When trust, which is often taken for granted, is missing, it leaves a wide gap for misunderstanding and disinterest to creep in the team. Now that all of the team is working together towards a common goal, what is it that creates distrust?

- Aren't the members doing their job efficiently?
- Aren’t they qualified?
- Do they need training
- Are the expectations superficial?
- Is the distrust viable?
- Are the members given fair chance? etc

These are just few, there could be numerous and unfathomable reasons. Many of them may seem completely childish or unprofessional, nevertheless you see them happening in this corporate world of qualified experienced professionals.

Based on my more than six years of experience I can say that for many of the existing problems, it all boils down to some common reasons

A few to mention –

- People not aware of their role and responsibility
- Individual nature / Individual way of working
- Work scope not clear
- Training to handle people missing

For whatever reasons, we are not comfortable with some people, by the end of the day we have to work with them. We are a team and we have to adjust. That’s what all of us instruct our minds and also to others, thereby allowing the issues unattended to soar. We ignore (or that we are asked to ignore) but gradually the seed of bitterness gradually grows and affects the rest of the team and thereby affects efficiency and ultimately the work.

How much do companies try to do a root cause analysis and to find the real reasons of employee discontent or inefficiency? And if they do, when do they listen to the employee’s heart out, shouldn’t be at the end of the story, in exit interviews, isn’t it?

In such circumstances, what would the right thing to do? Keep aside the discontent, grudges and personal issues aside for the benefit of work? To give the other person, another chance? To escalate? Does anybody know the answer or is there any fixed answer?

To be contd…

P.S. This post is about my personal views. I am not trying to target any specific company nor do they relate to any company I have worked with. These views are purely based on my observations in the IT industry over years. Fortunately I have been happy in IT all these years and lucky to work with some good people on good assignments.

Bombay Duck is a fish, book review

2011-08-25T14:24:00.000-04:00

Bombay Duck is a fish by Kanika Dhillon

When the book arrived, it landed in my sister hands. She read the summary at the back of the book. “You will not like the book”, she said to me.

Looking at my puzzled expression, “It’s about Bollywood”, she added.

“You never know”, I replied. And that turned out to be true coz as soon as I started reading it, I kind of liked it.

The book starts with the backdrop of a Neki standing on the terrace of her building, drunk and depressed. While sitting there, she is contemplating suicide. But before leaping she thinks of revisiting her life till the day. Her diary which she calls Nano helps her in recalling the happy and sad moments. As she starts reading it, the story actually begins.

Neki is a small-town girl, who dreams of Bollywood, against her parent’s wishes. But she is determined and leaves Delhi leaving behind disappointment in her father’s eyes and glitter of hope in her mother’s. She lands in Mumbai among a gang of three girls who themselves are trying to find their future in their profession. Finally she gets the opportunity to join Fiza Kareem (aka Farah Khan) as last assistant director(AD).

Slowly she comes across the true face of Bollywood, ambitions, struggle even to the highest of the stars, the desperation to reach the top, the sleazy business behind the glittering stage, love and betrayal.

As she tries to adjust in her new life she fells in love with the second lead of the film who is himself struggling to give a hit movie. But at the same time there are rumours about the various women in his life. In spite of the rumours Neki fells hard for him. The story revolves around her love, the film, her struggle to move up the ladder, emails to her mother and her three flatmates.

The author is quite frank while writing about the film fraternity however I am much amused by how all the actors are introduced with a negative trait except for two people, Fiza Kareem & Shah Rukh Khan. As we read the book, we understand that Neki dreams big. She really doesn't want to be the last AD. She is ready for the struggle, does her every bit. Fights for her right. But still she takes the decision to commit suicide which surprises me.

The whole story totally blends and takes us smoothly till the end. The dark details of the glamor industry, the Bollywood masala makes the book interesting. The most commendable part is author’s character building which is very strong. Unlike authors who write pages to describe a single characher, Kanika has done the job well with spending less words on it but has effectively brought the charachers to life. The story constantly moves between past and present but is handled quite well without any confusion. I liked the way she has played with the words. At many places, her writing intrigues us and comes as very thoughtful and subtle. I enjoyed reading it. For Bollywood fans, it’s a must.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

Gazing the horizon

2011-08-14T06:27:00.000-04:00

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 23; twenty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for this month is FREE

The new horizon

Not in my wildest dream
I thought I could reach this highest peak
Passing through the strongest storm
Even the failure failed to make me weak

I knew people would talk
And pull me down for all reasons
But they didn't see what I saw
All my way, my vision was my oxygen

The path was dangerously steep
The risks were high
But above all uncertainties
I am proud I did give a try

Standing at the top, my eyes are wet with gratitude
And heart heavy with pride
I have never felt such happiness
I feel it was worth all those strides

I start again for a new horizon
I know I can, no matter whatever comes
With the world under my wings
I feel the FREEDOM
I feel the FREEDOM

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

SSY Retreat : Love your Life

2011-05-19T12:04:00.001-04:00

This blog was dormant for a long time and now that I am back, what a wonderful thing I have to share. It all started with my friend Hema, who had done a program with Siddha Samadhi Yoga(SSY) three years back. She told me that SSY has another program called Silence camp planned in coming week. It didn’t took me long to say yes.

The Journey

We started from Worli by bus and destination was Rishi Gurukulam at Katarkhadak, Pune. With us were couples, friends and families, families with young kids. We had our introduction in the bus, played antakshari, sang along. I didn’t knew what the program schedule was but I knew that it would be fun with all these people. The start was good.

And it got better when we stopped after crossing main Pune city. It was a surprise when Chiragji & Chandanji (our mentor/Guruji) told us to get ready for a bath in river. I looked at Hema with an expression, Are they kidding? I'd never stepped in water above knee. And from a long time, I had this big wish in my mind to swim in water. It was scorching hot. We were shy to enter water with the men around. We looked at each other for some time, pondering, and then with unanimous expression, nodded, Let’s go. I was exited. We went deep into the water. Never before I had felt such a satisfaction. At that time I knew it would be fun.

Shri Manoj Lekhi

After we reached Rishi Gurukulam, we said the prayers and Chandanji asked us to gather at the workshop area. We had lime juice. As I drank it, I watched the dog Rani (of breed Alsatian) mischievously moving between people's legs. She and another puppy played around. As I watched them, my eyes went to the person who was approaching our group. Something was different about him. I could see a divine contentment on his face. Chandanji introduced him as Manojji. I watched Rani just skip playing and running to greet him. She kept bouncing and circling him. It was a beautiful to watch their magical bond.

Manojji then introduced us to a bunch of five kids. He encouraged them to play host to us and take us around. While they explained us, he ensured that they didn't miss anything and if they did, he would complete it part and remind them to note it. It was another magical relation I witnessed. He was hard to miss and hard to forget.

Rishi Gurukulam

The kids and Manojji took us around the Gurukulam. They introduced us to the revolutionary system of schooling invented by Guruji Shri Rishi Prabhakarji. There are no closed classrooms. Students are taught in open air under trees, with nature. The curriculum they follow is CBSE. The children stay in Gurukul for the entire year and return home during vacation. Minimum age for admission is 8 years. Otherwise for children from 4 years to 8 years, one of the parents have to stay at the ashram.

The study pattern is such that they manage to learn the entire curriculum of one subject in one to two months. So they are free to revise in rest of year. More than revising, they spend time in doing more creative. They have their hands trained on Masonry, painting, Carpeting, Music, sports, computers etc.

Manojji explained to us that all this is possible due to the study pattern they follow. For e.g. when they have to learn about a subject, like some factory. They would be taken to the factory and then they would be divided into groups. Each group would be assigned a task, like one would note the process details, one would take photographs, one would do the video shooting, one would create the PowerPoint slides and one would put all the resources together and present a skit to the students.

And while they do all this they not only learn about the subject but also learn many other things that are always underrated or forgotten to cultivate in students in early age, like self confidence, photo shooting, photography, computers etc. Definitely this way of teaching helps them in completing the syllabus so fast. No wonder they look smart and confident.

Not only this, the ashram has vegetable farm. Tricks and tips to cultivate plants is taught directly. They have many plans on cards and many of them are on verge of completion. Biogas plants and solar heaters are under construction. There would be Cricket ground, Tennis court, Malakhamb etc. that would soon be started soon. There are wooden seats/shelters created in between the woods around. One can spend some solitary time there.

They have small kutirs for 2 persons and are planning to have houses of 500 to 600 sq.ft. as weekend home. The main mantra behind all this is sharing. More we share, less we spend, less we are worried.

Yoga. Food. Fun

Yoga. After a good trip around the ashram, we were back at the hall where we had to stay for the next 2 days. We did a few yoga exercises and then meditated. Yoga & meditation has to be done before meals only. Initially while doing the Yoga exercises, with it’s unconventional positions and noises that are created during the execution, made me little shy. But then when I saw everyone enjoying it, I just shook off the shyness and went along.

Food. Hema had already warned me about the food so what came later in my food plate was not a shock. It was always fruits, salads and herbal tea. However little we ate it, somehow our body accepted it (otherwise I would have fainted with empty stomach). I made faces while eating it, most of the time passing half of the contents to Hema. But then I realized it was worth eating the raw food when on the last day Hema told me that she can see difference in my acne and when my sisters repeated the same after returning home.

My mom had always urged me to have less non-vegetarian food. But being helpless slave of the tongue, I never paid attention. But I could see how much truth lies in it. But Eating less non-vegitarian food is not enough, we also have to make sure that we intake more raw food. Today before leaving for office I had black tea and fruit plate in office for breakfast. I hope I maintain the same control.

Fun. There were activities like trekking, games, skit etc. After cleansing of body by exercises and right food, we went through another most important aspect, the soul cleansing.

Manojji always says, Why do we get so serious about life?

He says that Life is celebration, I agree with him. We agree but we forget. We can be free and happy the most when we free ourselves from the imaginary shackles that we bind ourselves to the negative thoughts. The fear to express ourselves. What will people say? and so many other negative thoughts.

There were activities to come out of this inhibition, to let ourselves free, to be like a child. I will not share the details as they have to be experienced first hand. But I affirm you that, how ever you think you know yourself well, this program will show you the hidden you, your suppressed emotions & the child in you.

My Realization & Satsang

It was a transformation for many of us. We cried, played, danced like a child. I realized that we need not wait for special occasions to celebrate. There’s no shame in crying, laughing like a mad man. Just be what you feel like. No need to hide any emotions.

I learnt that God is one and is present in each one of us. I have to trust the God in everyone. Whoever is in front of us, be it our mom, friend or boss, we have to acknowledge the God in the person. Give love and you’ll receive love.

And all this I realized not by some preachy sessions but the activities that we participate in. They just connected me to my inner self.

I know that I am not done. I still know nothing. There’s lots and lots for me to learn. And I have to return to SSY again and again.

We returned from Pune to Mumbai on Sunday. The satsang was on Monday. And I am not exaggerating when I say that there was an invisible force that pulled me to it. I know that I would’ve never attended it if I hadn’t attended the Retreat program. I felt like I have found a family. There was so much positive energy that it naturally pulled me to it.

I want to thank Manojji, Chandanji & Chiragji for all the love. SSY is the best thing that has happened to me!! I hope I meet Guruji soon!!

Whom is this program for?

This program is for anyone. Young or old. Housewife or Salaried or businessmen. Contented or troubled. Anyone can join.

Most of the time we are so proud of our achievements that we think we are smart enough. If you feel anything like this, then it’s just right program for you. Or Sometimes we are so buried in loss and sadness that we are in urgent need of a positive force to pull us out of the ditch. If you feel anything like this, then yes, it’s just the right program for you.

I assure you will never find any session preachy. It’s about learning the fun way, effortlessly. If you anytime feel to go for any program or if you want to attend the satsang, you can go through the website given below or just send me a mail through the Contact me page. I will be more than happy to help.

On behalf of SSY, I want to invite you all to be part of this wonderful and loving family.

Websites

http://www.ssy.org/home.html

http://www.ssy.co.in/index.asp

Some more pictures

2011-04-10T10:04:00.001-04:00

Sharing here some pics from my new new Nikon camera.

Back from hibernation

2011-03-18T01:05:00.001-04:00

Hiya! I feel relieved that I am back. I have been on and off my blog, sad that I know but not doing much about it. But there are plenty of reasons. One of which is the the great blame of writer’s block, one being a little lazy and the most troubling one is that I had completely forgotten that I own a blog and have the responsibility to keep it active.

So after the big realization of the big ownership, I thought I should write at least something. So here I am. Btw, let me give you the reasons why I forgot about the blog, not as excuse but because I may need some help.

1. I bought Nikon 3100 and spend most of the time experimenting with it, but just indoors. I am very exited about the new buy. I must take some time to step out of home and do some shooting in the streets. That’s the place where the real and interesting stories await to be shot. I need to be less lazy. It’s the Indian dilemma that also refrain me from shooting in street…will anybody mind, what if somebody says something. Not an easy job! Any tips guys?

2. The most important of all the reasons is that I am looking for a property in Pune. We have made a single visit to Pune. We are little confused about the places. I do tons and tons of searching and it worsens my confusion. It’s too hectic and tiring. Anybody from Pune here and willing to help?

Hope I’ll be on track after I settle things out and I could send some time on my blog as well as you people’s blog. I am short of patience and ease. I need more.