CHETNA IS HERE

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Mon, 21 Jan 2019 18:13:00 +0000

If my blog could speak, it would smack me on my head for cheating on it . And, if my blog could do that, then my diary would definitely give me more than just an earful. I sleep next to it everyday yet am completely ignorant of it . The last thing I have jotted down in it is a nonchalant MOM for a work call I took a couple months ago.

In my self defence, I started writing diary at an age of 10 thinking that my life should be chronicled . That it would be fun to read the events leading upto the very day I decide to 'publish' them . For a 10 year old me, my life was supposed to be adventurous enough to be a Novel !

But now when I go through the pages , I have a sense of melancholy . A distant longing for time lost . A feeble ache for people loved.
Even when I am reading the pages with a smile on my face, I feel a sting in my heart .

How many times have I picked up the pen but just could not gather anything worth to put in . When I am happy , I am out there being happy . And when I am sad, I am reluctant to pen it down , thinking that if I don't write about it , its not real.

To write , means to give your thoughts life, a concrete form, which make them real . It can be overwhelming , specially when you have spent so much time trying NOT to give those feelings a chance to manifest into anything other than a distant thing happening to some parallel version of you in a parallel universe.

And unlike keyboard, there is no backspace. you write without a beginning and without a ending in mind . Just like life .

Not all things end . How many times we end things just to pick up the pieces again ?

just like my relationship with my diary and blog. Years may pass, but we will pick up right where it began - in a glorious day of my glorious life !

Till the next💡

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Mon, 27 Oct 2014 16:03:00 +0000

I am writing this article in response to my dear friends beautiful and touching article http://noheadgirl.blogspot.in/2014/10/deciphering-power.html.

My grandmother is a self-literate woman. That means my grandfather taught her to read and write, but she educated herself about matters of life, death and everything that comes in between. She always has an answer for all the philosophical questions I come upon with. She is a perpetual believer - in all her children (if you must know, she has 9 of her own ), in her grandchildren(let's skip the count, shall we) and everyone else who comes with their stories. But, the condition is, you must believe in your own story to convince her. So, a big believer in life, but not a religious one, I must impress upon. Even when counting her rosary beads, she does question God in his actions. I remember asking her once ‘what exactly is God? ‘.

She replied ‘you can believe God as being the supreme creator/destroyer, someone who decides your destiny or you can believe that life is just a cosmic accident. But either way, you have to believe. You have to have faith. For me, God is within us. We are our own god. We are our own creator/destroyer. Every moment, every day since birth, we fight for our sustenance, and yet are alive. Isn’t that God-like? A mongrel on the road is as much as God as the high priest of 'Puri'. The 21-grams we lose when we die is God. Just like everything else with life, we wither away.

“What’s so God-like in dying?” – I munched on my nariyal laddoo, one of the numerous incentives of spending time with her.

And she smiled “don’t you see? That is the thing that makes you God. You just don’t live for yourself; you create a life for others. No one’s life is easy. But you push on. The life you have made useful for others, to inspire, to guide. And when we die, we live on through people who love us and will remember us.”

Now I realize how it makes sense perfectly. She always said “don’t be afraid of God, but be afraid of the image in the mirror. Because it will never lie to you .you will lie, cheat, gamble, sin and hurt people, but the day you can look into the mirror and explain all your actions, you have become a monster.” This line has always stayed with me.

I don’t say that I am God. But, yes, I have to have faith. And I do J

years later

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Sat, 04 Oct 2014 20:14:00 +0000

Years later
If we cross each other again

In some seedy supermarket aisle,

Will we just walk past ?

Or be civil enough

To stop and smile

And find time

To exchange pleasantries?

Worse

We see each other

Yet keep reading the back of the cereal box.

Dreading the questions

And their answers

Wondering if its too late,

As we already know

The relationship is way past its expiry date.

Even worse

We look yet don’t remember

Name , work , face, place

The unforgettable one

Is now just a blurred laugh

Or even worse

Stop

Look

Shuffle the grocery bag,

Wishing ‘small talk’ came with a price tag.

But then it dawns,

The Price has already been paid.

So, now, at the check-out counter,

I don’t turn

I act blind.

Hurrying out I realize

I have left the cash bill

And Everything Else

Behind.

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Fri, 25 Jan 2013 19:39:00 +0000

Happy republic day !

Not that it means a great deal for me.

But yes, I like to take my paper national flags in both the hands and furl them .

I like to count the spokes (for some reason I keep forgetting the exact number , duh !).

I like to watch the parade on tv and even if its momentary, believe that my country is organised and composed!

and that because I am an average Indian .

I believe we invented zero.
I believe convenience comes first.
But not before family .(tauba!)

I believe in all 10,000 forms of the same God and in karma.

I believe eating road side gupchup is not unhealthy.

I believe in afternoon siestas.

And a whole lot of other weird believes I have .

Because for me , India is a truly free country.

Cattle, dogs and men commuting together- on the same road.. sometimes on each other too. cars, scooters, bikes ,autos, rickshaws and BMWs - all free to follow their hearts !

Everyone uses their right to freedom of expression .

Where else can I carry out a morcha , a strike or celebrate without any viable reason ?!

So, yes, I am an average Indian .

I complain about the slow economy .

I sincerely blame the system and neighboring countries for all our miseries.

I lament about the roads, the poverty , the corruption , the naxalism .

Everything . Sometimes, am ashamed too.

But as an average Indian , I am not going to do anything about it .

arre, the Indian-ness yaar !

India is a land of paradox. Its crazy . Its wild . And honestly , it scares me sometimes . But its one thing that will always remain in me .

Even if I am dreaming of The Europe or The States while sipping cafe latte over a plate of pasta and sloppy joes , I will always have to fight the very basic Indian instinct to drop the stupid forks and chopsticks and use my hands !

Ahh- i am an average Indian afterall!

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Tue, 07 Aug 2012 04:31:00 +0000

Some people are always with you. Even if you want to be alone.

Some people will always know what you mean. Even if you don’t mean anything.

Some people will always make you laugh. Even if you don’t want to .

And I am proud to have such people in my life.

My friends.

Particularly my school friends.

Yes, we are not in school anymore.

Even college has ended and the next phase of our lives has started.

Some of us are among the tax payers now. Some will be joining the brigade soon.

Some of us are going for higher studies . Some of us will be finishing college in another year or so.

life is long and no one knows if we will be friends forever or not.

even though as I write the above line, I know it’s just a rhetoric one .

Because these are the people I celebrated friendship day with on Watsapp.

Because these are the people I think of every time I watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Because these are the people I can share my boring life with.

Because these are the people who wont even read this but still say – ‘loved it, you should be a writer.’

Love you all !
J

some people I know- III

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Sun, 27 May 2012 15:51:00 +0000

I had written this long back yet somehow I dint want to publish it .

Not because it has anything explicit about them , but I just did not want to make my need for them public.

Ankita mahendru and Mayuri bandopadhyay .

The more I think about them , the less I want to write .

Coz the very thought of being with them induces a state of euphoric laziness that would prevent one from doing anything at all.

No, it doesn’t mean they are lazy.

It just means that when I am with them , I know things will be taken care of.

I know , I will be taken care of.

But yes, they are lazy !

I remember , back in school days, I once found them just sitting there and smacking mosquitoes in the dark .. without any light and without any fan !

And oh .. they also once rang up arnab bhaiyaa who lived a couple blocks away to switch on the fans as they did not want to get up from the chairs !

And no, I am not exaggerating .

So , as I said , I need them in my life .

Someday I will tell you about them separately as well.. not today .

Today all I want is to go on a long drive with them , with ankoo driving , mayuri at he front seat (she always needs to have the front seat)

And me peeking from back seat .. all three of us singing

‘jaane kyu dil jaanta hai .. tu hai toh I will be allright !’

the politics of farewell

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Thu, 24 May 2012 19:23:00 +0000

So, you ask the person for the thousandth time ‘when are you leaving exactly?’

That when you already know the date and time exactly.

Still, you ask. And count the days in hand. A little panic rushes through the veins and legs jitter a bit. Subconsciously.

The other people can’t know of course. According to them, you are the strong, level headed one. And you too keep up the charade well. All those years on stage, thankfully.

So, as you listen to their itinerary, you sip at the water, pretending to listen, nodding a bit little stronger than required, but actually - you hear nothing. All your senses are busy fighting against giving away your nervousness.

The second question that you ask yourself – ‘why am I nervous? This isn’t a farewell. At least not forever. We will be in touch of course. We are going to meet again of course.

Soon.

Soon Enough.

Soon enough Maybe.'

Suddenly you realize the other person is waiting for you to respond. You manage a wide wordless smile.

‘It’s going to be okay’. You say. You don’t even know the question. But the sentence is true at so many levels. So, it’s going to be okay.

For them, or for you? You ask yourself. There, The mind plays politics again.

Finally, the day is here. It’s about time. Time to say goodbye. So, you do The Routine Farewell. Hug, shake hands and say goodbye with a big carefree confident smile.

As you walk away, you look back again . one last desperate act of attention. But the real trick is not turning back at the same time as them. That saves you the little ounce of pride.

Of course, there is a buzzing in the ears, the eyes burn and hands fumble while handing over the money to the auto wala.

But it's going to be okay.

No one saw the weak you after all.

so, you repeat - 'it's going to be okay'

Strangely, after everything is over, you don’t feel that miserable. It actually is okay.

This is the real politics of farewell! When after bidding farewell, you don’t believe in it.

You think about all the good things you been through together and smile to yourself – ‘there is more to come. It’s not a goodbye yet. Oh, there will be a goodbye later of course.

Soon.

Soon enough.

Soon enough maybe.

Some People I Know - II

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 18:10:00 +0000

If we were still in school, I would be singing ‘where’s the party tonight?!’

Well, December was always a harbinger of celebrations and fun we used to associate with birthdays that followed around the month.

And today, few years down the lane, would have been Meenal’s birthday, and after hours of her coaxing my mom, or even lying, I would have danced around at her place overexcitedly!

And oh, speaking about her won’t be complete without mentioning her precious pups..

One thing for sure, where there is mini, there would be dogs. And lots of them!

I remember ‘chocolate’ among her many pets , and oh! I can never forget how Chanel, the very darling pug, snarled at me every single time I entered meenal's room.

She exhibited her mistrust in me by pooping right on my lap, just a reminder to me that she was always there, chaperoning …our girly gossips which invariably lasted hours.. And the best part was, it always ended up with an ice cream!

Well, Sometimes meenal brought up the jazz by experimenting with ice cream sundaes and other delicacies.. Well, you won’t hear me complaining! !

One thing for sure, baking certainly comes out of mini’s mittens.

And for my birthdays, I always got something special, something handmade from her- chocolates, bookmarks , photo frame cum collage which I so cherish!

I still read those birthday letters she wrote to me from Shigally and GD Goenka .

And well, though the letters got less elaborate with growing up , I know she still cares.

And though her two thick plaits, swinging around her waist and the legendary zit that forever troubled her nose , are no longer there, she knows that I care.

And though she is 6 time zones behind from where I stand, I still can feel her special hug !

And for me, it’s all I know about her!

And ,Well, that’s Meenal for me , and always will be !

Happy birthday, mini!

p.s. Chanel got around eventually and even let me pet her!

Finally, no hard feelings!

some people I know -1

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 18:44:00 +0000

Enough has been said and heard about Nikhil agarwal. May be written too.

And why not ? Its him , of course . Nikhil agarwal who knows everyone and everybody knows him.

So, its his birthday today , (oh no.. its yesterday now) and though I said I would call him , but he would understand, like he always does !

And ,even if I do call him, all I will remember is ‘chetnaaaa.. feel aa gayi !’.

And today I came across some of the pics and videos which were stashed in some corner of my hard disk – looks like friendship day party at his suryavihar place .

And though , I may say we were so crazy and stupid back then , but deep down, I want to be there .. with all those crazy people , with all that craziness .

Though things have changed now - though we may hide stuff from each other , though we may no longer share our stupidity ,

But after all , something remains. I cant tell exactly what but no matter what , he is there .

May be dormant, but at the back of my head , his smile lurks .. and I know , when I am my most inglorious self, that devil of a smile will give me a reason to grin back. If not grin , atleast roll my eyes and go ‘oh, Nikhil !’

Happy birthday !
J

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 06:33:00 +0000

I don’t know the name of this humble shrub. But, I do know that it makes me happy. There is a bunch of them on my way to college. And every morning I walk past them, I smile at them. Well, I know, plants can feel and certainly not talk, but it’s my little secret that I wish them good morning and I like to think that they wave back at me.

And this dussehra vacations, on my journey back to Rourkela, I dozed off in my window seat, thinking about how much I hated going to Rourkela and not Bhilai and other usual mundane thoughts. And when I opened my eyes for a moment, I felt my train was passing through heaven!

Fields and fields of long white shrubs glistening like silk in the late afternoon’s golden sun. And they were everywhere!

Around the pond, around the factory, everywhere... large swathe of tall white flowers rippling in quick succession. And all I could wish was to touch them, to run along their sides!

Oh ! how much fun it would be to tickle people with them!

Even though the train sped away, I could not take my eyes off them. I really can’t explain why did I feel so elated? It wasn't exactly breathtakingly beautiful, but it was something that brought a wide grin on my face.

And when I got home, my naaniji listened to the entire thing and smiled ‘kasa!’. Then she explained that those striking shrubs are called kasa and according to the folklore, they are the harbinger of durga puja!

They bloom just before the autumn and mysteriously disappear after the ashtami !

Ah well, those few moments are embossed in my mind forever.

Often, we don’t really know what makes us happy. Sometimes, its silly little secret moments with yourself, like for me, this one..

Its December now, long after they have disappeared. I don’t see them on my way anymore. But I still smile. Because they will be here next year again. I know that. And well, here is that grin again !
J

Divya soni !

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Sat, 26 Nov 2011 18:59:00 +0000

Divya Soni.

There are some people in life who always prove that it’s wrong to prejudice.

She is one of them in my life.

Back in school, as a bunch of teens, with all hormones gone wary, when there were mostly two predominant feelings – love or hate. Divya Soni came under hate.

Definitely hate.

Pain in the ass. That’s what she was for me. And Nikhil would corroborate my claim. Snobby and proud, she kept doing stuffs to remain under ‘hate’.

And one fine afternoon, Mayuri and Treena unwittingly invited both of us, immediately dreading the outcome of such a rendezvous.

But guess what,

No one died in a street combat that day.

So, Divya Soni became bearable.

Bearable in class, bearable in tuitions, and bearable at home as well.

No wait.

She became inseparable.

Together we have bitched and bitched like hell!

She was the one who taught me that flirting is an indispensible art and love should be what Victoria Holt’s books describe.

She was the one who taught me that the forbidden is never out of reach.

She always had an opinion about anything and everyone.

May be that’s why,

Not everyone who know her like her.

Divya is one such person who evokes extreme reaction in people.

And you know what, I like that- in- your- face, kick- ass attitude..

Ohh, I miss those days !

I miss eating popcorn and munching on ice at her place and watching Pearl Harbor over and over again.

I miss being her side kick in her senseless yet fun escapades.

OH, I miss Leo, her golden retriever above all ..

I say i miss her so much, yet I was dumb enough to forget her birthday day before.

And I called her up, prepared to be tongue lashed with swears I can’t imagine .

But, no such thing happened.

And I am not happy about it.

She should have screamed, threatened, cursed..

But instead she sounded sad and hurt.

And I feel so stupid.

May be I am making a big deal out of it , maybe it’s a momentary lapse on my part..

But this matters to me.

Because I have had some of the best fun in my teen life with Divya Soni in it.

And the least I can do is to thank god there is plenty of potatoes and popcorn to keep my goondi gal happy!

Happy birthday Divya Soni !

A different world

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 03:25:00 +0000

I live in two worlds.
One is, the one I see through my specs. The practical, pragmatic, grim one.
The other is without specs where Everything is so different from my naked eyes. And surprisingly, I realize today, that this is far more coherent!
It’s like a whole new world.
A world with no boundaries.
A world where everything is blurred yet defined so simply.
A world where everything is in terms of red blue yellow and green, splashed against the backdrop of dark velvet night.
A streetlight is not a streetlight anymore. It’s just a yellow twinkle.
A vehicle is not a vehicle anymore. It’s just a speeding away noisy red blob.
A tree is not a tree anymore. It’s just a rustling green.
The wind is not wind anymore. It’s just an invisible tickle.
The moon is not a moon anymore. It’s just a silent white shining thing.
The stars, well, the stars never change, I guess. Still, the silent smiling hopes of the sky.
And people? Everyone is without a face, just an indistinct chatter. Just like the Ruskin bond’s story we grew up with- ‘the face in the dark’. It used to scare the wits out of me. My 10-year-old brain used to frown at that time, why did he write a ghost story after all? Today I realize, people without faces are people without prodding opinions and prejudiced judgments. and that's not scary. that's actually comforting!
And all the dull dark corners that creep in the finite world, do not exist today!
The melancholy thoughts are cleverly camouflaged with the background. What more can I ask for?

Sometimes, there is a more unorthodox way to find some other world as well.
Brimming the eyes with tears!
No, trust me, it works.
Tears provide the much-needed lubricant to slip off to a different world!
And then, everything gets inconceivable and hence incredible!
And sometimes, if I try enough, I can see an entire new kaleidoscope from those colorful blobs!
Sigh!
But people are right.
it's not actually seeing anything.
Per my new year’s resolution, I don’t really expect everyone to be able to see what I see without really seeing.
People are right when they say I can not see distant things.
But then, philosophically speaking, who really can? That's why I have been prescribed specs.
To keep me off my other realm. I know I am not making much sense .. but an escape from the reality, no matter how rarely found, is always welcome in any world!
:)

"DPS Bhilai completes its 25 silver years..... "

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 13:06:00 +0000

rummaging through my stuff, i managed to get these beauties!!

DPS Bhilai completes its 25 silver years.....

hmmm , I thought, it will be fun to see the school in all its glory again!

so, I decided to get lucky and reached the grand gate no 1 ..

DPS bhilai . .

The gate as usual was serene and devoid of any fanciful intentions if you have any.

but the watchman brought back my cheers by greeting me in the old manner..

Recognitions went a notch up when juniors (wow! i was a senior ... as opposed to my height!) and beloved teachers

started firing questions on where-are-yous and what-are you-doings..
Most of them were too busy with the celebrations and the hectic schedules that is were to be followed ...

but yes ...

the lecture hall was more welcoming...

thanks to my idols - Thakre sir and Sudipta ma'am...

my dramatics teacher and my english teacher respectively...

but you know...

after awhile .. it all became too heavy for me..

I kind of wanted everything back ..

Watching the hustle and bustle , the shouts, the last minute rush , the refreshment rooms,

the speeches ... even the scoldings for 'not behaving properly'...

I had this strange hallucinations and I saw all my batchmates instead..

The break time and The Slab ..(where we cemented all our chocolate wrappers, solemnly),

The assemblies- special and not-so-special ,

The batch mates-all weird and all funny in their own respects!

I missed it all so much that I just glided through the corridors, the bus stop....

breathed only after reaching my vehicle which I was no longer allowed to park inside premises

because I am no longer a part of it...

no longer apart of it ?

no , thats impossible...

my school life has made me what I am ...

me school life has taught me what I want out of life...

I am always its part ...

and DPS bhilai will always be in my every part ...

happy friendship day!

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 09:31:00 +0000

okay, I am a few weeks behind, but for a friendship that me and nik share, its a daily celebration!

but, yeah , we celebrate today as being a part of that weird foundation day skit that created the tagline "nikhil and chetna" !

i still remember the hullabaloo created over our relationship status!
were we seeing each other , were we just good friends, or were we more than just good friends or were we just trying to attract attention ?!?!
but, we enjoyed keepin people on toes, though it freaked our parents out, but then, they came along and then we had non stop laughs , weird phone bills (hehehe) and yeah , strange conversations ranging from pakistan to pre marital sex!

well, there was a time I thought I could not live without him for a day even,
but time and distance, with a tadka of studies pressure, is a deadly combination!
we nw live in separate cities, get to see each other once a year , if very lucky ,
but still, he never forgets the Date!
its always him calling me up and wishing and i am like "i am so dumb!"..
but , well, thats him!
he will always keep the spark alive, i know. thats what makes me so complacent.
but he should know that i love him, he is my shahrukh khan, and he is my best friend!

cheers to our friendship!
:)

started before new year , finally!

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 15:45:00 +0000

I know.. its a long long gap...
but am so low out here that i had to but write it all out!

my emcee thing for Uninor got canceled at the last minute!!
and I was thinking already in investing those bucks in opening a savings account.
Got into a real bitchy fight with some detractors from the Body!!
phew ! its difficult to argue with girls really.. They remember all the points at the right time , at the right place and for the right person.
Seems like its time to show them who is the boss . ahem, ahem.

well, one good thing happened though.
Exams got postponed and no longer clash with my birthday. Not that I was celebrating or something, but still last thing I would like to do on my birthday was to study
Network Theory!

anyways, found my old love for coffee back .. thanks to winters!!

DELHI DAYS 1!!!

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Sun, 13 Jul 2008 06:55:00 +0000

22 April, 2005

8.25 A.M DURG RAILWAY STATION.

“Anki’s gonna miss the train”

“Call at her cell”.

“Its outta range”...

“Forget it ... she’s gonna do chaiyaa chiaiyaa and follow”

This time the train was not late but Anki was. Very late. Thanks to stars, Anki did not get a chance to repeat the ‘dil se’ stunt.

Remembering from ‘dil’- I think its time to tell –we were going to “dilwaalon ki dilli”! Delhi, Delhi, Delhi – delightful, dreamful, demanding, dramatic –Delhi. The reason still makes us rock. We were to participate in Doordarshan’s environmental quiz show-“Khel Khel Me Badlo Duniya”

Well, let’s get back to the train. After hours of long instructions of do’s and don’ts by my mum (like of never going anywhere alone) and we giggling them away (like promising to go even to loo together), we finally got settled in the train with Lathika ma’am and her daughter. Am I forgetting someone??? Oh yeah, The One clinging to the window-Mr. Anubhav Srivastav.

The window fascinated him right from the instant we boarded “Gondwana express”. Now we know he is fascinated by everything as long as it is Indian Railways...

It was Bryan Adams ‘summer of ‘69’’ a slight replacement – scorching summer of ‘05’ and even if you are extremely cool and Sauvé, you will feel the heat if you travel by economy class. Sweat, heat, hankies, oohs and aahs. All we could think of at that time was Anant bhaiyaa enjoying the AC of first class! And we were here –all Mohan Bhargavas, feeling the Indian ness within us. The divine Indian ness exhibited through the trip. Starting by our ma’am-

Oranges! Yum! More Yum when you throw the chilke on some poor chap standing on platform and he goes “dekh ke phekiye.”

And our innocent ma’am replying courteously “ji- aage se dekh ke hi phekenge.” Ask her what she meant.

Now, let’s bluff!

And the bluff master of the era is – Mrs. Lathika rajan. Reason? She can have 10 kings in a pack of 52 cards. Casino Royale!

Then it was evening but who cares? Anubhav and I still went on counting any train’s bogies that crossed our train (he is still on that damn window). Never got the same answer though.

BOOM! Discovery of the special interjection to convey a pass off by your next person. And there was a ‘kya baat hai’ syndrome all over. (Which later became our would- be production company’s motto).

Enough talks, laughter and food. Time to spread your bed and snore.

Goodnight!

Crash!

“What happened?”

“It’s Parul falling.”

“Oh well, goodnight”

WHAM!

“What now?”

“It’s Anki this time.”

W-O-W.

Do you expect me to sleep after all this? So I started eating [inspired by nikhil] and realized “kya swaad hai zindagi mein”. Thanks to molten Cadbury in my bag.

23 April, 2005.

It was not just I who did not sleep all night. We all four had been owl like through out. We knew that at stroke of midnight a passer by slept on floor. I dropped my bed sheet and pillow on Anubhav (no realization, though) Anki was smiling in her dreams (dun no what she saw?!) etc. etc.

We started one more day on train with munching bheja fry and khayali pulao. Then Anubhav decided to go ‘Indian Idol’ way singing shastriya sangeet but we joined him with Junoon, Euphoria and Tanha Dil.

FINALLY we reached

“DILWALON KI DILLI”

‘Kahe ki dilli hai bhai Dil to hai hi nahi logon mein’ these jewels of wisdom dropped from me when I saw no paparazzi, flashlights and no garlands showering. All right, bad joke!

At last rummaging through milling crowd, we got a white ambassador (that was because we were looking for a limousine or at least a Chevrolet). Through the way we thought about Varun’s prophecy and shuddered at every not- so- good -looking nook and corner where speed slowed down.

When our driver ultimately stopped our only expression was “where is it?” However, in that narrow passage of south extension standing in front was a well-furnished hall. After going up in winding, twisting steps, there was the room no 201. Taking a deep breath we slid open the door and

next moment we were all jumping . I mean what else you need?

Three cool friends,

no adult,

a 24 hr cable

and

a nice cozy bed that feels heaven with A.C in hot April days!

“This is life, man”

After having zaikedaar lunch of aloo paranthas with a flood of butter, we let ourselves enjoy the dim lights of our room.

Dreams of Delhi.

Thud!! Interruption!

Lathi’s voice snarled, “Get up, lazy legs! Its time to go for rehearsals.” Oh well, we should have known. After all those big palaces of film stars are not for them. It’s for their servants and pets because they live in their studios itself. Anyways, we got ready by 11 a.m. But till our limo arrives let’s practice for our skit.

“Sure”.

Nevertheless, I did not know this would turn more than just a practice.

‘A skit requires dialogues, actors, acting, aerobics, choreography, ballet, physics, biology and trigonometry.’

Sounds ridiculous, right?

Well, it won’t if you saw Anubhav’s practice sessions. Anki went gaga over improving his ‘kharkhaniya chaal’. Moreover, a whiz kid like him could handle only physics and trigo ratios; at last, he made it through saying

‘With each raised step, your leg is perpendicular to floor’

‘Hands should follow Newton’s third law and move backward when your legs go forward’.

Pretty neat, is it?

After this Hindi outburst session, let’s get on to something wacko like translating the whole skit into English. How do you call it? Well, ma’am called it-“I am glad Thakre and Sudipta are not here”. No further comments please.

Just as we were thorough with our sessions, our coordinator, Meenal Singhal,informed that our limo would be late.so, we went for sight seeing .And after we reached lajpat, Anubhav vowed never to forgive us. After all, he came in the pretext of sight seeing but here we dint get ahead of shops seeing! Through out our maraudering, he kept imploring-

“Everything’s good .Let’s go back!”

“Excellent gift. Buy it.”

“Oh, everything looks good on you. Just take it and move along. For god sake, buy something!”

Poor chap, who listens?

After long persuading, we got him to buy one thing for him. A “goggles” and he has vowed to keep it on at night as well. But, finally we granted Anubhav’s wish and got back to restroom and zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

BONK!
Arrival of our limo!

With ‘Bombay Rockers’ rocking and Anki dozing, we pursued our destination –-‘Laxmi Video Studio’.

And please don’t ask us what we did there. We just slept. Seriously, we had gone for rehearsals but all we did was to pull up our legs on the sofas and drift off to dreams. Common, everyone seemed so damn busy!

We too were busy when after loosing our way in the numerous very big and not very big (we cannot call them small in any way) rooms, we burst into green rooms (imagine their face) or drinking bottle of soda thinking them to be water (imagine my face).

And here, I will ask you a question. What happens when two opposing gender, stubborn, hot heads decide to take control of a situation?

Did you say a scene from Balaji Telefilms ? yeah, you have right, then. The fights Anki and Anubhav had, was one of its kind. People turned heads to see if it was shooting of Kutumb- part II . and me ,Prool, lathi were the babuji and ba.(no pun intended).

Our turn arrived, we entered the centrally cooled, magnificently managed, and pin drop silenced studio B to watch the actual shooting. Ours was due for next day, though. And after 15 minutes, we find ourselves gasping for air and rushing out to catch on some air.

No, not because of lack of oxygen but because of laughing. And I think you know that the more you try to suppress your hyena howls, the more you become breathless.

Thanks to the performing schools at that time, we carry some unforgettable laughter moments. Only 4 of us present there can understand what I mean. That small boy shouting ‘ma, main gir gaya’ before falling and other artists, all were funny for that serious scene being shot.

Then, we were spotted by Vikas. A relatively short, endearingly cute, metro sexually studded and admiringly diplomat. Okay, so this was not any ordinary guy, he was our cool ‘guru’. I mean our instructor. Well, he was the reason our rehearsals were pending for such a long time. For any other man, I would have sworn to put chewing gum in his hair, but since he resembled Thakre sir (and he had little hair already), I changed my plans.

After a short and pep talk regarding ourselves, our ideals and our priorities , he left us in a room to proceed with other team’s run through. And guess what we did there? Yes you guessed it ! we were laughing and rolling on floors. You know its not our fault that their rehearsals were uncontrollable. The ‘kankhajura’, ‘Raviiiiiii’ ‘jalkumbhi’, we still smile at these stuffs. The rehearsals with us went smooth. May be too smooth that we did not realize it was well past 10 p.m. Knowing that, Vikas let us go back but we did not want to, rather I should say we could not want too. We were too exhausted for the day. But Meenal Singhal, our good looking coordinator thrust all of us back into our limo and after that everything happened in a daze. We reached rooms and simply slumped over each other on our cozy bed and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Here I must mention the plight of poor Anubhav, the only boy among us. He had to share room with Lathi and her daughter(till DPS, grasim arrived) but being a gentleman(at least, he tried his best), he let mum-daughter duo to share bed while he managed with sofa.

But he sure made a point the first thing in morning to wham at our doors with an demure expression ‘if I cant sleep , I wont let you either’. Pure evil.

24 April,2005

Next day, relaxed morning. We had an sumptuous breakfast and like yesterday thought our limo would arrive at least 5 hours late.

How wrong we were!

It arrived sharp at 11 a.m. and how two schools crammed in with all their drama props was in itself a scene from ‘while you were out’.

with ‘mehsopuria’ and ‘kaal dhamaal’, we headed for studio. Then, as soon as we entered the green room, we came to know what it takes to be glamorous. No, not talking about us. Its said intelligent learn from others’ experience. We learnt it from Amrita- our lady host for the show and of course Anki afterwards.

Ours(mine and Prool’s) makeup session was comparatively forgiving. Just kohl all around face(we were naala-naali, gee).

Talk about Anubhav!

Poor chap, jammed into a uncomfortable comfort chair, lights blinding his eyes and steady fast strokes by professional who was a no-nonsense uncle, but the pandemonium he created after seeing his image was something that would be remembered.

But Anki took the maximum time and she was looking worth it. She was the goddess river. So unlikely her ,she was dressed up feminine!

Then the final time came and we entered the magnifique studio B. yesterday, we were here, laughing at others’ mistakes. Now tables were turned. It is our chance(may be).

Stunned silence, following eyes(for our costumes) and startling lights. But hei! We kept our cool. Not because we were not nervous, we were more concerned about our make-up.

‘okay’, shally ji amplified in that already drop- dead silenced auditorium.

‘shot ready’

‘camera rolling’

‘audio check’

‘ACTION !’

everything was going on well when the ‘but’ word arrived. ‘There’, we thought, ‘a mistake, comments, laughs’

nothing happened that sort. “camera thik karo”, he shouted towards the mixing room. “okay, ACTION!”

smooth!

Just three takes and an okay shot. And we had expected to take hours. Yes, professionals, that we are.

The quuz, I mean the quiz , now that was real time taking. I and Anki knew then what it feels to be a participant. You see, Conducting the quiz was easier than sitting here. With adjusting microphones, wiping sweat, wiping hands, scribbling pens, surely, compeering was

Far more comforting than being comforted by comparers.

Those two anchors, phew, are actors like them?

Amrita – the lady was obviously paying more attention to what her lips looked like than what they said.

“ek baari phir..” and Vishaal , the male counterpart, pronounced ‘shhabakher’ as ‘shabba ke abba ki khair’ . jumbling up words was their favourite time pass. “ mercury battery se mil ke paani ban jaata hai’. Ever heard of that?!

For the quiz we were in quite a comfortable position. Because the audience voted us a whopping lead of 140 points. And when the quiz started, I don’t know what happened, may be we were still unnerved, we scored zero!

But yes, with each question there was a tie and as everyone later admitted “we realize today how important a third umpire to a game”.

Then in the second round too, we did not do anything. Don’t curse us, that was because we did not have to do anything. Thanks to the opponents who pressed the buzzer before time . Grin. So , where do we land at last? In front of the camera , repeating our happy and victorious emotions, all for camera’s different angles. It was not very tough because real emotions are never hard to express!

Well, whatever be, we had made it through the rolling camera!.

Cut it!

Shot okay!

Pack up!

* * * * * * *

Phew 8 p.m.

Too late for shopping. Too early for sleeping, specially for a night hawk like me. So I decided to watch some TV while Anki and Prool retired. Just when Jenson button appeared after completing his 2^nd lap , a voice behind me said’ koffee with karan dene se change kar dena’. Hei! They were not sleeping . then what?

Photography for will’s fashion week.

I as Hercules , Anki as pagdi paaji, and wearing a saree .. that was the best part. Then came ‘bourbon with karan’.

Smuggled in our cozy bed with blanket wrapped around and ac at 18° Celsius , bourbon in hands and long legs and sexy short skirt of Malaika Arora khan, I thought ‘this is life , man!’

Then, the last job- packing. All right, while in Bangalore , two akki’s packed me . But here, it was my dad , Anki, complementing me. And so , I had a good excuse to keep pending the dreadful packing. But, alas, Prool made us recover and distinguish our belongings, and then, we decided to sleep.

Goodnight.

Lights off.

All quiet.

Then suddenly

Ha ! ha! Hee! Hee!

After all, its Parul , Chetna, Ankita on the same bed!(ahem). Common yaar , why wasting that one single night doing what we do every night by sleeping. Lets do talking and endless talking. There are so many important issues to discuss. Ranging from Pakistan to pre marital sex.

Don’t know, when we found sleep. Next morning, I got up at 6.30 a.m. and went to the veranda. Wow ! greenery, fresh air, . Wow ! greenery, fresh air, where are they?!

All I see is a man, brushing his teeth in the front building which is so close that I move away in case his toothpaste lick my face.

All I see is a deodar tree alone and limping. may be it appears so because I am on the fifth floor but then , there’s no fresh air .

Only faint petrol hanging in the air. Its not that I don’t like it, but right now there’s only one thing on my mind. This aint no life!

Look at my 5 day schedule. Getting up at 9 am and running all around and being exhausted to death till 2 am. We skipped meals, slept less and most important missed our useless to-dos. With half of the time spent in traffic , when you finally get some time for yourself, there is nothing , no space ( Delhi and space do not go together), no time(time is always a ticking bomb here).

Hei! Enough rhetoric filmi dialogues.

Time to get back to originality. Truth is-

I am in love with Delhi.

And come what may ...

I will go on loving it!!!

Whoa!

The last sentence brought us to our next stop....

Lets celebrate with a pizza!!! Not in McDonalds but at Pizzahut! so, palat meri jaan. That’s what we literally told our ma’am who decided to go for ‘Indian cuisine’ and proudly deviated from pizzahut. But, after a while , palat gayi hamaari jaan!

Then it was time that we waved our delightful Delhi “goody bye”. And packing our bags we thought of only two things-

One- will we be this together again?

Two- who will carry this luggage?

Sitting in the train, we pondered over what all we had left behind- good memories, good times . good food and good looking hunks notwithstanding. and of course-those head gears(sorry, Thakre sir!)

Well, again Anubhav started in his voice trained to tune out a song for every occasion – ‘yaad ayenge ye pal’ and again we joined him but this time without rolling our eyes.

dedicated to my school friends...

noreply@blogger.com (chetna) — Sat, 12 Jul 2008 05:56:00 +0000

A strange day!

In the flickering light of my bedroom, I checked myself for the last time. ‘Okay. That s it’. Not a perfect dress to wear to a gathering like this but I dint have energy left to try something else. I was way too excited and way too nervous.

While waiting for the taxi, my head was spinning with absurd thoughts. What if nobody recognized me? What if I did not recognize anyone? What if people hate me?

What if THEY did not like me?!?!

They, them. The last sentence brought a faint smile on face and torrent of memories in mind. THEY meant my friends, more precisely, my precious school friends, with whom I have spent some of the most glorious days of my life.

But today, Life was different and difficult without them. Out of contact for more than a decade, this crazy idea of meeting my batch mates, who were knowingly unknown, was quite unsettling.

Anyways, thoughts were interrupted by a honk and before I could argue with myself for the millionth time ‘whether to go or not’, I found myself facing the green flag emblazoned with DPS symbol. Welcoming?? May be.

Taking a deep breath, I walked the length of the corridor. Though never afraid of facing people, the ones I was most afraid of today were my own friends.

'Well, I sighed, ‘its going to be a strange day.’

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Chetna see.” A cold voice was the first one to reach me. Abhisha, with a smug smile now forming on her face, came forward. Go for her, Chetna. Man, she looked better. “I work for siemens semiconductors now. What are YOU?”. Score one. Let her enjoy.

“Yeah you look like you work.” I smirked. “I am jobless.”

“Why?” she asked, enjoying my joblessness. “I heard you were in some multinational.” She still knows everything about everyone.

“Yeah I am. But that’s no work for me.”

Squared scores. With that I left her and what looked like her husband.

The voice in my head screamed to get away from that place right then and there.

But dun no what held me from running away. Instead I rooted myself at a place and looked around.

The hall was full of people, of all makes, of all kinds, of all types. But I could not find one familiar (and wanted) face. First, I blamed it on my perpetual eye sight defect. Hell, I am wearing new specs. Then it must be my legendary height. God, my sister’s 3 inch stilettos are a waste!

But hei! Hang on. I see a really tall figure silhouetting. Now, who was really tall? Aayush? Varun? VARUN? I jumped a little. The last time I saw him, he was in NDA. Lanky and thin as bamboo. God, put on some muscle, that guy has. But, what’s this? The figure looks like umm having flowing hair. Now, varun was hairy okay, but he could never grow his head’s hair. Or could he?

“CHETNAAAAAAA” the tall figure waved. No it can’t be varun. And it is NOT varun. It’s Apoorva! Instant reaction of hugging and dancing. As I regained composure, I, may be, saw another tall figure behind Apoorva. But, how can I see beyond 5’11”. Hell. I lost the track in the milling crowd.

Apoorva fired endless strings of how are you (not what are you), how is family and on and on and on. Saying yes to her every question, my eyes searched wildly for Apoorva’s better half-Parul. Though I did not want to sound uninterested, but I could not contain my train of thoughts. I interrupted, “PARUL! She must be with you!!!”

She looked offended. But, before I could say sorry (now, that word comes out difficult), she said “you mean Dr. Parul Goyal”. She paused for a while “she will come, if her schedule permits.” My heart slumped. But she was right. Doctors have a busy schedule for get together like this.

Wary of answering ‘how are you-s’ and ‘I am fine-s ‘, I reached the cold drink counter.

“One mirinda please”.

“Make that two”, a husky voice said from behind.

I turned around to see a beautiful lady. I call her lady because she was wearing light blue sequined sari. And according to me, any woman having the panache to carry herself in that 6 meter long drape is a lady!

For what looked like hours we kept looking at each other. And for a moment I saw her drawing me into a hug. The warmth, I recognize, is only Ankita’s thing.

But, consciousness fell and I find none of us has moved. No hug. No handshakes. We simply stand and stare. Yes, we have grown up. As soon as this realization falls upon you, you should waste no time in asking ‘how are you’. So I did that. But, silly thing to ask because she looked DDG. Growing up is silly. She took one long look at me before answering

“Yes. Good. How about you?”

“Yeah... same here.” Formality. Formality.

Then, again we gazed at each other. Thousands of memories flashed like some Technicolor movie. Ankita, my better half on stage, in school.

But our trip to memory land was invaded when I saw a man standing next to her. Don’t know how long he had waited before calling us out of trance.

It was then I noticed him. Small cropped hair, black dinner jacket, tall, dark, handsome.

Tall dark handsome... my mind processed information and I whispered ‘Ani!’

(Dun no why Aniket did not click), still trying to believe.

He nodded with a childish grin (yes, it’s Ani)

‘Yes’.

Still speaks in monosyllables, this guy.

“Are you both still together?” I immediately regretted the question.

They looked at each other and after weighing upon options like yes, no and may be, Anki said softly

‘Yes’.

I waited for some more words. But darn Ani, he has taught her even to speak like him. But, I did not give up. I took our Mirinda-turned-fruitys and offered to Ankita “quite a crowd isn’t it? What about sitting somewhere?”

I am being nosey.

They gave each other a look again (man! What romance!*sigh*)

“Actually” Anki said cautiously “we need to see few other classmates yet.”

She paused for a while before adding “hope you don’t mind...”

I vehemently shook my head before even she completed and we rushed off in opposite direction. Why should I mind at all? In fact, I myself was not confident to talk to her. I mean, what did I expect? Gossip to Ankita Mahendru?!?! The last I heard she was an independent candidate contesting in her district level election. She is big. Real time BIG. And I was prying into a politician’s and a lawyer’s happily married life and still expect to sit and talk!

Guts, Chetna!

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

“Chetna See!

Where the hell are you?”

Before I could relate the situation, a voice rattled off “Kyun yaar! You don’t carry your cell or what??” I’ve been roaming in this awful place for 2 hrs.....!! Kahaan thi tu??!! Koi mila kya?!! WO chod! Dekh I got a new phone!

I kept blinking at her!

M-A-Y-U-R-I!

We rattled off same questions and answered our own question as well. After stopping a while to breathe: I explained, eying Mayuri head to toe: “Whoa! New avatar!”

She had slimmed down and when I say down... it means real down! What began 15 years ago, through swimming at steel club in summer vacations, had finally paid off. To which she giggled “no yaar! Just A flattering dress”. She was wrong, she looked great, not extremely but just toned down to being what we had planned in the garden of her home almost a decade ago.

Putting fingers through the hair she restlessly said “kya hai yaar! Why are you so quite?” then, pulling me through the crowd, cursing everyone on the way, who brushed past a little closer or who did not look quite good, she found a corner to sit

“So, how is it going with you? How many?”

God! My friends were more interested in personal front than anything else. Well they were always that .with that, she winked. I simply blinked

“I think I should ask that question to you.”

“Oh!” she said carelessly, “just second.”

“What about the first one?” I tried to sound serious.

“Yeah! Kicked out the first one.”

“And second?”

“Well............”she looked up the roof. “He is kicking me out!”

“What???” I was surprised.

“He hates my job ... and he hates the people and work with”

“Mayuri” I chose the words carefully “you do work with people who are quite”

She stared at me “Who are quite??”

“Unconventional.” I stared back. She threw hands in the air and loudly declared, explaining more to herself than to me.

“Common yaar. I own a club where like minded people gather and I-N-N-O-V-A-T-E technology. We are a rare breed” emphasizing every word.

“Is that your opening line? “I grinned to chill her out.

“Yeah” she said with new enthuse, “When we start our think-tank”. I waited for her to stop dreaming.

But she went on, “Dun no Chetna; he has a problem with everything I do. My job... My colleagues, my cooking..... ”

The last one made me laugh. But instead I said “so why is he throwing you out? It should be other way round?”

“Well, she hesitated; “I want compensation to...” she looked at me

“To fund your innovativeness” I completed the sentence for her. We think alike.

“YES” she dropped her eyes, a little guilty.

She is more confident and independent now. But that vulnerability still lurks... I can sense that. So I patted her hands “its ALLRIGHT bubu. Very few people do what they want” I said thinking about my life.

“Bubu” she repeated “Bubu loves Ramu” she grinned with twinkling eyes. She remembers. I am glad. Instead I ask, mischievously

“Bleached teeth!!”

“Just yesterday!” she winked and we laugh together, after such a long time.

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

Mayuri just left me to talk her classmates after for a while. I was sitting and looking at the happy faces of old pals meeting. Fake- all of them.

Just then Aniket pulled a chair and sat next to me and said

“May I join you?”

I smiled, “you already have.”

“How are you?” He again asked. He genuinely wanted to talk, it seemed.

“How do I look?’’I said in a chirpy voice with what I was characterized in my school days.

“You look pretty” and he pulled my checks. Man, is he crazy. I adjusted my specs.

“You don’t pull cheeks of pretty women” I pronounced a fake expression. I was always called a nautanki for my over expressiveness. We laughed again. After a while of intently watching him, I asked

“How’s it going with you both?” Chetna see, stop being nosey. I expected him to stand up and walk off, but instead he smiled wickedly

“Women first. In your case, pretty women first. Answer your own question first.

How is Anya?” I looked at him if he was serious. Though he seldom joked, with last question, he seemed adamant. Not changed, this guy has. God! This is going to be one long night.......

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

“Nikhil Agarwal?”

“Yeah, that Nikhil Agarwal”the words made me slow down and hear the two women. Is he here?

I prayed that they talk a little loudly. “He is there, over the counter”, the lady pointed in a direction.

Thank you.

But no, it can’t be Nikhil... SILK AQUAMARINE shirt?!?!?! And, is that a scarf around his neck? Suicide. No, no.............. it’s a woman’s ...because she is taking it off from him herself. I see his giggle and the woman laughing. Still king of PJs. And I can place that giggle anywhere. Confirmed. its NIKHIL....! Before I could realize I had taken steps lot closer than intended. And before I could retract I had shouted at top of my lungs

“NIKHIL....Yuhooooooo!”

He turned around and made a gesture of complete shock with dropping his jaws and widening his eyes (wanted to be an actor, this guy...). Over the top, I know, but that’s Nikhil for me. Forgetting all caution, we hugged and screamed. Man, screaming feels good. And so does embracing your best friend after 15 years. But then, it dawned on me that I am not a 15 year old anymore and I broke off. I saw many eyes towards us. Well, we are used to it.

“Ahem,” he started “I knew you would be here.” He gestured the woman with scarf to move away. I looked at her once and back at him.

“You are wearing awful shirt!” I love teasing him.

“It’s nice, all right!” he adjusted his shirt, “I know better”.

Man, he looked like saif Ali khan even now. But I refrained telling him that. Seeing me silent, he egged on “what? Chetna see does not argue anymore?” he laughed again. Hollow. Sarcastic. I replied with complete seriousness “yes, I don’t.”

He fell silent, “any problem? Tell me about it.”

He still has to know everything regarding me. And I know I was pissing him off by not fighting or talking.

“With me? Yes. What’s up with you?” I pointed over his shoulders at the scarf woman. I still have to know every woman he dates.

“Oh her!” as if he did not know. “Just a client.”

Oh yes.

But instead I smile “chee Nik! Still single!”

Wrong question. Especially when you yourself are.

And he fired back “chee Chetna! YOU still single!”

I hate him.

“I am not! I am living with someone.”

He narrowed his eyes for a moment. Then laughed “ha! Must be a girl!”

Do not give up.

“So what? I am living with someone. I guess you live alone”

I knew I was hurting him. But I wanted to see if things had changed between us. When in school, he let me win every argument. He replied, “Have you been to my office? I am surrounded by beautiful girls all the time!” he spread his arms. I notice he is wearing even more rings now.

I challenged him more, reliving my past. Rolling my eyes, I said “that’s because they USE you to get on TV, to become...” I waved my hands “to become famous”.

“That’s my job you are talking about, chetna see.” He gave me a stern glance.

I understood I was nearing my limit. But with Nikhil, it’s okay to cross the brink.

“Really? How does it feel being with famous celebrities all the time and not .....”

Check your tongue. I stopped dead.

“Not being one yourself.” He completed it for me. Oh no, I have cut him real deep.

“Nik, I dint mean to hurt you.” Lame excuse.

He thought for a while. Then broadened into a smile I know could rival a film star, “hei!” he wrapped his hand around my shoulders “its okay Chetna.

Well, you are right. It’s not very great, but it pays me well. Good thing is you get to flirt with Suhana. Now who is she?

Bad thing is you get these weird shirts as gifts from her.” He grinned.

Oh, he is talking about srk’s daughter.

I laugh this time, “you know Nik, you still could be an actor!”

“Hai na!” he beamed as if I said his heart’s desire. “I know it!” he combed through his hair with fingers.

“Yes of course you can. As suhana’s ‘s father!”

“Ha-ha! Very funny!”

“Ha-ha yes it is!”

And we giggle like Nikhil-Chetna again.

I can sense it’s only to cover the missing links of life. Everyone is doing that, its universal. Before I could write an entire article on this, he interrupted “forget all that.” he quipped up “how is it going with you hmmmm?”

He still talks endless. I can see why he is a publicist and an image consultant to SRK’s daughter.

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

We were deep into conversation rather into an argument about my life, when Ankita found us. I like to think that she came searching for us. Though Anki and Nik, had met before as well, but three talking is always better than two talking.

But then Nikhil had to be ‘excused’ to guide a potential client. That left me and Anki, awkward and silent once again. Let her speak first. I controlled myself. But, of course how can I let anyone else speak first. Some instincts do not go away even with time.

‘How’s it going in your constituency?’ I at least hoped to start a formal conversation. She liked the idea I guess. Because she started more confidently

‘I have some more plans, especially for the old age home.’

I waited for her to elaborate. I wanted to see if we still shared our dreams.

No, we could not.

‘Vaise I read your article in Tribune.” she stated. “On juvenile delinquency.

I liked it.” She continued, still searching for words “are you in newspaper now?”

I waited for a moment before answering “no. I am a freelance writer. I just send them my articles sometimes.” I shrugged.

This topic was not working out well at all.

So she changed the topic.

“You are not married.”

Wrong topic.

Was that a question or a statement?

But I tried to remain cool “you are.” I replied.

Every married woman in this world wants you to get married.

She nodded but kept silent. Hell Chetna. You know what she wants you to ask.

“So”, I cheered up “you both happy together!! I mean the number of times you both look at each other even today ... ooohhh!! Romantic!” I sighed.

She laughed “that’s because we have nearly forgotten how we look.”

Strange answer. “What do you mean by that?” I can’t leave the matter here.

She paused for a while, and then looked at me. May be I seemed genuinely concerned or may be she still trusted me, but she started with a breath “I am an MLA; he is a legal advisor to Mahindras. I am in Rohtak, he is in Bangalore. Constantly moving, scheduling, adjusting... just to spend few moments together. At most, a weekend together.” she sarcastically added “I got married to have a family life, Chetna. But I have only a word as marriage. No family. No life.” Her eyes threatened to loose control. Politics might have made her stern but she still has that soft core called heart. But now, she is better in controlling them.

But her answer surprised me .I wanted to laugh loud.

“At least you have something, someone you can spend time with, Ankita. You have something you both call family.” Words escaped from me instantly and we both fell silent, comprehending our own lives.

Everyone is running after what one can never have. Me or her. It will always be like that. Looking for an oasis in a mirage. But life has never been fair to anyone. Life has always been like that. We both know it. And so, we moved on to talking about perks of life. It’s always easy talking about things that make us happy.

Right dad?

Ankita talked to for more than an hour, mostly about politics, past and future endeavors. Though I do not know P of politics, but it was heartening to hear from her, so enthusiastic and optimistic. Talking about our past, we laughed so much that tears brimmed in our eyes. And no, it was not because of laughing.

It was because we miss each other in our lives.

And I don’t want to make her a part of a life which is in complete mess.

And suddenly before I could realize she got up and enrolled me into an Ankita’s special hug. That warmth, thanks god, was not lost. And thanks god we were not facing each other while wiping those warm drops.

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

Standing for a long time and inexperienced with handling stilettos, I came to a quieter roof to take those thorny things out and air myself. And it was good weather. Breezy, crisp air was blowing through palm trees below and the rustle of the leaves felt good. I leaned against the railing, opposite all the lights and noise below. The roof was definitely a popular place. Broken glass, whiskey bottles lay hay ware. But I was not alone. In a corner stood another, man, I guessed, judging from the height and the liberal gulping down of drink.

I just could not take my eyes off him. Then I knew why.

I went up to him; he still did not notice my coming. Standing behind him with crossed hands, I stated “I told you, you would be an alcoholic.”

He turned around. Yes, it was Varun, Varun Bhalla. Vroom, Bhallaboy, to name a few.

I won’t say he had not changed. His face had not. Same French beard, fresh hair cut, everything was same. But the twinkling mischief in his black beady eyes was replaced by a more serene, unvarying look.

He studied me for a long time before saying “you have grown taller.”

Varun!

I smiled, “its just high heels.” I pointed to my feet.

God! My past was coming back to me. All of a sudden I was 16 year old, laughing, living, and talking.

Varun nodded with that same style he had earlier “oh, I see”

And then added “you want some drink?”

I looked at his empty glass and wondered if he expected me to drink from that. He sensed it because he can always sense what I think and offered “I will go and get one for you, don’t worry.”

“No” I said “I won’t let you escape.” I sensed he did not want to talk.

“Escape from what? we all are trapped.” he turned his head to the dark.

This guy is one hell of a philosophy. But I liked the conversation. I am a pessimist, people say.

So I egged him “still, there can be ways to escape?”

“From life? No.”, he finished without looking at me.

“Varun!” I tried to smile, to reprimand but could not. I tried to say something else, something positive, but could not.

This time he looked at me. Sensing I might broach into restricted areas of his complicated brain, he offered a new direction to talk.

“So Chetna see, any new names for me?” he smiled.

In school time, I had given him uncounted names.

“Yes” I laughed “Mr. Pot Belly.”

He stood upright, arched his chest and retorted “no way. See for yourself.”

I waited for him to lose his breath and after a few minutes the shirt puffed up a bit. And I laughed loud. He grinned sheepishly.

“Just air in shirt I guess” I suggested.

“Right, cheers!” and with that he raised a toast and finished his drink in one go.

“So varun” I leaned against the fence, facing him “how being an army man feels like?”

“Yes, great! You get a lot of free booze.” He answered and picked up a McDowell’s from ground.

I kept looking at him, a little surprised as he poured another glassful.

“Are you not going to say anything?” he asked knowingly.

“Say what?” I tried to be innocent.

“Something like- varun, stop drinking, its bad and you know what...” he rocked his glass in air. Now, it was him testing me. So I kept my cool.

“No”.

“No?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s your own life.”

He paused before answering “no, because I am selfish.”

God! What has gotten into this guy?

“I am sorry Chetna. I am very depressing, I know. If you want to leave, I will not mind at all”. He mumbled to himself.

I ignored him and exclaimed, just to cheer him up “varun! You are the first guy who dates a model and still talks like this.”

“Sshhh!” he motioned with his fingers on lips. “If she sees it, I am dead even before alcohol kills me.”

I continued “is she here with you?”

“She?” he put the glass and bottle back on ground. Thank god!

“She is in Mumbai, participating in what is that ... some mega model pageant.” He laughed gruffly.

I made out that’s where his entire trouble rested. Girlfriend participating in mega model? I don’t think our varun was made for that.

“And?” I tried to carve it out from him.

“And?” he repeated after me, leaning forward.

“You have a problem with that?”

He did not answer. And I knew he would not.

So instead I asked “is she very attractive?” you don’t use the word ‘hot’ when you are 33.

“Yeah she is.” He nodded.

“More than me?!”

He looked at me. I was immediately embarrassed.

“I am sorry. I was just trying to ...”

“Be yourself.” And he grinned. And I think I imagined it, but I saw a glint of old self in him as well when he grinned that way.

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

Varun was leading me through the crowd to introduce to a ‘very interesting person’ as according to him. But by the way he smiled at the prospect of making me meet that person, made me a little apprehensive, because what is interesting to varun is usually alarming to others.

Anyways, we halted when Varun greeted in his most cheerful voice

“Chetna, meet Mr. Sameer Parikh. And Sameer, this is Chetna, my friend who wanted to meet you.”

I eyed varun for a moment for this white lie. Before I could say something

“Hello” came a polite welcome, and immediately a drink was offered.

‘No, thanks.’ I refused as I was still trying to comprehend the person.

A tall man whose complexion I would consider fair, slightly lopsided smile, in a respectable check shirt and khakis.

“He is the owner of the famed ‘Parikh gems’ among many others.”, varun further elaborated, surely amused by my confusion.

‘Parikh gems!!!’ The name struck a chord. In fact, it would everyone’s chord who calls themselves women. Before I could come up with a plan to acquire a discount from his Mumbai’s branch, he said

“So, I hear you are a writer.” He said with simplicity and grace. Certainly, he did not embark his appearance with his business. “That’s great” he added.

Why the hell did he think it was great? But still I replied

“No, it is not that great. I work in a multinational company as HR. writing is just a... hobby.”

“Really?” he offered me appetizers which I refused again.

“I have read a couple of your articles ... actually my wife insists that I read them.”

Man! I have written a couple of articles only. But the wife part was okay... because I write basically on women. Hmm.. He seemed genuine, no matter what.

I decided to give the conversation a chance.

“Oh thank you, Mr. Parikh. ” I laughed thinking if I could still get a discount “it’s just that I really can’t remember meeting before.” I then noticed the golden hand bag hanging casually on his shoulder. Wife’s, I thought.

“Yeah we haven’t. ” he continued. “But still, famous writers are usually complimented by strangers, if I am not wrong.”

Famous writer? I liked the man.

And he offered me coffee and I took it.

“Well, thank you again Mr. Parikh. But I am not that famous as you think I might be.”

“Give it some time, miss see.” He leaned forward and said “I have spent many years assessing gemstones and I must tell you it really takes time to polish into a gemstone.” And he smiled.

I was totally floored.

Varun was right. He was indeed an interesting person.

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

“Sameer! Do you have my purse?” a female voice called from back. I looked over his shoulders to see another lady walking in a huff.

“Here you have it and I am blaming my carelessness. Why did not you tell it was with you?!” with that flare of temper she snapped the purse from Sameer. My brain told me to be polite and turn around to give the couple a little private moment. But, my eyes were fixated at the lady, whose mole by the chin was as famous as her.

“Parul!” I interrupted the husband wife squabble. Wrong timing, I know, but I just could not control myself. I never could.

It was only then she noticed me. And her eyebrows arched upwards and she exclaimed “Chetna!! Wow!”

I nodded. But we did not move. Partly because, NOW it dawned on me that the interesting person was none other than Parul’s husband. Dr. Parul Goyal’s husband.

“What Chetna?” she complained “you come here and talk to my husband and not me?” then she turned to Sameer “ Sameer, can you get us something ?”

“That’s okay” I quipped “ Sameer already offered me the entire menu , I guess” I laughed.

Parul wore an odd look. Bad joke, I thought. With that Sameer was gone.

“You mean my husband was hospitable?” she made a face.

“Well” I became cautious “yes he was and he is quite an interesting guy.”

Parul threw her head back and laughed.

What was so funny?

Breathless, she said “you still crack jokes, hei! Sameer Parikh? Interesting?”

“FINE Parul.” I shook her “control!”

God! Times had certainly changed. Chetna See asking Parul Goyal to control herself.

She became composed again.

“So, you still HR?”

“Yeah”. Don’t ask me to elaborate.

“Good.”

Silence.

“So, you have met Sameer.” She started again.

“yes.” I won’t be trapped this time.

“And what does he say?”

“Well, he says you are a great doctor!” I tried to lighten the moment.

She rolled her eyes “don’t lie Chetna. He never said that.” I was taken aback.

But she continued “but yes, I am a great doctor who could have been greater had I never got married,” there was scorn in her voice.

“Why?” I tried to resurrect “you have such a great family.”

“ Yeah , great , big Parikh family where you have to fulfill everyone’s whims and fancies.” She retorted.

“But you have such a successful practice!!”

“Oh Chetna!” she replied, irritated “ of all, you are saying making money is making success?”

I fell silent.

“But Parul,” I said as softly as I could “ you do not get everything in life.”

“But Chetna, independence is the only thing I wanted out of life.

I had no answer to that. Though we seldom agreed with each other, but we understood each others dreams. We knew what we wanted out of life . But, like everyone else, were far from getting it.

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

Arguing more with Parul became more exciting when Ankita joined us. Just felt like another of those Delhi trips.

In the mid of the spicy conversation, Anki pointed to a girl in a red cocktail dress,

“You know who she is?” I gaped at the girl. My mind was tired of processing information. They both exchanged looks and grinned. We girls are famous for doing that.

“Do you remember Mohit Raman? ”

After a while my eyes shone up

“The Gentleman !!!!” I had given cheesy nicknames to everyone.

“no.” they shook their heads.

“No?” I heart sank again.

“no.” they repeated.

“Then who?” I was getting irked by their amusement. The restlessness I had left behind was coming back to me.

The K. Gentleman!!!” and they burst into a fit of laughter. Old habits and all that.

“Speak clearly.” I threatened.

But they ignored my warning (of course) and went on giggling

And I continued to threaten them when a man came over with ice creams and announced

“Ladies, here are your ice creams !”

I looked at him. Man! Had he changed! Well, he already had lost 8 kgs and still counting when we were in school.

Wearing a royal blue shirt, Mohit looked just like he always has. Cool and Casual.

I softly mumbled “Mohit!”

He glared at me, totally blank.

I kept silent, too shocked to speak.

Anki asked him “ you don’t recognize her?” more like teasing him.

After few minutes, he started explaining in a manner so like him, using his hands and rocking a bit

“From the height and all, it must be Chetna... but from the silence and calmness, it can’t be Chetna.” He finished.

Slowly my lips broke into a smile and I waned to turn back to 2008. Imitating myself, I pointed a finger to myself “ it’s me, Chetna!” and then pointed to his chest “and you, Mohit, are wearing a very sexy shirt!” I winked.

“Ha!” he clapped his hands “ its Chetna only!”

He said it with such simplicity that I found myself laughing genuinely.

“What?” he asked, keeping his eyes in sync with my laughter. Still maintained that eye contact, Mohit has.

“Nothing” I can’t laugh for long nowadays. “ What’s up with you ? I hear that you are no longer a gentleman?” I rebuked mockingly.

“And you trust them?” he asked innocently.

“Yes I do.” And I motioned to the red cocktail dress.

I raised my brows. He did the same.

“Oho Mohit , who is she?”

“My partner” he replied, ears slightly going red.

“Oh yes.” I pulled his leg “ business partner.”

He said nothing.

“Oh! Life partner!” I said shrilly.

“No” he was loosing his serenity with my pretension. “My...”

He took a deep breath “ my live in partner.”

“What? You are living in?” contempt clearly showing in my voice.

I have a hell of a problem with live in relations. Conservative, I know I am.

“Hence the K.Gentleman” Mohit started laughing.

God! The most uncomplicated guy is living with complications of a live in relation.

And I guessed he was laughing on himself.

“That’s okay” I said, cooling myself more than him “many people are living in. it’s perfectly okay ... it’s perfectly okay if it’s mutual.”

What else could I say. I was regretting my sudden eruption of negative comment.

He repeated “ yeah it is ...”

“If it’s mutual, Chetna.”

And I hung on his words . Mohit’s one liners are always funny and comprehensible. But with this one, I was not too sure about it... rather I dint want to be.

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

I was at the poolside , gazing at the clear blue water and the numerous shadows falling on it. Numerous shades of light, numerous convolutions forming, altering, again forming. Just like life, I thought, life never remains same... but what I wanted to know, was whether life changes or circumstances or it’s just the people?

My myriad thoughts were invaded by a deep voice resonating with my name

“Chetna...”

I did not turn back. I closed my eyes and tried to place the voice. But tired of getting so many surprises, I gave up and turned to see a tall stature with hands in pockets and with the most unwavering , placid eyes I have ever known.

I finally managed to utter , ignoring the overwhelming thoughts,

“Nitin !”

He broke into a soft smile. I then noticed he has Sigmund Freud beard and is wearing a classic lime green shirt.

Married , I thought.

I kept smiling at him as he put his specs. Old trick to hide emotions.

“So” he looked over his shoulders for once and turned to me “ how are you?”

“Yeah great!” I smiled . It was so difficult to speak!

“And you too look great...”

He laughed. Just like others. “Yeah. I am doing well as well. I just bought a new car. It’s a Lotus.”

“Oh !” I replied, a little taken aback by this sudden acknowledgement of his assets. Nitin was not one of those people who would speak about themselves so easily.

“Yeah” he continued “got a new 3 bedroom flat at Chembur as well.”

“Nitin” I laughed “what do you plan to do with such a huge house and such a huge car?!”

He did not reply. Instead he cocked his head to a side and smiled.

Now he was being Nitin .

“My wife is going to have a kid.” He declared after a long time.

Aha, I thought, hence the house and the car!

“Nitin Jain!” I corrected “you BOTH are going to have a kid.”

“And that’s a great thing!!” I congratulated him.

I waited for a reply, in vain.

After what seemed like ages , he finally took a deep sigh “ tu suna ... kya haalchaal?”

This time I genuinely laughed. He still uses that phrase.

Evading questions about our personal lives, we were talking about each other’s work experiences mostly after some time. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep alive the conversation when two kids running towards us. Before I could sigh at the sight of kids, they came and wrapped themselves around each of Nitin’s legs.

“Papa” the girl hung herself completely on his trousers.

Papa, the word kept echoing in my ears.

I looked at Nitin , then at kids and back at Nitin.

He was talking to the kids who were having some long list of to-do things that included ‘papa, balloon ... red one’

‘Papa mum-um ’

And ‘da –da, find mah shoes. ’

Nitin’s voice immediately took a milder shade “yeah babies, how are you here? Where’s mom? Mom would worry about you.. Common... run back ...”

He was definitely not going to introduce them to me.

So I leaned forward and stretched my hands “hello!!” in my most cheerful voice.

I then noticed that they were twins! A boy and a girl.

The girl stopped whatever she was saying and hid herself behind her father.

But the boy shouted “aunty!! Who are you?!”

Nitin rebuked him immediately “ babloo, say hello to Chetna aunty.”

And he pulled pinky from back “ pinky, common , be a good girl and say hello..”

I controlled my fit of laughter and waited for them to waggle a little more with their da-da before united screaming “hello Chetna aunty!!”

With that they broke free of Nitin’s hands and ran away in different directions.

I started laughing , Nitin stood there looking dead embarrassed.

“Oh Nitin ! They both look like you !!” I said, breathless.

“Thank you” he replied curtly “if you remember, they are my kids. So ,that explains a lot.”

“Oh common Nitin” I continued “ they are just so cute!”

“I know Chetna.” He said in a definite manner “they are my kids and I do love them and I do want them.” That’s it . End of the story.

I knew I was venturing into a no entry zone.

He had just completed the sentence when both the kids came running and held each of his hands now

“lets go da da” pinky pleaded.

“I can’t find mommy” tears brimmed in her big black eyes.

“I want ice-cream, papa, you promised.” The boy thumped his feet on ground “NOW” he declared.

I could not help but stop smiling.

Nitin thought for a moment before declaring” ah! All right..”

Then he turned to me “ I need to drop them to their mother...”

“Of course” I said “go ahead.”

“Won’t you come?” he asked, the kids continued to pull him.

“What would I do?” I was again uncomfortable. But I liked that he asked, at least.

“Wont you meet their mother?” he asked softly.

I looked at him for a fraction of second and then at both the sweetums.

“Of course, I will” I laughed “ I need to see who gave you such precious gifts?”

He laughed this time. Genuine. And I liked that .

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

It was well past midnight and party had in progress of thinning. All the couples who were with their non-Dipsite partners had started to leave. Even I realized there was nothing to do anymore. So I decided to leave as well. But I certainly won’t get a taxi at this hour, I thought. But still I did not want to stay there anymore.

I had reached the entrance when I heard a commotion on the adjoining road. Some people had gathered. I proceeded as well, thinking it might be an accident or something.

Pushing my way through the crowd, I saw a woman who was explaining a man something about ‘manners’ and ‘morality’. When I reached the scenario, I noticed there was no accident. It was just that the man had asked her not to walk in middle of the road but in some disrespectful manner. Hence the midnight lecture. I shook my head laughing and all of a sudden , thought about Treena struck.

The woman resembled her completely. Tall, not conventionally fair and the way she was explaining to the poor man, I was sure it was Treena. So taking a last chance I waved “ Treena!!”

Till then people had left the scene. She looked at me with abrupt attention and finally let go the man and came running towards me shouting “Chunnu!!”

Chunnu ?God, embarrassing.

We then hugged and without realizing started walking inside the club again.

I asked her “ why are you so late?”

She shuddered her whole body and said “work yaar! Managing an NGO is not as easy as it seems!”

I was so delighted to hear about the NGO. I asked her hell lot of questions regarding it to which she replied “easy Chetna!” I myself was surprised to find me so restless as if I was really transported into past.

“ I am still facing some legal barriers regarding the license. “ she said with a sigh , “they want someone who has a good political influence. Someone who can earn the NGO fame and money.” The smile now completely replaced by a frown .

“At the end” she shook her head “it’s all about money.”

I managed to say “hei tree! Don’t worry yaar, everything will fall into place.” I knew it won’t.

I observed that she had slimmed down. Wearing a kurti and jeans , she looked like she worked really hard for doing what she had always wanted. The world’s brightest smile was no longer there... only a faint shadow was visible.

“No marriage?” we both asked at the same time.

Laughing at our own embarrassing question, we grinned like 18 year olds again .

“Nai yaar!” she loves the word ‘yaar’

“What marriage? I am not made for that, I guess.” I refrained from telling her that she was voted the ‘homemaker’ by Ankita and Mayuri.

“Chal na” I cheered her up “saala hamare liye koi bana nai hai!!”

She looked at me for a moment . “ Chunnu, you are still using swear words!”

I was immediately awkward.

“That’s great!” she grinned.

I smiled genuinely this time because I just saw the world’s brightest smile shining up on her face again.

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

We went on making fun of life for over an hour and then realized that she has to meet others as well. Thinking she might be in luck to meet a few of them, she started going inside.

“Won’t you come?” she asked.

I gave another of those reluctant answers “I have met all of you now, I am getting late already.”

Though I was not.

But I could not bear to stay with old times any longer.

Tree gave me a furrowed look (she does not force anymore, it seems) “as you wish... you still at your flat ? I will come and see you then.”

“Sure” I nodded. I knew she won’t.

I wished she did not.

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

Okay. That’s it. I have met all of my oldies. And they all are doing great. Not very great... but still, managing their lives well. And that’s all I wanted to know about them... thoughts like these swarmed over. I walked with fast steps, trying to get away as soon as possible. I still feel I have no control over myself sometimes.

I am not going back, I am not going to see them again... I chanted in my brain.

The next thing I knew I found myself running back all the way again and halted only when the other nine beautiful people cheered on seeing me.

I pulled up a chair and panted. Then I noticed Parul, Mohit and Nitin as well, minus their partners.

“Where are your better halves?” I asked Parul.

“Just dropped them home for a while.” Mohit replied, looking relieved.

“Had to come back , right!!” Parul patted Varun’s and Ani’s hands who were sitting at her sides.

Yes, I thought, had to come back.

Silence.

All of us looked at each other. Each hoping that the other would start a conversation.

Where to start from?

What to start with?

May be, we all were thinking the same thing because within seconds, we were smiling... and the smile turned to a silly laughter immediately.

Why? No one knows.

That’s the way it has always been.

Unreasonable laughter.

Unreasonable life.

Unreasonable friendship.

Well, there is no reason to friendship. Is there?

After that slowly and steadily we opened ourselves up... though bridging the 10 years of our lives is an impossible thing, but we tried. Forgetting the myriad courses the life took us through, disregarding the responsibilities we were laden with, overlooking the present times, ignoring the incoming calls from other priorities, we tried to live in the beautiful past.

We went on talking, laughing and living again. Some confessions, some regrets, some happiness, some mistakes... We shared everything again. Felt as if we had never gone out of each other’s lives, one another’s minds.. Felt like one of those memorable summer evenings... and the place, well, it had never changed, and when I looked at the faces of the people sitting with me, well, they had not really changed as well.

I realized ,friends never change... it’s just the priorities...

My untamed thoughts were interrupted by my own cell phone ringing..

“Hello?” the number was unknown.

“Its 3 a.m. Anya... you are not sleeping.” I looked in my watch. God! Where did the time fly?

“When are you coming back here?” she ignored my question, but I have to answer hers.

“Hmm.. tomorrow.” I replied.

“When will matron aunty let me go with you?”

“Not yet, dear” she was reminding me of my incompetence in one aspect of life.

“I miss you, mama...”

“I am not your mama yet, Anya”

“I am practicing.” She giggled.

With that she disconnected. I had to smile at the 6 year olds’ intelligence.

As I walked back to my seat, I saw every eye on me. I had forgotten how it feels to receive so much attention ,a long time back.

I asked awkwardly “what?” I knew what. And I was afraid of that.

“Anya called, right?” Mayuri grinned.

“Why dint you bring her here?” it was Ankita.

“Yeah, my children could meet your daughter as well” Nitin grinned.

My daughter... words pained me real deep.

“She is not my daughter....” I blurted

“Yet...” I added.

Silence.

I hated that.

I closed my eyes for a while. When I opened them again, I saw all of them waiting, wanting me to speak.

“You are over thirty, Chetna” Ani observed. “ You have a job...surely you can adopt any child you want”

“I know it Ani ” I said restlessly “I know everything about adaptation, I have been in this mess for three years”

“Then what’s the problem? You don’t have any criminal record, do you?” this was Mohit.

I laughed.

I started to explain, because I knew my friends would not let go of this easily. I had glimpsed in their lives and now it was my turn.

“The problem is not that I have a job”

“The problem is that I don’t want to do that job”

Very few people understand me. I did not expect them to, anymore, so I looked at them with blank expression.

But I was wrong.

Ankita comprehended “you mean you want to quit your present job and that would mean.....”

I was surprised they were able to understand. But I guessed they are the only few people left on earth to do that.

“That would mean no guardianship till I have a stable income ”

I quoted my lawyer and laughed.

Varun was not getting the hang of it “why do you want to quit your job at the first place?” he shrugged.

Treena piped up “common varun , she wants to become a total writer. ” she winked at me, all smiling.

I smiled faintly. She was right.

“If I become selfish I get the ambition of my life, and if I don’t... ”my voice trailed off.

“You get the purpose for your life. ”Mayuri concluded.

Everybody nodded.

I felt as if I am still a part of them. I felt I was not the only one struggling in life. Everyone has their own battles to carry out, and though life was tough at times, but it was not bad over all.

Thanks to what the world call friends!

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

The decors were completely taken off, by now, even the caterers had cleared off the plates. We had to leave because the event manager asked us to empty the chairs.

Finally the ritual of saying ‘goodbyes’ and ‘take cares’ started in frenzy. Phone numbers were taken in a hurry, with lots of promises to call back and celebrate some day, some time together... again...

My cell’s battery was dead, so I wrote all the numbers in a piece of paper. After Parul gave lots of instructions to keep the numbers safely, I climbed the taxi, I forced Nikhil to hire for me. I waved them all adieu and saw them sprinting back from the speeding taxi. As I pulled back hands, my heart, my mind, my entire soul was overflowing with a sense of loss. But there was nothing I could do about it. There are still some things in life you don’t have control over...

Another honk jolted me back to reality, which meant I was already late for my train. I hurriedly handed over money to the driver and rushed to flat. Though I had no packing to do, but I needed time to pull myself together all over again... to prepare myself to face life alone again...

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

Bhilai is left far behind, so have all of them...

I sit in train and my hands unknowingly reach for the piece of paper in my purse.

As I sit with the numbers, I laugh to myself at the obscure chances of calling each other.

I was thinking

‘They have lives of their own to look after...

Will I really call them ever again?

Will I use these numbers ?”

Just then, may be the air was too strong against it or may be I let it go myself, the piece of paper vanished from my sight. I clearly saw it slipping from my hands, but I don’t know why I did not tighten my hold over it.

I smiled at the strange ways life gives you answers...

May be this was my answer......

***************************** The end******************************