I wonder

The finality of death scares me. It is like reading the last chapter of your favorite book. As it slams shut, so does your complete identity. What you liked, how you talked, who you hated, how you laughed.

You are just a mere reconstructed memory. Sometimes glorified, sometimes damned, but mostly forgotten.

Sometimes, I wonder how it would be if I knew you were slipping away to the other side of the rainbow.

Would I have kept up the promise of laying with you on a bed of grass, watching planes roar above our heads? Would I have talked about my dreams and your fears? Would I have not just laughed heartily at your jokes but also comforted you in your dread? Would I have given you a goodbye hug instead of a nonchalant wave, the last time we had dinner together? Would I have been more me if I had known you only had 10 more days here?   

I wonder.

Can you breathe?

Emotions. Desires. Ambition. Expectation. Death.

And when death precedes them all. When you invite death. When you willingly submit yourself at the altar of everything that ends; how hopeless would you have felt?

How utterly devoid of hope? 

Imagine being locked inside a room. Just a dark room. No windows. No doors. No beginning and no end in sight. You could have called though. One call for help. 

How resolute did you feel when you hid in the bathroom and drank out of the bottle? And later when you cried in pain? And much later when your body started giving up? 

And when the doctors tried to puncture holes in your throat to help you breathe, did you want to fight? Did you regret your decision? Did you think of your favourite song? Did you think of all the great journeys we have had together?

Do you remember the time both of us almost got thrown out of the bus for being raucous? Do you remember the innumerable times you bailed us both out of trouble? Do you remember our long conversations on the sidewalk?

You, with your long hair and graceful eyes, mindful of the boys staring at us; yet dismissing them with a callous flick of your head. You were beautiful even without trying. Have I ever told you that?

You are gone now. Just like that. And I am trying to forget. To forget the shaky voice that told me you were dead.

But, your credit card bills are due. Your message on my phone still remains unanswered.

Can you breathe? I sure can’t.

That one time I almost died...

I have always taken travelling in a bus for granted – Hop in, curl up under the smelly blanket, and hope that the speed bumps on the road do not break your back. Until, I woke up dangling off a 20 ft elevated highway at 3 AM in the morning.

My dad, mom and I were on a temple trip to a nearby village in Tamil Nadu.  The sole intention of the trip was to bribe Lord Shiva enough and accelerate the process of finding a unicorn that wanted to marry me (being 26 and having dramatic ‘will we ever see grandkids’ type of parents is not easy, I tell you)

So, half the journey went without a hitch; until at about 2.30 AM in the wee hours of the morning, when the driver stopped the bus for the very crudely put ‘ladies toilet’ break. As the driver shook us awake and demanded that all the women go for their ‘onnu’ now or never, all of us groggily trooped out. The thinly veiled threat of not stopping for even ‘urgent’ matters, actually worked.

After settling back into the smelly blankets, the bus had barely moved for ten minutes, when it started doing a weird bumpy dance.  Like a bewildered rocking chair that went sideways instead of to and fro. This continued with increased intensity and frequency, until we heard the chilling sound of a window shatter and the bus screeched to a resounding halt.

You never realize how scary an accident can be, until you are in one.  You can see the world whirl outside, hear frantic horns, cries of surprise and shock, and feel every single bone of your body shake in fear.  Our bus, to avoid a collision with a lorry that had abruptly braked in the middle of the freaking highway, suddenly swerved and almost fell off a 20 ft elevation.

What actually happened

This left the driver, conductor, my dad, mom and I, almost dangling off the highway in the middle of the night.  As the tyres had sunk into the mud, the doors of the bus refused to open.  This is when the whole ‘we are OMFGodly trapped inside a bus that could blow up any minute’ tension started to grow. The conductor sensing an alarm (or probably just looking at my pale, resigned to death, face) broke open an emergency exit window at the back. All of us, in a Spidermanisque moment, jumped out of the window one by one.

Then, the wait began. Like some sort of displaced refugees, we stood with our baggage on the side of the highway, under the pouring rain for 40 whole minutes. There was real fear of other speeding vehicles splattering our brains, but somehow we survived. I just stood there, shaking like a leaf, amidst the heavy rains, the gloomy police patrol vans, and the reckless lorry driver (who had by then escaped) being called ‘eruma maadu’.

Our rescue bus finally arrived with flashy lights and a driver who had the smug ‘I think I just saved a bunch of idiots by the road’ look.  My mother, obviously traumatized, remarked that this was all ‘andha Shivan oda’ miracle.

Drenched, scared-shit, and stunned, I could only think – if this really was the Lord’s doing, then our Gods must be crazy!

In fond memory..

It has been a year already. And Syed continues to inspire us to do wonderful things that we never thought we would. His close friend and an equally wonderful person, Sathya, painstakingly organized a trip to an NGO called 'The Child' that takes care of orphans and underprivileged children. With the money raised, the children received white boards with markers, school uniforms, and lunch for two days. The home also received money to purchase a 2ft land. 

Thanks Sathya for the efforts taken. Thank you for making all of us a part of this wonderful initiative. There is surely no better way to remember a person as wonderful and unbelievable as Syed.

For those you want to contribute, here is the link of the NGO's website.   They also accept online donations. http://www.thechild.co.in/

To a wonderful friend...

As I walked into Sify nervously, during my fresher days, the apprehension and the worry I had would vanish in a jiffy, when I saw this tall, lanky guy, with his uncombed mop of hair, drinking chaai and laughing his heart out at some lame joke he had cracked himself. That was the quintessential Syed for you – carefree, obnoxious, and impossibly funny.

He was often spotted in several places around the office, but more often, perched on the desk, right next to his best pal Sathya’s computer. With his gelled hair, and a handkerchief tied around his wrist, he would look intimidating, but the mischievous glint in his eyes, would give his innocence away. From his pastel color shirts that would evoke a string of abuses from Gauthami (the most common one being, ‘Hey Syed, you look tootiful today’), to his sarcastic one-liners that would kill Ishwarya’s stories about her team, he taught us an important life lesson – never to take it too seriously. I still very vividly remember how he would endlessly mock Anusha’s habit of straightening her hair every few minutes and managing to piss her off completely.

During my endless late night hours at work, he would often stroll by, say something really nasty about the kind of work I do or how unproductive I was being, by working extra hours - of course, I would flare up immediately and say something equally nasty back and this would continue, until both of us laughed and went our separate ways. Now when I look back, I realize that it was his way of giving me a stress buster and teaching me to take a break.

Syed was every bit a person who actually celebrated his existence on earth. He would play practical jokes, laugh loudly, and strut around the office like it belonged to him. He was no doubt the show stealer in any group. When his pal Sathya got married, he waited patiently until all the girls with their expensive sarees walked on to the stage and then mercilessly sprayed foam all over the lovely ladies. The amount of physical and verbal abuse that followed still makes me laugh uncontrollably.

His niece, Alina meant the world to him. Sending us baby pictures and videos of her every other day, he would cherish every moment spent with her. There were several days when I couldn’t help but admire the wholesome love he had for her.

Syed was someone who could instantly lighten up a tense moment, liven up a boring party, and cause commotion. And to know that he is no longer around, saddens me to no end. But, keeping in mind his spirit and the yearning he had for everything cheerful and happy, I will remember all the fun times we have had together. I know he is in a better place now, he is still happy, and is probably driving someone else nuts in another world.

I do not think he can ever be fully gone – each time we think about a joke he cracked, a photo he sent, or a prank he pulled off, he continues to live life, indomitably on his own terms. May your soul rest in peace. We love you.

For a beautiful soul...

Today is my paternal grandmother’s (a.k.a Patti’s) first death anniversary. Surprisingly I still miss her with the same intensity and force I had last year. So, today I dedicate this post as an ode to the beautiful soul who in her own way defined what I am today:

Her life:

• Eldest of the three daughters.
• Was apparently very smart and got a double-promotion from the third standard to the fifth standard decades ago. (According to her it was an achievement worth a Bharat ratna and unfailingly recited it at the drop of a hat.)
• Lived in Bombay for a while after her father passed away.
• Got married early and lost her hearing ability even before she was 20.
• Brought up five naughty kids of which my dad was arguably her favorite and the naughtiest too.
• Lost two of her daughters (equally charming souls) to health ailments.
• Was diagnosed with terminal illness and battled her disease until the very end with such grit and determination that shocked even the doctors.

Favorite and oft repeated dialogues:

"This is the only treasure I have. Nobody treasures it anymore" -Making kolams (colored patterns) are a big thing in our family and if I refused to learn them, she would dramatically gather all of her kolam books and say this with flourish.)

"Don’t put mug inside bucket. Don’t touch plate with your left hand. Don’t leave your hair open. Don’t wear shoes inside house" - Her rules were extremely complex and difficult to master. You were not allowed to touch your plate with your left hand, but you could lick fingers and slurp the rasam. Talking when eating was a big no-no, but she could read her 'tughlak' (which is a popular Tamil political magazine). According to her, leaving the hair open made girls look seductive. Hello! I live in a place which has more buffaloes than men, and the possibility of somebody getting seduced by Ms. Frizzed Up Always, seems extremely remote.

"Noodles is bad for health." - She was an authority on classifying food items into edible and fatal. Fatal things including everything she did not like and did not know how to make.

"I know English, Marathi, Hindi, Malayalam and Tamil. Everybody should learn at least five languages" - Honestly, she knew only Tamil. I have my own doubts about her other claims because I have heard her speak butler English and Malayalam in front of others and wished I could melt right there.

“Nobody saves electricity” – This comes from a person who never switched off bathroom lights. When confronted she would say, “I am old. Don’t mistreat me”

“You wear it today. Tomorrow it will become a fashion” – When I lost my hair band and she wanted me to wear an extremely ugly looking scarf on my head as a substitute.

“You are useless. Without doubt you will end up grazing cows” –When I stoutly refused to go out with that scarf on my head. This dialogue was also used very frequently on everyone including her sons, daughters, son-in-laws, and grandchildren.

I could go on, but to keep it short, she was a remarkable woman. She was a combination of warmth, love, kindness, good, and bad. The gaping void she left can never possibly be filled. I miss her.

A killer instinct

I shuddered when I saw blood. Dripping nonchalantly from the table to the white marble floors in a haunting rhythm...I saw blood.

Reaching for the end of my duppata, draped neatly around my neck, I covered the velvety spots that were becoming bigger by the minute. The knife that had effortlessly cut the veins looked at me accusingly.

The cotton cloth soon lapped up the blood in a parasite-like frenzy and asked for more. Shivering and afraid, I rushed to the nearest wash. As the first stream of cold water hit my wrists, a surge of pain traveled across my body and I arched in agony. Sweat, tears, water and blood filled the wash, creating arbitrary patterns on the smooth ceramic.

Willing the flow to stop, I opened the tap to its fullest. I could suddenly feel my knees going weak. I clutched the wash tightly to steady myself. The ceramic gave way and I caught hold of the stairway banister just in time to cushion my fall. I looked back at her.

She was still sitting where I had left her. It had hurt me. Didn’t it hurt her too? It made me retch. Didn’t she feel like throwing up? When I cut my wrists I screamed. Didn’t it wound her too? How would I know? She didn’t say a thing. I could feel the knife as it cut my hand. Didn’t she feel it too? Why didn’t she tell me if it hurt her? Her eyes that were perpetually set in a meek surrender looked at me even now. A spurt of anger surmounted me. Why couldn’t she react? Why didn’t she protest? Why didn’t she shout? Why on earth did she have to be so good? Even when the knife drew meticulous lines of precision across her neck, she didn’t tell me a thing.

How could she tell me? I had gagged her before I killed.

A brief adieu…

The air was tumultuous with shrieks of joy. Festoons of different colors filled the place. The wind howled in merriment and made the flags flutter.

Her eyes slowly scanned the landscape. She could see tiny people hurrying along, young men trying to be gallant, fathers trying to coax children into leaving the fair before dark, and exited women trying hard to tear their eyes away from one stall to another.

She looked up at the radiant sun that was slowly losing luster. She smiled to herself. The whole place seemed so agitated when compared to the gloomy silence the mountains possessed.

"Over here, look over here", she heard him shout. For a moment she was tempted to rush down the slope to join him. But she stood still and continued probing the landscape. It was because of him that she was here. A rush of hatred, love and fear overcame her. But she stood still, for the fight was worth it.

When the sun slowly started moving towards the western horizon, she knew the time had come. The wind whistled into her ears and soothed her frayed nerves. Slowly, step by step she edged tentatively on the rocks. She was now on the topmost point of the hill and she could see the fair gradually losing its energy. Her senses were inhumanly alert while her agile body moved in grace. She could feel a thousand eyes on her now.

He was still there looking at her intently. She could feel her whole body go rigid. From this point she could see vast stretches of barren land surrounding the fair. She steadied herself and took another step towards the edge. Cold wind seeped through her clothes and chilled her skin. One more step and it would be over. She could see the tiny flags from the fair fluttering nonchalantly in the wind. She wondered if she would look like them if she fell. And then she turned to give him one last look. His face had turned white. She closed her eyes and lifted her right leg…

"Cut", he shouted, "Excellent! That’s all for today... Lights and camera off. Pack up".

Storms, clouds and some sunshine…

I was cleaning my cupboard last evening with a dogged resolve that I would finish with this torment without postponing it even further. I was also simultaneously washing clothes and cooking to break the monotony of dusting, cleaning and changing papers.

As I reached the fourth level of my cupboard where I stack books, I managed to very successfully topple the whole lot onto the floor very clumsily. Between loud sneezes and clatter of vessels (Yeah, I managed to tumble them as well, I SO hate that Murphy guy), I tried rearranging them hurriedly, when my eyes rested on a very insignificant looking brown-paper covered notebook, that was left behind in the general noise and clutter. I picked the book up uncertainly and started reading it. It was my long -forgotten diary.

As I journeyed through my college days that I had enjoyed with reckless abandon, my books and vessels lay forgotten around me. My first friends, trivial incidents that broke my heart, failure, guilt, victory, anger, ecstasy, sadness...

The day I bunked a class, got yelled at by a teacher for forgetting my assignment, the day my best friend cried and all I could do was look on, the taste of hard failure, meeting with a celebrity for an interview, my first award from college , new buddies, the day I truly realized my worth, and...The day I finally cried.

Ups and down at home, squabbles with cousins, uncle’s birthday bash, family vacation, and many more incidents that ripped, tore, mended my heart. And before even I could realize - I was crying. Tears streaked my face in an inconsolable stream. All the pent up emotions, frustrations and agonies resurfaced. I was ashamed. I was ashamed of crying. Still, I cried with all the strength I could muster. I cried with gratitude, I cried in pain, I cried for others. I cried until I went to bed.

I woke up with a sore throat, still dazed and realized that the diary which was so much a part of me had been forgotten. I hastily flipped to the last entry. It was dated August 14th. Exactly a week before something in me died. Forever.

But all the bawling I did certainly made me feel lighter. Though I hate to admit it –it does feel good to let out emotions once in a while. Maybe there is still hope.

Today...

Today...

it hurts to smile…it hurts to see others smile...it hurts to think of a certain someone’s smile…

It pains to cry…it pains to see others cry…it pains to discern that a certain someone will never be there to wipe the tears away..

I am glad but despondent...I am despondent because I am glad...

I miss her...

I want her back...

Evanescence…

Twilight hour...Darkness enveloped her.

As she groped her way to the top, she shuddered in cold. Her hands were numb, yet she assiduously climbed. When she finally reached her destination, she closed her eyes and felt the cold breeze brush against her cheeks. She could smell the faint odour of wet mud. Freshly dug up mud. When she opened her eyes, she could see the vast blanket of the never-ending sky. She pushed open the gates and ambled in hesitantly. The eerie silence urged her to walk faster. Pulling her cloak even more tightly around her she proceeded.

With each passing minute, she could feel her heart throb harder. Her hands kneaded into a tight knot. Her legs became feeble. She could hear herself walking. The rhythmic sound of her feet. One at a time. Slowly. One tap after the other.

But he was already there. Fear gripped her. Her mind was torn between the desire to stand still and the urge to run away.

But he was there just round the corner. Exactly where she had last left him. Looking just like how he had looked last time.

She could not restrain herself any longer. She threw open her cloak and ran to him. She longed for the familiar warmth of his arms. His cheerful demeanor had always lifted her spirits. His determination and principles had awed her. His love and warmth had assured her.

Every time she felt low, he would wrap his arms around her tightly and quietly whisper 'I will be there for you'. She would then look into his eyes and see her pain in him. When they snuggled into each others arms on a cold night, she would rest her head on his chest and fall fast asleep.

Now she could see his silhouette looming closer and closer every minute. She quickened her pace.

He did not hear her coming. He stood tall, patiently awaiting her. She fondly raised her hands to touch him.

He did not turn. She rested her hands on him and leaned against him. He still did not budge. Had he stopped liking her? Where was the tenderness she had always felt when he was around? Why was he so cold? What did she do to deserve this? She silently wept on him. Yet he did not offer any solace or comfort. He did not even concede her presence.

After her tears dried up, she took out a wilted lily from her shirt. It was his favorite flower. She kissed it, put it on his feet and walked away.

The journey back was longer. She gathered her cloak and tried to walk away as soon as possible. When she reached the gates, she turned around in the anticipation that he would call her back.

All she could hear were the graveyard bells, chiming peacefully over its lessees.

Aum...

I have always pondered over this quintessential question that has troubled mighty brains over the ages: The Life-death cycle.

I have debated different permutations and combinations of life-death explanations with several people. This was what I did once again during the weekend with my Uncle. The essence of what we discussed is written below. Many of the things were quite new and surprising to me.

A human mind has a lot of desires. All actions, aspirations, dreams and thoughts are based on desires. These desires include desires of the mind as well as the heart. The ability to think and reason out is also born out of the passion of achieving your wishes. Until you satisfy them, the mind will not cease.

Further, fulfilled or achieved desires or dreams lead to other desires and dreams. For an example, a man on a bicycle wants a car. A man on a car wants the latest feature upgrades on his vehicle. With one leading to another, the human mind travels expanses searching for means to accomplish the wishes. Sometimes the mind is not able to fulfill them because of several reasons like old age, dubiousness of the desire, impracticality and so on. In this case the human soul, (This by the way is not your mind or intellect. Intellect itself is a non-entity) tries to find another body in which these desires are likely to be achieved.

Let us forget the soul jumping part, I found it a little too fantastic and Uncle also did not have enough reasons to back it up. The point is, once you start controlling your desires then the mind and soul slowly realize that they are one. This also leads you to the revelation that you are truly your Creator. In other words you realize the outside world is only Maya or an illusion created by you and you alone can control your destiny. You would also realize there is life beyond just desires and aspirations. You will be able to enjoy true happiness.

Though I might not fully agree to a few things, it is one of most reasonable explanation I have found for life and death.