They are over. Finally.

Is this the deformed silence, in which witches whisper their charms...

Is it really? For the past couple of days, I have been a silent and somewhat troubled victim of a tumultuous storm within myself. A deluge of emotions, some internal criticism, some unanswered questions and a lot of studying were the instigators. Today when the primrose was just opening its petals and I was being rattled by a heigtened sense of disgust, I chose to close it all. In a sweeping stroke. Pushed towards a spaceless alley. And a 20 minute nap, is in my opinion the best way to do it.

Couple of weeks ago, I took this 'which goddess are you' quiz. After a random set of obscure questions, it pronounced me as 'aphrodite' - the Greek goddess of love, lust and beauty. Both Aphrodite and Venus have always held a mystic fascination for me. It is almost as if I could play endlessly with the foam that Aphrodite was born out of. Or I could loose myself in the curvy flows of hands and gestures that Venus employed to work her magic. Or as if I could emulate their sassiness. But, the confusion encircling me then created a different desire altogether. A phase of utter wonderment. What if I refused to be involved in emotions and crap and became like one of the Furies, the Greek goddesses of revenge. Now, I know this sounds too lame and silly for comfort, but what if I could reason everything out with a cold, calculated and shrewd rationale?

Eternal tempations aside, the past couple of hours have brought with them a serene sense of existence again. In a silence that seems too forced, too sweetened by its own, too fragile to exist. In this uninterrupted calm I wonder, when there is no other question plaguing my mind.......

.............is this the deformed silence, in which witches whisper their charms

Four down. One more to go.I wana say yayee...

Paradise Lost? I too am lost

The gulf between how one should live and how one does live is so wide that a man who neglects what is actually done for what should be done learns the way to self destruction rather than self preservation. The fact is that a man who wants to act virtuously in every way necessarily comes to grief among so many who are not virtuous.
--Niccolo Machiavelli

1. Now, I really do understand what he is trying to say. One should adapt to situations, rather than behaving in an 'ideal fashion'.
2. But, there is a one-liner with a similar meaning that just irritates the hell out of me--if you cant change a situation, change your thinking. Can I ask why should I do that?

A test question for you Mr. Machiavelli. If an individual close to you, asks your opinion about something they like, what do you do? Do you act virtuously, and lie to them about it? Even if you do not agree with their choice? Or do you act according to the situation, tell the truth and see a smile vanish forever?

I didnt know what to do......

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

Wish I'd known the words...

Three down. Two more to go.

Fiasco Roll (Like most posts, this one was begun yesterday and completed today)

It is certainly true that life offers one a taste of everything. From bitter sweet memories to salty alliances. In fact, even crisp experiences for that matter. And as is customary to such staid beginnings in a narrative, I too shall divulge the tasteful (tasteless actually) experiences that I had today. I may not appreciate the humour behind these once-in-a-lifetime moments post today, but I have not altogether lost an appetite for them.

After god-only-knows-how-many years, I woke up early and went to the temple at sharp seven in the morning. No need for the arched eyebrows! Today being an auspicious day was also the ocassion for a grah-pravesh puja at my new residence. So, I delightfully enter the temple premises, enjoying the playful strokes of a casual early morning breeze. But before I know, I bump into another delightful soul. One that stings me on my right foot. Yea, right. Benefits of waking up early morning: an itching pain all day long.

Now, some part the fiasco had been anticipated beforehand. My History examination had to start at 9 am sharp, and the puja was supposed to begin at 7.30. Now, do I really need to explain the entire story? I was late by a good 30 minutes for the exam, the teacher-in-charge had already marked me absent and submitted the detail-sheet to the office, there was no question paper for me and I was haplessly stranded. In a two hour examination, I could barely manage to finish my paper in the leftover hour. The icing on the cake, actually the spice on the roll came when my brother told me that such goof ups are once in a lifetime moments. Quite the positive spirit, isnt he!

This is where I continue...Its literally 21st today. So, is there ain't any point in conteplating what happened yesterday? or the day before? or every goddamn thing that has ever gone wrong? Yes and no. Yes- one needs to think about all that in order learn how to grow from such experiences (really?). No-because the fucking cycle will repeat itself, to bring new lessons. So, why bother?

Most of the time, its not even my fault when I see red. When I react spontaneously, it might be my fault. But, hey! I didnt trigger it. In any case, things come and things go. And where am I during this great transition, this great journey of lessons and tests? I am in my own world. Thinking about stupid things. Like why isnt everyone as honest and straightforward? Why do I feel jammed when it wasnt my goddamn fault to begin with? Why do I still feel jammed even after establishing it wasnt my fault?

Now, I know my profile says that Ithe light at the end of tunnel seems dark and that I carry my own torchlight. Well, I really try to! Found a very different approach to the same today: The light at the end of the tunnel is the headlamp of an approaching train...

Have you had the impulse to step out of the way and not get trampled?

Two goddamn, infuriating incidents in the same day? What is the bloody probability?
A happy news is lost in these gallows forever...

What should one do if there is a keen desire to eat candyfloss at the moment?

Two down. Three more to go. History, sucks.

Oh my god, I haven't prepared a speech...

Warning: Done in all immodesty and a fit of unabashed glee

The post where I contemplate selling indulgences has been nominated for the April 2007 Blog Mela. Yayee!

Is funny the word? Because funnily, it takes only a moment for one to witness a mood swing. A rather irritating one.

They pass through whirlpools, and deep woes do shun,
Who the event weigh, ere the action's done...

Free will? Pre-destination? Blah!

Approaching exams. Lots to study, but no study. Shifting the residence. Packing, repacking, unpacking. Pending office work. Changing preferences and philosophies. A nightmarish ex popping up again. Disheartening horoscope readings. Constant allegations of being a rebel. In all, a fucked up weekend.

A slight desire to sleep. Waning night. Fear of impending exams. Doctor Faustus by my side. Beginning of understaning. Swirling thoughts twirling my senses. A serene breeze calming me down. Expectations of a beautiful day ahead? Or a hectic spin by the clock? Should I really anticipate?

Had a pretty frustrating bike-driving lesson. But, William is single again. Thats nice to know...

Eternal Temptations...

Its no more Friday, the 13th (when I had actually started this post) and am back again. To talk. To share. Or perhaps to just let go...

Eternal Temptations. Intriguing, isn't it? When I had started this blog, I believed that I was a word connoisseur (pronounced kon-uh-sur, seems like something airy is rolling off my tongue!). It sounds very lame now, but I never wanted to call myself a language lover. I loved to experiment with the power of words. To flirt with their utility. However, I could never justify why my blog was titled Eternal Temptations or why I christened myself Sassy Satan.

But as I look back now, I wonder endlessly. Who really am I? What is my profession? Is it what I do to earn my bread and butter, in this case earrings, or is it something that satisfies my eternal tempations, my cravings? As I was reading some fourteenth century literature, I stumbled upon some magnificiently ludicrous trends and professions. And it got my thoughts and questions moving again. What if I was a seller of indulgences?


What would I do? Would I sell tales of fantasy and astonishment to Scheherazade (isn't the name delicious), the legendary persian queen? Or help every young rebel direct their own Motorcycle Diaries? Or dissociate the disgust and fear asscociated with pagan rituals? Or explain that mysticisim too has scientific explanations? Would I give enough light to the concierge, the french Keeper of the Candles, who tended to visiting nobles in castles of the medieval era?Or would I help detach the sin associated with desire? Or would I make love eternal, beyond reason and calculations? Would innocence become necessary for life? Would kids have unlimited access to sugar and candies? Would I sell childlike joy to adults? Would I sell them the time to feel, understand and enjoy poetry? To sit and let a casual breeze ruffle their hair? Or the coldest dew drop evaporate from their faces? To enjoy a true hug from a happy toddler? Would I help them indulge in the brazen beauty of life? Honest smiles, genuine blush, the desire to go and dance in the rain, to hop-skotch with water puddles on the road? To scream themselves hoarse without bothering about 'people'? Would I help them enjoy a solitary dance on a dreamy, moonlit night? Or enjoy the softest strawberry, or the loveliness of a squishy tomato? Would I sell intoxicants, coffee or aphrodisiacs? Would I sell them moments when they can hear their heart overpower their head? Would love and lust dance together? Would I give them a voice to present their thoughts? The strength to defy judgements? Would kisses be more than merging tongues? Would there ever be an eternal moment enjoyed in a fleeting touch?Would would I ultimately sell, indulgences?

I am tempted...more so than ever...

Will someone ever come with some indulgences on offer?

At four eleven in the morning, all I realise is, that after eleven attempts, I have just been succesful enough to reach the fifth round in the knockout tournament in NFS. Well, it does not mean that I suck at the game. It clearly means that am not focussing hard enough. Just half an hour ago, I had another bizarre tryst with some DVDs. I wanted to watch Wonder Years today. After combing piles and layers of crappy stuff for twenty frustrating minutes, I realise that the DVD is sitting quietly in the DVD carton. Now, the audio device on my pc refuses to respond, and am forced to listen to songs on my cellphone. Now, when a day dawns like this, what can I expect in the next 20 hours? Not a lot of giggles I suppose...

A lot of things these days are not making sense. Why do I have to sit for a paper each in Economics and History, when my Bachelor's is in Literature? Were S and I destined to become so close again? Am I just plain selfish to call her whenever I have something wonderful to share and refuse to divulge when something painful happens? Is it fair on my part to be her 'closest pal' and yet not be close? Have I really been fair to her, considering that I have ditched her numerous times in the past couple of years? And that we end up rebonding like nothing ever happened. I also fail to understand how she will pass her examination tomorrow, considering that we were chit-chatting about 'higher philosophies' till about an hour ago...

Now, the politics of relationships is another thing that really drives me up the wall. (actually I also wonder why my chain of thought refuses to follow a linked path) And this is just not about a hunky-dorey, boy girl relationship. It is about relationships in general. Why do I have to phrase and re-phrase tests so that they sound nice and subtle? Why is there so much of deliberate thought? Planned steps? Regular assessment and more importantly, critical judgement? Cannot things just be as they are-- impulse driven or emotion dictated? Why the need for 4/2 yields 2...

Another thing. Actually no. Nothing. I really fail to understand how a tired brain can crib in such lucid details. So, no more wonderings.

P.S: If :-) is a smiley, is :-( a saddie? (Could not resist asking this)

Exams
One down, four to go. Economics sucks. So, does History.

Economics sucks. English enables me to state that Economics sucks. Literature guides me to find the rhyme and reason for everything here. Why it sucks, who said it sucks, the socio-political and geographical configurations that bring about such a situation..uh ho..huh..eh....zzzzzzzz

Dinnnnggg: Time for exams! what!!??? uh ho..huh..eh..zzzzz

Gravity cannot be held responsible for two people falling in love- Albert Einstein

Brilliant piece. Fervent love, overflowing emotions, candid confession, lucid thoughts. Maddening final build-up. Nana Patekar- icing on the cake.

It does not get better than this....

Kaise bataaoon main tumhe
Mere liye tum kaun ho, kaise bataaoon
Kaise bataaoon main tumhe
Tum dhadkanon ka geet ho
Jeevan ka tum sangeet ho
Tum zindagi tum bandagi
Tum roshni tum taazgi
Tum har khushi tum pyaar ho
Tum preet ho manmeet ho
Aankhon mein tum yaadon mein tum
Saanson mein tum aahon mein tum
Neendon mein tum khwaabon mein tum
Tum ho meri har baat mein
Tum ho mere din raat mein
Tum subaah mein tum shyaam mein
Tum soch mein tum kaam mein
Mere liye paana bhi tum
Mere liye khona bhi tum
Mere liye hasna bhi tum
Mere liye rona bhi tum
Aur jaagna sona bhi tum
Jaaoon kahin dekhoon kahin
Tum ho vahan, tum ho vahin
Kaise bataaoon main tumhe
Tum bin to main kuch bhi nahin
Kaise bataaoon main tumhe
Mere liye tum kaun ho
Yeh jo tumhaara roop ha
iYeh zindagi ki dhoop hai
Chandan se tarsha hai badan
Behti hai jis mein ek agan
Yeh shokhiyaan yeh mastiyaan
Tumko hawaaon se mili
Zulfein ghataaon se mili
Honton mein kaliyaan khil gayi
Aankhon ko jheele mil gayi
Chehre mein simti chaandni
Aawaaz mein hai raagini
Sheeshe ke jaisa ang hai
Phoolon ke jaisa rang hai
Nadiyon ke jaisi chaal hai
Kya husn hai kya haal hai
Yeh jism ki rangeeniyaan
Jaise hazaaron titliyaan
Baahon ki yeh golaaiyaan
Aanchal mein yeh parchhaaiyaan
Yeh nagriyaan hai khwaab ki
Kaise bataaoon main tumhe
Haalat dil-e-betaab ki
Kaise bataaoon main tumhe
Mere liye tum kaun ho
Kaise bataaoon, kaise bataaoon
Kaise bataaoon main tumhe
Mere liye tum dharam ho
Mere liye imaan ho
Tum hi ibaadat ho meri
Tum hi to chaahat ho meri
Tum hi mera armaan ho
Takta hoon main har pal jisse
Tum hi to voh tasveer ho
Tum hi meri taqdeer ho
Tum hi sitaara ho mera
Tum hi nazaara ho mera
Yudhyaan mein mere ho tum
Jaise mujhe ghere ho tum
Purab mein tum pachhim mein tum
Utar mein tum dakshin mein tum
Saare mere jeevan mein tum
Har pal mein tum har chir mein tum
Mere liye rasta bhi tum
Mere liye manzil bhi tum
Mere liye saagar bhi tum
Mere liye saahil bhi tum
Main dekhta bas tumko hoon
Main sochta bas tumko hoon
Main jaanta bas tumko hoon
Main maanta bas tumko hoon
Tum hi meri pehchaan ho
Kaise bataaoon main tumhe
Devi ho tum mere liye
Mere liye bhagwaan ho
Kaise bataaoon main tumhe
Mere liye tum kaun ho
Kaise

Let all burn in hell...

Beginning an artcile by defining the dictionary meaning of the central idea has always seemed extremely insipid to me. But, I do not think that I have a choice today. I am short on time, completely anxious, and somewhat irked to get through with this. But hey, I shall not be so creatively starved! I think, wikipedia.org will be a much better reference than dictionary.com.

Now, wikipedia defines disgust is an emotion that is typically associated with things that are perceived as unclean, inedible or infectious. In The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals, Charles Darwin wrote that disgust refers to something revolting. Primarily in relation to the sense of taste, as actually perceived or vividly imagined; and secondarily to anything which causes a similar feeling, through the sense of smell, touch, and even of eyesight.

But surprisingly, the disgust that I feel at the moment is completely different. It is totally overpowering, brings with itself a sense of emotional deluge and internal constriction. I have the words to scream, but no voice. I have the hands to hit, but no strength. I have the reason to burst, but no logic for it. And it really, has nothing to do with the sense of smell, touch and even that of eyesight.

This, that and everything

Well, I am back again. To do exactly what, I am not sure. I am currently, in a very blissful state of mind. Yesterday, I was enthralled, the day before I was disoriented. But, back to today, and I feel a sudden calm, a serenity so close, that I can anticipate a surprise serendipity. (I, btw, love the movie and the word alike). It is as if, everything has quietened down, to detect the sly tip toes of something walking in, quietly but surely....

People say that first things should come first. I think that funny incidents should come first. Me and a very close girlfriend 'S' were listening to an old punjabi folklorish song by Shujaat Khan. The basic lyrics in the song are lajo-lajo, a very affectionate way of referring to the woman you love (and she would blush). The song barely has 10 lines of lyrics, but the music and the meaning make it a heady expereince. Anyways, S asks me about what the guy is singing. I readily tell her Lajo- Lajo. She says, "Who talks like that, man!" And I cannot stop laughing.

So, blissful. That is what I feel. Many years ago, I had felt something similar and had composed a poem.

God, I wish I could,
Breathe in the beautiful smell of love,
Savour the taste of this bud,
Souvenir it in my heart,
But, oh, lord! I fail upon all these
But stay in the hope, that,
Tomorrow’s another day.

Another day, that will come by me,
Help me breathe all these,
I will reach the desired peaks,
The forbidden places, the home of love,
From which we are guided against.
I will always remain in this hope,
After all tomorrow’s another day.

No blindfold shall hold me back,
There will be nothing that I will lack,
Only the lushness & the beauty,
That remains engulfing me,
The beautiful smell & the scenery,
All these have yet to come,
Yet the hope remains,
After all,
Tomorrow’s another day.

But today, I do not feel like penning anything. I feel like sharing things I like. I like the word repertoire, though the meaning does not suit it. I love alliteration. I love writing flowery beginnings. I love listening to slow songs (my bro thinks they are haunted). I love it when young Will recites instant sonnets for Voila in Shakespeare in Love. I love Kevin Arnold, when he misses Winnie Cooper. I love it when Racheal quits her job in Paris to be with Ross, when Joey comes back to Chandler to hug him, in spite of moving out. I love quotes like 'Diamonds are nothing but ordinary pieces of coal, that performed extraordinarily under pressure'. I love the crafts musuem in Delhi. I love pottery. And I love the German translation for I love you --Ich liebe Sie! I love the little girl who sells books at the traffic light outside my office. Because the first day that I had come to office, there was a puddle of dirty water that I would have stepped into, if she would not have come up to me and said very sweetly, "Didi, come from that side. Otherwise, your clothes will get dirty." I love the night scenes in the movie water, they are so beautiful. I love it when someone has a quick and witty retort to situations. I love it when people are honest. I love Pav bhaji. I love the colours crimson and black. I love to stare at the moon when there is a lukewrm breeze or a slight nip in teh air. I love to splash cold water on my face and stand out in the balcony at five in the morning. I love taking photographs and I love noticing constellations. I love earrings. I love the smell of fresh ground coffee.

I love to talk. And I talk to love....

Beyond the usual

I have been seriously contemplating about deleting the blog for a very long time now. There are a multitude of reasons for the same. But, the basic and most honest one is that I dont have anything new to write anymore these days. So, instead of typing a nonsensical mix of thoughts and words, it is better to graze the platform only to ground.

However, at the risk of a lot of criticism, I contradict my own statement, at least for today. As much as I complain about shortage of time, something compels me to write this today. It may not make a lot of sense, it may not even follow a meticulous chain of thought. But it is what is running helter-skelter in my mind right now.

Since a kid, colours and patterns have not only fascinated me, but at times drawn me towards them. I have a weird habit of drawing leaves and eyes whenever I have a pen in my hand, however that is not really the point here. So, I always wanted to pursue fashion designing, till the time in my XIth standard I realised, that the world of adults is really about Engineers and Doctors (though personally I can refute that any day). However, there was a gentleman whose style I always admired. Because he was elegant himself, spoke less and concentrated in his work.

Recently, I came across this anniversary issue of the magazine Verve, and it somehow manages to catch up with Shahab Durazi. An excerpt from the article reads '....Welcome to Duraziland. Images whisper. Fantasy and finery go hand in hand in a well stitched glove...... Durazi's clothes make you a confident insider. Now and zen...'. The article goes on to state how Durazi, a self acclaimed recluse, prefers to be seduced by the fabrics that he holds, instead of the cash that he can earn.

While reading the article, my initial liking for him transformed into awe and respect, and I felt a sudden kinship. Kinship? Yes. Durazi talks about questions he raises, the societal customs of politeness and air kissing that he dislikes. In short, I realised that my breed is yet not extinct. There are more who like to question.

A friend's friend told me today that I have a difefrent way of looking at things, a fresher perspective. I think I refuse to believe existing statements. Many (including those close to me), see me as a rebel. Many think that I complicate things too much for myself, by thinking too much. And many just feel, that it is the vagary of my age. I think, it is my fundamental right.

Now, I like to think. And analyse too. And then, I like to question what is that I dont understand. Now, whats wrong in that? Nothing much. Except the fact, that people senior (in age and rank), think quite negatively about me.
When I was young, I thought I will change the world. The world tried to change me, all through the years. We are still fighting, but victory sure seems near.

Just came across this beautiful piece of poetry. Could not resist putting it up here.

All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right
And emptiness above--
Know that you aren't alone
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights, or for one,
And some for all their years.

Beautiful.

Listening to the song Bawaaran mann from Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi. Beautiful song. Poignant lyrics. Music that makes me sway instantly.

Had a good conversation with my editor today. We both realised that there should be atleast one good looking journo in our department. It is time for a new eye candy! So, thats some news.

Have nothing much to add today. So will just post some more of the story.

contd......

26 Nov 1983, Los Angeles, USA

15440 kilometers away and 13 and a half hours behind New Delhi, the doctor from India was handling the most complicated case of her life. Mrs. Mason, or Rebecca, as Dr. Sia knew her was fast loosing consciousness, and on top of that the baby was breach. The tension and fear in the room could be felt, yet, besides being a science field professional, Dr. Sia was a devout believer in God, and she knew, that in this critical hour her God will not betray her.

The moment Risa uttered her first word, a short cry filled room number 8, in the urban Los Angeles hospital. Rebecca had given birth to her first son, and miraculously escaped death. Dr. Sia clasped her hands in a silent prayer. Her God had not let her down, once again, perhaps in the most vital moments of her life as a doctor. She knew that He alone had the power to create and destroy, yet, once again he had proved that he never deserted his believers.

A day and a good news later (Risa’s improving speech), Dr Sia was declared Paul’s (Rebecca’s son) godmother. Though, the two news meant a lot to her on different levels, yet, Dr. Sia was completely unaware as to how they would one day interweave to show her that, not all surprises are man made and not all ironies are under man’s monopoly.

Risa was growing up as a beautiful girl, stunning in her features and sharp by her mind. Every year she returned home with the “highest scorer of the class” badge. Sneh and Yash could not have asked for more from God.

The day, Risa entered eleventh standard, two years short of her high school graduation, she announced to her parents that she would do her undergraduate studies from USA. Although, the thought of separation from Risa troubled her parents, but, her persistence won in the end.

2 years later, and armed again with the badge that had never gone to anyone in her class till the very last semester, Risa bade goodbye to her parents. She knew that they were fighting very hard to control the emotional turmoil in their heart and the whirlpool of water behind their eyes, yet, she knew that she was going abroad for a reason- to one day make her parents proud. She was going to be as successful as her Aunt Sia.

“Aunt Sia, here I come”, muttered Sia while waving to her parents. Though Risa had spoken to Sia many times and seen her snaps, yet this would be the first time she would meet her face to face. Of course, there had been no other choice as to who Risa would stay with, once in America.

Hours later, when the pilot announced that the flight would land in 10 mins, Risa was stifling a yawn. But the moment she heard the announcement, her fatigue evaporated. She was entering the country which many called the “Land of Oportunities”. And what a day to do so. Risa had turned 18 a minute ago.

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

Sia recognised Risa as soon as she came out of the airport. How could she not? She had herself delivered her little angel. And here she was, 18 years after her birth, hugging Risa. "You know Risa; you have acquired all of Snehs’s beauty.” Risa was radiant. “And none of Yash’s”, added Sia with a sly smile.

The drive back home just flew by in their conversation. “Wow, Sia Auntie, your house is beautiful” exclaimed Risa. “Not as beautiful as you, honey” said Sia. Risa knew that Aunt Sia took Risa as her daughter. At age 43, Aunt Sia was beautiful but unmarried. And her perennial answer to her single status was, “I have my two children who support me like heart and soul, one is Risa and the other is Paul.”

Sia was almost Paul’s second mother. The Masons were god fearing people, and they knew, that on the night of 26 Nov, 1983, God had come as Dr. Sia for them.
“So, when am I meeting this Paul of yours?” asked Risa. "Soon. I invited him over for breakfast today, but I doubt he will be able to make it. He is putting finishing touches to the MONALISA of the 21st century. And our very own Leonardo doesn’t have time to waste on lesser mortals like us.” “ What does he think he is,” shot back Risa getting angry. "Come on, honey, Paul is very passionate about his art. And mind you, he has the gift in his hands. As if, brushes come to life when they come in contact with his fingers. Anyway, you meet him and decide what he thinks for himself. Right now it is very late and you must also be jetlagged. Go to sleep right now, and we will continue all our talks in the morning. Your room is on the first floor, first one to the right. And kitchen is just straight ahead, in case you feel hungry at night.” Risa blushed awkwardly, even Aunt Sia knew about her monsterous appetite.

Rebounding back

Yes, am officially on a rebound. Oh not an emotional one, but one that signifies metaphorically, a lot of what happened in the past few days. I have in fact grown significantly, in terms of my vocabulary and experience. Now I know the difference between enthralled and happy, sad and lonely, angry and volatile. This post, basically brings me back as who I was-- Sassy Satan, albeit a little wiser and perhaps (hopefully), a little more expressive.

Spoiler warning: The post maybe longer than what is expected, bearable and liked.

I noticed how hypnotic the moon was today, but couple of days ago, it was a group of stars that had caught my attention. Twinkling brightly, they were merrier than the kid who tries to count them. They shone and they shone. And they reminded me of the desire that I had. To own a telescope, to see the planets and the stars every night, to have a notebook and make observations. Desires that I had before I realised that someone called Galileo had already lived my dreams ( and received a lot of attention for it).

Jokes apart, from today, there is a new addition to the right side corner of my blog. ' I wish I wish' is a list of things that I have been wanting to buy or do. Now, earrings will remain at the top of that list forever, because that is a fetish that refuses to dilute. About the visit to the zoo-- well I have been trying to do that for a number fo years now, convincing friends and family alike, but to no avail. Maybe I will go alone someday. Have heard a lot about a cute baby hippo there.

Now desires, urm.., are very complex feelings. I have seen people getting trapped in desires forever. But I have also known achievers who have dreamt, desired and attained. For me, my desires are yet very nascent. I know what I want, but more so in thoughts than in a tangible reality. I desire to reach a peak where I can refuse the biggest deal. I desire to be able to laugh as openly, loudly and carelessly as I did when I was younger. And I desire to be able to cross every little heading that I enter in the 'I wish and I wish' column. I actually also want to do this six month cours ein pottery at the Blue Pottery Club. Also want to take up kathak again. Want to attend, at least once, the karvan of sufi singers who tour India once every year. And I desire to be a child again.

Yesterday, being a sunday was a 'strictly family' day. Which is to say that I had a lot of fun. I did a lot of shopping too, but I did enjoy for other reasons too. Now, my mum is particularly finicky about roadside food. But me and bro are brats. Yesterday, after a very long time, I revived some childhood tastes. We had two plates of mirchi wala bhuta (we call it that). However, it is actually boiled corn with a lot of spices, chilli sauce and lemon. Also had sugarcane cubes (cut into pieces). We were fond of these things when we were growing up. However, kids these days revel in american corn and tropicana juice. But, the flavour, the joys and the meories that we felt yesterday are rather hard to put in words. I desire to be a kid again.

Have a lot more to say, but t he post has gone a little awry. There is a story that I wrote ages ago. Thought of sharing it. Everytime I feel a little low, I read it. Because it has a hundrerd reasons behind it that make me smile. And I smile. It is a little longish. So will be putting it up in parts.

The only note that I can conclude is a rather iffy one. My exams begin next tuesday. And I am yet to begin the preparation.

Tadaa!

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CHAPTER 1

31st January 1983, New Delhi, India

“Congratulations”, beamed the plump nurse. “You have been blessed with a pretty young angel, Mr. Oberoi.” Suddenly, Dr. Sia, the doctor in-charge of Mrs. Oberoi’s case, walked into the waiting lobby. “Yash, your daughter is just stunning,” she complimented.

Dr. Sia had been the Oberoi’s family friend for years. She and Yash had attended school together and had been the best of friends ever since. Today, she was a renowned doctor and Yash, a well established businessman. When Sneh (Yash’s wife) conceived, there was no doubt as to who would handle her case. And today, 8 months and 20 days later, Dr. Sia had delivered Risa.

Though Latin in origin, yet Risa is what Yash had always wanted to christen his daughter. The laughing one, he thought, recalling what it had meant and why it had touched him so much. And, from that day on, aunt Sia’s little stunning beauty was called Risa.

Even after a week since her birth, the smile never left her cute little face and the Oberoi’s affectionately admired the perfect name they had given their daughter.

Just how perfect it was, they would notice years later.

CHAPTER 2


3 months after Risa’s birth, her Aunt Sia shifted to Los Angeles, America as Senior Gynaecologist, Holy Child Hospital. Though, her work kept her engrossed more than ever, yet, she managed to keep record of Risa’s development process.

Sneh and Yash were completely smitten by their little angel. Though, a naughty child like any her age, Risa woke them up in the middle of the night, however, since the day of her birth she had brought an unspoken, unknown glow on their faces. They couldn’t remain one second without seeing her face, and to her those strange faces meant the world.

9 months and 26 days hence, when Risa first uttered “ma”, the first call was trans-Atlantic. “Her phone is on voice mailbox”, said Sneh. “Maybe, she is in the middle of a surgery. I’ll try to contact her again after half an hour. Anyways, I have left her a message to call back ASAP. And Yash, please switch on the voice recorder. I want to capture this moment. See, she said ma before she has said pa. SO, I have won our bet!!”

“Papa”, retorted the little devil for the first time, not letting her father down. “I guess we are equal now”, smirked Yash. “She said ma before papa”, was all Sneh could manage. But anyone observing both of them right now, knew, that the entire meaning of their lives had come true in this very moment.

P.S: I am yet to name this one!