Heart ventures, Mind considers

We are inseparable. Having grown up together, we know each other better than anyone else in this world. We have shared happiness, sorrows and memories. We are incomplete without each other. However, we are by no means like-minded. We have our differences, some of which are irreconcilable. For example, I’m free spirited, in love with the idea of love. I believe someday a guy will come and just sweep me off my feet. Our love will be perfect with just the right amount of understanding and honesty between us. I never lost faith in this even for once in the past nineteen years. She on the other hand, is very skeptical. For her everything has a downside and that is the side worth considering first. She wants to have the same dream, but is acutely aware of the fact that it is only a dream and will remain so. I tried reasoning with her but to no avail. It’s not just the matters of heart where our differences lie. We have conflicting opinions about almost everything. From waking up in the morning to finally falling asleep at night, whatever comes across us becomes a subject of intense debate between the two of us. We don’t quarrel though. We are not only well aware of our differences but also the cause of those differences. Thus both of us are justified. The problem arises when either of us has to choose the way. We are considerate towards each other, but that does not mean we appreciate each other’s dominance. She resents my idealistic nature, I resent her pessimistic one. She says I’m too caught up in my dreams and ideas to be focused and practical. I say she is too scared to even hope. Interestingly, our natures are completely interchangeable when it comes to ambitions. She wants to conquer the world (not literally of course) while I just want to lead a happy, contented life with my parents. I want to give them every luxury and happiness they ever dreamt about. This is the wish I make everyday. I throw in a request for a hot boyfriend too sometimes, I kind of deserve that. She approves of this (don’t look at me, I was surprised too!). She says it’s ok to put faith in something, to pray. It gives the person a strange kind of security. I wasn't too happy when she explained it to me this way. She took away the romance of it all.

          The bone of contention between us is probably how she takes every fantasy of mine and completely ruins it with her dry logic. I have tried talking to her, even pleading with her not to do so but she fails to see my point! I told her that she doesn't need to tell my how overtly implausible I am. Deep inside I know that already. It’s just that, I don't want to give on those hopes as they have become a part of me. They give me reason to imagine, to think of a parallel world where all those dreams came true; they allow me to have world of my own. She hates this. She keeps telling me that if I were to live in any world at all, it might as well be the real one. To imagine is but a waste of time. I remember this one time when I got really mad at her. I was talking to her about a particularly favorite book of mine. I told her I could identify with certain traits of those characters. I could see beyond the evident plot and found reason in the seemingly random turn of events and behavior of the characters. It took her but a second to negate the idea. “It’s only a story!” she said, “It only portrays the whim of the author and depicts events which in no world could be true. And the characters are just as unreal.” I hated her and was determined to prove her wrong. I, as is my nature, look more closely to the emotions of the characters. More than their actions, I like to work out the emotional reason behind it. I like to search for rationality in face of completely irrational actions and event. She, on the other hand, is characterized by very strong likes and dislikes. For her, emotions are no excuse for anything. Logic is all that matters. For her the world is pretty much black and white. There are good things and bad things, real and unreal, logical person and emotional fool; and needless to say, each time she prefers to be the former. For me, the world is grey. Well, there is silver, and then there is grey, deep and light. Every person has flaws, virtues, imperfections and good qualities, all mixed in inside them. It’s just a matter of weighing them against each other.

In spite of all there is, the differences and the support, it’s only together that we are complete. It makes me who I am.  While one can never really solve the competition between the heart and the brain, one can balance them out. Indulge a little and restrict a little, dream a little without losing touch of reality, give in a little and hold back some. After all, learning how to do that is called life.

Traditions

                                       “Every day should be mother’s day”

The sun was low on the horizon. The reddish golden glow filtered in through the window blinds into the increasingly darkening room. The door to the balcony was open. I sat on an easy chair, calmly looking at the fluffy white clouds. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed. I looked around, ready to get back to the household chores once again. Then I realized that I didn’t have any today. My husband had taken our son to the zoo. The whole day they were gone. They had found a father-son ritual of their own. This was also my husband’s idea of giving me a break. I leaned back again and closed my eyes. Today, I had the house to myself.

I belonged to an upper middle class family. I was a well educated, independent woman with modern sensibilities. I had a successful career, loving husband and a happy and lively son. I lived in a posh area in a luxurious flat. In short, I had everything a middle class family would want for their daughter. Most importantly, I was happy and content with my life.

The soft breeze washed over me. I could hear the happy shouts of children playing downstairs. I smiled to myself as I remembered how much I loved lazy evenings when I was younger. I could just sit around all day long doing nothing but reflecting on my own, or making up an alternate reality in my head where I had all the things I actually have now. The light all around me faded a little more. I got up to make tea. This thought surprised me a little. I never liked tea, my husband did. Initially I made myself a separate cup of coffee but then I took to tea as well because I was too lazy to make both. Over the years I became used to it. And today somehow my husband’s choice triumphed over my own even in his absence.

A strange thought struck me. I realized how much I had changed for the sake of my husband, not because he wanted me to, but because I wanted to. In a family, the woman is expected to adjust; to take upon the family name, the likes, dislikes, even traditions. The culture or ambience in which the woman was brought up all her life just ceases to be important. But I was always very proud to point out that I was never under that pressure. My husband and his family accepted me for who I was, the way I was. Even after marriage, my husband never imposed anything on me, all our decisions were mutual. He even gave in to my tantrums more often than not. But still, unnoticed by both of us, I had changed. I had made adjustments, changed my likes and dislikes without even realizing it. My love for coffee made way for my husband’s love for tea, my favorite colors got replaced with my husband’s and then my son’s. My favorite shows made way for football matches. My hobbies took a backseat, because I didn’t have time for them anymore. These are major changes, not that I mind much, but still. The funniest part of it was, I never realized when the changes crept in to become a part of me. I remembered how my mother taught me that sacrifices are a part of being a woman. The small things that I had given up may not be great sacrifices but they counted all the same. Women like me have come long way. Became independent, strong but at the same time, we have always preferred to keep ourselves after everyone around us, a sacrifice which mostly goes unnoticed; and when the realization dawns, we even surprise ourselves.

The sun had gone down. My surroundings had become darker. The dirty golden light had almost faded to black. The laughter of the children below had also faded, except for the occasional loud “bye”, the playground below was quiet. Smiling to myself I went to the kitchen. I looked at the small bottle of coffee which my husband had bought for me. Nonchalantly I reached for the tea leaves.

x

The One Who Survived

Music. Joyous laughter pierced the air. It was their farewell party, not that anyone really intended such an early farewell. It was just another excuse to celebrate. The last day of university was behind them. It was nearing midnight. The four friends gathered around the coffee table which now held four chilled beer bottles. They had finally turned down the music fearing complaining neighbors.

Reid uncorked the bottles, third time that evening, passed one onto his sister Monica and then his friends Drake and Skye. They had been friends since high school and had vowed to remain so forever. A promise which they had kept, till now.

                                                              

        “Its about to be one o’ clock. The highway should be empty by now. What say, Reid?” asked Monica. Reid put down him empty bottle, “sure, sure!”

“Hey, wait” – this was Skye – “I don’t think we should go on a joyride now. I mean, Reid… you’re tipsy!”

Reid burst out laughing. “Tipsy??” he laughed, “ We've done worse! By the way, I drive like this most of the time!” he winked at Drake as Monica sniggered. However, she sensed Skye’s hesitation and reassuringly put an arm around her.

“It’s just a long drive! And since when did you start worrying so much?” she said persuasively.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be fun. Just relax!” Drake said.

Seeing no way out and feeling the tiniest bit of thrill creeping into the pit of her stomach, Skye agreed.

        Speed. The wind blew her hair in all direction. The speed and the thrill felt good. But the presence of an unknown fear made the hair on her neck stand up. A fear which none of the other faces betrayed any signs of. Monica and Drake were laughing over jokes and Reid was whistling a tune. They took the empty stretch at 90km/hr. Skye thought they could compete with a train at this speed! Drake noticed the wary expression on Skye’s face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Reid, who was at the wheel, turned around to face Skye. He opened his mouth to say something when they were all thrown off guard with a violent jerk. They had hit a speed breaker at that neck-break speed!

       

The car turned tortoise and vaulted forward before coming to a stop well ahead of the speed breaker. The screeching noise of metal scraping over the mortar stopped as suddenly as it had started. Along with it stopped the screams. Quiet. Stunned silence prevailed. A low moaning continued before that stopped too. A faint dripping sound could be heard, oil from the engine or blood of those inside, no one could tell.

A light flickered. Many voices could be heard. Some male, some female, all mixed together. Someone seemed to be saying something to him but he didn't know what to make of those meaningless sounds. He parted his eyelid a little but the light hurt his eyes. He could only make out hazy activity all around him before he closed his eyes again. Then he tried to open them once more. This time, his vision was clearer. He saw a face familiar to him bent over his own. His mother. His attention was drawn towards a steady beeping sound. The heart monitor. He was at the hospital. This realization made him fully aware of the various aches all over his body. Not just aches, excruciating pain in his head and leg, which felt heavy under layers of bandages. He slowly remembered that night. He had been thrown out on the impact. He had seen the car come to a halt before the darkness outside descended on his eyes. He focused on his mother now. She crossed herself “Good Lord! I thought I’d lose you Drake!” she chocked, tears streaming down her face. Drake blinked, the only motion which spared him much pain.

“The others?” he whispered.

His mother stared back with a closed expression. Then slowly the blank face gave way to agony.

“The doctors tried but …” she stopped. She couldn't bring herself to say those words to her son. Finally, she allowed with a deep breath, “You are the one who survived.”

The Year Gone By: Looking Back at 2012

World is gearing up to welcome 2013. Well, that’s good news because this means the world survived 2012. Lets face it, the Mayans probably ran out of rocks to carve their calendar in. But when you think about it, did humanity really come out unscathed this year? This year has been eventful to say the least. From a staggering increase in heinous crimes against women, to celebrating the death of a terrorist, to losing some of the greatest Indian iconic figures, we have experience one of the most dramatic years ever. As we say good bye to 2012, there are certain things that we hope to have learnt this year.

The year started with a gang rape in Park Street, Kolkata. This incident ruffled a few feathers but a bigger outrage was reserved for the CM’s “insensitive” remarks regarding the incident. This was followed by a spate of similar incidents all over the country. Not a single day passed when the newspaper did not report a rape or murder of a woman. This year very clearly, and unabashedly, showed that women are far from being safe in this country and the worst part was, the women were asked to accept that complete lack of security and live accordingly. All year various isolated incidents warned the people to take notice, take steps to prevent more such incidents but it all fell to deaf ears. Instead of taking measures to prevent the perpetrators and rapists, the women were told, “don’t invite rapists, don’t provoke the male gaze”. Then, the last straw came in the form of the most brutal rape of a 23-yr-old woman in Delhi. Her male friend who was accompanying her was beaten and tied up. Then the woman was raped by six men, beaten and then violated by an iron rod. All this happened, shockingly, inside a moving bus. While the woman faced this kind of inhuman torture, the bus roamed the streets of the capital city unchecked even though it was flagged due to several transgressions earlier that evening. The girl’s intestines became gangrenous and had to be removed. Having suffered two cardiac arrests and the infection slowly spreading throughout her body, she fought bravely for 13 days. She finally passed away on 29 Dec. This gruesome incident brought the youth to the streets in protest in Delhi and all over India. The intensity of the protest (which grew to include young, old, men women from every city) showed just how deeply this incident had affected each and everyone. Many policemen were seen trying to manage the huge crowd, and then firing tear gas shells and water canons to disperse the crowd. Had even one of these policemen or patrol cars (who are so busy dispersing protesters)  tracked down the flagged bus, this would never have happened and that girl would be safe today.

          Studies show that violence against a suppressed group increases significantly when they try to come into prominence. The racial attacks against blacks started only after slavery was abolished. The moment the blacks wanted rights to live in the same society, the white supremacists unleashed brutality upon them. When homosexuals asked for their rights to love, marry and adopt, various cases of gay-bashing (some even leading to murders) began to be reported. We have seen time and again, the dominant society or community does not want to be challenged. The moment they are asked to share the power or status they have, they become insecure and lash in a way they deem fit. That’s what is happening in India at this point. Women are no longer child rearing machines. They have a name, an identity, a status, and most of all, independence and respect. The spate of crimes against women re-establishes the same pattern.

Ajmal Kasab was finally hanged. The lone terrorist captured alive during the 60 hr siege in Mumbai in 2008, Kasab’s death sentence finally carried out. While most expressed relief that finally justice was served, some by their gruesome comment and open celebration of the death made the civilized society uneasy. I, however, had a different thought. We all remembered the spine chilling terrorist attack, but how often do we remember the unlikely heroes which this incident threw up? The brave NSG commandos and an impeccably carried out search and rescue operation, the Christian nanny Sandra, who saved the life of 2-yr-old Moshe whose parents (the Rabbi and his wife) were killed in the attack, the hotel staff who risked their own lives to save those of the guests, those who put themselves in the line of fire to prevent others from getting hurt, and the police constable Tukaram Omble who refused to let go of Kasab even after being shot multiple times.
 Life continues; denial, grief and acceptance come and go. If one has to go down that memory lane, one might as well send up a silent prayer for those heroes, the living and the dead.

This year also saw the passing away of the most legendary icons. From Dev Anand, the evergreen hero to Rajesh Khanna the original superstar. From Pt Ravi Shankar who introduced Indian classical music to the world to Yash Chopra who taught generations how beautiful love can be. These men touched millions of hearts all over the world. While Pt Ravi Shankar attracted George Harrison as his disciple, Yash Chopra has a lake named after him in Switzerland. These men brought a touch of peace, love, friendship in our hearts through their work. their departure have definitely left the world a darker place.

2012 has had its ups and downs. It has been an emotional as well as an educational year. We were forced to see and acknowledge our flaws, insecurities and mistakes. We need to learn to respect each other for who we are. We need to be resilient and strong and fight for the right causes. And most important of all, we need to learn to be human again. With that, lets welcome hopefully a happier 2013.

Words

 "Twinkle twinkle little star… along with the crescent moon look lovely. Pine trees surround me. They are my favorites. The breeze is bringing soft music from the camp. I am sitting in a lovely clearing at the edge of a small hill. Everything is so peaceful. I love it here. I am glad I came…"

Celine closed her diary and looked around. The cloudless sky was deep blue and accessoriesed with millions of diamonds and a moon. The black pine trees seemed to have acquired a silver crown. Far away, a glow was coming from the camp fire. Music from the camp displayed the magic of strings. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I miss you …where are you?” she whispered. Then she slowly closed her eyes and allowed her soul to get lost in the ecstasy of the night.

“She looks very nice. But she hardly takes part in the camp activities. She just sits there with her diary… Man... Would really like to speak to her…” “Hellooo, which world are you in?”

            Alex crashed onto the earth as his friend blew the bomb on this flight of thoughts. “Why did you stop playing?” demanded Patrick as Alex quickly looked around. All eyes were upon him. “Ah…umm… I was just thinking about playing ‘you’re beautiful’” he rushed glad to have found a reason. The campers around him looked doubtful but as he efficiently began to strum his guitar, nobody protested and immediately struck up the chorus of the song suggested. But in less than five minutes, Alex’s mind had climbed up the clearing of the mountain where the girl sat. Alex felt an attraction towards her but yet he felt so distant. As he was lost in his thoughts, he didn’t allow his hands to stop strumming the musical strings. He felt he could not stand anymore suspicious looks that evening.          

            

From where she was sitting she could see the campers leave the campfire for their tents. Only two boys stayed back, one of them holding the guitar. After sometime the other boy hi-fived his friend and left too. The boy with the guitar moved towards the hills so as to not disturb the sleeping campers and began to play his guitar. Tears welled up in her eyes as she recognized the song. This was the music she loved, she longed to hear. Only there was no voice singing the words, there was no trace of her beloved’s voice. She knew she wouldn’t hear that voice again but somehow believe it. Only the music seemed hollow to her, so she began to sing. The boy looked up once and resumed playing in complete harmony with Celine’s voice. As the two unknown souls combined in music, the breeze danced along the leaves of trees. The sky blinked her starry twinkling eyes and fell asleep along with the world with a broad, silvery crescent smile on her huge countenance.

            

As Patrick disappeared down his tent, Alex made his way towards the mountains. He sat down near the foot of one and began to play his favorite song. Suddenly after sometime, a beautiful voice singing the song reached his ears. The echo of the voice among the trees seemed heavenly. He looked to see the mysterious girl still sitting at the clearing. SHE was singing. Alex stopped mesmerized by the sensuous voice. Then he resumed playing, this time according to her voice. He could hear love, frustration, patience and hope in her voice. Her song was more like a request she was putting in front of nature’s audience. As Alex looked around, he felt sure nature had heard it.

            

“Who was singing after I left last night?” asked Patrick as Alex quietly stuffed down some breakfast. Sunlight had hidden the moon and the stars which were showing off their glory in the bygone night. It was a beautiful sunny morning but thoughts regarding the mysterious girl clouded Alex’s mind. Thus, Patrick’s question fell to deaf ears. It was only when Patrick thrashed his foot onto Alex’s did he turn around to listen. But that too, not for long. Alex had seen his silver lining. That girl!... She had just entered the food tent to get her breakfast. Even though she had a smile plastered across her face, her eyes were reflecting deep thoughts. Patrick stopped talking and followed Alex’s gaze. He recognized Celine at once. “She is one troubled soul. Leave her alone buddy!” said Patrick and went back to his breakfast. But Alex was in no mind to listen to him. He got up. “Don’t go Al” warned Pat but Alex was already out earshot. He went ahead and tapped on her shoulder.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

The girl stared bluntly at him and then slowly answered, “Celine”.

“Hi! I’m Alex.” He put out his hand for a shake.

Celine just turned her back towards him and continued her work.

“Man! You’re rude!” Alex retorted, hurt.

“Sorry”, Celine said facing him once more, “but there was something I was holding. Here, nice to meet you”, she said extending her hand. Alex took it and apologized. “I’m used to it”, she smiled.

           

“Don’t go any further, you will fall”, Celine called loudly. Dan just laughed.

“At least you’ll miss me”, he called back.

“Fine”, she squatted on the ground, “but at least look where you’re going!” she called again as Dan backed towards the cliff looking at her.

“Scared? Bet you cant gather enough courage to join me here”, Daniel called.

Celine took the challenge immediately. She got up and ran towards him. She had almost reached when she tripped. “Move” she screamed as she fell towards the cliff… Dan didn’t move. He caught her and pushed her back…a scream and then silence. Celine looked up aghast.

Dan was not with her.

           

“DAN!” she sat up in her bed, breathing fast. The incident had haunted her long enough. Dan had saved her but could not balance himself. He had fallen. She closed her eyes again and tried to push the thought out of her mind but it didn’t help. Instead Dan’s body materialized in front of her. Celine was being asked to identify the body. She jerked her eyes open. Alex was standing at the tent entrance. He looked concerned. Celine began to cry.

“Go” she sobbed.

Alex didn’t move.

“Midday nap time is up” ha said trying to make her smile.

“Go” Celine repeated crying harder, “leave me alone.”

            Pat’s words flashed in Alex’s mind. Though he did not want to, he had to accept Celine was a troubled soul. She sat on her bed shivering and crying for unknown reason. Alex had been drawn towards her tent due to her scream. She had screamed for some Dan. She had even asked Alex to leave her but he did not; “what happened?” Alex insisted.

“Just leave” she screamed, howling by then.

Alex stood watching her for sometime and then around to leave. He was hurt. He did not feel like going back to the camp. So, he made his way towards the hills again.

        

Celine cried. She cried like never before. One month had gone. She hadn't heard his laugh. He had not called her. He hadn't even come to meet. What was worse, she was at war with herself. Her mind accepted that Dan was no more. He had died saving her. But she still hoped that one fine morning, he was going to jump out of nowhere and laugh and say, “Hey! I was just kidding!” She felt suffocating in the tent and decided to go for a walk. She also made a mental note to apologize to Alex for her rude behavior.

          

On reaching the hills she saw her place was preoccupied. Alex looked at her like an angry child. Celine had to laugh. “I’m sorry. I was just upset”, she explained.

“I’m your friend isn't it?” Alex asked adamant. Celine thought for a moment and nodded.

“Then may I please know why you were so upset?” Alex insisted. She did not answer.

“I can’t say” she confessed.

“What is it that keeps you so much in trouble?” Alex pressed on. “Who is Dan?”

Celine widened her eyes. Then she sighed, “Dan was the person for whom I’m alive today. The person whom I loved. A person who had died for me.” Her voice began to tremble. These words struck Alex like lightning bolts.

“I am sorry”, Alex said not knowing what else to say. Celine sat down beside him. Alex gave a small sigh. He had always wanted to know her but now that he did, he felt ignorance was better. They sat there for a long time but there was not a word spoken between them. They both let silence do her work.

           

“When I asked her who Dan was, I had no idea what the answer would be. I always told you I wanted to meet her but never in my dreams did I think of a meeting similar to this,” Alex sighed. “Miss you bro, really,” he said and kept down the photograph he had in hand. Then he sadly smiled. “Nice gal you got,” ha said and laughed at the photograph. Dan’s face smiled at him from the frame.

           

Celine sat waiting in the bus. Her baggage was already in its place. The camp was over. Everyone was heading home. The bus was waiting for the last few campers to occupy the empty seats. Just then Celine’s eyes fell on Alex who had just got up. He saw her too and came and sat beside her. Their conversation throughout the journey was filled with long pauses. Soon it was Alex’s turn to get off the bus. He extended his hand towards Celine.

“I never told you my full name” he said. “My name is Alex Sanders.”  Celine’s eyes widened in shock. Saying so, he got his bag and descended from the bus. Celine watched him disappear down the street. Fresh memories of Daniel Sanders brought tears to her eyes.

The little girl who refused to grow up

That’s what it is. The dream of a little girl who simply refuses to grow up! I tried reasoning with her many times, told her she’s being impractical, scolded her even, but she just wouldn't let go. Her world is very different from mine. For one, it’s perfect. She’s everything I never was, has everything I never had and does everything I’ll never have the guts to do. She’s very charming as well as outgoing and extremely courageous. She dreams of making it big someday and she’s confident she will. Her ideas make her world go round. She believes in these fantasies and lives her life around them. She has no inhibitions, is almost unknown to fear. She keeps telling me I should be more like her. But I know what I am. I’m practical. I’ve grown up and left the fairy tales behind me. I can’t be like her even if I try; then again, I don’t even want to try. I love my life. It’s far from perfect but then, nothing is perfect right?

          Her ways scare me. She’s not afraid to get hurt. She says I’m a coward. I never will have the guts to follow my dreams, or even fall in love for that matter because I’m too cautious. Sometimes I feel she’s right. I never did give these things any chance. I always thought that if someone would have the charm to sweep me off my feet, someday he would also put me down really hard. What’s the point in inviting that sort of pain? But she refuses to see my logic. She falls in love, has her heart broken, picks herself up and falls in love all over again. I think she enjoys it. I don’t know how but somehow she has her way with things and always comes out smiling no matter what. She brings out the best in all beings, sees beauty in all things. She’s like a bird with no restrains.

         

          As for me, I live in my own world. I know what’s real and what’s not. I don’t depend on fake ideas to get me through the day. Each day I work really hard, try to take on responsibilities, try to hide my flaws and live in denial about my insecurities. By the end of the day, I’m exhausted, tired of all the pretenses  That’s when she peeps into my world and gives me her hand. I take it partly out of frustration and partly out of curiosity. She guides me into her world. Suddenly I feel as if nothing can ever go wrong; like everything is right where it should be. It’s an amazing feeling, something I wasn't quite familiar with. It feels liberating to be with her. I don’t remember when exactly we became friends; only that when I asked her her name, she looked at me confused, said she didn't have any. So, I named her ‘fancy’.