About Me

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Gurgaon, Haryana, India
Dont claim to be a great writer but love to pen down those random thoughts in my head,share what I feel,however irreverant or unconventional they may be.Here's my take on things which matter to me,delight me,comfort me and give wings to my fancy, be it fashion,living,music,movies,books,family or Love! Peace to all...and restlessness to those who dare to think differently!A science graduate, a fashion-post-graduate,a wife, a mom but above all a lover of all things beautiful and sensitive. Romance, wine and music..I can live solely on these.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

I believe I live a full life, a life which has love, comforts (material and emotional), excitement, the ordinary and the not-so-ordinary. A husband who loves me to distraction and who I am immensely proud of, a lovely daughter who brings me complete joy, loving and supportive parents and siblings, a career which lets me balance work and home, friends...and then so much more which ctually cannot be put down in words! Still, when on some days, when the going is not so great, or there is some spanner in the smooth flow of life, I find myself complaining, comparing my life with others and feeling inadequate. At such times Chandru is always by my side, telling me things are just fine and we have the best of everything...bad times come and go...but do I really pay heed to him...hmmm not really!
I am contemplating over all this today coz of a meeting I had with a long-forgotten friend yesterday. We were together in NIFT, delhi. She was in a different course, but we shared the same chummery...I also knew her from school, she was a good friend of my younger sister. Though we were, and still are, two different personalities, we grew close and always had a fantastic time in the hostel (partly because of some shared memories of patna days, as well).
I remember her as a vivacious girl, so full of beans (and eager to spill them), super-confident, popular (more so with the male), attractive and affectionate. The time we spent together seems full of radiance for the sheer joy she brought to people all around her. Oh, but don't be mistaken,she was no genial genie.... she was also sharp with words when she wanted to, cutting those who hurt her.
One may think..ok so she was fun-loving smart girl...so what set her apart? What made her different (apart from everything else) was the disease she grappled with. She was diagnosed with cancer at the young age of 19 or so! When I met her , one of her leg was already affected and gave her lot of trouble..she had to use a leg brace to walk properly (and that also was not easy).
Can we imagine what it will be like to be a young , carefree, talented girl..all of 18-19, popular and smart...and suddenly find our life changed so drastically? To be reminded of the disease which cripples you with every step that you take, to meet the pitiful eyes of your own classmates, to have to drop a year to cope with all this, to make an effort to catch up with those who you had actually left behind?? No, it is not easy to imagine all this.
Here I saw this girl, spirited and confident, coping with all this with so much dignity and strength. No, 'coping' would perhaps be the wrong word. She still lived her life fully, playfully, without regrets. Nothing stopped her, no, not even her ever-turbulent relationships. I rememeber those hostel days, sitting late in the nights, having cups and cups of teas, while we gossiped about all the ever-changing affairs of the Nift-ians. Oh, and I rememeber the read -aloud mill & boon sessions, where she read out the passionate scenes aloud, hamming all the way, in that funny way of hers, while we rolled in laughter. Ah and how could I forget, flooding the living room with buckets and bucktes of water in the summers, and frolicking in it...and yes also saving money and going to the discos, shopping in sarojini nagar!
Then time flew and we lost touch. She finally quit NIFT because of her health problems .I found her on orkut, around 10 years later.....and that brought back a flood of memories.
Then I met her yesterday. She was much the same..a joy to be with, but yes, more matured and settled. Of course a lot has changed in the past 10-11 years...but not her inherent personality. She finally lost her leg (had to go for amputation)...been through some more tumultous relationships....but nothing took her sheer passion for life away from her! After everything, she completed and MBA course, and is doing well in her career, living on her own and enjoying herself.
There are not many people I know like her and I feel special to be her friend.

Sunday, April 01, 2007

I read something in Milan Kudera's "Ignorance" , which , at once, put into words what I have always felt but never been able to put my finger on (well, I am no Milan Kundera when it comes to words). He says : " The greek word for 'return' is nostos. Algos means 'suffering'. So nostalgia is the suffering caused by an unappaeased yearning to return."
You cannot describe the feeling of nostalgia more accurately. At some or the other time, all of us remember some foregone moments, experiences...and with that memory comes an unexplainable feeling of sadness. However happy we might be in the present, that nostalgic moment makes that remembered time so much richer, brighter. All the sharp edges of that time seems dulled, all which shines out in memory is its smoothness and gaity.....and we long to be transported back in that time, just for once, to "return". Kundera has mentioned nostalgia in several of his works. In "The unbearable lightness of being", he says:
" In the sunset of dissolution, everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine" (here he is referring to the french revolution). So thats what nostalgia does, in its soft light, even the most unpardonable seem human..."because all is connected to that memory of a lost period of our life, a period that will never return"

Childhood remains my most cherished memory, and whenever I think of those times, I am overcome with an undefinable feeling, a mixture of sadness and wonder. Was it really I who experienced all this and why thinking of those wonderful times make me feel sad?
Whenevr I think of those days, I want to talk about it, share it with someone. Most of the times, I tell Chandru. But whenver I start telling him of the things we used to as kids, I feel an inadequacy creep into my words, what I say is not what I feel. At best, I can only superficially relate some incidences, but what I long to do is share with him the utter delight I used to experience at that time...and the desolate sadness overcoming me now. What I want is for him to share these feeling with me, understand the churning in my heart, the longing for what is no more.

So many strange things trigger my memories. A song which comes on radio suddenly..no , not necessarily a beautiful song, just some drifting melody. It brings alive some long forgotten summer afternoon in our sprawling british bunglow-style house where I spent a large part of my childhood. I see vividly, myself and sumi, along with our cook's daughters (they lived in the servant's quarter), sittting benenath a huge peepal tree in our backyard. Sharing raw mangoes and fantastic stories, while the adults slept off the summer heat.
Some days, at dusk, that painfully lovely time between afternoon and evening, the fading rays of sun illuminate a cob-web filled corner of my past. Our visit to our nani's place during holidays, with all our cousions there. I remember pretending to sleep with my eyes closed, takeing care not to flutter my eyelids, while straining my ears to catch snatches of adult conversation in the room, uncovering secrest I am not meant to know.
A smell, a line from a book, a make-belive game I see my daughter play, a mail from a long-forgotten friend, a movie scene, a conversation...so many catalysts to open the flood-gates.
Sometimes I dream of meeting those childhood friends.......in my imagination this meeting is so lovely, where we talk of the past days. But I wonder, how it will actually be, will our memories be the same, the intensity similar, the rememberance shared, so fond or some bitter?
Maybe the memories are best left in our hearts...let them age naturally.like sweet /sour pickle.
I file away today's snapshots in the recess of my memory......someday I wil dust away the years from them, shine the torch of nostalgic light on them and wipe a tear away.
Till then......!