Someday the sun will rise over her skin...

It's 4:30 pm and its pitch dark outside...

Winter makes her presence felt. She is cold and eerie. In the morning I watched the sun battle her for almost three hours. He was fighting a losing battle. She was powerful and in rage. Not only did she envelope him in despair, she celebrated her supremacy with her other friends- torrid wind and lashing rain. They were earthbound and met her on the way.

I think she's pretty cool. People think she can be a mean b**** though...

But there is a lil' bit of that in all of us, I would think.

:)

To The Weepies

What can I compare you to, a favorite pair of shoes?

Maybe my bright red boots if they had wings

Funny how we animate colorful objects saved

Funny how it's hard to take a love with no sting.

But come on take it, come on take it, take it from me

But come on take it, come on take it, take it from me

What can I compare you to, a window the sun shines through?

Maybe the silver moon, a smile rising

The magic of the fading day, satellites on parade

A toast to the plans we've made to live like kings.

I lose my breath despite the air

When the rain falls down I give in to despair

Pink magnolia in winter she doesn't care if you don't show up to have another cup.

What can I compare you to, when everything looks like you?

I get a bit confused with every Spring

Flowers that bloom your eyes, hummingbirds side by side

My heart won't stay entirely in this rib caging

- The Weepies

I found a band that made me fall in love with music all over again :)

Little space. Big Heart.

Every afternoon in the summer vacation, I would take a nap. My grandmother would draw the curtains to stop the sunlight from coming into the room..

She would switch on the fan. The fan always made a chugging noise. It was old and tired but it spent its life providing the most incredible service.

The room was a small one. It had one television that magically played cartoons that I loved. The magician was my grandfather.

And the room had wonderful books. You could smell them in the air. Knowledge embraced the very essence of it.

A little bed lay in the other corner, where my grandfather read the newspaper. He smiled at me as he heard the gurgle in my laughter, and then watched my dreams unfold.

Untitled

I'm the faintest fragrance in the rotting flower.
I'm the other side with the greener grass.

So much clarity exists...

So much clarity exists, but we still choose to blindfold ourselves sometimes.

I could never figure out why. Not only do we do that, we try to find things in this darkness, things that we want to see, we look for things in places where they aren't meant to be.

But so much clarity exists. Why don't we have the guts to walk without a blindfold? Is it easier to walk with it on? Are hidden treasures easier to find?

It's true what they say "ignorance is bliss" But apparently it's also being blind:)

Best friend with benefits

Oh the joy of being surrounded by solitude...
My greatest companion envelopes me
To make me laugh
He tries.
:)

New leaf, old stem

I always wondered, do we ever go through certain experiences that fundamentally change us forever? I know we change over time, we adapt to become more cynical, or so it seems. But are there certain experiences in particular that we go through and think "life will never be the same again"

"If you saw the face of God and loved
Would you change? "
- Tracy Chapman

I think back at my life. At the airport. Saying good bye to my parents and friends. Yes that was one such experience. It was not even the initial good-bye. I never accepted the fact that I was leaving my country till I went into the airport lounge. Prior to that I bade a tearful farewell to four people I loved dearly. I went in checked in my luggage and was told to proceed toward the security check. But I just had to see my parents again. So I ran back to the entrance and tried to get out. But the cop stopped me, and said nothing doing. I begged him and said I just want to see my parents, I dont know when I'll see them again. and there she was, my mom, calling my name out loud. One look, that's all I got. And she made a 'thumbs-up' sign at me, through her tears. I turned around and went back in and looked to the side to see my dad through the glass door. I took his blessings and walked away.

That was it. Life changed right then and there. In that one second. Even now when I feel incredibly pressured and burdened, I close my eyes and watch them.

It seems like if I could survive that, I could survive ... almost anything.

It's been a long time comin...

Such a long overdue blog post. People were wondering where did I disappear to?

The truth is, I ran away to my own private heaven and hell. Life continues to throw things at me. Sometimes I run away, sometimes I duck, sprint, sometimes I catch hold of these things, but sometimes I get hit.

And I fall, like one slips on ice. There is no scope to prepare for the fall. It just happens in a fraction of a second. You sit on the ground and think "Do I hurt?". Then you think "fortunately not too badly". (hopefully:)

What you do next is what speaks volumes about you. Some pretend like it never happened. Some immediately look around to see if anyone watched them fall, some fumble all over themselves.

What if we could all just laugh. Despite the incredible pain. What if we could just accept that we have made a fool of ourselves and say "Hey I provided you with an entertaining moment today and my life feels worthwhile because of it"

We would smile, gather ourselves together, pick up the pieces and walk wisely.

Wo Kamra Yaad Aata Hai...

I watched Mr. Javed Akhtar recite this poem at St. Xavier's 8 years back and it was one of those inspiring moments...

Main jab bhi zindagi ki chilchilatee dhoop mein tapkar
Main jab bhi doosron ke aur apne jhooth se thak kar
Main sabse lad ke khud se haar ke
Jab bhi us ik kamre mein jaata tha
Wo halke aur gehre katthai rangon ka ik kamra
Wo behad meherbaan kamra
Jo apni narm mutthi mein mujhe aise chhupa leta tha
Jaise koi maan bachche ko aanchal mein chhupa le
Pyaar se daante,“Ye kya aadat hai, jalti dopahar mein maare maare ghoomte ho tum”
Wo kamra yaad aata hai..
Dabeez aur khaasa bhaarikuch zara mushkil se khulne waala (Dabeez=Hard)
wo sheesham ka darwaaza
Ki jaise koi akkhad baapapne khurdare seene meinshafqat ke samandar ko chuupaye ho (Shafqat = Tenderness)
Wo kursi,aur uske saath wo judwaan bahen uski
Wo dono dost thein meri Wo ik gustakh munhphat aaina,
jo dil ka achchha thaWo behangam si almari, (Behangam= Clumsy)
jo kone mein khadi ik boodhi anna ki tarahaaine ko tambeeh karti thee (tambeeh=scold)
Wo ik guldaan,nanha sa,bahut shaitan,un dono pe hansta tha Dareecha (dareecha=window)
ya zahanat se bhari ik muskurahat (zahanat=Knowing)
aur dareeche pe jhuki wo bel
Koi sabz sargoshi (sabz = green)(sargoshi = whisper)
Kitabeintaak mein aur shelf parsanjeeda ustaani bani baithein
Magar sab muntazir is baat ki main unse kuchh poochoon (muntazir = waiting)
Sirhaneneend ka saathi,
thakan ka charagarwo narm dil takiya
Main jiski god mein sir rakh kechhat ko dekhta tha
Chhat ki kadiyon mein na jane kitne afsanon ki kadiyaan thein
Wo chhoti mez paraur saamne deewar paraawezaan tasveerein
Mujhe apnaiyat aur yaqeen se dekhtein thein,muskuratein theinUnhein shak bhi nahi tha,ik dinmain unko aise chhod jaoonga
Main ik din yoon bhi jaoonga,ki phir wapas na aaoonga
Main ab jis ghar mein rehta hun, bahut hi khoobsoorat hai
Magar aksar yahan khamosh baitha yaad karta hoon
Wo kamra baat karta tha….!

Baby steps;)

Sometimes I think, how did I get to be this old. I am 26 - so much for women not wanting to disclose their age - but I feel older, I don’t behave it, but I feel it. May be it was just this year that has been so eventful and has taught me so many lessons, about life and people and life and people...

This was perhaps the dullest birthday I EVER had. But almost everyone remembered. Friends called through the night. Still have to beat up the people who 'miscalculated' the time difference. But love you guys for calling:) It was comforting to open my inbox to find 63 unread emails wishing me and people telling me they missed me, recollecting memories of other birthday celebrations and of course the 12 o clock surprise parties which ceased to be a surprise after a while:P I would always wear a nice dress while going to bed, to prepare for the event. I remember one night, at dot 12 Sri rang the bell and my mom was up (she sooo knew) and she hurried like a lil' excited kid to the door and stood there smiling happily. And Lo! She was dressed too. Haha..So cute she is:) And then when I opened the door I had all my friends standing outside with a lit cake in the dark. And Sid even had his guitar, and they sang. The song never sounded more beautiful:) Godd I miss you guys soo much. And I also remembered last year, me in my Satya Paul:D sari, (I still don’t know why I wore a sari, wanted to look different I guess and boy was it the right thing to do, not worn a sari since:P). And Kirti Manian yelling Happy Birthday Murtyyy:P Cannot forget my dads expression. He really thought you were talking to him. Haha

Jeez, I’ve had so many moments that make memories. There's not enough space to pen them down. I’m sure everyone has. But in my realm of my lil’ 26 year old life, they are the most precious things I own. Everyday I watch 20 year olds behave like they are 60 and 50 year olds behave like they are 18. I step back and try on my new shoes, shoes that belong to a 26 year old and they seem a little worn out this year but yeah, they fit perfectly:)



Next year, I’m gonna get those red heels and paint the town red;)

Dirty Martini

I raise a toast to all matter and anti-matter

To all those who mattered, matter and will matter.

Sometimes I wonder,

Are you still hung over?

Thoughts imprisoned in solitary confinement,

Trying to escape the cells in your brain,

In vain...in vain.

I can talk more sense than you think,

But first, someone get me my drink.

Friday is here...and so is our escape:)

The imaginary place...

I went back to my first 'home' in the United States on the weekend. Mo has lost a ton of weight. Todd told me i've lost a ton of weight. I asked Lisa if the floor carpet had been changed coz it seemed really bright. She said it hadn't, she said I've been away too long. Too long being one month. Richard said I still don't have all my necessary papers. The guy at the Newman center said "are you going to have your usual,veggie wrap:D". Luna my landlords dog came into my room and sat up on the couch next to me, like she always did. The bed in Maddy's house felt comfortable and the ceiling had windows from which I watched the stars the entire night. I thought of India. I saw the Smith museum, which I never did the entire year that I was there. Dana told me my skin was glowing. I thought it was from the lack of sleep. My bus driver smiled. The guy in the Moroccan restaurant gave me a huge hug. I ate dinner at Indian house:)

'All these places feel like home' - Snow Patrol

The Journey

I've been silently inspired today.
It started out like a little drop of water,
That fell onto the windshield of my car.
And it gathered momentum as I drove through the wind,
And traveled to the top of the frame.

There it met with other little droplets,
Who were having conversations on life,Some talked of somehow surviving the day,
Some cursed the life they led,
Still others helplessly left their future to fate.

One lil' one however, didn't think too deep.
It enjoyed the breeze,
And felt like it rode the high seas,
But still didn't lose itself in the water.

The lil' one watched and smiled,
At the ones who were losing,
A moment of silent inspiration.

I wrote this some years back, and found it today in one of those folders you never seem to open on yr PC. The kind that just lie there watching others come and go.

As I lay down on the grass,
And opened my eyes to a blanket of stars,
Staring back at me,
I felt so small,
So insignificant.

I felt a small blade of grass,
Tickle the back of my neck,
And I let out a loud squeal of laughter,
Deep inside my head.

As insignificant as that blade may seem otherwise,
It still had the power to make me laugh...
Maybe that's why the stars watch me,
Maybe I'm the act they catch every night.

"Have I got a long way to run? Yeah I run..." - Collective Soul

I wake up every morning at 5:20 and leave for the gym at 5:45. One can only imagine how painful this must be. But it's just the first 2 minutes after I open my eyes that the pain and the enormity of what I have to achieve - ie getting up- lay ahead of me. Make that one minute. The first minute when my eyes open, I allow myself a peaceful moment. I don't think about anything, I try to keep my mind free of work, painful memories and homesickness. Then everything is all good and everything is happeee happpeee..Then comes minute number two, thoughts slowly start degenerating and deteriorating. And the mundanity of life catches up with your mind. And you think "Crap, I have to do this and that and damn life is full of shit" (Yes that happens).

So I gather myself after minute two. I put on my tracks and I put on my ipod. Sometimes I think I can survive with these. After I wear my sneakers I feel invincinble.

And I run, with each stride, a rejuvinating spirit matches my stride. It pats me on my back when I get breathless and tire out. Beads of perspiration roll down my forehead, celebrating my achievement. I bid goodbye to the negetive energies that find no place to occupy in my heart.

Life is good, I feel like a kid, there is clarity, life is good:)

About the hug:D

Hugs are such an amazing phenomenon. I mean, can you think of anything more genuine?;)I love giving and receiving hugs:D No I am not like that Amma who heals people by hugging them, but I truly believe there is something therapeutic in hugging.

This is my theory: There is always the giver and then there is the receiver of the hug. The giver of the hug is usually at a higher energy level and carries more positive energy than the receiver of the hug. So when people hug there is a definite exchange of energy from the giver to the receiver. Nice na? I call these 'fattu fundaes' these days. I'm so full of them:P

Of course there are the 'townie hugs', which are with no body contact, just kisses that pretend to land on the cheek, but actually land up in the air, in the middle of nowhere. And usually it is preceded by a loud shriek of genuine happiness (YEAHRIGHT:P) of seeing a friend..ehm.. acquaintance is more like it.

Then there are 'bear hugs'. oh my god. i love those! my god this post is so pointless:P haan so the 'bear hugs' are the ones between bhai behen amma appa and childhood friends types. So cute. And they feel so right:D They are also your 'comfort hugs'.

There are also 'toothpaste hugs'. Rayo thanks for coining this term. According to Rayo they are the hugs that leave you with a feeling of being squashed. Rayo please stay away from me:P

Ok..I'm going to stop here, for the fear that I may lose the respect of people who think I write well. But I shall leave you with one thing.

(hug) :)

Game, Set, Match

An email ...
Wow, this email should have been written a long time back (read as 5 days back) when I got back from Portland, Maine. But the intensity of the experience has not gone away. For someone who has slept an average of 3 hours a night and has struggled almost every single day of this year I have spent in the United States with exams or work I must say this trip was a HUGE relief. And it was fun, oooooh so much fun.

Heather - for those of you who I have not introduced Heather to, she is the Director of Competitive Tennis at the USTA and mainly in-charge of League and Junior tennis development – so basically Heather loves me:D And I am beginning to consider her my mentor. She always talks to me like she thinks I will be a leader someday. She gives me advice with sentences that begin with "When you take on a leadership role…". I don't know what I have done to be showered with so much love and advice from Heather. But hey, I'm not complaining:)
Heather made me move boxes, she made me take copies and do other menial things that interns do. But she also granted me something very few Interns get. My own project:D My job at the Mixed Doubles Championships to be held at Portland, Maine, was to hunt every player and coach down, interview them, ask them to fill out a survey and make small talk with them to keep them happy.

Now, I know I am a social person by nature. But getting out there and chasing 560 tennis players to fill a survey is not my idea of social mingling. (I don't care how hot they are – As you know I'm still in love with Rahul Dravid) But I decided, I got to learn. As Heather says, you gotta do what you gotta do;)

So I made and carried 560 copies of my survey and got into a very pretty USTA Van, which had LOADS of boxes with T-shirts and Raffle prizes etc. And we drove to Portland. We reached Portland by noon and drove to the Marriott where all the players and tournament staff were going to be put up. I was so excited. I had never lived in such a nice looking hotel:D So we walked in and Heather of course was immediately recognized and a thousand people gathered around her and I so wanted to get out of the way, but I couldn't! I got stuck! And she introduced me to everyone. And I tried to smile. I think I did actually. We had a meeting with the hotel staff and I watched her speak, make deals with them, negotiate, bargain, tell them what she needs, what they should and shouldn't do. It was all good:)

After putting my luggage up in my room, Heather and I drove up to the Racket & Fitness Center where the tournament was to be held. It was a short drive from the Marriott. I was shocked beyond my wits when out strode the lady Tournament Director, Devi Maganti! She was dynamic and Indian:) That too from Andhra. I hugged her like I had known her for several years. And the amazing part was that she felt the same way. We spoke at length about her job and stuff. And about Andhra and fooooood!:D It was awesome. We organized the set up and whatever was to be handed out. Fliers, T-shirts, brochures, gifts, raffle tickets etc. And we all sat and talked till 11pm!

At 11pm, Heather and Devi decided to go to the airport to pick up Vic Braden. Vic Braden has got to be one of THE MOST amazing men I have ever met, or will ever meet. He is a former tennis placer, a writer to 6 tennis magazines, a news reporter, a researcher and Vijay Amritrajs best friend:) He was a short stocky old man, with a dry sense of humor. And so incredibly intelligent. You felt intelligence fill the room as he walked in. Vic Braden was one of the creators of the Myers Briggs Personality Test, a very popular one in the US. What Vic does is conducts research on brain types. He knows every player in the top 50 of the world on a first name basis and it just felt so good to meet someone who just had so many stories to tell on so many players, right from Pancho Gonzalez, to Tracy Austin, to Chris Evert , Boris Becker, Andre Agassi and of course 'Roger' and 'Rafa' as he called them! I just spoke to him for hours and hours.

Just to encapsulate some of his stories: One of Vic's recent studies was on Roger Federer. He did what was called a 'Brain Print' of Federer to study differences in brain activity when federer played Nadal on grass and compare those to when he played Nadal on clay. He showed us footage of how Federer looked and what his expressions were while playing Nadal at the French and on grass. Distinct differences in how his lips moved, his eyebrows were, the lines on his forehead. I was left spellbound. It was just beyond amazing. They also had skeletal images of him playing, and how differently his body moved for the same shot on different surfaces.

The second one: He conducted an interview with federer and Nadal about 4 months back. He asked Federer: "Roger what do you do to prepare for a game? What is your strategy?" Federer replied: "I make a list of all my opponents. In the next column I make a list of all my shots. In the third column, I match the shots which would be strengths against that particular opponent and in the fourth column I note which of these shots I have to improvise on, to make it still tougher for the opponent to return" Typical Federer:) He asked Nadal the same question to which Nadal replied "AaaaI don't know, aaI just go out there and heet it". The way these two players think and play is so obvious. They are so tangential in their approaches. But both are legendry in their ways. It's just so amazing to understand why.

Third: Vilas once challenged Braden that he was such a good player that he could beat Braden and his doubles partner even with an ELEPHANT playing with him. Braden decided to take on the challenge. A small baby elephant was brought on to the court. And Vilas played alongside. Result: Vilas won. And there was the photograph of Vilas and the elephant victorious. Vic says "When anyone comes upto me and says I had a bad loss, I turn around and say, wait till you lose to an elephant" hahaha.

Last one: or it'll never end:P One is always so amazed at Federer's calm on the court. But one will be shocked to know that Federer was one of thee most short-tempered bratty and spoilt kids on tour. There were several complaints from the boys locker room about federer's temper and tantrums. When Roger played the finals at Wimbledon last year, his father watched him from the stands. Later Vic got to speak with Federer Snr. And he said he is amazed at how his son inculcated and developed that calm within a mere 3 years. He said when he used to go for Roger's games when he was a kid, his father was always embarrassed by Rogers short-temper on court, and yelling, breaking racquets. Mr. Federer would scream "Calm down" to his son. To which Roger would turn around and say "You go get a drink" to his father. Roger tells Vic that he thought he would have it all together by the age of 19, but it took him to be 20 to develop it and make being calm part of his game. Hats off to Roger Federer!:)
There were several other pictures that Vic showed us, of a young Agassi who was only 8 with hair falling down his forehead into his eyes sitting on Vics lap:) It was so cute.
So that was Vic Braden, there are so many more stories he told me, but I don't want to bore you guys with all of them:)

The next day was the big one, Day 1 of the Championships. Players poured into the club from all directions. I was there standing in my official uniform and my batch to greet them and help them and generally be nice. It was a mad rush. But I was at my charismatic best somehow…hehehe…Yes, the force was strong with me. I have never been more bubbly, more chatty and more confident. I think it had to do with my uniform and batch. People were showing respect types. If only they knew I was an intern. Hahaha..So I was also bossing around, talking loudly and getting people to work. I spoke to our sponsor from Mary Kay Cosmetics who asked me if I wanted to be a beauty consultant:O I was thinking in my head, this is one desperate woman. Of all women on earth she caught the one that has the least attachment to make-up. :P
Watching me silently from a corner was the Vice-President of the USTA, Mr. Ron Friedman. I didn't know what he looked like coz I had never met him before. I sat at the tournament desk to add some touch-ups to my survey, when Mr. Friedman strode in. I in my candid, bubbly over-the-top mood said "Hey there! Wasssssap??" not knowing who the hell he was. He replied: "I'm doin good, how you doin and what you doing". So I went into my 'speech' mode. And I started telling him about USTA and "how we at usta are trying to make YOUR experience better. We want to provide you with an impeccable product and service":D Talk about making an ASS of myself. Ron nodded his head and asked "Where are you from". I said "I'm from India" He said "No kidding" Hahaha. Then he showed me his batch and I fell short of killing my self. I was embarrassed as hell! He had a good hearty laugh and walked out of the room showing me the notice board which had all his photographs and articles in all the latest tennis magazines. He went out pointing at it and saying "Just so you know…." Sooo I curbed my enthusiasm after that for a bit. Ron and I became very friendly though. He showed me photographs of his grandchildren and his house. And he helped me with my work. He was also very happy with the work I did:)

Day 2 went smoothly after that 'slightly' embarrassing moment:P Day 3 saw me work work work, distribute surveys hound people. I entered the Marriott at 11pm that night and had a scene similar to Heather's with players and staff surrounding me and asking me questions, buying me drinks and food and asking me to sit at their table. It was hilarious. I was thinking in my head, one can so easily get sucked into wanting this attention. It is so superficial. Just as the 'seat' gives one a position of power. Once that's gone, you become a nobody again. Hence one must learn to detach themselves from the 'seat of power', from the attention and compliments. One must learn to be ok with it, or without it. :) And I think I did well. I thought about it objectively and took it for what it was. And my awareness of the fact that this was momentary helped not to get swept away by people, by what they were saying and the attention.

I quietly slipped away went into my room and quietly read my book on Nelson Mandela. Funny thing was that Vic described me to be exactly like that. He said I was what he called a 'feeler' an introvert and intuitive. Me being an Introvert is something I realized about myself. And here it doesn't mean like anti-social. He said it means you like your space and quiet time after a while.

And it's true! After a while, I just wanted to be alone. I couldn't take the crowd the loud laughter, the music the constant talking and being charismatic. I really wanted to get into that room and read that book. I did just as Vic said I would. Not because he said it but because I realized something about myself that night.

The survey was a huge success. I hounded people again to sell raffle tickets to this awesome banquet we had organized that night. It was spectacular. I wore my black cocktail dress with a red sweater and did a fluttering eye-lashes trick (as I told someone this morning;) to sell $700 worth of raffle tickets:)

Cindy my co-worker and I made an emergency trip to Walmart before the banquet to buy the right kind of outfit. When we came in we told everyone that our outfits were a creation of Italian designer 'Wolamartini' hahaha.

All in all, the event was a huge success and I got some really good feed-back. I remember the first night I spent alone in that hotel room. For over a decade I had dreamed of a day where I would represent a sport organization, and there I was with no one who mattered to me, around me. The sacrifices one has to make in life are innumerable and sometimes unbearable. But it's amazing how much one learns from making a sacrifice. I salute every tennis player out there, who plays with the same intensity and passion irrelevant of whether he is at home or away, irrelevant of whether he has 'his people' around him or not. There may be moments when Roger Federer goes into that hotel room all alone and misses his family. But he plays, and continues to play..coz that's what sport is about.. And that's what life is about.

Coz there's beauty in the breakdown

Penned down random words sometime back...

The racing heart,
The being smart,
The enlightenment,
The goal,
The dream,
The toll,
The cream,
The chocolates
Dark and
Bitter,
The games
The losses
Don't deter,
The mind,
Unexplored
Wild
Exciting,
The stare
Cold,
Feelin naked,
The laugh,
The gurgle
Glee,
The feelin
Ecstacy,
Spontaneous overflow of emotion.
Splash.
The wave came in,
Washed away,
All my sins,
My wrath,
My nature.
Illusionary.

"Don't be a doer be a be-er" ;)

~Heather Anastos

(Director of Competitive Tennis - USTA)

Heather and I went for a trip to Cape Cod. And Heather spoke, a lot. And I listened to her, a lot. Not only coz she was my boss's boss. But because I knew she liked to speak.

She said to me "Always pay attention to background conversations. The ones that happen at the back of your head". I stood there gaping like I didn't quite get it (even though I had). "These background conversations need to be addressed. Or before you know it they become foreground conversations and if you still choose to ignore them, they become a reality". Hmmm....I fervently nodded my head. What she said made perfect sense.

Is it that difficult for us to address background conversations. Why do we let them go on for so long in our head. I was left thinking... Is this a background conversation?

And as I walked down the beach, I realised that every conversation, every word and voice, slowly died. All I could hear was the sound of the waves. And the sound of my breathing.

I sat up on the ledge and looked at the vast expanse of water that lay ahead of me, the Atlantic Ocean. And I realised I was in a fortunate moment where I didn't miss a single person or thing. I didn't miss my parents, my friends, my ipod, my books... nothing.

For a moment I was fine, absolutely at peace with myself.

For a moment, there was no craving, no desire, no angst and no glee.

For a moment I could just....be.

The shorter story

My friend and I talked about stories yesterday. How some ended so abruptly, with so much left unsaid, so many spaces left blank.

Emotions left bottled up, having conversations with a genie whose on strike. He refuses to grant you your three wishes. Emotions try to negotiate, atleast one..grant me atleast one...

I dislike abrupt endings. Things should flow smoothly. They should end with dignity and peace. They should be real and pure. They should feel like the waves splashing at your feet on the beach. The ones that always seem to withdraw with grace...

To Sheece, with lou:D

And today I dedicate this post to Sheece Baghdadi, who has kindly written a comment for every post I have on this blog:) Sheece sent me this email over a year back. And it's one of the best emails I have ever recieved:)

" Finding God at Prithvi Theatre

I was there, I saw and heard her sing Kabir's doha's and Gorakhnath's bhajans and couplet from Ghalib. It was as if the poetry that was written long ago was finally complete. They were offered to God in complete humility and I could see them all smiling, including God. There was a blue-pink aura that had spread across Prithvi Theatre and the small audience of 50 was really lucky to be there. Miracles are only witnessed by a few.Nothing else has made me feel more aware of the presence of a greater consciousness amidst us than the combination of the music, the voice and the poetry that I heard yesterday. Even as I write, I feel like I am taking away its beauty. If I had died in that moment, it would have been the most beautiful death. I wonder if I experienced heaven for a bit.Of the many churches, mosques and temples that I have visited, none of them have compared to Prithvi Theatre in being the place where I have experienced turmoil and peace in such a manner so as to ultimately be embraced the greater consciousness. And on my way back home, I would wonder 'do the artists know, what they have done?'"


(written after witnessing the performance of Kala Ramesh and her troupe at Prithvi Theatre)

Infinite dots in a circle

If life could circle around music and sport, it would constantly be stimulating to live it.

If life could take a walk down a beautiful road with a book or a lover, it would constantly be stimulating to live it.

If life could give you wings to fly above the elements that confine you, physically and mentally, it would constantly be stimulating to live it.

If only life could constantly make poetry appear like prose gone wild...you would see rhyme where there's none...

like here.

A man named Jim

Jim Purrington sits next to me at work. He is an amazing man. I really admire and respect him. He has travelled the world and has a son who is working in the Swiss Bank and a daughter who is a doctor in Istanbul. Jim and I talk about everything under the sun, from religion to physics to skype and governments. We also talk tennis from time to time. Jim is the ranking coordinator for my section of the US Tennis Association.

Jim is a workaholic. "I love what I do" he said to me today. I was thinking in my head, I wish I could say the same thing when I am 60:) He talks to himself when he works too. Very amusing sometimes. He works so much that he forgets to eat.

Today after much persuation and almost a tantrum throwing from me, he got up picked up his lunch bag and went to eat. He did not return for quite a while. And I began to wonder if I overdid it.

Jim returned an hour later. He came upto me and said "I have a mother, 3 sisters, a wife and a daughter, but you are worse than all of them put together". I began to apologize when he handed me a bunch of wild flowers he picked on a walk outside the office. "Thank- you for being you" he said:)

I can take a road that'll see me through...

Its nice sometimes, when your sitting alone in a bus and its taking you to this destination that you want to get to. And you have your ipod switched on, your headphones on and you shuffle through songs and songs, to find that one perfect song that fits that bus ride. You watch car tyres rolling by and look up at the clouds to see stillness.
I love rides in busses, trains and cars. I love listening to music when I take these rides. It gives me a sense of joy and freedom, if only for a minute or two..
Yesterday i sat in the car and as my brother drove, A. R. Rehmans' Vande Mataram began. And it was such an overwhelming moment. Everytime that song began I would look at the soil of my land. But my land was no where in sight this time. I closed my eyes and thought about the streets of my country India. The lanes where children played cricket, where the garbage hadn't been collected, but rain water had, in tiny puddles or huge ditches, where chalk drawings were made by kids on the road, the rickshaws rolled by...
I miss those lanes...those lanes i miss.

Give or Take?

And as i step into a new phase of my life, I begin to think if my core has really changed. I don't think it has. I still laugh loudly, express myself with my eyes, cry at the drop of a hat and wonder about life, dreams and love. My essence will remain the same, like yours.
Fitting into 'Corporate America' doesn't fit me. It picks up a fight with my very essence. Everyday it's a battle between the mind and the heart. And no one emerges victor. I go to bed thinking "am I a business woman or a social worker?"

The truth is, I would learn business to do social work. But its hard to make those two go hand in hand in your head. And whilst I learn business, where does the social worker go? Does she sit and wait? Is she patient? Does she lose to the enterprising business woman, who makes the big bucks and has the titles to her name. Does she watch in despair as the business woman shuts the door in her face?

I don't know. I feel her from time-to-time as corporate America tries to woo the business woman in me. I shall not succumb, I say to myself time and again. But then I think, if my essence remains the same, maybe she wont leave. Maybe she will wait outside and be patient like she always has been. Maybe she'll shed a tear or two at how much things have changed. How dreams have changed. And how people have changed...

But she will not leave, she is determined, she has more passion than the business woman, she is deeper and more sensible. She is more detatched but is more passionate all at once. She will come back. But for now, she waits...

When i left India, i thought in my mind i am going out to explore the world...i never quite realised i was carrying with me a part of the world that very few really knew and understood.

So i enter the United States and I explore, the minds of the 'developed' nations, the avid followers of the North American sport culture ... and i realise they explore me more than i explore them. I came in here knowing that I wanted to increase my knowledge...I had an idea of what i would be studying, the kinds of people I would be interacting with...the kinds of conversation i would be having. And there was the American with no idea of what to expect from this crazy 25 year old Indian girl. They went where I led the conversations to, listened to what I told them. To them, I was the 'rest of the world' , the kind they possibly never needed to interact with. Through my eyes they saw president bush, the war against terrorism, the fanaticism of cricket and religion, the poverty and hunger stricken humans who walked the farms that faced the wrath of draught and famine, the spirituality of the hindu, the peace of islam, and the nirvana of buddha...
So I ended classes yesterday..and I hugged my closest classmate. She just stared back at me and she whispered thank you. i was like "for whattt!" "I have understood so much about the world because of you".
I smiled.
This journey finally seems worth it:)

And it's all over now baby blue

and she aches just like a woman...
but she breaks just like a lil' girl...
Dylan

The blues...I mean who ever made music like that again? Every evening I come home to jazz, rhythm and blues my landlord plays, and he does a lil' jig with wine in his hands. It's almost movie-like...in a beautiful house my landlady cooking and landlord dancing on his own, asking her once in a way, and she ignores him:) And the room is lit by lampshades and everything looks yellow...I mean who ever made music like that again...

the answer my friend is blowin in the wind..
the answer is blowin in the wind...

The American Who Went Desi:)

My American Professor Todd Crossett, just got back from India. He was there on a three month sabbatical. Before leaving he invited me to his home, where his wonderful wife Anne, and two beautiful sons welcomed me with open arms. His dog Kabbah (short for Kabaddi) licked my face:P They baked pizza for me and made apple pie:) Loved it. They spoke about India, a lot. Anne lived in Madurai for two years and speaks fluent Tamil. She was an exchange student. The year was 1986. She was not to come to India but had to out of compulsion. When she got here she was shocked at the way of life. Living in a small town like Madurai was unbearable. Two years down the line she didn't want to leave.

Todd her boyfriend in the US, missed her a lot. He was not doing too great in life. But claimed he felt like a sociologist, and secured a seat as a PHD student. He went to Anne's mother to claim Anne's hand, like any respectful man. Anne's mother told him that since she was in India, Todd should go there and see if she was ok. Todd came to India then, to meet Anne.

Todd and Anne fell more madly in love in India. Todd says "I could never hold her hand in public!!! it was India and it just did not feel right". He stayed in India for 3 months. And they both returned and got married in 88.

They had never been to India since but it never left them. They always wanted to go back. And they finally did..

Todd emailed me the day their flight landed in Chennai and then they reached Madurai. Dee I'm in this amazing village for Pongal, Dee I watched a state Kabaddi game today and the stadium seating was made of bamboo, Dee I played cricket for the first time today, and I was absolutely hopeless, Dee there is not a single day that we don't think of you and how difficult studying this program must be for you, how the hell are you managing? Dee you're right! this nation is cricket obsessed, i get what your saying finally, they'd kill to watch cricket from the balcony at Lords wouldn't they?:) ... yeah Todd they would, I know I would:P

In the meanwhile a friend of mine who had completed his sport management in the UK, Sorabh (Also known as Topi), was just making his way back into India to work with a Non profit organization Sportzvillage in Bangalore. Topi is an IITian who took the plunge into sport management. Topi and I never met. We used to chat of and on. But I knew he was going back to India and I happened to tell him about Todd. Topi thought it was a wonderful opportunity for all of us that a Dr of sport sociology was in Madurai! He took a bus from Bangalore to Madurai, a 10 hour journey. Hats of to him! He thought in the bus "Why am I doing this, I hardly even know Deepika, I haven't even met her, Who is this man? He may just ignore me in an hours time…"

Topi met Todd Crossett who welcomed him into his house, welcomed him into his family. Sat and spoke to him for hours on end about sports in India and sports in US, took him grocery shopping, took him for breakfast, lunch and dinner and paid for all of it because he 'was the elder one'.

Topi replied to me saying that it was of the best days of his life. They walked the streets of Madurai, talked to little children about sports, tried to build a business model. He thanked me for giving him the opportunity to meet someone so wonderful.

Todd came back to the US last week. He drove up to my house and had Anne call me to talk about the trip. They want to cook me a full fledged Indian meal with dosas and idlis and chutneys:) Todd told me lets go get some food and talk about sports in India and my observations. I was finally on familiar ground. I grabbed my bag and rushed out. He took me to an Indian restaurant nearby and we spoke for 3 hours on his observations and what needs to be done, with whom the power lies, what children want to watch, how stadiums should be built. He ordered the food, washed his hands before eating. And I ordered rice and started eating it with the spoon. And was ashamed of myself when I saw my American professor sitting opposite me eating rice with his hands…I would never have dreamed that one day I would one day sit in a restaurant in Northampton Massachusetts with an American Professor who loves India and is not embarrassed to eat rice and dal with his hands in a public place…

Its amazing..I thank god everyday for every experience he brings to me..good or bad. I have South African landlords who buy me boondi laddoo and whose house is filled with Indian artifacts, an American Professor who loves India and eats rice with his hands:), an Indian family with my own brother and sister-in-law who will always be there for me, an Australian research prof, who sits and talks to me for hours about cricket because she realizes how much I miss it, a Filipino classmate who encourages me every time I feel like crap and an American friend who knows more about yoga than anyone I have ever met…I must have done something right to deserve to meet such wonderful people...

I don't know how and when all that I have dreamed off will come true, it maybe 5 yrs or 10 yrs or even 20 yrs down the line, but I have everything in the world telling me that it will happen and I won't rest till it does.

Masala Chai and the warmth it brings with it

Shit i didnt write anything yesterday! Eeps...Its funny coz i even opened this webpage..and then i dont know what happened to me. Maybe my good friend Writers Block came in visiting. He visits sometimes. He says nothing, just sits there. And he's like the dementor that sucks all the living energy out of you, and basically leaves you with nothing to say.

So today I had an extremely unproductive day, of course I spoke to a friend for a long time online. A long overdue conversation. He asked me about the man in my life. And then I began telling him the story about the lack of his existance, which took a good 4 hours i think:P Ate lunch ultimately at 4 pm and now its six but i already feel like calling it a day. I feel exhausted, maybe its the typing. My fingers hurt. Maybe its the cold I walked in yesterday.

So yesterday was fun, walked in the cold to a Tibetan Rest. downtown, where they serve hot hot chai. It kinda woke me up. I'm living my life pretty much like a parasite thats feeding on the bed. I deserve it after a horrible horrible semester!:D So she served me the chai, and we spoke about Bombay and Nepal and Madhya Pradesh, and other things that made us happy. It was nice.

I froze to death while walking back home. But the only thing that comforted me was the fact that, that chai had a touch of my grandmothers style. It had that warmth. And that much sugar...and a very similar taste. Not close, but the closest you can dream of having in a foreign country thousands of miles away from yr grandmother.

Yeah thats what it was..

Nani ke haath ki chai..

I drink to the warmth it has...

Sip.

Slurp:)

Being Blissfully Unaware:)

You know I would stand for hours sometimes and watch cricket being played Oval Maidan. I think I was the only "townie" chick who ever did that. And I'm proud of saying it. I knew I was different, I knew this since I was about 15, infact I even remember the phase in which I had this wonderful realisation. I was taking my tenth standard board exams, and as I was climbing the stairs in that very tense hallway, all I could think of was the match that was live on TV. My man was to play, Rahul Dravid...and My other main man Azhar was the Captain of the team then, and of course there was the third man, Ajay Jadeja who was the only sports person i looked at in a very girly way, which sometimes annoyed the hell out of me.

And as I headed upward on the stairs, I saw a classmate of mine tear down the hallway downstairs with this newspaper in her hands, and she waved it frantically at me. I turned to go back downward to see what the fuss was about. It was a huge giagntic write-up on Rahul Dravid. She was just so excited to show it to me. She didnt know anything about cricket, and never watched it but she knew who I was, she knew what it meant to me..hence her excitement.

That was a moment when i realised, I was very different from anyone in that room, atleast every woman in that room..and I couldn't let that realisation go to waste. I mean how many people have the luck and good fortune of such a realisation. Its all there, in every one of us...but to bring it out in the open and allow yrself to dream and be it, is totally different.

The hot sun never bothered me...the lack of water hardly mattered...the fact that i was surrounded by 40,000 stinky sweaty men didnt deter me..when I had to watch that match, I had to. I pushed when I had to, chanted when I had to..abused and behaved like the rest of them when i had to. Not to be accepted by them, but to get into the spirit of the true Indian spectator. The one that toils so hard, whose life is filled with cares and making ends meet, and he escapes through Hindi films, or over a glass of Desi daaru...or he watches Cricket...

So I stand and stare at Oval Maidan, after doing other strange things that the Townies do, like going to Cafe Mocha at Churchgate, watching a movie at Eros, or buying music at Groove...taking a stroll at the Oxford bookstore.... go to the footpaths of churchgate and buy old copies of National Geographic and Time Magazine...and stand there and stare at people play cricket...and I watch them laugh and enjoy the moment and I envied them, they were completely unaware of their surroundings, their eyes travelled to wherever the ball went. They were one with the game, and thoroughly enjoying the feeling. It was beautiful.

I always wanted to experience that feeling, being so involved with whatever I was doing that it left me completely unaware of what was happening around me..Music and sport allow you to do that..its like this moment..where 'Do Kadam' plays in the background, and I create this new post on the passion of sport..priceless.

There are somethings that money can buy, for the rest there's always a chance to experience happiness at Oval.

When you held my hand...

Its been so long since I wrote anything in this space..its strange, a feeling of being naked, the stories of my everyday life are like layers of clothing I wear in the cold, and as I tell them to the unknown, I feel each layer getting pealed of my body, there's no place left to hide anymore.

And as I walked along the lonely path
I never thought I would face life’s wrath
And as I stepped out of the wood
I saw the road that led to no where
And I never felt so driven
To walk toward something that led to nothing
To imagine what nothing could be
To feel focused for the first time in years
To learn to be happy walking
To learn to be happy alone
To learn to be happy with nothing
And there I saw you on the horizon that meant nothing
And you walked closer toward me
You smiled, no words exchanged
You held my hand and left me with nothingness.