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.

Another time, another place

Its amazing how much you take things for granted what when they come to you easy and the realisation of this is even more awful. Being away from home hasn't been easy, its made me a hell of a lot tougher though, and thats something no one can take away from me now, for the rest of my life:) Diwali was sourly missed. The smell of the food, the frangrance of incense and the air that it embraced. The dash of haldi and masala and moms love poured into the food that made it taste wonderful. The sweets that filled the house, and monopolized the fridge space. Neighbours and friends, coming home. The lamp hanging outside the window, and the light that came through from that lamp at nights when the rest of the house had switched off. The sound of crackers bursting, the smoke that filled the air and it made it impossible to breath, the gurgle in the laughter, watching mom drape her saree before pooja. Dad cleaning the house with mom, bringing home sweets. All taken for granted...

And when i travel a 1000 miles away from home, Its not diwali i remember, its the little things that make Diwali, the fragrances, the prayers, the laughter and the feeling of goodness. This year was different, had me alone in a room.. i was lost , i was lost..crossed lines i shouldn't have crossed , i was lost, oh yeah....

Couldn't sleep, slept at around 2 am eventually. Woke up, decided today is going to be better. Went upstairs and cooked, and it healed me. Healed my wounded soul. The aromas came close to 'home' and i called dad and mom, to hear their voices..and for a whole of ten mins..it felt almost the same...I realise they mean the world to me.

My landlady came in and told me that she's going to take me to the Indian restaurant for dinner, with their family friends. I was so touched, i hugged her and again and again...maybe i travelled a thousand miles to experience the warmth of a foreigner, maybe i travelled to teach others how much home meant to me, to fill someone else's kitchens with the fragrances that used to fill mine....

Or maybe this quest is just to understand, that the greatest happiness comes when you learn to be happy alone

defining moment
yeah, many of us have these in life...defining moments...i had one of these just yesterday, when i stood in front of my almost all american class to talk about globalization of sport along with two other international students.
and i spoke, like i never did since i got to the United States. I responded to every qs shot at us. very confidently and in well constructed sentences. it was amazing how the words came..like it was destined.
the struggle to come into this country, leave behind everything i ever knew to get here, to face this struggle of feeling alienated and lonely, to miss cricket...to feel hunger, pain and taste the salt of my tears..and exhaustion...the struggle is endless
the only things i carried with me from home, are my dreams to see Indian sport reach invincible heights...the blessings of my parents, and friends...
and then when the words came so easily, it all felt so worth it, in that one moment..when my classmates patted me on the back and said, "good job dee, that was so impressive"...
if only they had an idea of what all went behind that one moment...

I have just been informed that my blog has been created..yay! Man, now if only i knew what to write ... but look its the second line already..