When Love Is Not Enough

Trans-continental love is not easy. It has its own set of problems. Two determined, ardent and crazy-in-love people can battle them almost every time. But then there comes a time when you strongly consider tossing all the we-can-totally-do-this and its-absolutely-worth-it right out of the window. At one point, it is difficult to even determine who or what you are mad at more. Is it him, for having better things to do than be bound to an electronic device. Or maybe the different time zones are what drive you crazy. You could curse the mo**** f***ing cellphone and wi-fi networks to your heart’s fill. Or you could be enraged at yourself for being so needy. For not being able to be one of those people, who are happy and content all by themselves. The blurred line between being pissed off at something rational and an absolutely unjustified outrage becomes even more fuzzy.
You grovel in self-pity, find a million faults in yourself, re-evaluate your life decisions and drink wine in your bed while watching the zillionth re-run of Friends. You stare blankly at pictures from the past, seeking peace and gratification in that blissful smile you have on in that picture. You contemplate if it is your indiscretion for wishing that your person could actually be your-person, even if you are a thousand kilometers apart. If you should be blamed for wanting to be a part of their world and make them a part of yours. And you ponder.. what do you do when you need his benevolent eyes to know that you are stressed without even saying a word, his affable ear for your ramblings after a tough day at work or his soothing voice to calm your nerves. Or maybe you just need him to say how much he loves you.. one more time.
You wonder what do you do when you feel that love is not enough… When you need more than the satisfaction of having a transcendent and exemplary love waiting for you at the other end of the world.
Well.. you let it go. No.. not in that clich├ęd way where you let your love go and wait for it to come back to you. But you quit trying so hard. You sit back, give your phone a rest, and replay in your head all those amazing memories you made last time you took a trip together. Those memories, every little fun episode and every charming thing he ever did for you all come handy on a rainy day like this. And you realize how petty and insignificant the need of the moment was. Your frowns turn into half smiles in a fraction of a second. Your brain starts producing the same chemical cocktail, which fueled the I-can’t-take-my-hands-off-you phase. Then you miss him so much that you do something incredibly sweet for him, without expecting anything in return. And trust me.. this will be the moment, (provided if you are with the right person), when he will do an adorable small gesture, (or a big one, adorable nevertheless) which will seem unexpected and touch your heart in a way, like nothing before has.
Do this.. not because you have to, but because you both deserve it.. because you don’t quit at every little glitch on your way.. because these bitter sweet moments confer a unique hue to your relationship and make it a journey worth having.. and because it will help you revisit every milestone in your relationship.. Even though you are each other’s person and try your best to share your worlds with each other, there is still a large part of your lives which will always be only theoretical for your better half. And that makes it a challenge to not only survive but also wield the lesser-known perks of the situation. Trans-continental love is not easy. But it makes you stronger, consolidates the trust between you and makes you want each other even more. That first kiss.. when you run into each other’s arms at the airport is absolutely worth it. And you should do this.. because everyone has their on and off days and on some days, you are in his shoes and then you would want him to bear with you.


To celebrate Women’s Day this year, I thought of writing about something which is vital and constitutive for life, development and gratification of men and women alike, but women more so, considering the prejudiced society we come from. 
Freedom .. a rather simple concept, but with numerous interpretations and limitations.
For Malala Yousafzai, it is a shot at education. For Nelson Mandela, it was self-respect and equality. For millions of people it is the right to be with the people they love. For thousands of girl children across India, it is simply an opportunity to live.
Fortunately for me, these were not the things I had to strive for. But as an average girl from a conservative society, with unorthodox dreams, I do not underestimate the significance of freedom.
For me, freedom is not  just my right or a mere concept anymore. It is personified.. My husband is freedom personified to me. I was born free. But my greatest fear in life was, that someone or something,  will put shackles on me. He has granted me freedom from that fear.  
He has given me wings to fly.. and at the same time, equipped me with a parachute, in case I get tired or my wings break. He has granted me the freedom to chase my dreams… also to waver when I am unsure… and then to steady myself again.. or just dream a new dream and start the chase all over again. He has given me the flexibility to go where I want and do what I want, the immunity to screw up and the ability to fix it. He has liberated me from the fetters of this judgmental society, the manacles of female stereotypes and remodeled my obligations into choices.
He has allowed me the freedom to be me, which is one of the greatest of its kind. And he has done so with unadulterated love, support and consideration.. without any signs of indignation, cynicism or disrespect.

This has earned him not only my love and respect but also immense appreciation and admiration. I hope every woman has a man like him in her life..  and every man becomes a man like him.

The Second Act

And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation”,
says Khalil Gibran, a famous Lebanese poet..
& I agree :D
Such is my affair with my writing. My love for it is evoked in waves, and not always do these waves have systematic troughs and crests. Nevertheless, I always come back to it. It is my own way of liberating my mind, but only when my heart calls for it.  
Last summer I started a new segment of my life. My second act indeed :) I started from scratch and scraped by :) However, when I think about it, I somehow fail summarize it into an entertaining anecdote. So my year was rather simple, albeit not uneventful.. Ah well, I shall get there later. On second thoughts, my year was actually extraordinary, but still.. it can’t be stringed into one single entertaining anecdote.
New beginnings are almost always fun and exciting, garnished with a dash of apprehension though. But when it’s your second act, the apprehension is a tad bit more than a dash. But I have an adorable support system, that is nothing less than perfect. So I pulled my second act together and actually impressed myself with my alacrity. And my second act has led me to new hopes & dreams… I shall get to those later too ;)
Maybe that is the reason why I haven’t  written much in such a long long time. I had been a little too engrossed in my impeccable life. Actually my life had been perfect another year before that. But the last year also got extremely busy, so I did not, or actually could not, seek my little joys of expression as much. Many a thoughts fleeted by, some I scribbled down at the back of my notebook and some.. I willingly allowed to elude me. For I have discerned that thoughts are like the wind, the more one tries to confine or preserve them, the more they try to flee. So, hereby, I relinquish my whimsical  command over my thoughts.

Well.. now that I am back to writing, it does not imply that I am out of my happy bubble. Indeed I realized that in between my big chunks of happiness, I still missed my little drops of joy.

Unforgiven - I

The light of the day, the dark of the night, even the somber radiance of twilight, mean nothing to me anymore. My life is enveloped by an impenetrable cloud that endears an unending gray all around me. Every fleeting moment was tantamount to the one before, brandished with guilt. But even amidst my immortal guilt, I think of her. I think of her every moment.
Many people had been knitted with her in her abridged yet consequential life. Even I had loved her beyond conception, but I had fathomed her real worth only in death. I was the one vested with the powers to salvage her, but I failed. My medical prowess, which I had always deemed as the ultimate ordnance to thwart the atrocities against humanity, has now turned into a dagger baptized in my own venomous guilt, stabbing through my heart.
As my second born, Isobel was never the subject of any special attention. Never as much even when she developed the initial signs of respiratory polio and I overlooked. And it wasn’t until one morning when I found her conked out in her bedroom that I realized what was on the verge of occurrence. But alas! It was too late.
Since that unfortunate event, I have been groveling in indignant guilt. Even so much that I have given up my practice and even to some extent leaving the house. My entire world has shrunk to a gray cloud enveloping me. I have rummaged within myself and in the world around me in the quest for redemption, for my failure as a father, failure as a doctor and moreover for my loss of faith in my profession. But my grievances shadowed me even there. Thus I sought solace in oblivion. I have decided to keep myself inebriated every moment of this condemned life. So what if it can’t keep the guilt away but it sure keeps the pain within limits. The incessant stabbing continues, but the alcohol numbs my senses.
In this maze of my indulgence, I have mislaid myself. And I know that I have wronged Laura, in depriving her of her father. She had done nothing to deserve a fate like this. But my remorse for loosing Isobel is predominant on my guilt over Laura. It is my redemption, to seek salvation in my guilt. Perhaps I shall remain unforgiven by both, my dead and living daughter, forever.
                                                                                                                        ~   Dr. Luis Castellano

Thought For Food

Food.. is to my brain, what Music.. is to my ears. I am not some bon vivant, who prefers delicate, extravagant and complicated little food. Indeed I am a very simple rice-curry-eating, street-food-craving glutton. Most people that know me well, including my parents and close friends, would indubitably deny any association of mine with such a sin. They wouldn't even acknowledge me as someone who appreciates or even cares about what I indulge my hapless taste buds in. But well masqueraded by my callous self, there is 'a little secret me'.
To be honest, there are days, indeed there are several days when I simply gulp down the first edible thing I see or nibble on a piece of bread mindlessly until the end of time. But there are times, weird times, when that little secret me rises from the ashes of my epicurean wishes, like a phoenix, and causes mayhem on my palate. And that me has a brain of its own. When the mood strikes, it can move mountains, or at the very least my lazy a** :P
So what I am trying to render is that I am a connoisseur of food in my own unique way. I don't just use it for the gratification of my metabolic needs or the indulgence of my taste buds, but I think about it, discreetly, i.e. when I have my brain at my disposal, free from all the futile worries of the world. And I am fond of cooking too.. not because my culinary skills are an exceptional knack I inherited.. but because it hands me the baton to lead the orchestra to play the symphony I want and how I want. Now where other than your own kitchen will you get that sort of great power.. without much of the great responsibility which usually comes along (as long as you don’t kill poor bystanders).
I spent a pretty copious chunk of my adult life in 'The Land Of Ideas'. Now that, it sure was.. but what I soon discovered it certainly wasn't, was ‘the land of assorted delectable and piquant cuisine’. Moreover hailing from the land of spices further aggravated my woes. My fastidious requisites for ambrosial food rendered me unable to appreciate the relatively bland food 'The Land Of Ideas' had to offer. And the exposure to such trenchant and contradicting tastes and flavours had made it practically impossible to distinguish subtle flavours and detect hints of little somethings in other somethings (like cinnamon flavoured bread or vanilla  flavoured croissant). Also, the way we spice-land people spice up our meat, it leaves little scope for us to relish meat in any other form.
So yeah.. I spent a good part of my life.. yearning, craving and whining for all the taste-bud ecstasy I was missing. In due time, I retired to the misfortune of my hapless taste buds and that little secret me inside me went into hibernation. Although once in a blue moon, I would take a few detours from my rather engaged schedule and try to come up with some itsy bitsy treat for my reward pathway. But that wasn't enough. My drab and dreary life lingered on in a land where I could only fantasize about rewarding my reward pathway.
But well times change.. And so did mine. It was just when my taste buds were on the verge of turning numb, that I made a discovery. The path wasn't easy. I had to pop the bubble around me and dive in to explore new tastes. I had to wipe the slate clean lest it indulged in comparisons. To relish each new taste for the way it was, without any prejudices, was of paramount significance to me. It took a considerable amount of time. But I got there. And when I got there.. I discovered a whole new paradise of epicurean delight.
German food in its own very way can blow your mind away. It’s not delicate like the French, which I personally, find rather pretentious. For I believe that the purpose of good food is to make you feel like you won't need to eat ever again and not just provide a pretty sight or a savoury whiff. German food may not be as pretty and perfect but it sure leads you to gastronomical ecstasy and the complacency of your heart. And if you are a vegetarian, my apologies, you have just a few many ways to embark upon the orgasmic ride to palate paradise.
Once I had unearthed this awesomeness in edible form, there was no looking back. And if you are wondering why this unusual post, then.. the answer is sheer nostalgia. Therefore I would like to direct you to the following link (which is a fun read btw). It unleashed some good old finger-licking .. err umm.. better yet fork-and-knife-licking memories.
In conclusion I would like to say a word or two of wisdom :D  (presented to you as I had once acquired them from a very wise person I knew)..
"One should always keep an open mind to something new and different. That is the secret mantra for maintaining a scrap book of great new experiences."