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 clichéd 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.

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.

7 Badass BavarianFood You Must Try – The Everywhereist

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."

Cradled To The Grave

Not that tall, not that pretty.

Slightly distorted and somewhat gritty.

That old white Plumeria tree poised on its own.

None befriended it, not a bird, not a stone.

One fine afternoon, between lunch and bunks,

we set our diabolical  eyes on it,

& declared it abode,

sprawling all over it and springing on its trunks.

Soon it ripened into much more

than just one of our dens.

The spot for new culminations,

the spot for all wild yens.

Secrets whispered into its caverns,

unrequited queries of the young minds,

as and how the complexities of the world it discerns.

Names and  & a <3 carved into the bark,

or a first few kisses in the dark.

It witnessed it all in turns.

Many summers, autumns, winters

& springs passed,

a million differennt days lapsed.

We got strewn across time & space.

But one day we all returned,

to our beloved tree embrace.

Alas! It lived no more..

Years of its eventful lifetime,

and the soul of our childhood had been

uprooted and persecuted to its core.

Our beloved tree had been cradled to its grave.

And once again to cruelty, innocence was a slave.

A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream

Perched on heaven’s rooftop, staring down upon tiny flicks of shimmering light underneath, on the balcony of paradise, savouring the sweet smell of the summer breeze.. I was with you.. Was I dreaming with open eyes? We were so high up surrounded by nothing but nothingness.. not a hollow, not a void.. an abyss of the summer night sky. And I was with you. The night sky was clearing up, giving way to sneaking & peeking stars. They didn’t seem too far way anymore.

I looked into your lustrous eyes and thought.. if you smile at me.. it’s a dream. And you cast your mesmerizing smile at me. I slipped my hand into yours and thought.. if you grasp my hand back.. it’s a dream. And then you locked your fingers around mine and pacified my blatantly beating heart. I came closer to you and thought.. if you lock me in.. it’s a dream. And then you wrapped yourself around me, spread your warmth through my veins. I let out a silent sigh and thought.. if you kiss my neck.. it’s a dream. And then you arched your mighty self to brush my neck with your lips and made my insides shriek in silence. I ran my hand down your back and thought.. if you engulf in me.. it’s a dream. And then you snuggled into me seeking liberation.  It was moving too fast, my heart was racing and the night was pacing. I thought.. if this goes on forever.. it’s a dream and crossed my fingers.

Paradise shook and the spinning world jerked to a stop. Blinding final rays of the setting sun pervaded my vision. And before I could say goodbye, you were gone. Forsaken in a train, reaffirming my sweet dream. I looked out of the window and caught a glimpse of a magnificent edifice, enchanting in the dusk light, rising unto heaven. I glanced up trying to gauge its crest, and just as far as my vision could reach, there was the balcony of paradise.

And there.. perched on heaven’s rooftop, staring down upon tiny flicks of shimmering light underneath, standing on the balcony of paradise, savoring the sweet smell of the summer breeze.. were two white doves.... living my dream. 

Without The Invisible Wand - An Eulogy

My first stories, my first songs, the first words I said, the first alphabets I formulated.. she taught me all. And with it, she imparted to me several minuscule lessons of life, admonitions of the dark, appreciation of the light and recognition of the disparity between them.

But.. she wasn’t there when I got my first degree or when I got my first job. And she won’t be there when I get my PhD or when I win my first award. Neither would she be there when I get married or have my first child… well not physically at least. But in spirit, she looks upon me and shares every trivial achievement of my life.

In every milestone of my life, I see her in the crowd. In my dark times, I see her in the shadows. And in a crisis, I hear her voice, leading me out of it. When she left us, I did not cry. I did not feel her absence. I did not feel the void. In my mind I always envisaged her as I had always seen her.. powerful. In my heart I always felt her presence.

She was the first representation of a Monarchy I apprehended. With an invisible wand she governed her dominion with an almost-dictator-like regimen for over half a century. And she harboured an unbiased and unanimous affection for all her subjects. But she fostered each one as they were worthy of. And ever since I can recollect, I blissfully wallowed in the status of ‘The Cherry On Top’. She was the first Visionary I met, who always looked at the big picture, at the greater good, rather than the instantaneous joy ride or a sweet treat. She was the first moral of Justice I learnt. In my eyes she was always as fair as practically possible to everyone in one way or the other. Justice is not only blind itself but also invisible sometimes. She was the first embodiment of Perfection I witnessed. The spread of her sheet.. or the alignment of her jars, the pleats of her Saree.. or the braids in her hair, her hospitality.. or even her hostility.. marked perfection in highlighted bold letters.

She was the first epitome of Rationality and Acumen I discerned. Amidst a crisis, when all the young and dynamic lot gave in to utter desperation, she was always calm and collected. With her apparent phlegmatic approach she always held the boat afloat. She was the first lesson of Independence I imbibed. In the phase of life when all her contemporaries had given in either to younger generations or to modern day machines, with a little difficulty she skilfully managed her everyday regime, well with the occasional exception of a glass of water. She was the first paragon of Determination that I perceived. The bane of age and deteriorating physical state could never dwindle her avidity or diligence. Fixing-up things here and there around the house.. to erecting a fairly huge edifice in the middle of nowhere.. she did it all.. when and how she wanted to. At times, she was a little too headstrong and persistent. And some of her ventures may have seemed pretty irrational and futile, but in a free world, those were her choices.

They say there are some people who shine like a Star to impart light to the world. But there are also others who like the Earth, bounty and flourishing, yet unkempt and downtrodden, lay beneath our feet to provide hearth for us to grow and flourish. And such was my Grandmother, teaching the lessons of life to many, yet inconspicuous and unappreciated.

I know a thousand hands may stand up to disagree, but that is her in my eyes.

And  ‘To Be Great is To Be Misunderstood.’ (Ralph Waldo Emerson).

I might be naïve, prejudiced or blinded in love, but I am sure that nothing I have said here is untrue.  

“In retrospection, I am grateful to you for pulling up my flat and stubby Nose every second when I was little, and today if it stands sharp and smooth its only because of you and your unmatched efforts. And I regret not expressing myself when I could, for I had no clue Time would fall short.”

In every failure, in every success.. in light, in darkness.. in joy, in sadness.. I shall always remember you fondly.

To come and go.. is Life. But to live in one’s heart forever.. is Love.

But It Never Rained – Day #12

The Monsoon in India, when it arrives, feels like the first breath of air after you’ve been choked. Relief.. Personified :D The parched, dry land, takes a breath of life. It looks like the world has been resurrected. The first showers, when touch the scorching land, infinitesimal vapors of heat can be seen escaping. And the feeling of rain drops caressing my face while I ride my Scooty, heedless of the world around, is nothing less than eternal bliss. Shielding the rain, while striving to masquerade my covert wish to get drenched to my soul, then the apocryphal explanations of why I am soaked irrespective of the umbrella and the neatly folded raincoat under my seat..  uuh Nostalgia!!

The traffic jams, the puddles and the perpetual power-cuts aside, I love the headstrong and incessant, pouring and pounding tropical rains. I loved it before, but now I love it even more and pine for it for I haven’t witnessed it in ages now. The only rains I get here are the irresolute and meek temperate drizzles.

The following lines from a poem called ‘The Rain’ encapsulate my feelings appropriately:

I hear leaves drinking rain;

I hear rich leaves on top

Giving the poor beneath

Drop after drop;

'Tis a sweet noise to hear

These green leaves drinking near.

And when the Sun comes out,

After this Rain shall stop,

A wondrous Light will fill

Each dark, round drop;

I hope the Sun shines bright;

'Twill be a lovely sight.

~ William Henry Davies

Where I've Tread - Day #5

The Dream City of Millions..

I was amazed and at the same time touched by the relaxed lifestyle of the French :D Shocking.. was the denigrated and unabashed response of the French road hogs to traffic rules.

The Mighty Falls

                                                                  The Bridal Veil Falls

                                                                 The Horse Shoe Falls

The most fervent, vehement and mighty form of nature I have witnessed after the 1999 Super-Cyclone.

The Bridge

                                 The bridge connecting the “Eh” s and the “Like.. Totally” s :P

The Trio - Day #3

A few lines I composed a few years ago, best describes the friendship of The Trio.

‘Through these years we have stood by each other through tough times, heartbreaks, times of crisis, delusions and blunders. We have been partners in crime, consorts in treason and allies in charity. With each step we are assured that if we screw-up and create a mess then there is someone abaft to scour and purge it all. These days we seldom talk and hardly get to see each other.. grown up business.. too preoccupied with managing our diligent and chaotic lives. Therefore there is not much time to rekindle the old friendship, but I know it requires none. We might be separated in time and space but we still connect at some abstract level.’

A picture that best describes The Trio

And finally presenting a picture of The Trio.

PS: I couldn’t resist posting the picture of the most awesome class in school for 7 years :D Most of us have drifted apart, but some of us have stuck together through the trials and tribulations of time (and hurricanes like Genda). We are all awesome in our own ways.

A 'Real' Love Story

~ This is a fictional dramatization of true incidents ~

I was fidgeting with the curls of the phone-wire long after everyone in the office had left. It wasn’t something extraordinary for me, the long hours at work. I had nothing appealing waiting for me back home anyway. Solitude had inundated life, and I had engrossed myself in futile and wacky work. Alas I wasn’t finding the much sought after solace even there. Today was different than the other morose late evening surf sessions. My freaking mind was playing weird games with me. After pulling a couple of strings I had ferreted out what I had been secretly wishing for sometime now. But as I crumpled the little piece of post-it between my fingers, I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to use it anymore.

Maybe it was too late.. maybe it was too inappropriate.. maybe.. I was unsure if I should call him after all. Life has moved on and it has been a long long time… But if nothing else, he was still a friend. I could just talk to him to know how he was doing. I dialed the number a couple of times but disconnected even before the call went through. I was acting weird. I had always been sure about everything in my life. But this wasn’t in line. Finally I thought.. wtf .. I will just call. Maybe he won’t even answer.. it must be really really late there.

 “Hello”, he sounded the same as years ago. “Umm.. hello” I faltered. Wow.. I needed no further introduction. Even after these years he knew who I was (Impressive). After a few pleasantries, we talked.. really talked. Although we were talking after ages, it didn’t feel like it. I had never felt this magnetic force between us before. That night I slept like a baby. I was savoring the feeling of having something to look forward to (Oh.. Out of the world).

The past fleeted before my eyes. School days when every day orbited around him. Those 5 minutes when we could share our day with each other had been more than enough. Childhood fantasies never come true.. do they.. My young mind had envisioned a bright future with him. Alas time (and mountains of Ego) had forced us to part our ways. We had been friends, we had been foes. But our consideration towards each other had never changed to apathy. My joy knew no bounds. Getting a friend back was a great achievement.

The following night something prodigious happened. He said those words which I had never expected or even wished for. I had always wished to retrieve our lost friendship, but never our love. Maybe it was like one of those unsaid wishes. The love, the laughter, the anger and the tears it all came back to me at once. My sane half was bellowing and beseeching me to pay heed. Vibes from an ex are the devil’s call. But my impulsive half urged and argued, what if this was my chance to get back everything I had once wanted.. everything I thought I had deserved. What if this was life’s way of giving me back all that.. What if this was my only chance.. 

Alas sanity succumbed to impulse. As always, reason lost to love. Friends had often said how charming a couple we made together. But I had always warded off these things by saying that ‘the past is past’ and ‘I don’t wish to live in the past’. But today the prospect of reliving the past appeared so attractive. The third night heard me whispering ‘the magic words’ for him. By now all reason in me had perished. I was uber-sure my heart was leading me the right way. He sounded sure too.

I didn’t believe in myself anymore. I didn’t need to. I believed in him. My sane half still warned me 'He is still the same diffident and meek guy'. Years ago he had deluded me. 
‘But how would we make it work, you are so far away’.. he had asked. ‘We will make it work’, I had assured. What could I do to show him that I meant what I said..

I knew.. I hopped onto the next flight and headed East (Whoa.. it wasn’t Adrenalin in blood anymore, it was blood in Adrenalin now). 
There he was.. at the same place where we had met countless times years ago. In the lush greens of the park, he looked like a Roman God. His crescent smile and dreamy eyes made my stomach churn.

~ The End ~

© Awesome Love Story © Happy Ending ©

Conclusions:

- In love, the heart rules.

- Always abide by it’s (in)decisions.

- In love, it is always okay to take a leap of faith.

~ Oops.. Twist ~

But his eyes dug into mine in a cold stare. And then.. it hit me, ‘Oh My God.. What the hell am I doing.. I am such an idiot. This was such a mistake.’ His stare was slashing into my insides

I scrambled in my head but couldn’t articulate any audible sound. He stood there, equally still. ‘May my impulse rot in hell. What the hell was I thinking? How could I have thought that all this was gonna work out. Damned be his dreamy eyes and charming voice.’

I could discern in his eyes what was coming next. All I had to hear was the ‘I am sorry….’  I was surprised, that I wasn’t upset at all at the aspect of this whole childhood love-thing not working out. Indeed I was furious at myself for making me look so ridiculous and callow. Impetuous, stupid and still crazy about him.. oh I painted such a nice picture for him.. and the worst one for myself. The ‘twilight’ love evaporated into thin air.

He must be gloating in gratification, while jabbering out his zillion excuses about ‘How he didn’t want to make things more complicated and how its best for both of us to let things be the way they were’. I wasn’t even listening, I was too busy choking and drowning in the sea of my own shame and despise. He went on and on about ‘how he couldn’t do the same thing to someone else as he had done to me years ago’. Huff… Could I care any less.

Finally at the end of the long “heart-broken” monologue, all I could get out was a flustered ‘Alright’. And amazingly, he had seemed taken-aback and greatly  displeased with my ‘Alright’. Perhaps he was contemplating a more dramatic end to this “event”. Abuses flying at him.. Tears streaking my cheeks.. Yeah.. sure.. like I hadn’t scarred my self respect enough for one life. 

He tried to scrape the wonderfully sewn ‘fissure in our fabric’ by a couple of more apologies, some messengers who brought the same messages and relished playing a key role in reviving an extinct relationship.  Each time, I smiled assuringly and claimed ‘Its alright. No hard feelings. I understand.’ While I prayed in my head ‘ God please let this be erased from the memory of mankind.’

And fortunately for me, in about 4 years, those 2 weeks never came up again.

~ The ‘Real’ End ~

Great Story On Adversities of Love. Yet.. Happy Ending :)

Conclusions:

- In life, all organs of the body must stick to doing what they are best at, i.e.

Heart --> Pumping Blood ; Mind --> Making decisions.

- Never try to exchange these God-designed functions, otherwise, before the mind-pumping–blood can kill you, the heart-making-decisions will.

- In life, taking a leap of faith is alright, but only when its faith on your own instincts.

Tagged - Facts About Me :P

I have never done one of these before, but there is a first time for everything. So here it goes. Thank you Megha for tagging me and giving me this opportunity.

Some Useless Facts About Me:

·         What is your current obsession?
How  I Met Your Mother.. I am so obsessed with it, that a lapse of even one episode becomes the impetus for my distress.

·         What are you wearing today?
A smile! Thats my favourite attire.

·         What's for dinner today?
Banana and Mandarins (No I am not on diet, I am just being lazy in the facade of eating heathy)

·         What's the last thing you bought?
Eggs, Bananas and Joghurt! Oh wait, I also bought glass beads of diameter 4-10µm, 12mm cover slips, Poly-Lysine and fluorescently labelled BSA. (Its alright to not know what these things are.)

·         What are you listening to right now?
Ab Mujhe Raat Din – Sonu Nigam

·         What do you think about the person who tagged you?
I do not know her personally. But her blog reflects her personality. She is an amazing blogger with a taste for the zing. She also has a cool photo blog.  

·         If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
I would want it to be on wheels, or (preferably) with wings so that I can whiz to my favourite location according to my mood :D To have the perfect view, the perfect weather, the perfect people.

·         What are your must-have pieces for summer?
Sunglasses :D  

·         If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
To the beach, warm sand at my feet and cool breeze in my hair J

·         Which language do you want to learn?
I love to learn languages. I know quite a few, but Latin and Hebrew are my dream  languages.

·         What’s your favourite quote?
Numerous.. But I shall share a few.

“The most important things in life aren't things!“
“Look at life through the windshield, not the rear-view mirror.“
“Life is the art of drawing without an eraser.“

·         Who do you want to meet right now?
My best friends and my cousins. Its been a long time since I last saw them.  

·         What is your favourite colour?
Black, Red, and Turquoise

·         Give us 3 styling tips that work for you.
Huh.. no idea.. not really the stylish types.  

·         What is your dream job?
Dream job.. no job would be my dream job. As much as I love science, reading and a number of other things, I love to do things independent of deadlines.

·         What’s your favorite magazine?
Haven’t read magazines in a long time now.. But Reader’s Digest used to be my favourite.   

·         If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?
Not sure.. Maybe a cool music player.

·         What do you consider a fashion faux pas?
Weird coloured eye shadows :P

·         Who according to you is the most over-rated style icon?
Kareena Kapoor

·         What kind of haircut do you prefer?
Lazer

·         What are you going to do after this?
Probably have dinner and watch random stuff.  

·         What are your favorite movies?
They are many more than I have space and patience to mention here.

·         What inspires you?
The world around me is inspiring. Every new dawn brings inspiration. The sunset gathers new motivation.

·         What do your friends call you most commonly?
Whoa.. tonnes of nicknames.. Isha, Mots, Anny, Teddy Bear etc.

·         Would you prefer coffee or tea?
Tea – with milk and sugar , the British way or actually ‘The Indian Way‘

·         What do you do when you are feeling low or terribly depressed?
Try to cheer myself up.. what else!!

·         What makes you go wild?
Deception

·         Which other blogs do you love visiting?
All of my bogger friends. I love exploring new blogs too.. some of them turn out to be unexpectedly good.

·         Favorite Dessert/Sweet?
Oho.. my favourite question! All of them.. Gulab Jamun, Barfi, Halwa, Jalebi, Black Forest Cake, Strawberry Mousse.. and the list goes on.

·         How many tabs are turned on in ur browser right now?
Seven. I am a super multi-tasker J

·         Favorite Season?
Winter In India and Summer In Europe

·         If I come to your house now, what would u cook for me?
Oh whatever U like.. I can manage most things.  

·         What is the right way to avoid people who purposefully hurt you?
Greet them with a smile J They would be forced to smile back at you.  

·         What are you afraid of the most?
Cockroaches, spiders and all such creepy insects (Yes, I am a GIRL girl.. Go on make fun of me. I may fight Dinosaurs and Lions but I will go bonkers when braced against a swarm of cockroaches.

·         When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
I need more sleep.. and maybe a holiday :P

·         What brings a smile on your face instantly?
Friends.. a simple‘hi’ from them, their love or just a thought.

·         A word that you say a lot?
WOW.. I think thats the word I say or actually write most often.  

·         When was the last time you did something nice?
Nice.. does feeding mice count? Or no.. wait.. I joined the roar for ‘Saving The Tiger’

·         What would you do if you were made President of India for one day?
There are tonns of issues to deal with. One day would be too less, so I would just lean back and enjoy the Power.

·         Do you Know who Master SHIFU is?
Of course!! He is funny. But Panda is better.

So now to do the rituals I shall tag some of my friends and/or blog-friends. If you despise tags and them as a farce, then you are excused. If not then I insist that you complete this tag and share with the world all the useless facts about you. Cheers.

And they are..

            *Sonu*

*Nicky*

*Nilanjana*

*An Ordinary Girl*

            *Orange*

ScrapBooks

Dainty little books with jazzy kaleidoscopic pages, which speak volumes, but at the same time mask so much more. Scrapbooks have been a momentous and imperative part of life for every teenager. Each one has a theme to it, an elegant pink with little hearts for the more effeminate ones or a more subtle red and black combo. It reflects very well the ethos and temperament of its ‘master’, a sports car admirer or a cricket zealot, a hopeless romantic or a Titanic connoisseur. Vivid colours and classy styles are overwhelming. The scrapbooks are graced with remarks from friends, cohorts, associates, cousins, secret paramours or whoever has earned the honour to be featured on those pages.

Just like others, I have been there too. Filling in scrapbooks and getting them filled was a ritual, especially towards the end of school. For some it was an assortment of memories, for some it was mere convention. Some used it as an excuse to unleash their hidden penchants while others to haul attention. To me they were invaluable assets which comprehended numerous precious little secrets. Secrets about friends and foes, secrets about furtive passions and credulous envy, secrets that could change everything in our young lives. Laden with cryptic codes, symbols and initials, the scrapbooks could be a baleful ordnance in the hands of an adversary. Moreover they were embellished with love & affection and adorned with our feelings for each other. Scrapbooks were right there next to ‘the dear diary’. They were concealed far away and beyond the bounds of parents, teachers or anyone out of the realm. It was our turf where no intruders could tread.

Years later, scrapbooks from school lie dusty and arenose in an ornate box in a closet. Parents constantly badger and nag us to abjure the ‘junk’ collection, in order to make more room. Deep down we are cognizant of the fact that these scrapbooks are sheer fragments of paper. But we never have the heart to budge them from their amiable spot. When old friends get together and unfasten the rusty chest of memories, these bits of paper, interlaced with strings of affection, emanate. Opening them brings up several anecdotes from the past. It is like reliving the antiquity. Flipping through those pages is like turning through the old chapters of the book of our lives… golden times when we were young and puerile. Smiles and tears, mocks and quarrels, everything is bundled up in those bits of paper. Eyes sparkle with a glint and faces gleam with smiles. The giggles are incessant. Abysmal joy captivates our heart.

The scrapbooks lead us down a memory lane which we rarely tread upon. Our diligent everyday lives fail to grant us an instant to cherish our golden memories. The old scrapbooks that we stumble upon in our drawers or closets are a school of vintage recollections from our past. They lead us on a journey, the path to which has been long forsaken.