Momoir- Mother's Memoir

Rhymes and tickles, frolic and fun

I am a little tea pot

Short and stout

Here's my handle and here's my spout

When the water's boiling

Hear me Shout

Pick me up and pour me out

Isn't it lovely. I never thought I would look out for nursery rhymes, memorize them and then sing them over and over again. S admits I know far more rhymes than him. Well, I haven't heard him graduate beyond Twinkle Twinkle. M loves to hear Old Mc Donald, Twinkle Twinkle (and she will open up her palm and close it again to make the gesture of a twinkling star) and Baa baa black sheep. She has recently taken to Hindi rhymes too. We got a DVD of hindi rhymes so that her grandma could sing to her as well. Hmm, the whole house is now singing: Aaloo kachaloo bete kaha gaye the...baingan kee tokri mei so rahe the..!

I sometimes wonder if I am talking enough to her, am I reading enough to her. I worry in the back of my mind that we have not yet started story telling. All this is thanks to the parenting sites that I go through! Well, I realize we have given listening to flute a break. Hearing Hari Prasad Chourasia had become a regimen when M was colicy. Now, I think we have wider options to explore.

There is so much on my mind. From weaning to writing to giving her the mug to drink and making that album for her first birthday to buying new toys. I wish there were quite few new mums that I knew. So that we would have a Momz Gang. It's strange but it's true- when I called up S's cousin today, she told her hubby that M's mom is calling. From Vid to M's mom!

I signed up on twitter too today. Well, I did not get the user id i wanted...vidwata..neither did i get vid... I thought of alternatives. Sample this WithWater...and guess what already taken... The next on my mind was withWereWhat...and there I am ... Still trying to figure out how to tweet. I think I am better at telling stories than tweeting. If I could tweet I could even consider flash fiction next.

Anyways, another thing of paramount importance is getting back to writing. I want to start working from home. Something that involves writing. So, let me get back into my writer's chair and put on my creative hat. What do you wish to read next... a poem, a story or a discourse on how to raise a child!!

See you soon. And yes, your comment brings a smile! Thanks.

Night out

What does night out mean to a mum of a 9 month old. Yay yay yay M turns 9 months tomorrow. So, well let me celebrate a late night in front of my machine. You do need some quiet time and a quiet corner to do your writing. The sound of the whirring fan is my sole companion. I am just hoping this piece is not punctuated by M's cry. Babies are such a darling. But thats not all to them. Ah, I only wonder how my parents survived 3 kids.

With the 9th month M is getting into a schedule now. Or rather a better schedule. She has started getting up on time which means she sleeps quite early these days. Touch wood. And well, she has taken to solids too. Is it going to be a mum's rant, I wonder!

Well, well, well.... I have become a mum! Celebrations!!!!!!!!!! ha ha.. Being a parent means such loads of responsibility. For an infant you are her sole care taker. You teach her everything... and one day they grow up , just like you and me did.

Hmmm... why don't I write often. I wonder how many of you drop by. A few I know. A few I do not. S''s comment on takeaway was lovely. It is strange how I have come to love S sooo soo much. Well... let me stop poring my sugary romantic thoughts and come back to writing. Well, I recently dug out my copy of Kotler from the spare room. It was lying under the bed. Uncared, unsung and unhonoured. So here it is back on my desk. And we read about customization and customerization. And I smile. I am not the same ME that I was when I used to take that book to school. I do not have the same pals that I had. No more of the pathetic coffee and rounds of scrabble and going home late. But I am glad I have found myself again.

Thank you Philip Kotler (thats his name, na! )

Love u

Vid

Basket ball, shopping and eating out

Dribble, dribble and shoot

It was after ages or so it seemed, when I dribbled that ball. Voila! There it was , a basket. Running around with the ball was just too liberating. There were no more strings attached, if you understand what it means. It was like becoming Vid again. The only thing was I was too excited and wasted too much of energy rather than playing tactfully. I lost. But did I? I actually FOUND! I found Vid again :)

There is this guy called Jai (Joy in Bengali) who is the coach. He said I play extremely well, at least in comparision :P

Shopping and eating out

I went out shopping today. Alone! I pleaded with S to come along. Bribed him with a lunch at our favorite South Indian eatery. But he turned me down. Well, the dude was working from home. So there can be no far away lunches. So, I went on my on. I never knew Pantaloons housed infant section too. Now a mom of a Lil One, I climbed the stairs and checked out the infant section. After spending some good time I was ready with 4 dresses for P. Then I went down stairs and picked an offwhite Patiala and a royal blue Kurta for myself. Indulgence.... wait more is coming. Then I crossed the road and went to my favorite eatery and had Idli, vada and Dosa. Oh, Yes!!!! Saw 6 youngsters sitting on a table infront of mine. Was smiling... got reminded of my own college days and our hang outs ... Then I thought M would be one day a young girl and then it would be her and her friends ... And I sipped my filter coffee merrily... Missed S terribly...

Hmmm... Vid's day out... Loved it. I want to be me again. I want to be me again. I want to be me again.

Is this a paradox or a philosophy gone beserk?

Awaiting Patiently!

It's nice to know you came by. It's nice to know you will wait. It's nice to know you will wait with patience.

Well, I should reward you for your patience, shouldn't I? What should I tell you today Annie. Should I tell you that the first part of my book has come true, I have a daughter now. And yes, I am sure she will turn into a beauty. She will not be someone who will dance on the floor with sneakers. She will be a stilleto dudette. Well, it is up to her really. I am merely imagining. And well what does this imagination suggest, did I secretly want to dress the way I never dressed, and be the person I never was. Think about it, we never really are sure about who we are, yet we try to be someone else. Well, I wonder who I tried to be... or rather why I gave up ... (i chuckle).

There has been so much of overhaul in life in the last one year. A precious little popped out... and I went under the knife for once and all in my life.. Fretting each time you go to the pediatrician ... hoping your babe has gained enough weight, debating on breast or formula with concerned family members, learning how to give M a nice bath, worrying when M rejects solid food...

Oh... I have become a Mommy, haven't I?

I wonder if a man ever underwent so so so so so many emotional ups and downs like a woman does. Motherhood is so humbling...you realize what effort your parents have put in. Soiled nappies, scattered toys, the yelling at the middle of nights... and still M or any other baby remains apple of their parents eyes. The toothless grin is so amazing, so fulfilling, so gratifying. You thank GOD that there is this one creature who loves u the way you are... who loves to see your face when she wakes up... whose face lights up at your sight... And there are trying times when you wonder how did your parents ever raise three crazy kids...and M is only 8 months yet...

Well, I am sorry i got carried away Annie... But what else should i talk to u. Should i talk about aspirations that have been swept under the carpet. Well...did u see nobody killed Jessica... it is a great watch...but not something i would like to see at this stage... with little time that i have on hand i am up for good comedies...but anyways i got to watch this movie. i loved rani mukherjee out and out... i wish i were like her character.. err.. what was her name.. ha ha ha...

ya... everyone wants to be someone else... This is a neat, non confusing philosophical dose for your nocturnal visit.

see u around ..
much love,

uhi sathi

Restart

My machine is now 5 years old... It seems like honeymoon is over... may be not yet. S bought a brand new battery for our 5 yr old companion of HP descent. HP Pavilion dv 4000 has proudly sat on my desk till M came into our lives. Since then I folded it and put it away in a dark corner. But I guess it is time to restart!

So, I now have a cleaner machine (thanks to the guy who serviced my machine) and well it is again a pleasure to thumb my fingers through the keypad and generate some literary piece ;)

Hmm... lets go the list way...one of my old time favorites...

#1. Downloading microsoft security essential
#2. Listening flute... Niladri Kumar
#3. Going out for movie...Nobody killed Jessica...
#4. Want to write mails again
#5. Want to make a crazy set of pals again and laugh my head off...

Thats all for now....

With lots of musical notes

Vid

Peek a boo!

caught you, didn't I! Now, don't lie that you expected me around here. This corner has been neglected ...err deserted to be precise. I actually feel quite foreign around here! Anyways...the girl with too many exclamation marks is back here again... Now don't snigger on the 'girl' part!

So howz life been dude? Yeah, I know we are all growing up...but the best way to be a child again is to have one around you... And then you coo around the home...and sing song while you take the lil one out on a walk... from muttering to oneself on the street to singing rhymes....

She is sleeping now... I wonder if she dreams... What does she dream of... Mommy picking her up on her shoulders and playing 'chini kee bori!' or up in Pa's arms as he sprints through our little hall. Or may be Dadima showing her flowers...

My cousin had come over recently and she said she'd love to be M's age... M is so cool, she chirped. M is up... catch you again..

With love,

VidE

New Wonder

Life is so rewarding... It rewards one with experiences. Whether it is a failed love story or carefree school days... it leaves a rich gem each time... gems that you can string together...or form a crossword...

why do we call crossword a cross word... you go up and you go down...but are the words cross with you... I wonder.. and suddenly I hope facebook should give you more options than just Like a status...it should introduce... I WONDER!

Little bundles that life brings in... little joyous bundles...moments filled with love... happiness and anxiety... Like a baby in the household... You can think of one hundred and ten names for her... and when she is actually here...she will decide what hair cut she will wear... Imagine kids giving parents one big opportunity to impose themselves on their rebellious selves... They let you name them .. voila...

How would it be with a little one running across my room... with her picture on my desk... with her smiles reflected on my face... is it like reliving your childhood? "I WONDER!"

To Annie with lil love ;)

Hi..

I think somewhere we have lost the connect - especially the one when you do not pause to see if it is alright to ring up in the middle of the night or early early morning.... heck, lemme still get ahead and write a crazy crazy mail that you will I know savor with your black cup of morning tea... I guess these are few side effects of a greatly romantic marriage...at least in the early 10 years buddies are given a back seat ;)... but well I do believe strong ppl are like garlic..they smell out ..oops stand out... not withstanding however much deep they have fallen albeit in love..

It is 7.22 am not too early by your standards... i would have loved to wander in an empty apartment and fix myself a cup of women's horlicks... since I have given up coffee...or have I? (after a break of few months ...coffee is giving me a kick like it were a shot of Tequila...) Coming back to the empty apartment.. would I not have loved pottering around in a tank top and a pair of comfortable shorts that i am wearing rite now... but well that would be off the limit...I miss such a freedom i have had only in europe... living alone has its own set of advantages and disadvantages..sigh*!

hmmm... reading richard branson can be addictive... because i have been reading him up... guess what taken to tubular bells... and i guess such music gives me a high that alcohol fails to deliver... thence the mail... thence the word THENCE... peculiar na... THENCE... :P

sooo.. would you like to go back to those spaced out moments... i mean those moments have been rare for me for quite sometime... I wonder why am i so damn practical.. why am i the one who is so lizzy pizzy...trying to please everyone :P... Where is my own backbone...where are my decisions... why do I draw a blank when it comes to standing out like a garlic that I prided myself to be. Ofcourse, i like the quirky crazy me :) . It does surface once in a while...and when i do not bother what ppl outside might think of when the sound of tubular bells emnates from my room punctuating the whistles of pressure cooker that's vehemently steaming another morning meal...

I sometimes find it claustrophobic to live with people these days... am i too accustomed living alone... I find it hard to look up people in their eyes... eye contact means an inane conversation... when I was younger and listened to Pink Floyd behind closed doors..shutting out my parents....... why do we sometimes want to close out... i hear puja bells chiming as tubular bell dies out in my laptop.... and a humming..

mum in law was out for a week...and i was doing the pujas and all...staying at home a few of such things is actually some form of engagement.... our puja place is a small almirah fixed on wall so you must stand up as you go about pouring water over lord shiva... I love doing that...giving Shiva a nice bath... with nice cold water... i guess it just is natural since i love the time inside shower myself so much...the soothing water...continuous like life... new like each drop... amazing..

wow...so my morning raga is about the feeling of being invaded again... where is the space thats my own... is that why workholics drown in their work...to find their space... do you understand what i mean...

i do not cook my food... not that i would love to swap places with u :P (a perfect superwoman who manages her kitchen as she does the HRD)...but i would like to sometimes not have an overprotective parental figure breathing over my neck..fussing around that I might tire myself cooking a lil somehting...

oops... so thats the cribbing... just like another teeny meeny teenbopper... and the lil kid in me kicks up... the lil kid... literally speaking..

how would our relationship be..i wonder.. whatever it is...she will still complain and probably crib and mail her pals about a mom who is so .. so ..so .... dunno that yet~

lemme replay the tubular bells... and then get into shower and then get dressed into proper clothes and then go out and check what breakfast has been cooked..

till then bye from both the Big Kid and the Lil Kiddo...

and yah... no need to reply... this could have been just another blog post... only i thought of you this morning

sending you a lil love that u might accomodate :)

sarcasm is the way wid Vid...

The Kite Runner

No book that I have ever read made me feel like crying. Several time a sob rises up my throat as I continue reading the Kite Runner. Perhaps, it is a work that dissolves the abstractness of words like poignance and despondence into hard core truth.

I read this book in the typical European weather. Under the yellow light of the lamp on bedside, on the couch where sunlight filters through the large French window and on the small 4 seater dining where I drink my coffee with some delicious upma.

It is foggy this morning and I have finished my book. I feel foggy too. At loss with words. It is as though I have been to those streets in Afganistan, as though I have met Hasan-seen him grow up into a fine young father. It is as though I am Amir, and I feel like kneeling down and seek forgiveness from my Khuda. It is as though I am Soraya Jaan, waiting for Sohrab to speak. But I cannot be Sohrab, I cannot fathom the depth of sorrow the little one went through.

It is only a story I tell myself, as I choke on tears. But what a story it is!

A bout of ...

She hurried to the toilet and doubled over the pot. She was sure that she was getting sick. But nothing came out of her mouth. She straightened herself looked at her reflection in the little mirror that hung on the opposite wall. Eyes stung from crying, hair a little dishevelled and the tip of her nose, it had gone a little red. It was an adorable nose. Beautiful by the definition of beauty in their caste. Sharp nose, curving ever so gently.

She wiped her tears, which had already dried .Had Avinash not been away for the last few months, she would have wondered if she had gotten pregnant. She crinkled her nose and smiled. It must be the chickpeas that she had for lunch. Not easy to stomach. Specially when you are eating alone. She tried to shoo away loneliness which had again descended in her little house. She hummed a song and moved about wondering when he will come back.

Playing Piya Ghar Aavenge at BollyExclusive.com

Playing Piya Ghar Aavenge at BollyExclusive.com

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A rainbow

A little happy, a little sad. It's like a rainbow.

Sri had said something like that. On a cloudy day like this I wish there were a rainbow.

I wonder quite often, why we forget our past.... "Which place was that?" I read a friend's comment in face book. I try hard myself to figure where exactly the photo was taken. The photo has couple of girls laughing over nothing. It was us in the college days.

Those days... they end up being a sweet remembrance. Past is all but your memory. It is thus I get scared when my memory starts fading. Is it not in my memory that I still am with my past. I wonder why you tell me to live in the present. This moment now will also come back to me when it is past and tomorrow becomes today.

I feel happy to see that people I had loved are happy. But there is a twang of sadness when I see that their memories of me has faded! Do I never occur to you my friend? Have I just become a nice surprise in your inbox, who you would love to respond, amidst the hustle bustle of your present life. And you do end up sending two lines before you sign off for your weekend.

Such is life. You move on. You make new friends. But is it not the same cycle again. The present becomes the past. Newer friends like Sri... and then life goes by and by and takes away your friends. Is life like an ocean that sweeps your precious shells away from the beach in one wave...and yet in another bestows upon you with splendid new treasures!

(currently reading Catalina, Somerset Maugham...that might explain the melancholy, which is accentuated by the European weather...and no new mails :) )

Will you speak?

Flash fiction

(add a sentence and we will carry the story forward...)

"I am tired of my monologues. Will you say something for a change? Just say anything. Any damn thing... Speak, man!". Seema covered her face with her hands and slumped on the couch. Silence rang like a clamor of bells.
(btw going for lunch now... cu)

Why Marry?

There there, I am not starting the annoying debate on marriage. Nor am I pondering upon the reasons of the institution called marriage. ( At this point I am however tempted to ponder why marriage is called an institution anyway). Hmm, let me brush away these distracting thoughts and tell you about this fascinating drama (not the one you are thinking about!). Well, Why Marry, is a drama penned by Williams, Jesse Lynch, 1871-1929.

Snuggled in my bed on the right side (Linus's side of the bed!) on a wet European morning after a good breakfast I nestled my laptop on my lap and began to read, Why Marry. It was not by curiosity that I landed up reading this drama. I was looking up for free reading material and I stumbled upon http://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/.

It is a great resource! I immediately jumped on the prized collection and after a casual browsing decided upon Why Marry? It is a Pulitzer winner drama. It was a nice read. Simple, honest and dusted with a subtle sprinkle of humor! What really amazed me was the essence of marriage or rather the doubts or the questions that the contemporary youth has. Mostly what bowled me over was the fact that the author was far ahead in time in his thoughts. He had a created a NEW WOMAN. The woman you see walking by or working in the next table... This was the NEW WOMAN at that time.. The challenges that this WOMAN sees in her marriage are portrayed so well in a drama of that era.. Be it a balance between life and work... or unsettling truth such as financial dependence is what a woman must have unless she is willing to give in to the legal prostitution which we call marriage. This is a rather bold statement that the author makes.. I am amazed he could think like this at that time...that era!

You must read the book, because my description is neiher a review nor a synopsis. It is just an instant reaction about certain portions that flash in my mind. It was quite witty when one of the character discloses that when he got married a quarter century ago, he asked his new bride..you like tutty-fruitie... The shy bride turned pink and nodded a YES. For a life time together the couple suffered innumerable helpings of tuttie fruitie because both abhored it and were just not able to say it for the other's sake!

:)

Now a lil bit of an update on VID... Vid is holidaying in Europe...Drinking hot Douwe Egbert choclate, watching the rain shimmer in sun like snow before it touches the ground, wondering if life is actually passing by or standing still and reading a little bit... Also she hopes her spurts of writing continue like the shower in the Netherlands!

Doi..

Hey

Hey!

When I woke up this morning, I was in a strange mood. Yes, I had slept till late and well well well there was this bizarre dream that I woke up with. Is it not strange that people we have known in the past visit us sometimes in our dreams, especially when you thought those people were forgotten or were no longer important to you the way they used to be. Anyways, this is the analysis that I am doing now. In the morning I was smiling. I smiled to myself and wanted to call X who I saw in my dream. I did not really debate whether to reach my phone and dial the number but for an instant I almost decided against calling up. Thinking that I could rather summarize my emotions into a piece writing than calling up. That is because words do me more justice when I write them down. Otherwise in a hurry to express myself I often speak what I did not intend to.. So my dream could become a poem or a story. ... I do not know when I abandoned the thought of writing or simply put moved on from the writer's plane to this normal chatty girl. It was then that i wondered whether call up after a quick shower and may be a breakfast than just right then.

As I did not want to keep mum waiting for me at breakfast I quickly showered and showed up at the breakfast table. After the tall glass of freshly squeezed sweet lime juice and a few soaked almonds I locked myself in solitude. Mom must have thought that I was either feeling too hot given the sultry morning or that I was having a headache. Thats because I generally spend a lot of time with her chitchatting. I do not know how she felt when she saw me unusually quiet and a little lost. When she had goaded me to speak up I just smiled at her. It was then that I had asked her, "Ma, if you know something is bad for you for ex. choclate but you feel tempted to have some, what should you do? Give in to the temptation or forget it?". Since it was at the breakfast table Ma told me that if something would upset my system I should rather refrain. I did not give it too much of a thought, or so it seems like when I analyze the morning conversation.

Inside my room I called up X and mentioned my dream. X did not ask what the dream was like. I somehow felt good about this fact. In the sense that the dignity of my dream remained intact that way. Later, i felt that my ream might not have translated well when i put words to it. It was good the way I had seen it.. like a sequence from a novel that I will write one day.

Cheers,

vid

Tring tring

Ok...so this another one in quick succession...

Sri called up... What an appropriate timing. I was literally all over myself... With all my thoughts translating into words, competing with one other to come out first. and as hard as I tried to be rational and coherent, I told Sri that all the things I wanted to share were equally important and did not come in any sequence per se. So... when I sounded a little understandable I read out the first para of my blog to her. She was glad , I guess.

I feel it wonderful that Sri does not read my blogs. I told her so. And she said, she might some day.. You know with me sitting by her side or just like that... And then she said its much more fun to be with me than to be reading about what I am writing..

Suddenly it reminds me of you. You know that I know that you read me! Is it bletter this way. Or did you ever think like Sri? Did you ever think that being with me would be more fun than just reading me? huh?

Well, it was nice to hear what Sri had to talk about. She remembered how we had run through the Park Street like little children. Oblivion of the traffic and the people passing by. It was great... some moments in life... :)

I thougth of Annie today. I was telling R, how impulsive i used to be. I recalled our Godawari trip. Annie and me drove down all the way just like that. Trekked up the little hill and lay down... The blue sky seemed a little closer than usual... I dont quite remember much but the greenery and the trees... and just lying down...

Hmm... I feel like my old self.. Do we change really? I tell them I have mellowed down.. Does that mean that I have grown boring???? I wonder... Hmmm... it reflects somewhere in the posts that I write, I guess... The reader is looking for something quirky...something crazy... or so I think..

It is good that you who read me, know me through my words and people who know me up close know me as me...as the girl with a hint of kohl in her eyes...and pretty smile ;)

cheers to the lovely night..

vid

No comments!

Well, there have been no comments. But so what! I feel like writing. It is good, is it not!! I don't mean not having comments, but having friends in life! Yes, I have coupla friends finally in Kolkata... You guys know about R and Sri and there are 2 more. But R and Sri both are special. So different yet similar. Both tall and ambitious. Both young and raring to go! R is married, Sri is not. But that hardly matters. We can be ourselves...this chatty girls that we are. Independent, ambitious... dreamers... It is great to see oneself in others. I sometimes think I will grow into a lazy log. Having nothing to do, no challenges to challenge myself... I wonder if I will regress into a typical maadu housewife... something Milanese warned me of long back...

Okay, I am chatty today... I know (smug smile...)... Where should I start?? It was a lazy morning... I woke up at 6 and fell back to sleep snoozing the alarm all the time. My decision to start an exercise routine fell apart as I went back to sleep. Yes, I need to exercise.. I am losing all my flexibility. I wonder now that I used to dance so well... once upon a time!!

Hmmm... in the afternoon after a sumptous lunch that comprised besan ka roti, with kachar ka sabji thrown in and mixed with generous helping of curd and crunchy onions. I loved it. Then I sat down with Anuradha Roy's novel. The author is the daughter of my neighbour.. Well in between the pages sleep found me.

Hmm.... there is a disconnect in thought now... Mom dropped in for a chat. So we were talking for a bit! Now I suddenly remember hearing this wonderful song ... aaoge jab tum sajna... angna phool khilenge... Remember hearing it at the store while shopping with Sri this weekend.

I am soo glad there is good music , good food, good friends... Thank you God!

You can find the lyrics here...

My new friend

R walked inside the cafe. Tall and pretty, the girl clad in black saree was elegant yet girlish. We had met twice before. In both instances we had met during wedding functions. It is strange we made friends or rather acquaintance. It is too early to call it friendship or is it? Being friends is perhaps natural to us. In not time we had exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch!

How a friend of mine, had long ago told me that it is difficult to make friends as you grow older. I could not comprehend him then, as I do now. On a second thought have not my mom and dad had more relatives than friends? During one particular phase of life, friends seemed to be utmost important. With time things change... we enter newer relationships and there are changes. Sometimes we relocate and we leave friends behind. It has been such a journey for me. Having left my best friend in Kathmandu, I have often wondered that will we share the same connect when I go back. With a change of residential address for both of us and change in marital status quo as well... I wonder if our friendship has survived. It is true we might not be in the same plane. But we might strike off again as pals of yesteryears!

Hmm.. back to R. It was nice meeting her! She is a virgo just like Linus. And shares his birthday too. What more she loves scrabble...so we might just plan a scrabble day some day soon!

:-)

vid

Mumbai to Kolkata

Mumbai is Mumbai. In deed!

My short trip to Mumbai will go down as one of the memorable trips in my life. Of course I met Kritin and we fell instantly in love with each other. By the time Linus came Kritin had made sure that Vid Aunty would tell stories only to him. Linus uncle smiled sheepishly as the three year old followed me every where.

Hmm... so we have grown up to become uncles and aunties ourselves. How quickly time passes by! In deed! My 2 nights, 3 days trip to Mumbai was such. Even before I could assimilate the cosmo culture, I am back to my comfort zone. Mumbai is in deed fast. People are go getters or so it seems. But what stood odd was the lingo. Be it a 'tu jaa naa', or 'jaa yeh rakh de'. Odd in the sense that it does not sound polite. And Kritin too is not untouched by the Mumbaiya style. 'ajeeb haalat hai', as he would have commented! I on the other hand come from the school of thought who believe 'aap' a more suitable pronoun to be used while addressing people. 'Tu', I used to think was reserved for people quite close to you. It is such in Nepali. The three distinct pronouns that our language has as opposed to English's YOU, can be appalling to both a child and an English trying to learn Hindi! Bengali has two pronouns, 'tumi' and 'aapni'. Aapni, is reserved for unknown people and people who you are formally paying respect. Other wise it is tumi!

I read about tweets in the newspaper while I was whiling my time in the Mumbai airport. And I should tell you here, I really liked the Mumbai airport. The one at Kolkata is really small in comparison. No wonder I had to queue up for security check for a long time while departing from Cal.

Okay, another disconnected thought... I was thinking this again on my flight.The first thought was to start writing. Writing a blog post, a story sometime soon and more. The next thought was... who reads it anyway.. So may I request my readers to let me know why you come to my corner and go through my babbling? What do you see in my writing?

I am waiting fellas!

Alone

Sitting alone in my room, I wonder or rather ponder. What exactly being alone means. Does loneliness manifest in the movement of my eyes at the sound of foot steps, anticipating your home coming? Or is it the telltale vacant side of the double bed which seems so ghastly as the night progresses?

Not long ago, I had told somebody that my love is like a wine, rather like a red red wine. It reminds me of the poem, My love is like a red red rose by a Scottish poet, Robert Burns. An aquaintence once remarked, that I should trying falling in love in order to arouse my literary stirrings. It is strange that I recollect that yet another aquaintence a few years ago had hoped that the literary stirrings were purely literal! As I try to not miss you, I wonder if we are actually scared of recieving love? Loving someone is not really hard. All you need to do is forget yourself. Like Radha's love for Krishna. The divine love seeks nothing. It only revels in the company of the beloved. And when the loved one plays hide and seek, the divine love gets intensified.

Love that we often speak of as in between a man and a woman is apparently quite different from divine love. That is what 'they' tell us. What is divine love? Is it not the same foolish emotional devotion that a teenage girl professes for her recent crush? How is it different? That moment, that one moment, it is pure surrender. Hmm, now we are losing the essence of love in the web of words. Words like purity and surrender! Love perhaps is a habit. When my sister had left home for higher studies , it took me several nights before I could adjust to her absence. We used to share a king size double bed. WHen she moved out, I rolled over to her side of the bed. Perhaps in an attempt to fill up the vaccuum.

Is love sweet nothings then? The twitters of love birds that I hear in the morning ( I like to believe they are love birds :-)). Is it why I meaninglessly call you for the umpteenth time, half afraid that I might be annoying you. Love cannot be too big or too complex. It must be simple. It must be a red rose, or a yellow one or just pink. It could be a green leaf, it could be rain.... it could be the coffee I make for you. It could be the integration sums that dad taught me. It could be learning to live life. It could be the strength to look ahead. It could be the sheer creativity to innovate a smilometer to capture your day's smiles!

Missing you Linus,

vid