A flower in my garden....

For.... Someone.... I am yet to meet....

For.... Shweta.... Who trained me how to write poems....

A beautiful evening....

We met first time....

We both were excited....

It was like sugar and lime....

We talked for hours....

Sea waves were at its high....

We spoke about everything but....

What was in each others eyes....

I had the best sleep that night....

In a really long time....

I was sleeping with a smile....

Waiting for sunrise....

We waited anxiously....

And again we met....

The twinkle in her eyes and her smile....

Her being oblivious about her innocence my good fate....

Silence we enjoyed....

Words a few....

We didnt want the evening to end....

As always, good moments in life are askew....

Pulled towards each other....

We hugged....

The warmth, the feel....

Inexplicible peace....

We cudnt stop ourselves....

From missing each other....

Even though we didnt want....

Any 'another'....

This time we met....

She drove me around....

I was just looking at her....

Togetherness so profound....

Her eyes were searching....

For something or someone....

Maybe it was me....

Or an illusion I was or none....

Then there was a moment....

Her lips on mine....

I was lost in a wonderland....

Felt like rose wine....

I woke up suddenly....

Only to realise....

She was gone....

Was it a dream? Was it unreal? Were all these lies?

My heart ached....

I didnt want to believe....

I wanted to ignore....

Those moments, I wanted to re-live....

But then something hit me....

And I thought....

Wait a minute....

Why do I need to sought?

Those feelings were special....

Those moments too....

I asked myself 'How did I forget....

No one can take them from you'....

Was it her? Was it me?

Was it the feeling of being oblivious?

Was it our desire to fill....?

What made is so special?

It does not matter now....

Shes a sweet memory....

I think about her and smile....

My single star, sweet you are, very....

FATHER FORGETS - by W. Livingston Larned

For.... my dad.... my pillar of strength....

For.... Kahaan.... The smartest kid in the world.... :-)

Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me.

Guiltily I came to your bedside. There are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor. At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, “Goodbye, Daddy!” and I frowned, and said in reply, “Hold your shoulders back!”

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive - and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. “What is it you want?” I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the

stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding - this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years. And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night.

Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bed-side in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed! It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum

with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: “He is nothing but a boy - a little boy!”

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

Tomorrow....

For Sheetal.... A sweet inspiration....

My friend asked me "How long do you think this relation will last?" To which I said I dont know and I am glad I dont. She was a bit surprised to hear my response and asked me again "I just wanna know what you think about this relation...." I didnt realise how profound this is till I actually said. I told her "okay.... Lemme explain you this way, we all know that we die around 80-90 maybe early. But if I was to tell you that you have exactly 54 yrs, 3 months and 10 days. How will your life be from the next moment?" She was quiet. "Similarly if I was to tell you that this relation is going to last 14 yrs 6 months and 22 days, how would you feel about it? What would you start thinking?" Now before you read the next paragraph, ask this question to yourself.

I realised how good it is that we dont know whats happening tomorrow. Or for that matter whats happening in the next moment. It makes life so worthwhile. Imagine the life of a prisoner who knows exactly what is going to happen every single day till he is out of the jail. We would never have been able to understand the importance of "Surprise". Predictability has always been a challenge to handle. One of the reasons I love my job now is because I really dont know what am I gonna do tomorrow. I have my calender, but I am just not sure of my intellectual and creative inputs. It streches my imagination as far as it could and still realise the next day that the whole day was absolutely different than what I had percieved.

I was waiting in the window talking to my friend cribbing about the fact that its not raining and its super hot. In the next 20 mins, it rained like crazy. The transition from me knowing its not raining to when it started and I became aware that it is raining was one of the most beautiful moments today. This wud not have been possible if our MET dept wud have been able to tell me exactly when it is gonna rain. I play with my nephew and I know most of the times what pleases him and what makes him smile. However, there was this one day when I was leaving for my office and I go and see him before I leave. He was fast asleep. When I went to see his beautiful innocent face, he was sound asleep. All of a sudden, out of the blue, he smiled. Still sleeping but a smile. That day was the most beautiful day of my life coz I got one of the best "Suprises". Those are the moments that make life meaningful when you expect a very small and a simple thing and it happens.

Life.... Treadmill.... Path....

Y'day was the first time I actually used a treadmill. It was new and a unique experience for me. The trainer pressed some buttons on the control panel which looked like a launch pad of a small flight. Then he said "go...." and the land beneath me started to move backwards. Although I had control over the whole machine, it took me sometime to get used to.

In our life, all of us have our goals, dreams and desires. We all are constantly pursuing our happyness. It can be a direct pursuit or an indirect pursuit. The final expectation is to be able to achieve our goal. It is also something that we currently dont have and thats why we WANT it. So we are trying hard to move away from where we are and closer to our goal. For theoretical purposes, I will say we have to move forward towards our goal.

While I was on the tradmill, I realised even though I was moving forward, technicall, I was at the same place. It struck me then, that a lot of things that we do in our life, assuming its taking us towards our goal are actually not moving us at all. It just consumes our energy and makes us be there. Things that bother us, affect us, stress us out, trivial details which are unimportant like standing in front of the mirror spending good 5-7 mins only on deciding what shirt to wear on a perfectly normal day. I feel what is missing is checkpoints to tell us we are going forward. For e.g if we desire to buy a new house, after about 2-3 years, we need to sit back and think, where have we reached in the pursuit. If not started seeing property options do we atleast have some amount of savings ONLY and only for that goal?

What we need to really think is whether we have checkpoints towards our goal just for us to know that we are moving forward on a "path" and we are not on a "treadmill of life".

Delusional Obvious

For M.... Who made me see the 'real' me....

Shantanu had fallen in love with Ganga, her beauty and somehow he was not at peace. The only way he could be at peace was if she was to marry him. Ganga agreed on one condition. He will not ask her any question no matter what she did and if he did question, after answering to that one, she would leave him. Smitten by love, he readily agreed to this assuming what can a harmless beautiful woman do that I would need to question.

After enjoying some marital bliss, Ganga delivered a baby boy. Everyone in the whole of Shantanu's kingdom was excited. He was waiting to get the news of his heir. One of his dasis' came and gave him the good news, to which he gave away his pearl necklace. He was eagerly waiting in excitement to hold his boy, to play with him, to see his smile, to hear his voice, he was on 7th heaven. Suddenly standing in his window, he saw Ganga carrying the kid to the banks of the river. He followed her and what he saw later was unbelievable. He saw Ganga drowning the new born in the river without a wrinkle of regret or pain on her face. He so very wanted to stop her, and ask her whats going on, but then he suddenly remembered his promise before marriage. So all he cud do was stand still. She looked at him, his inability, smiled and went back to the palace. He felt as though his manhood, his king hood, his sheer existence was challenged but he could'nt do anything because he had promised. He was a Kshatriya, he could'nt possibly break his promise, more so because he was in love with her.

Couple of months later, Ganga again delivered a baby boy, again Shantanu got excited, saw her carrying the child to the banks of the river, he followed her, she drowned the new born, smiled, went back. Helpless, Shantanu could not do anything. This went on for 7 kids. He was dying bit by bit with every child of his killed by their own mother. He was questioned by everyone, his people, his courtsmen, his friends, well wishers, and most importantly himself. He could not take it anymore.

Ganga became pregnant with his 8th kid. Now it was more like a ritual, dasi coming to tell Shantanu about the new born, he getting happy, and then waiting for the inevitable. So again, Ganga was going to the banks of the river. However, this time Shantanu could not stop himself. He finally broke his silence and his promise and asked her the reason for such inhuman behavior. She told him "we are angels. we have been sent to this earth because of a small curse. similarly there were 8 other angels cursed by one of the Gods and those 8 angels also had to live on this earth. I felt pity on them and I promised those angels to drown them the moment they are born and free them of their curse. however, it seems that this 8th one is yet to live the curse." She left after answering that question. The 8th son is famously known as Bhisma who is famous for his promise that he made to make his father happy.

When I saw this the first time, what really struck me was what I would like to call as "Delusional Obvious". We see a certain incident and based on our knowledge, our understanding, our comprehension, our perceptions, our definitions of right and wrong, we make a judgement. Shantanu saw like all the others including me that Ganga is drowning her new born, her own child, when a mother is supposed to be a symbol of love and sacrifice. How can a mother do something like this? We not only make the judgment but also support it with our logic to such a great extent, that we successfully generate feelings of Hatred, Anger, Frustration, etc. Then we accumulate these feelings and eventually go away from peace. However, when Ganga gave the reason of her doing this act, there was a paradigm shift in the way we all perceive it. All of a sudden, we thought, "Oh My God.... this is also possible. we never imagined...."

Sometimes (for me most of the times) we are not able to see the other side of the whole incident. Maybe there is a bigger cause, a more important task in progress, while we are consumed by our feelings derived from our limited understanding. And by the time we realise this mistake, the damage is done.


For asking this question to Ganga, Shantanu gave up on his love for the rest of his life. I am sure all of us also have paid some or the other price by resorting to our reactions to the incident or Delusional Obvious.


Dont you think everytime we react, just for a little while, we should take a step back and think, is there another side to this, that maybe, just maybe, I am not aware of?

Again.... Its a choice.... Always.... :-)