Of my two beloved cities

The two cities of Varanasi- Allahabad have always intrigued me. Ever since I watched the movie 'banaras', the urge to go there atleast once a year has grown stronger. The narrow lanes intrinsic to the old city, overcrowded markets and the great ghats of Varanasi and sangam area of Allahabad always cast a lasting effect on me, only to be invigorated by my next visit. The burning corpses and the vast stretches of the river alongside give it a mystic resplendence so much so that I can never get over it. I can spend my whole life time at these ghats sitting alone, watching the sunrise with a backdrop of the ringing bells of so many temples located on the sides of the river. So noisy at times but gives a sense of tranquility to the soul. Enriching, enticing and what not...

Today I watched 'Masan' a movie based on these twin cities, the story framed on the back drop of ghats of Varanasi , includes a portion on the Indian railways and like wise. Brought me back to the great time we had had in the railway colony, Delhi. A simple but beautifully crafted storyline and adorably edited movie is something you always yearn for. This movie also has a subtle element of mysticism and through a small gold ring, the writer has been successful in giving out the message that how one life begins when the other ends. In this fateful world which has so many compelling sagas, this is how the lines of the palm perhaps meet...

Discovered the best friend in the shelf...virtual reality??

Books are the best friends. So by that measure , I have a lot of good friends and I keep looking for more to come and be a part of my ever growing treasure. Some times it so happens that I buy books and then just put them in my Almirah so that I can read later as and when I am free. Last week as I was searching through my huge pile, I came across this book called 'the last lecture'. I don't even remember when and where did I buy this piece. As I descended in my bed and tried finishing a few pages on the last Monday night, I just could not believe that the author actually wrote this book while he had lost all hopes while fighting a terminal illness but still managed to leave his legacy for his toddlers through a book and a video recording based on his last lecture. A teacher, scientist and imagineer as he calls himself in the book has done complete justice to the readers as well. I feel lucky to have this book with me and would like to reread many times. What fascinated me the most was his will power and his zeal to share his experiences and child hood dreams with all and sundry by way of pictures which he had collected over the years. Instead of indulging in self pity and portraying himself as a symbol of some one who is left dying by a quirk of fate at such a young age, he chose not to give up, made a judicious use of the little time he was left with, strove to be a fighter and won the hearts though succumbed .... a few months after this last lecture.

A worth reading, well written, well organised book that covers all aspects of an ideal life that is full of compassion and so enriching as it was which one comes to know as you flip the pages. The wall of bricks he talks about so often in his book is an eternal truth which every one faces. Some fail to deliver considering it as a big hinderance, others choose to consider as a challenge and work harder to get over it instead of just complaining and bickering about. The content is so much of a revelation to me, the issues he has taken up are the ones which I could not even imagine or fathom a few days back. Being entangled in my own webs of pity problems, I have had never bothered to look on this aspect of my life, my own dreams and imageries...

Instead of being myself, I tried being every thing to some one else and actually killed my self. This book comes at the most right time. I thank profusely as a reader, as a part of the huge legacy the author has left. It would help me grow as a teacher as well. The call of teaching is now growing so strong inside me...

From being a top dog in my career to an odd duck in a rough and tumble pond... Sounds hilarious but is the most befitting comment on my present situation. I can relate myself to many of the situations in which already he had been, would have loved meeting him once, had he been alive.

"It's not how hard you hit. It's how hard you get hit... And keep moving forward"...great quote, would stick on the wall in the front of my bed.

" just ignore everything what they say and only pay attention to what they do" is enough to understand what underpins the statement. Would recommend to every young bird who's in her teens and growing up with a wish to find a perfect life partner.

The head fake .... Concept is just awesome. Estoy Sin palabras. Have already starting applying to my two birdies who come home twice for cleaning and mopping. 

The whole experience is surreal for me. I can spend the entire coming week writing about the chapters and topics he has covered. 

The brick walls are for a reason...

Mine too will also be crossed.

With this hope, I rest...

Of loops and cakes...

Rain rain go away, come again another day...it's raining cats and dogs. Weather change sudden ... Respite for me... Relaxing on my own now...

What a tiring weekend it was. From Spanish to G lengua, my deep cerebral crevices are now saturated. I also dusted off my own subjects so energetically that now I am feeling as if I am on my last leg.

Amidst all business I tried watching a movie laakhon ki baat which appeared to be a light comedy but turned out to be such a nagging one..

While and do while loops of C++ and negation rules de español have left my neural circuitry haywire. Fortunately I am hard wired with respect to both the means and the ends. This week, have to take another responsibility that actually I love the most. Have to start teaching rules and structures of the new idioma to my batchmates after other measures failed. So reliance on broad band connectivity shoots up right from this moment. 

My two little birdies, each of whom comes in the morning and evening alternately to limpiar mi casa are absconding somewhere...perhaps are floating color full paper boats in the small puddles of water across the road. Every one of us has been endowed with a unique way of enjoying and cherishing the nature. It works wonders... From ailing back to the gnawing tube which does not exist any more... The phantom pain which appears every now and then...

Have started munching chocolates like never before...glutton? The Coke and candies are back in the la nevera. Feeling hungry? Choose amongst the pile of fresh cakes in the upper most shelf...

My day is made when the cake turns out to be perfect though imperfection still comes across while baking the fruit upside down cake. Nevertheless, the aroma ... Takes away my all aches and pains and inhibitions and vows that I made for weight control.

Mens Sana in corpore sano

SA batchmates of mine used to stay awake till the wee hours of the morning, hit the bed at 5:30 or 6 till 9 o' clock when she would just jump and get ready within an extremely short time and managed to reach the daily class at 9:30 am almost in time.

One midnight as I was passing by her room as my sleep had  got interrupted ( to answer the call of nature), I just could not resist the temptation of gate crashing into hers. She was reading a hard bound pink coloured small book which she claimed had inspirational quotes. Great , I said to my self. 

When the whole batch slept ( there were no exams approaching and the days were as hectic as usual), this young lady needs inspiration from a book! Quite unheard of before. The hostellers us, we were a cool gang altogether and to think about gaining inspiration from a book at midnight hour appeared alien to me.

"When will you sleep darling, to rekindle your spiritual tired nerves"

She replied in a serious guttural sound - " all great scholars used to get up early in the morning at प्रात: काल की बेला. I find it hard to get up so early so I have devised this new way of staying awake till that time after which I sleep for 3-4 hours. Uske baad to class mein sona hee hai poore din".

Then we both had a hearty laugh and I came back after this midnight banter.

The matter was soon forgotten and laid in wraps in some corner of my temporal lobe till few days back when at the Delhi airport I chanced upon this book titled 'who will cry when you die' by Robin Sharma. Another famous book by this motivational writer 'the monk who sold he's ferrari' occupies a back space in my book shelf. I had bought it some years back but some how chose not to read that. The reason is pretty vague. I love to read either Robin Cook or some historical fictional ones. But tastes do change with time and circumstances.

At this juncture of my life when I feel absolutely no sense of security(!!!), I felt so indecisive whether to go for it or not, but standing in the queue at the counter, my mind pulled me up and I bought this one with a lot of others.

The book is divided into small chapters and so beautifully organized that I found myself reading this end to end in just one go. Outstanding ! Now this has become a part of my sacred bed time books on my side table.

It gives you dictums to live your life to the fullest, a life governed by your choices and not just by chance. We, the tiny specks on this huge canvas of eternity , amidst a string of broken trusts and relationships, insecurities, disappointments often need to seek wisdom from an author of this caliber.

Lessons learnt

1. I will get up early in the morning, no matter what may come

2. A worry break to be scheduled before my daily evening walk.

3. Have to reconnect with the nature through my colors, brushes and paintings.

Suficiente para el día...💤💤💤

Confusion??😇😇😇

No hay classe hoy. 

Great! 

Double negatives: nada, nadie, ningún,algún 

Initially assumed that learning them would be fun

Nunca, siempre, también, tampoco

Ni....ni...., jamás o .....o🙄

Alguién viene y explica a mí

It's over for me, it seems. How hard I am trying to comprehend these negative structures...

The confusion is growing by and large😩😩.

For a change, read this poem I found in an old folder today morning. Some lines are very apt for the moment.

By Pablo Neruda,

Year 2005 when a co - PG at AIIMS recited the Hindi translation and stole the show.

I wanted you to know one thing. 

You know how this is: 
if I look 
at the crystal moon, at the red branch 
of the slow autumn at my window, 
if I touch 
near the fire 
the impalpable ash 
or the wrinkled body of the log, 
everything carries me to you, 
as if everything that exists, 
aromas, light, metals, 
were little boats 
that sail 
toward those isles of yours that wait for me. 

Well, now, 
if little by little you stop loving me 
I shall stop loving you little by little. 

If suddenly 
you forget me 
do not look for me, 
for I shall already have forgotten you. 

If you think it long and mad, 
the wind of banners 
that passes through my life, 
and you decide 
to leave me at the shore 
of the heart where I have roots, 
remember 
that on that day, 
at that hour, 
I shall lift my arms 
and my roots will set off 
to seek another land. 

But 
if each day, 
each hour, 
you feel that you are destined for me 
with implacable sweetness, 
if each day a flower 
climbs up to your lips to seek me, 
ah my love, ah my own, 
in me all that fire is repeated, 
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, 
my love feeds on your love, beloved, 
and as long as you live it will be in your arms 
without leaving mine.

The year that was 2015

It started on a serious note. I slipped in the bathroom and got back to my senses with a heaving pulse. Later we discovered my diastolic BP was over 110. A sign of impending doom! I started having nightmares. Those three brass statues with glaring eyes in my bedroom showcase appeared to be tearing me apart those dreadful nights. I used to curl up in the bed whole night thinking about nothing.

Later in February , I noticed a change in the green belt around my house. The trees were all almost all nude, the leaves had fallen down which actually aggravated my fear further. Then that evening came, when I left home for the surgery , the peepul tree right in front of our gate in the park stood straight with no leaves at all. A bad omen! My heart trembled. I looked at the house one last time and felt that I would never return alive.

Four days later when I returned with a broken heart and soul, lost nerves and senses, I noticed some new bright green leaflets at the top branches of the peepul tree. Fate had perhaps decided to give me another chance to live. 

I got that wrong!!! There were some unknown plans ahead which I realised during the later months of the year. The fight to survive continued each morning till late evening when I wished to surrender. Loneliness had crept in silently killing me further. Hopelessness and helplessness had intertwined with self. How I wanted to keep the things in my life straight. One more month, bear it slightly more, my heart said. Perhaps the new year had something in store for me.  Ok I agreed to what my heart said but la cabeza told me that things had not changed and this wait would not be fruitful. But like as ever I chose mi heart over mi head. 

The result as of now is so surprising to me... I, in fact, decided to let the things go... Those things which were virtually so dear to me. La vida does not suck any more. I am off loaded to the extent that I do not feel any thing else around me. Today I noticed some thing striking as I stood in my balcony. The peepul tree's leaves are all gone but what is different this time is the surroundings that are as green as ever. Now what does this indicate? It's almost the same time as during the last year...

जीवन क्या है...

One of my favourites ghazals by Jagjit Singh

jeevan kya hai....
chalta phirta ek khilona hai
do aankhon me ek se hasna ek se rona hai
jeevan kya hai....
chalta phirta ek khilona hai

jo jee chahe woh mil jaaye kab aisa hota hai
har jeevan jeevan jeene ka samjhouta hota hai
jo jee chaahe woh mil jaye kab aisa hota hai
har jeevan jeevan jeene ka samjhouta hota hai
abtak jo hota aaya hai wohi hona hai
jeevan kya hai....
chalta phirta ek khilona hai
do ankhon me ek se hasna ek se rona hai
jeevan kya hai....
chalta phirta ek khilona hai

raat andheri bhor sunheri yahi zamana hai
har chaadar me dukh ka taana sukh ka baana
raat andheri bhor sunheri yahi zamana hai
har chaadar me dukh ka taana sukh ka baana
aati saans ko paana jaati saans ko khona hai
jeevan kya hai....
chalta phirta ek khilona hai
do ankhon me ek se hasna ek se rona hai
jeevan kya hai....
chalta phirta ek khilona hai

Reach out to me, por favor!

She was just another story for all those who were present in the dark alley on the first floor of our hostel that night. I still remember a pair of stiffened legs hanging in the air and a stool lying upside down in the centre of the room. That was just a glimpse of what had happened amidst all sighs I could hear. She was the one who lived a few rooms away from ours. Never had seen her talking or smiling. No one from our batch knew even her name. What we knew was that she had been a failure for 4 successive years. I had noticed that her room had been locked for months till 2 days back when I found her sipping tea in the corner table of the hostel mess late evening. No pleasantries were exchanged even though there were only two of us. The deafening silence at that time was broken by a thud as a black cat jumped inside from a window which was left open accidentally. 

The same silence and quiver was felt by me during the condolence meeting called by the college administration in the HONOUR of the departed soul where a great teacher remarked ' at least she could have tried one more time before taking this extreme step'.

What hurt me was the agony of being left alone she might have felt. All her batchmates were post graduates by then and the rest juniors considered as useless burden on the hostel economy! That was our first semester and till date I have not forgiven myself that I too was no different to her. 

The lesson I learnt from that incident had a lasting impact on me which I realised when I came to visit this house in the present city where I live now. The house is big and is second in the lane just next to a bigger one which is in shambles. The corner house is occupied by an old woman who lives on her own  after her children DESERTED her ( as told by our other neighbours).

So the story began with the property dealer showing me this house which we later bought. As I was standing with him in the balcony on the first floor and he was describing the advantages of a park facing villa, I noticed a lean woman wearing a faded Saree near our common boundary. The man standing beside me was quick to remark ' pagal hai, 3-4 saal kee baat hai, Phir to yeh wala bhee bik jaayega'.

I retorted back with the harshest possible words and told him that no one could ever foresee what lied ahead of us as we grew older. At least she could take care of herself and was leading a respectable life.

We shifted in this new house during October that year. I felt that the lady would just hide down on seeing me and this behaviour along with her strange demeanour which I often felt while walking across the road made me have this idea that I would go to any length to bring her to normalcy. My domestic help told me that except for the ragpickers , she hardly spoke to any neighbour and no one had visited her for years. 

Strange is the society and stranger are our ways of dealing. We go to temples and bargain with the God for favours but leave our elders next doors waiting for them to perish and some how get hold of their assets at the minimal possible price in the most convenient way.

I decided to be the change that we wish and expect from others most of the times.

I started saying namaste to her every morning to which she never reciprocated. It continued for about 20 days when I saw her smiling. My day was made. She opened up gradually and over the last two years we smile as our eyes meet and have spent trillions of seconds talking and laughing out together.

She is very religious and loves watching tv, performs all her house hold duties too. Contrary to the beliefs of others who live next door, her elder son and a daughter visit her every 3-4 months. When I feel lonely and left out, I have this feeling of security that a lady of my father's age lives next door. She is now always there to guide me, teach me lessons from her countless experiences that how once a wife of a reputed govt officer came down to lead such a shoddy life. But such are the ways of life and fate.

Last year she told me that I make up for her daughter and daughter - in- law both. That was one of the biggest moments for me in the last few years.

Life had been a great lesson for me. During these difficult days, this old and fragile lady is my strongest pillar of support. I am thankful to God for the grace that has been showered upon me in this FORM.

Whom people generally rebuke or reject as pagal or chaatu or chipku or always crying, whining, pining for attention also needs help as much as a cancer /terminal patient does. I also need help and would not hesitate asking for it if I feel some one is capable of that sort. But one can not force or beg some one else for a little succour. 

If some one does that, does it not mean that he is asking for one more chance to live, to survive amidst all adversities; that last chance that my professor once spoke about...