...

They say people change and then forget to tell each other.

How true.

Mind games

I'm sliding off the smooth surface of the waiting seat at St.Pancras. The book in my hand slips away, and I am distracted by shrill laughter. When I look up, I see her and then, her headband. A bright colourful one on a white smooth scalp. She's walking slow, a pause accompanying each step. She's barely 25 perhaps, tall and bony. Her bright blue eyes are radiant, and implores me to ignore her gaunt clean face.

An elderly lady has her arm wound around the young girl's hand. Reassuring. Supportive. Protective. The two are strolling in, taking in their surroundings, enjoying that distinctive railway station buzz. Are they perceiving something more than I can see, I wonder.

I am staring so hard at the girl, and her deathly white appearance, I forget all about decency. I am trying not to think the two extreme words, but they play on my mind instinctively. Cancer and chemo. I hastily rubbish the thought, attribute it to my melodramatic psyche.

And then it happens.
She must have sensed it, my gaze. When our eyes meet, they seem to have a silent conversation. But I am now mortified, and shifty in my seat. My heart, my mind, and the look on my face are not in tune. They each decide to act on their own.
Her gaze moves from my face to my belly. Mine swing to her headband again. In the next two seconds, our heads turn away from each other, our eyes have seemingly moved away from each other, never to meet again. But God oh God, our thoughts meet. Somewhere along, they collide. And for that brief moment, the recognition that life is a paradox or two, grips me.

Polls

The election fever has me all wired up. Sitting outside, but not as an outsider, I watch my country going to polls with a sinking feeling. If I were back home, whom would I have deemed fit to lead my promising nation? Do I place my faith on a party that's ruled by a hopeless dynasty, on a coalition that has all the unlikely-to-ever-last-a-day partners, or on a group that defines itself purely on the basis of religious ideologies? I am stumped for an answer.

With every election, a new candidate rises up to the "challenge". Don't they get it?
It's us, the general public, who really is the challenged...WHOM do we vote for? The man with the shady past? The one with a murderer title written on his forehead? Or simply the politician who gives himself to the public once in every five years?
Some picks that have left me seething in the run up to this election -
There's Azharrudin, former Indian cricket captain, who traded his country's honour and reputation for personal wealth, and wealth alone. Banned for life from doing what at one point he did best, he now seeks to redeem himself. And how? By wanting to "serve" the very country he decided to barter.
I watch one of his interviews as he declares himself a worthy candidate. His responses to questions about his past deeds are not just unsatisfactory, they are plain disappointing.
The man barely manages to utter a single sensible word, gulping his sentences, vainly trying to convince a starved nation that he has indeed turned over into a honourable man, with noble intentions only.

Sanjay Dutt calls himself the "grassroot party worker". What makes him assume that donning a ujala-white kurta-pyjama, a bright red topi, and preaching Gandhi-ism, is going to induce people into believing he is now a sparkly clean man? The "star" in him will win him votes with the very few celebrity-crazy out there. But this is a nation brimming with a population wishing for a terror-free country just as much as they are seeking food, education and a roof over their heads, and here, this man will have to more than just deliver dialogues from his movies. Gandhigiri or netagiri.

I am more than shocked by Varun Gandhi. I'm disgusted. Here is a man who is young, highly educated, comes with a so-called modern-outlook, and what the heck, also boasts secular roots! But come election time...one has to win - by hook or by crook. Through secularism or religion-ism. And he chooses the latter.
Did he think it was best to garner those few votes in favour, than risk collective support by vouching for unity? Did he assume his words would go unnoticed by the media, and thereby the combined Indian populace? Or did he dare imagine that safe under a powerful surname, he would be left untouched by criticism and action?

In all the instances above, I only talk of known and recorded individual pasts that make each of these candidates unfit to ever represent any section of our country. They put me to shame. But they are not in it alone. Many more like them have stood the test of times (read polls) in the past six decades, and many of them have gone on to take serious posts in the Indian political system. They have called the shots, charted their paths, amassed personal fortunes for their future generations, and led us to believe that they indeed stand for us. Us, the general public. And what do we do in return? Some of us decide to join the bandwagon, some of us join their fray, and some wage a lone battle in this world of gimmicks. Some of us choose to do nothing about this seemingly worrying trend, talk about it occasionally and then pretend this will never affect us. That's the least efficient of the lot. And I belong to that last category.

jittery nerves!

exactly a month from today, i start my short stint with BBC. i'm nervous, apprehensive, but so bloody excited! i'm looking at it as a stamp on my resume. and it very well be one with a deep imprint!

life's little escapades

we decided we really needed a girls only night out.

freewheeling conversations, delirious giggles and random life tips and gossip exchanged over a good drink, with not a glance over the ticking clock, ah...joy unlimited. so about two weeks back, we showered it upon ourselves.

husbands gently reminded - the last tube services were till half past midnight; and then smugly added - beyond that none of them would budge from their slumbers if we were to buzz them for a ride back!

then, off we went...apparently on en endless night. our first stop was at the roadside waffle corner on Bond Street. it's the kind of thrill a drooly, tangy pani-puri can give you when gobbled on the streets of Bengalooru, both have theraperutic effects. Absolute Ice Bar, on a wintery night, seemed like a whacky idea but a must-do. our brains were probably frozen even before we entered the -5 degree ice chambers in the bar, but hearts really really warm. donning the huge capes, slipping on the oversized gloves, and entering the icy walls for a moment made me feel like an eskimo. so this is how it feels like to live in an igloo, i thought, as i gingerly placed my butt on the ice-chair. R tried licking the ice-wall, and images of a certain scene from Dumb&Dumber danced before my imagination.

vodka was the house-special, guava juice for a certain me. all served in a tiny glass, again made of ice. 45 mns was the time slot given to us, but in 25, our toes felt numb, our finger tips began to ache, and the chill was hitting our bones. we ran out, to file around the solitary candle outside in the restaurant...literally placing our fingers on the flame.

from the watering hole, dizzy with glee, walked five women, to the streets of piccadilly and soho...hunting for that tiny italian joint i was so sure was there about 8 months ago. in its place now stood a gay bar! we scooted, we were out on a night out, but were not quite in the mood for an adventure. walking aimlessly, we reached leicester square, where another italian hole beckoned. tummies filled, and feeling quite like the stuffed python, we then headed to the nearest Ben & Jerrys. an evening like this has to be capped with chocolate!

all the food, laughter and joy led to midnight, and we knew it was time to hit the nearest tube station. if there's one thing i love about london, it's the convenience and safety it provides to women travelling at night.

warm, happy, and a deep sense of gratitude for this beautiful thing called friendship...that's what quality time spent with girl-friends lead to. and i feel blessed to have found those special bonds at each and every stage in life. blissfully blessed. :)

by my window

i had the strangest dream yesterday. i lived in a house that shared a wall with afghanistan! so every day i stood by the window, to see trees in my backyard but dry arid land beyond the wall. and in the distance, there they were, the americans and the british - gun totting and stopping every afghan in a kurta and a turban. i also saw a magnificent, palatial house in ivory in the distance. it was surrounded by armed guards, who let in very few people beyond its gates. that was supposedly the president's house.

i woke up with a start, and immediately willed myself to go back to sleep and dream again. i wanted to see more of this country. even it were just from a distance, from a window. it's mysterious how dreams work, but as i slumbered on, i dreamt the same dream again.
this time, i heard shouts, laughter, cries, conversations and a game of cricket between the locals and the western guards. and there i sat, watching all this, in my precious seat by my window. in another country, but still in the same world.

i wished i'd had a paintbrush, a pallete and a canvas sheet for every dream i saw. to etch that dream into colours and store it away for memory sake. the good, the bad and the weird...they all need to be peeked back at. oh but wait, isn't this blog my canvas sheet?

boxing day thrills

It was still pitch dark outside, but we each heard the other's bedroom doors creaking open. It was 4.30 am, on Boxing Day 2008. While the men snored, we the women, woke up well before our alarms blared, and tiptoed into the corridor. Rubbing our hands in glee, we set about discussing our plan once again. We would be leaving in 15 minutes, snuggly covered, and dashing to the nearest NEXT store. The chain was opening its doors at 5 am that day to economy shoppers like us. And we were not going to miss this for anything. Not even for warm quilts.

So 10 minutes later, after hurried bathroom visits, we sat huddled around the dining table, dipping biscuits and sipping tea noiselessly, occasionally giggling at a husband's snore. We shuffled out in the next few minutes, again without as much as a murmur, down the apartment wing, and out the main front door. The moment the cold air hits us, we burst out laughing.
Our hearts are filled with crisp wintery air, freewheeling joy, and a sense of great adventure. We talk strategies to bag the best bargains, schemes to nudge out competition. We see a car park in the distance, and another Asian woman accompanied by an almost unbelievably obedient husband, racing to keep tracks with us to the store. "Good lord, what is that man made of? And to think of our husbands snoring away back home, not a care in the world about their wives."

We arrive a minute after 5 am, and the store is already open with a handful of shoppers. We grab the nearest trolleys, and set about racing down the rows of clothes. Our plan is to bag anything that catches our eye, and leave the shortlisting to the end of our trip. I see that striped sweater that just a few days ago was way beyong my budget, and grab three sizes of it...just in case. I find my elusive (now aptly priced) winter jacket. Everything on my list and beyond is right there on the racks, with a tag I can look at without cringing. We pick up clothes for each other too, and glance at each from across the racks, as if sharing a secret code.

Two hours, and sifting through six hefty bags later, we are on our way back home. It is 15 minutes past 7, and we can see that streak of light in the sky. Arms loaded, we walk back to the apartment, unlock the door, and see that the men haven't stopped snoring. They indeed seem very comfortable under the quilts, blissfully aware, yet unaware of the brilliant time their wives have just had.

We gather in the corridor again, plonk ourselves beside the footwear, and start another round of whispering. We now have a relaxed look at each other's buys, and admire the smart deals. This has not just been a dawn of good bargains, this has also been a dawn of that unrestrained, uninhibited sense of fun that can only come out of girly bonding. And I've loved every moment of it.