Oh, yeah...no it's er...ok. [aka, when did we become blase about saving lives?]

So last night the Almighty saved a life via me.

This woman came with poisoning, almost comatose. So I inserted a Ryle's tube, pumped her stomach, flushed the gastric contents. Then started and iv, flushed her system, gave her injections to make her pee, gave her the antidote and sat by her bedside all night.

When she arrived I rushed into action and didn't cough even once in the 2-3 hours it took to stabilize her [Yes, i have the ornery flu.]

All in a day's work.

By morning she was awake and asking for tea.
When the family thanked me, for "saving" her life, I was er...nonplussed, to say the least. I didn't know what to say, because it didn't seem like a big deal to me by then, when I heard what she had taken, with my actions I knew she would be ok, eventually...physically anyway. [please save your opinions on what you think of people who attempt intentional self harm for my upcoming post later on. Not here.]

[I suppose they , the family, didn't know, or didn't believe us till she actually sat up and started talking. ]

Anyway...my reponse to their thank you lies in the title of this post...
"Er...no no, yes, its ok...er, hmm...I didn't really do anything you know, it's er...you know" and looking skywards, indicating Him, whereupon they nodded, in what I hoped was understanding.

Bizarre aint' I?

Turn me into pink mist.

NOTE : Pink mist is basically how the bomb squad refers to you when you blow up. There are many other definitions as well, as per google. The reason I wrote on this phrase is because it isn't often that we come across a beautiful word for something gory and ugly. I am not suicidal or depressed or anything of the sort!!


Turn me into pink mist dear God,
and make me forget.
The horrors I've seen
and never let me see
what lies in further store for me.

Turn me into pink mist my friend,
I cannot bear it anymore,
the blood, unfairness, backstabbing and gore.
People being one thing to your face,
behind it meaning much,much more.

Turn me into Pink mist buddy,
No one listens anymore,
Everyone thinks they're perfect,
Other's opinion's matter no more,
We talk to ourselves, content in ourselves.

Turn me into pink mist God,
What is the point here?
We save lives, they die someday,
but do they learn?
Life's important lessons?

Take me into your arms my Lord,
Or teach them life is not too short
nor long, the trouble lies not in it's length.
We don't know when in fact,
it is going to end.

Take me into the wind my friend,
they still don't learn each moment counts,
still are rude and impolite,
compassion seems so far, far away.
And for those who are ...

trying to grow in your image,
they're are mocked, Fingers pointed,
unappreciated, laughed at, scorned.
Turn me into pink mist my God,
It hurt's to be different, ignored.

Blow me into your miracles God,
the rain, wind, grass, sun and snow.
I have no strength what you see
[is just for show.]
take me into your arms, give me respite.

I cannot fight anymore.

Do you Believe in heaven?

"Do you believe in heaven honey?"

"Sure...Not sure what it is exactly though..."

"What's your idea of heaven?"

"Hmm...I think it's where we are at peace after we die you know? A place of justice, joy and rest after all this toil on earth. What about you sweety? I know You wouldn't ask unless your non stop working mind already had an answer ready..."

"Silly man. Silly but smart. Yeah...I've been thinking about it awhile...", I was lost in thought again...

"Lost world...tell me...", he said squeezing me gently.

"Well...I think heaven is moments..."

"Moments?"

"Yeah...like this moment...When we're in each other's arms, at peace with each other and talking about heaven."

"ok...and...go on...", he prodded.

"It's when I apologize to my father for yelling at him, tell him I love him and never ever meant to hurt him...and him saying it's ok...just think before you get angry or shout next time."

"You apologized? I'm so proud. Thank you. " He said kissing my cheek.

"Well it was easier over googletalk...", I grimaced, ashamed of myself.

"Still...it's always hard admitting one is wrong. I know you can't live without your parents talking to you. What else...heaven I mean..."

"Well...there's raindrops tapping on my window...or watching a stormy sea with the rain creating ripples in the green blue water..."

"Sounds heavenly..."

"Add some hot coffee and conversation to it..."

"Yum..."

"You eating so much, and so heartily...whatever I cook for you...that you have to undo your jean's button..."

"Well you rock the kitchen!"

"Only for you babe. And mom and my sister too...Dad doesn't notice so much..."

"Tell me more..."

"Well there's the times my sister talks to me like we used to before time, age, ego and people came between us. When she hugs me if I'm crying or takes my side because no one else is getting me... when we're sister's again...those moments."

Squeeze squeeze squeeze. "She'll come around...she loves you too..."

"It's when you say the right things at the right time...which is not often...but eventually you do...and those moments make me feel everything is going to be fine, instantly."

"I know...sometimes I don't get what to say when...I'm sorry hon."

"But when you do say something, later, you're right."

"You're just biased. You get angry and now you say you like it."

"Well you're real...you're not smooth, you're human."

"What else?"

"I think it's heavenly that there's someone on earth I actually trust. And I know...I've taken forever to...get down to it...Longer than most people do...but I trust you...and you've proved yourself...time and again..."

"You are a toughie..."

"I think it's heavenly that even if you don't understand my point of view about something, you listen, you try...as do I...I think it's amazing that we think alike on so many points...and I think we have enough difference to keep the relationship lively.'

"You must be referring to our fights!"

"Well yeah...and I think the part when we make up...that's heavenly too."

"Go on..."

"I think it's heaven when a patient comes in severe pain, in the middle of the night and I give them medication, and literally watch their pain disappear...and their amazement...that moment when they feel relief is heavenly..."

"Always the doctor...my chubby doc."

"I think it's heavenly when my dog greets me at the door every morning...or the way she looks into my eyes with pure love...and loyalty. I love how , when I'm around , she doesn't listen to anyone else...doesn't have eyes like anyone else..."

"Hey I do that too...but discreetly!"

"I know...those moments I catch you looking at me...heaven...You asking me to make you my perfect tea...heaven...you drinking it, looking at me, nodding to indicate it's good...heaven. Honey...my point is...heaven is right here...all around us...!! We just miss it..."

"I wish I was as good at expressing my thoughts as you. How did you end up with a lallu like me?"

"You may not be as good at words, but you are part of my heaven...You are my heaven."

Does a Picture really speak?

They say a picture speaks a thousand words. I don't know about all that, but I would like to find out :o) These here are two pictures of me. [DUH]. Give me 5 words to describe them/it, the person you see in it. Read the other's words and don't repeat. Be original, after all, man has more than one facet and a woman more than a hundred [Ok, so I made that up.]. You're all writers, bloggers...Use your adjectives ;o)

Why?

Well, these are probably the most honest pics of me ever, without thinking, without posing, and at a time when I'm trying my level best to become better...I need to know how I am right now, from the perspective of an objective outsider.

The road not taken indeed.

This post is in fact a reply to Solilo's post here.

"I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”

-Robert Frost, The road not taken.

I took the road less travelled by in my life. In fact I'm currently on its rocky path... It's not easy... I didn't know it would be this hard, but had I known also, I would still have taken it, because it's the only way to grow. To achieve one's highest potential...its the only way.

And it's a long road,

It's often lonely...but you learn to be your own best friend.
It's rocky but that only makes you overcome obstacles.
It's twisted but that only makes you realise that honesty and straight-forwardness are the easiest way to go.
It's scary, but that only makes you more and more fearless in all your doings, makes you brave enought to stand up for whats right. For yourself and for someone who isn't as brave.
It's got potholes in it...a lot of potholes, but they only serve to make you more resourceful and have faith, that where there is a pothole, there's also a ladder nearby to climb out of it.

There maybe a few like minded travellers out there, and they will pull you along when you get tired, they will remind you, how amazing it feels, to make it, all on your own.

Yes, for all its pain, the road less travelled is the only one worth taking...

Breakfast in five!

So my better half came home on his way back from work. So I made him breakfast in five mins... as part of a series of Quick 'n Easy recipes on my blog, I'm here to provide this too.

Scrambled Eggs on Toast :

Ingredients :

5 eggs
Salt to taste
Pepper to taste
Butter
Cream- 2 tablespoons
Skim Milk - 1/4th cup

Method :

Use a non stick pan.
heat pan first
add small amounts of butter.
let butter fizz and bubbles form.
meanwhile you should have popped bread into the toaster.
And begin beating the eggs, salt and pepper in a bowl with a fork.
When the butter is hot and eggs are beaten , add the eggs to the pan.
watch the base of the eggs. When they start solidifying, push the eggs from the edge to the centre in a straight motion. keep pushing eggs this way. when they are half cooked, add the cream, push eggs around again and then add the milk. let cook on low-medium flame.
by now the bread should have popped out, cut, spread butter.
Add the slightly moist or dry now [as per your taste[ on top of the bread and sprinkle pepper and serve~!
Tastes best with piping hot coffee :)

The Women who give the good ones a bad name.

There are these women I know. And then there are these simple men.

These women I know entice these men. Ensure them that they cannot be the same, even whole, without them. They talk sensuously and sexily. They throw in numerous innuendoes, fling around the three most sacred words in the history of humankind... I love you.

To some guys, these three words make their world swivel and spin and turn all bright and rainbow-like, to some guys, these words are all they've been waiting for. They feel like a dog who's spotted a rainbow.

Even after months of conversation, on many levels, months of teasing, moments of emotional intimacy... these women after all the sweet talking, claim to be just friends...once these guys tell them of their feelings.

Then these guys are baffled. What were the sweet words about? Did the i love you's mean squat? What about the online kisses every two lines? Were they just passing their time playing around with these guys feelings? Knowing that these are serious guys. Guys who take feelings, emotions, love seriously?

Then they Pretend as if they did nothing wrong in the first place. Like its quite normal to throw around these words. Like it's normal to tell guys everytime they're going to shower and indulge their visions of them in the same, providing morbid descriptions? Or it's normal to inform a guy everytime one's going to change one's clothes [going to strip babe, just a min, brb]. A guy you are merely friends with. Not Bf GF. Telling them their calls are a lifeline all the while not realising how statements such as these raise their hopes up several notches.

Then they go and shatter their hopes. Were these hopes unfairly raised? The only excuse these girls give is that this is the way everyone in their generation talks. I'm talking about a generatoin 5-7 years younger. They are ok with guys feeling them up, unabashedly sexually promiscous even before they reach 17yrs of age. This is all ok...with them. And then they complain that guys call them W****S and S***s. Not that the guys are entirely without blame.

But I digress.

Then these chicks, transform the formely simple guys into messes. Colossal Messes they cannot clean up, nor can they forget and certainly not forgive. They doubt every girl thereafter. And that ruins things for the girls who genuinely mean what they say. These chicks ruin it for all the "Good Women" out there.

How is that fair, how?

Mirror mirror on the wall...who's the scariest of them all?

I forced myself to face my worst fear today. Yes thats me, horrified!

Let me explain.

Until nearly 7years ago, I was fairly good looking [read : Hot!] and smart and polished and basically I put effort into my looks and physique. I used to preen in front of the mirror and scope myself in everything that reflected light and myself. I was the epitome of vanity. You would've been too if you had guys falling for you left and right.

I was confident. Arrogant, even. [not proud, and certainly not so anymore.]

Then college happened. Misunderstandings, rejections, betrayals, loneliness, a sense of not knowing myself...

Then eating disorders happened....

Soon enough I began hating the reflection I saw in the mirror. So I did what seemed smart [read : Convienient] at the time, and sold my full length mirror.

I never faced a full length mirror...after that.

Yesterday I went and bought one....

After all these years, it seems to me, the smart thing to do, the only thing to do, is change what I see in the mirror. I couldn't do that until I saw what the mirror shows, the thing that scares the living crap out of it.

So I did.

I faced it.

And its helping already. Fitness first. Healthy foods in. All kinds of junk out. Daily runs a must.

You must think I'm so bizarre!!

This is me though...facing my worst fear...trying to make my biggest enemy my best pal.

For the Children Of alchoholics.

Of late, there have been around me, increasing stories of alchoholics and their marriages to ordinary, naive, stupid, smitten women who don't have an ounce of common sense. Maybe their brains cease to function and that is why they cannot see beyond these smooth talking people.

My better half pointed out to me, that generally I'm a tolerant, polite, nice person who tries her hardest to see and show the best in people, Even in people I dislike. He and I were both surprised and stunned at my vehemence regarding alchoholics and addicts. He is against them being involved with a family member too...but not as violently as I am. He asked me if they weren't human? Didn't they too deserve happiness? A family?

I was baffled at my intolerance. After many, many conversations regarding this topic it turned out there was a damn good reason for my anger at addicts.

In my psychiatry posting in college, I admitted many addicts. Not one of these came of their own accord. Not one Admitted to a problem. Half of them had undergone deaddiction programmes before and currently relapsed, half of the rest were new and the other half referred from another hospital. Ask any of them the standard question of "what seems to be the problem that brought you here?" and there was a standard reply, " Nothing. These people think I have a problem, I'm totally fine."

These people were their family. Wives, children, parents, relatives. Who had seen enough and tolerated enough and tried enough on their own. Beaten up wives and messed up children. Broken homes, broken hearts, shattered souls
An estimated 6.6 million children under the age of 18 years live in households with at least one alcoholic parent. For more alchoholism related statistics go here.

They are human beings. No doubt. But they are ill. Ill in a way that, 95% of the time, they cannot help. Literally cannot help. Addiction is a sickness. Even a drop of alchohol after a Deaddiction programme, is enough for a relapse. They cannot help it, they don't know how to stop.

And while that doesn't make Alchoholics and addicts less human, they are still adults. It is their problem. If another man/woman falls in love with them, believes their claims which range as follows :

I only drink occasionally now.
Even one peg goes straight to my head and makes me drunk.
I have strong will power.
I will stop it for you.
I have stopped because of you.
Beer doesn't do anything.
I will change after marriage.
It's only because i'm lonely.
and etc.

...if other men/women are stupid enough to believe them because they are lonely, they want to feel loved, or feel they can "save" an addict or the addict is otherwise handsome/beautiful/charming/rich/qualified/smart etc...if these people are blinded in infatuation so much so they are willing to marry these addicts and live with them thats ok too.

What is not ok then?

It's not ok, when these people, this couple, decides to have children.
They have no right...when they are so messed and unsure of their own selves...that they don't know when they will relapse next...they have no right to bring innocent children into this world.
Two adults getting married is by choice. They can undo it, get divorced if the addict turns into a beater or abuser or relapses.
But children do not get a choice. They do not get to choose the family they are born into. They have to live with the consequences, with an addict as a parent.
The world is hard enough to live in as it is. Even with normal, well balanced parents...it is a hard life. Imagine how much worse it is with one or more parent who is messed up. Who are unstable themselves. How can they provide any semblance of stability for their kids?

To read about the suffering of children of addicts and alchoholics please go here.
http://alcoholism.about.com/library/blnapsi021222.htm

Children are innocent and extremely sensitive creatures. They are dependent on us, their parents. To give birth to one, to make a baby, another human life...is an enormous responsibility. A grave responsibilty. A decision that cannot be taken in a giggly, romantic moment. Carelessly. They trust us with their lives.

How can we betray them by bringing them into this world when we are so messed up ourselves? When we cannot guarantee that we won't touch a drop of booze or snort a line of coke or shoot something up our arms.

If a woman marries someone who is an alchoholic/ex alchoholic/relapsed/addict/ex addict/someone making smooth but probably false promises/still trying to recover/ etc etc...just for her own selfish reasons, imagined love or infatuation, then they have successfully taken the first step towards being a terrible mother.

If an addict, a known addict, even an ex addict with relapses etc, agrees to father a child...he is on his way to becoming a bad father.

The children of addicts don't respect their parents. Either of them. They grow up hostile and insecure among other things. They have a high chance of drug abuse themselves, apart from depression and social issues. They have few friends or many, many friends. They spend their lives dealing with these issues. Female children often end up marrying a man in their alchoholic father's image. In India Divorce is still Taboo. SO what then? They think children will solve the problem. So they reproduce.

Read more about the whole issue here.

There are no guarantees in life. Normal people may become addicts after marriage.
But tell me something...
Isn't there a huge difference, between choosing to marry someone you KNOW has a problem and marrying someone whose problems you know nothing of. After marriage their issues may come as a shocker.
But to knowingly "jump into a well?"...
How can a person do that?

The adults I don't give a damn about. They deserve their fate, they made their choices. But their unborn or soon to be born kids have no say whatsoever. They wouldn't make such a lousy choice. One that will fuck up the rest of their lives.

More about alchoholic's kids here.

Addicts are experts at deception. Experts. Smooth liars. They have to be. It's upto you to be wary.



Afterword: It makes my heart and mind sick. And since I couldn't sleep thinking about this, I blogged. And cried. For all those little children. The huge gap between posts was because I couldn't bring myself to write anything else. I had to get this out. I don't mean to offend anyone. I admire the addicts who remain clean. I know the courage it takes. Not everyone can do it. Thats the trouble.

This is how I love.

Dedicated to the Stuart Little in my life.
[With all of the love a little Margalo is capable of.]


I love you so
that Tears in your eyes
cause mine
to blur too.

When you light up
and drag the smoke deep
My lungs turn to coal
my chest tightens too.

A harsh word from you
that cold shoulder?
breaks my tiny heart,
slaps my crestfallen face.

We meet when you please,
It hurts to have no say,
waiting is agony,
our time e'er constrained.

When I'm second place,
my feelings runners up,
To be less of a burden,
I know why your back aches.

I listen to you simply
because what makes you happy,
is always above all,
my joy lies in your laughter.

Haven't you realised yet?
I notice what matters to you,
your opinions mean the world
I listen, I notice, I do.

I yearn for a hug,
a loving look,
a playful nudge,
footsie under the table.

When you spend a penny,
it pinches my wallet.
When you have a cold,
its my nose that sniffles.

When you stand up for me,
I feel less alone.
When life is a burden,
you make me whole.

Your sleepless nights,
cause shadows 'neath my eyes.
Your troubled days,
leave me in great distress.

For me you are foremost,
what makes you happy
above me,my ego and pride.
Don't you see it yet?

Am I not worthy of
more than stolen moments?
Am I not to be put,
first, above all,sometimes?

I do not fear you dying,
your breath and mine are one,
I need not love you more
After you pass on.

I know you don't know why,
Maybe I will tell you
When your heart beats it's last,
mine stops ticking too.

Time and again!

Time for granted?

I hate people who take others for granted. I really do. Let me illustrate with digusting examples.

Scene one :

A couple loves the way you cook a particular dish. They specifically requested it when they invited themselves over to your place for dinner. Seeing as how they were only in town for a few days, you relucatantly cancelled your evening plans and got to work buying ingredients and cooking.[Of course, you were flattered and wanted to be paid compliments to your face which is probably why you bother in the first place.]

So you marinaded the chicken, chopped up about 20 onions, peeled what seemed like infinite cloves of garlic, lovingly powdered various whole spices and painstakingly cook your signature dish.

They are late. About an hor after they're late, you recieve an SMS [text] on your ever hungry mobile phone saying, " Hey we wont b able2cum, something else came up.sry."

I'll leave you to fume on my behalf...


Scene two :

Any girl knows that to meet her beloved, takes a lot of muss and fuss. One cooks their favorite dish. Aside of that one also has to clean up and make their home sparkle. [sloppiness is a very personal issue, one that should be kept hidden for as long as humanly possible.] But, harder than making one's home sparkle is making oneself all clean and shiny and pretty.
Sometimes one's Better Half requests specific favorite items of clothing. Which one has to wear. If aforementioned items of clothing are abesent from one's wardrobe...one has to go buy them at a moment's notice. Booty calls also only appear effortless.

Let me be v.clear here...GIRLS TAKE TIME TO LOOK PRETTY. Or even presentable. It's not as simple as it looks. Legs are not naturally hair free and scents are not a part of us, especially not so strategically place. Bodies need to be washed and oiled. [We're not babies anymore and so bodies are not naturally silky and smooth.]

About an hour after we are ready and waiting, we recieve an SMS saying that they're on they're way now...and to not be angry.

Are you freakin' kidding me?


Scene three :

Very old family friends, people you respect, have been invited for dinner. Unexpected guests turn up at their place even as you are zoomingly cooking a hasty but tasty meal for this impromtu supper. Drinks in the freezer to chill. Seeing as how they are too polite to tell their guests they are in a bit of a rush and their guests too bored to actually bother CALLing before just "dropping by" as they were in the neighbourhood.

So one waits for upto 4 hours. that's right...till their guests decide to leave before they can finally make it. YOu are hungry, thirsty, pissed off. At least these people make it, even though its 10:00 PM.

And a good host despite it all.


Scene four :

You informed your maid that you have to leave for work early tomorrow and she promises to come at 11 AM. You wait till 4 PM. and then finally believing that they've taken the day off, you leave.

The next day they inform you they did indeed come at 5 PM.
When you get upset and angry at their...[*unable to find the right word please help*]... they don't bother apologizing. And you can't be rude or yell at them because they're 40 years older to you!


Which is worse people? They all made me seethe equally.

Two ways to go.

There can be two ways, that I know of, to view things.

When someone is better than us, in which ever way, we can :

-either emulate them and be what is admirable or
-we can resent them, hate them, hurt them and become ugly.

When we're low, when life is going in the exact opposite way that we foresaw for ourselves, we can :

- Look at those below us, far worse than we are, and feel good about ourselves or
- we can look at those above us and feel even more frustrated.

When we're feeling cocky, self satisfied and arrogant and someone points it out we can

-Think of them as a real friend who cares more about YOU than of what you will think of them or
-Feel hurt, Angry and Avoid them thereafter.

When we think we know it all, have it all we can :

-Look at those below us and turn into even bigger know it alls and thus impede our own progress or
-Look at those above us and realise how much we still have to achieve...look at the scope for improvement.

When someone treats us badly we can :

-Follow tit for tat and be just like them or
-Be the bigger person and learn how Not to be like them.

When someone we love dumps us we can

-Learn a lesson, from both our mistakes and never repeat them, never compromise with ourself.
-Call him/her/it names and get drunk and have unsafe sex with strangers. Then choose similar losers once sober.

When Mom / dad scold we can :

-Yell "I hate you!", sulk, not talk, not eat or
-Realise s/he's the only one in the world who will never, ever leave us or wish us harm. And Try to see the wisdom or their words 'cos take it from me, they're always right. [don't tell them I said so though.]

Pic courtesy Little Girl LOst. Thanks pal :o)

More coming up, in installments. Please give me lessons you have learnt.

Doctors don't get asked for autographs.

....It's true. We don't.

We stay up nights.

We ease your pain.

We don't sleep well, or in peace, ever.

We worry even after you leave.

We wonder if you'll feel better.

We wonder if you'll call and let us know you're better.

We OD on caffeine to stay alert. We sometimes need a pill to sleep in peace.

We refuse wedding invitations to be there for our patients.

We put our lives on hold, to learn more, to educate ourselves more.

We sacrifice our family lives, often.

We don't go out and party because we can't get drunk because we won't be able to treat you efficiently. Yes, we're geeky.

We sit by your bedside and wait till the pain subsides.

We never even hint that we want to go back to bed. We can't go, not while you're hurting.

We care.

We hurt when causing you pain too. Did you know that? The local anaesthesia is as much for us as it is for you.

We never let our anxiety show.

We never let out insecurity show.

We listen to you.

Without looking at our watches repeatedly.

We even put up with your sometimes Know-It-All attitude despite your ignorance or incomplete information.

We try to educate you, dispel your fears.

Even as we deal with our own fears.

We watch people younger to us getting married, having babies, being happy...and we still put our lives on hold till we can complete the chunk of our education.

We watch them and sometimes wish we were them.

We get out of touch with friends...often we live in our own world of medicines.

We wish you wouldn't doubt us.

We hate dealing with your distrust.

When we stand by your side to support you while you watch your stillborn baby, we fight to hold back our tears. We cry for your loss and pray for your souls after you leave.

We rub your tummies, we wipe your tears, we even clean your piss and vomit.

But its SRK or AB or PC whose autographs you want.

Dedicated to all conscientious Doctors around the world. And Janitors, nurses, sweepers and all medical personnel.

The Wee Little Tale of Sneha.

The Wee Little Tale of Sneha .


"So who will make charts for the poem? I need one chart...", questioned the second grade Hindi teacher.

Two hands immediately shot up...the other students looked at their feet or their partners...

"Sunita, Sneha...But I only need one chart..."

"Please ma'am me..."
"Ma'am I'll make it better...!"

After a bit of rumination, the teacher relented "OK both of you can make it and I'll choose the one that is better."

Sneha didn't know whether to be pleased or nervous, so she was both. Competition made her extremely unsure of herself...well, she would try anyway.

"Here Sneha, you can take the pink chart, Sunita take this yellow one. I want them tomorrow, poem with a drawing next to it...remember the supervisor and headmaster may come to class and look at the chart so make it properly.", warned the teacher ominously.


*************************************

"Daddy please!! I tried!! See those pencil marks ? I can't do it! And it has to be submitted tomorrow...the supervisor will see it and if I don't submit it, my teacher will shout at me!!", Sneha begged her father while looking beseechingly at her mother.

"You do draw well darling...", her mother said coaxingly to her husband who appeared to be melting.

"Hmmm...Ok. But what if the teacher comes to know?"

"No no...I promise I won't tell her! I'll say I made it myself! "

"Ok, give me the poem and I'll draw it. Fine way to spend a weekend. Drawing at work and at home!"

****************************************

"Ok, show me the two charts...I hope both of you got them ready? I want no excuses."

"Yes Ma'am!", Sunita and Sneha both piped up proudly.

"Ok, first Sneha show me yours and then we'll see Sunita's work."

Sneha proudly [and anxiously] unrolled her finished chart complete with poetry written neatly and the drawing of the old woman depicted in it. She may not have had the perfect features but she was good enough.

"Hmm...this is OK. Nice...You did this yourself? Or did someone help you? Children look at this...do you like it?"

"Yes ma'am...", echoed the little boys and girls in unison.

"Ma'am I did it myself!", said Sneha, coloring a little.

"OK, good ,now Sunita show me what you have made."

Sunita reluctantly opened her yellow chart towards the teacher.

"What is this Sunita?"

"Ma'am...poem."

"This is to be put up on the drawing board? In front of the supervisor and the headmaster?! I didn't give you this chart to tear and dirty with your pencil marks! And the poem writing is so small I can't even see it! Do you think anyone will be able to read it on the board? And what is this drawing? How could you submit something so shabby??"

Sunita hung her head in shame.

So did Sneha.

The yellow chart was torn at the edges, probably in the bus ride to school. The light color of the chart paper made the grubby pencil marks stand out glaringly. The poem was written in an uneven hand, the lines travelling up and down, but not in a straight line. The drawing of the woman was poorly done...by a child's hand. But they were children after all...

"Look class...See the two charts side by side? Which on is neater? more presentable? Which writing and drawing is better? Sunita's or Sneha's?", the teacher conducted an instant mini poll

"Sneha's ma'am...", the class pointed out in agreement with the teacher.

"So shabby".
Sneha watched a tear splash on the ground beneath Sunita.

Sneha's chart was immediately put up on the chartboard and the class oooh'ed and Aaah'ed over it.

Sunita's was in the large dustbin outside the class. For the rest of the day
Sunita remained silent.

******************************************

"Come on get in line...walk straight to the bus.", the prefect scolded Sneha who was the last one to leave in her class.

"Just a minute I forgot my waterbottle...my mother will shout at me.", Sneha needed to get back to class urgently while it was empty.

"Ok, but I'll be watching for you."

Sneha ran back to class, roughly unpinned the chart her father had made, from the board and rolled it. Unable to find the rubber band to hold it in place she just clutched it in her chubby little fingers and ran as fast as she could before anyone could see her and stop her.

******************************************

"Beta didn't your teacher like the chart?", Sneha's mother asked as she saw her tired and grumpy daughter walk in the front door.

"She liked it, but the other girl's chart was better...and she made it herself..."

"Oho...it's ok beta...no need to feel bad."

"No...I am just feeling hot...and hungry."

Sneha could now take her afternoon nap in peace and with a light heart.

*****************************************

Afterword : Just so you know, this is a true story [not word for word] and till this date Sneha remembers Sunita, from her ponytail to her grubby hands and most of all she remembers the teardrop that dared to fall from her lowered eyelids and her head hung in shame.

Questions are so many

This is a poem written 10yrs ago, by the other contributor of this blog, namely Abinitio....hope you like it :o)

Questions are so many,
but answers are few.
All I know is that
I miss you.

When my phone rings,
I hope its you.
In the crowd, my eyes
search for you.
Every now and then,
I think of you.
Does this happen to u too?

Why does the day seem brighter
after talking to you ?
Why does Life become beautiful
 when m with you?
Why is my mind filled of
thoughts of u?
Do you have answers to questions so few?

Questions are so many,
but answers are so few.
All I know is that
I like you.

Why do I wana come all the way
 Just to see you?
Why to I always ask to meet you?
Why do I wana spent
all my time with you?
Why isn't my day
complete unless I talk to you?

Questions are so many,
but answers are so few.
Do you think that
 I m falling in love with you?

Mon Ami, the Rain and You.

Mon ami the raindrops
pittering
pattering
on my window...
I wait to watch
you drive up my gate
I bear your favorite
butterscotchy iced treats.

And you mon ami
bought me ice lollies
you know i love
them in the rain
not knowing if what
grazes my tongue is
a raindrop or the
gently melting delight
on a stick
coloring my tongue
fuschia.

To top it all,
Your moist kisses,
mingling with them both,
completes my heart's
trembling joy
like nothing else
mon ami
ever has
ever could.

Deal's a Deal!

I've got a deal with my better half. I lose the excess blubber and he completely quits smoking!

Fair is fair.

So onward ho. Today was my fast [for purposes of salvation]. Tomorrow onwards I begin a Diet cum Detox programme. I even planned in advance for it. Now I've done this programme before...wasn't overweight then, but it worked wonders around my bulging belly anyway. lost the 6kgs i was holding on in excess and kept it that way till college. Mind you, I had more self control at 16 than I do today. I wish... No , I will have the same determination I had back then.

Bear in mind this programme is being followed under strict supervision of a Qualified medical professional. And is not to be attempted otherwise.

I have 14 inches to lose aroung my belly, which according to personal experience is a far more reliable indicator than Weight [scales.].

The rules for the next 3 days [out of 12days total.] are as follows :

- Eat Homemade curds. I made them from double toned milk.
- No sugar
- No juices.
- No fizzy drinks.
- Only 2 cups black tea/coffee.
- At least 12 glasses water.

....

Measure waist after 3 days.

....

Update here :o)

Apparently Goals are kept better if shared publicly. To avoid humiliation one follows the goal come what may!

....

Anyone wishing to follow this with me is welcome to keep me company!

....

Wish me luck!

[p.s : It's not a crash diet. It's a detox programme. To get rid of the wastes of the body. Weight loss may or may not occur as a by product. If you do this, please take multivitamins like becosules.]

A poem by Mario Benedetti : Tactic and Strategy

A poem by Mario Benedetti
Tactic and Strategy

My tactic is
Looking at you,
Learning how you are,
Loving you as you are,
My tactic is
Talking to you
And listening to you
To build with words
An indestructible bridge
My tactic is
Remaining in your memories
I don't know how
Nor with which pretext
But remaining with you.

My tactic is
Being frank,
And knowing that you are frank,
And not selling each other
Simulations
So that between us
There is no curtain
Nor abyss.

My strategy is,
However,
Deeper and
Easier,
My strategy is
That one of these days
I don't know how
Nor with which pretext
You finally
Need me.
[from 'Poemas de otros' (1973-1974), translated from the Spanish

	This poem was sought out by Mainak aka Bokom, a good friend of "Little girl Lost", who happens to be my friend. She shared this with me and i decided to share it with the rest of you. :o)
Reply

ToTaLLy TabOo part-7

This is the last post in the series. Bear with me, because it's also the longest.

Preksha remembered all the reasons she had fallen in love with Rajat in the first place. She was tired of all the flimsy, soppy, fawning, fake guys who proclaimed their "true" love for her but never seemed to "love" her enough to commit.
Then there was Rajat. The fellow was shy, sweet and had a great deal of difficulty proclaiming his love for her but was more than ready to commit. He wasn't wild. He wasn't lavish. He was simple. He was a gentleman. He wasn't expressive in front of anyone, he staunchly hated public display of affection, even the minor sort. Even in movie theatres...he wouldn't kiss he unless they were almost the only two people in the hall. But he'd always get her frooti and popcorn. Even if they were overpriced and so she refused...but he knew she loved popcorn. And playing with his fingers in the bucket. He was chivalrous to the hilt. No matter where they went, he always put her ahead, watched every step, if she exclaimed in delight over anything...he would secretly get it for her.

He cared about her feelings...she could tell him anything...everything. She made sure he knew her most deepest, darkest thoughts...he didn't have many of those himself...being uncomplicated. He knew, everthing about her and still wanted to marry her. That aspect of their relationship never wavered. No matter what she did...said...felt...or whether or not his family approved.

No longer was he Mama's boy. Of her he simply asked that she remain as she was. Nice and polite. Towards his family. And of anyone ever said anything against her, behind his/her/their backs...he told her to come inform him immediately. He would make sure he indicated, however subtly, that he was aware of what was going on. And voice his disapproval.

"Why don't you ever tell them straight out that you hate the way they behave towards me? "

"Baby...despite their attitudes, behaviour, complains...I've never once...left you. That in itself is a strong statement isn't it? Thats something they seem to be realising slowly. That I'm marrying you, sooner or later. Whether they like it or not. You are wonderful, a good human being. You have been nice to them despite knowing what they've said about you. So they never really have anything to say outwardly against you. For that, Thank you. It makes it so much more easier for me to defend you...stand up for you."

How was one to argue against such gentle logic? He was right. Fighting never solved anything. Love did.

*************************************************************** Once she left his place after a terrible fight. They had both said ugly things to one another. She as usual, had no balance in her cell phone. He was the hoarder. On her way back, she recieved smses from the Cell company informing her that her mobile had been recharged with money. And then he called her telling her that he'd recharged her phone and to keep smsing him till she got home and to call him once she reached...even if she didn't want to talk to him.

He just wanted to know she was safe.

He respected her immensely. Her career. Her moods. She must have taken it for granted that he would always understand how she felt without saying a word. She forgot he wasn't a mind reader. He had great difficulty translating girls. But there was never a time, when she had verbally asked him to support her, and he had denied. He always supported...what he was aware of.

It wasn't just him, Preksha realised.
She had changed too.
Stopped sharing her feelings. Brooding. Being uncommunicative. It wasn't like he never asked. He did. Sometimes she would catch him staring at her...but he always turned away when she caught him. She was the one to withdraw from the bed. Agreed he was disinterested initially...what with work, family life etc...but when he did try, subsequently, she withdrew.

Or was cold in bed.
There was a problem. She had to fix it. Dysthymia was fixable. She needed to pull up her socks. Maybe Rajat had his faults. But who didn't? Everyone was sweet and sour.

************************************************************************************** For their movie date, Preksha dressed carefully....wearing a pleated, above knee length, silvery gray skirt. And a tight black top. Accessories. High heeled shoes. Locks left loose, slightly tousled. His favorite scent.

Rajat made sure not to wear green, to leave a day's stubble just the way Preksha liked his beard, A blue, button down shirt with well fitting denims and his handsome black shoes with the slightly pointed toes. Her favorite perfume.

They were both nervous. Funny, you'd think 2years into marriage, they would stop feeling like nervous teenagers...but this was like their first date.
Ting Tong!
"P could you please get the door?"
"I'm busy...!"
"I'm busier...Please get it!"
"Fine." Preksha mumbled.

"For P?" , said the flower delivery guy presenting her with a huge bouquet of lilies...in a basket. "Huh?!", gasped Preksha...her heart beat rapidly, and in fear...were these from Nimish ? Had he found her home address from the office files? How could he pull a stunt like this? It's not like she had let him see that she was changing, within, she alone knew how confused she was.

Nimish or Rajat?
Husband or lover?
But Nim was more than just a lover. He had become her friend. But would she have been interested, at all, in him if Rajat had been what he was now?

Before she could even look at the card, Rajat came up behind her and asked..."Like them?"

"All my love, Rajat. "

"They're from you! But...but...we're just leaving...! You didn't have to...", stuttered P.
"No...I didn't have to. I wanted to. Someone as beautiful as you...deserves...something as beautiful..."
"well...they're gorgeous...far more so than I am..."
"Not to me. To me, you are incomparably breathtaking. Not just on the surface...that is transient...you my love, are gorgeous beneath the surface." He reached out and kissed her cheek. They left for the movie.

************************************************** In the dark theatre, the movie was playing... Rajat had not yet made a move to hold her hand. He was nervous. She wondered if he would hold hands...it had been forever since they'd done so... A song played...

Rehna tu
hai jaise tu
thoda sa dard tu
thoda...sukoon.

Preksha gasped softly. The lyricist may well have been reading her mind. This song was about her Rajat. Fussy Rajat, Rajat who would first scold her and then love her. She turned to him and softly placed a well manicured hand on his cheek and stroked it gently. She felt him smile, he turned his face to kiss the inside of her palm...she slid her hand down and he raised his hand up to capture hers, gently, and they entwined fingers... And they did not let go till the end of the movie. It was worth foregoing the popcorn.

*************************************************

Rajat was torn up. On the one hand, he couldn't wait for the movie to finish in order to do what he had planned after that. Then again, he hadn't anticipated the first real intimate moment he had shared with Preksha after nearly a year...

"Will you help me pick out a present? I mean, you don't have to pick it out, just come with me and tell me if you think she'll like it...I mean, I know she will because I saw her browsing on ebay...but she deserves real diamonds...I don't trust ebay, even if she does. C'mon, skip the gym. Just once.", pleaded Rajat to Nimish.
"Dude...I'm glad things are better for you...but its kind of wierd helping you pick a gift for your wife when I don't even know her name!! Let alone her likes and dislikes! Why don't you ever call her by name?", mused Nimish.
" I do. Just not in front of anyone else. "
"Because...?", prompted Nim.
Rajat was silent. For a moment...
"Well...she's mine. Only mine. I love her. And I don't want to share her. With anyone. I don't want anyone to know her as well as I do. I just ...cannot bear it. I can't help, being so possessive about her. She's innocent and I'm there to take care of her. Protect her...if you will. I never listen to a single word against her. Not from anyone. Not friends, not family. Not even my mother. I know her. She's sweet and pure. And honest. This...is the first thing she has ever hidden from me. And I know, that it's my fault. But I know she loves me, maybe she's angry but she loves me. And I also know...that once we're OK, she will leave this..other guy. This substitute. This man, the thought of whom makes me burn with hate, anger and shame. She will. I know her.", Rajat said, red faced.
"Let's go."

They went to Rashi. One of the most well known jewellery stores in town. And the most reliable too.
"Can you please show me the diamond heart I reserved the other day?"
"Of course Sir...But as I told you previously, there was no need for reservation...we do have other similar pieces. Nevertheless...here it is..."

It was exquisite...a sterling silver wound heart, lined by a delicate row of diamonds on one side.

"It's brilliant...you have to get it. ", Nimish offered his opinion. Maybe he would get one for Preksha too...he had never yet given her any jewellery...this would be a nice way to start. She never wore anything around her neck.

"You said you have more such pieces...may i see one ?", asked Nimish.
"You too??? For who? Anyone I know.,,?", asked Rajat curiously.
"Sure you tell me your wife's name and I'll reciprocate buddy.", joked Nimish.
"Point taken. Good luck...I'm sure she'll love it. "

The jeweller who worked on commission was simply delighted. With good reason. ************************************************

Dinner was excellent. They were the only two people in the restaurant. The waiters made sure they got their privacy. Rajat fed her salad, hummus, khubz, roasted chicken and more...she fed him. There was much hand holding and smiling and looking into each other's eyes. The waiters smiled surreptitiously.

**************************************************

When they got home, Rajat opened a bottle of wine. Turned on the Music system to a playlist he had created. Priscilla Ann sang...

"Dance with me..."
She came into his waiting arms...cheek to cheek...
"You never used to slowdance."
"I still don't ... it's just an excuse to hold you in my arms."

I was a little girl,
alone in my little world,
who dreamed of a little home for me.

"You'll always be my little girl...", he whispered into her ear...

I played pretend between the trees,
and fed my house guests bark and leaves,
and laughed in my pretty bed of green. I had a dream That I could fly from the highest swing. I had a dream.

"I'll make your dreams come true. I'll never forget them, not ever again...", he continued. Preksha's lips trembled. Her eyes began to sting.

Long walks in the dark through woods grown behind the park, I asked God who I'm supposed to be. The stars smiled down on me, God answered in silent reverie. I said a prayer and fell asleep.

"You were the answer to my prayers, you're my life, my wife, my everything...", he said, even as he left a teardrop fall on his shoulder. He felt her tremble and held her closer.

I had a dream
That I could fly from the highest tree. I had a dream. Now I'm old and feeling grey.
I don't know what's left to say
about this life I'm willing to leave.
I lived it full and I lived it well,
there's many tales I've lived to tell.
I'm ready now, I'm ready now,
I'm ready now to fly from the highest wing. I had a dream.

"I want to grow old with you. We'll never be grey my sweet. Forgive me. For everything...No matter how little I say it...I've loved you, in all the ways possible...but most especially like my baby girl...since the time we got together.", now the tears were falling in earnest. He wiped them... Kissed her eyes. One by one. Her cheeks. Her forehead. Her hands. Her heart.

He brought out the Sterling silver chain and heart locket, and placed it around her bare neck.

She touched it...and kiss him back, in earnest and in apology.
The night that followed was Preksha's way of saying she was sorry...and that she forgave him. They were in love again, and they intended to stay that way...

*************************************************

Nimish couldn't wait to meet Preksha. He wanted to see her face...when he gave her the heart. His heart.
But when he saw her face, he knew she had been crying...
"Honey..?Is everything ok? Did He...", enquired Nimish.
"No. No...He's...well...he's...wonderful. I...I can't do this...US ... anymore. I'm going to give my marriage another chance. I'm...so sorry. I have a chance...to be happy again...and to feel good while doing so...about myself...I don't know..what to say...I'm so sorry...for hurting you...", said Preksha in tears...
"But we're so good together?!"
"I know...but we're not real. I never stopped loving my husband. I just...thought he stopped loving me. But he didn't. "
" I love you too."
" I know...but I don't love you. I love my man. That's why I was...just waiting for a gesture...and I went back to him. I'm sorry. I can't live without him. But...you helped me...you helped me stay alive...for that I'll forever in your debt."
"No. No no no...I Love you! No debt. If you're happy...really happy...then I have to let you go...I just...wanted to give you something...as a token of my love...but now I guess it'll just be something to remember me by....". Nimish said...with a breaking heart and then he glanced at her neck upon which to place his gift...his heart...

But her neck was no longer bare.
She was wearing someone else's heart.
Rajat's.

"Actually my love, it's ok. I should go. You... just...be happy...ok? You owe me that! You owe me...I love you." "Nim, I'm...sorry...", Preksha apologized...hating herself for breaking this man's heart. Nimish left, eyes blurring with tears.
It was over.

******************************************************

Afterword : Thank you, all of those who have been reading and following this...and all those who have been leaving their comments. You really encouraged me to keep going. And I hoped my story and I were able to live up to your expectations. I just wanted to say...That Rajat and Nimish are both close to my heart. They are the opposite sides of one coin. We both have similar opposites within us. And if we're lucky...we have someone, who loves us back. So it's upto us, to make sure they never doubt how much we care. This is a request...please show those you love...bf/gf/kids/mom/wife/sis....that you love them. Before it is too late.