Love...Friendship...and the minor in-betweens...

How do you know its love? How do you know you will not confuse it with friendship...perhaps a best friend!?! How do you know its him/her? How do you know...?

These and many more questions have been flying in and out of my brain. And trust me, it nearly drove me nuts one day. 

When I look at my best friend, I know that he will be there for me whenever possible. He will try to drive in some sense into me to follow my heart. And perhaps help me follow it if I seem to be stumbling alone. I know I can call him any time...and if he, hopefully, hears it ring...he'll pick it up and tell me something that might cheer me up!

And I know I'd do the same.

I would not mind sharing a hug with him. I would not mind even kissing him perhaps. But I wonder, is it just friendship? I know its not love. Then, I guess its an in-between.

Is it that way for him too? Well, I hope so...because one day, years after today, if we grew out of touch, I'll know he was one of the dearest things that happened to me.

I thank whoever needs to be thanked for this wonderfully confusing gift...

And I'll celebrate by pulling his cheeks, hugging him tight and perhaps drowning him in kisses...

But I'll make sure his girlfriend doesnt mind...for her, I'd say "Gurl...chillax! He's booked his heart you!"

Yea, so I was born today...

Many many years ago, in a small room in some hospital...I was born. So what? I am happy about it, but nothing is happening to me on that same date now, apart from the fact that I get to add a single unit to my age and a whole year of "maturity" to my life. How does it bother anybody for that matter.

People go to party on their birthday. Its an excuse to begin celebrate. And I will not deny that even for one minute. But, if you dont feel like celebrating that day? Why do people have to go about asking what are your plans? And why do they have to sound so concerned when I tell them I'd rather not celebrate?

It is my day. I have the right to do as I wish. I wish it were a normal day. If not that, I wish that by some crazy way, this date was simply skipped. Never to be bothered again. I wish I did not have to face all the people I know and tell them..."I dont care if it is my birthday. I don't see anything special happening to me. Why should I bother? Nothing really happens to me on any other day. Its just some little issue that is going to get exaggerated for something to happen. Guess what? By some miracle, nothing's happening to me today either! Imagine that. Is it not unfair. My birthday. MY DAY. And yet, nothing great is happening."

What are the pros of a birthday? We get back in touch with more than half of the people in our address book. We get a congratulations on the fact that it is that day again when I was welcomed into the open arms of...the doctor!!!

Well, not bad...I guess. An excuse for the party-halls to get booked and dance halls to welcome new feet...for those who wish to celebrate the day that way. But for some, its just a regular day when they have to wake up early in the morning, get ready and get on with the usual boring work. And by the time they're through with that, they are simply too worn out to party hard...or as they wish, perhaps party soft...

So, I ask again...It's MY DAY...why are YOU so bothered that it is not going according to the general idea of a SPECIAL DAY...nothing's happening to me today!!!!

Alone in a dark room...

Even when the sun shines, it feels like being alone in a dark room. Perhaps the darkest.
There is a lot pending work, but not much interest in it. "Its so boring. It is something I could do even when I am somewhere else." But, the work remains untouched.
The TV is switched on and the channels are surfed. Nothing. Absolutely nothing is coming. Nothing worth watching that is. "Life is so boring. I wish I was back with my friends. Its so much fun then. Wee!" But, even with friends, its better to just sleep on the chair. Boring!

Well then, what do we do? I'm thinking these as the first few lines of the so called "book". I'v still not decided who is this extremely bored person, but would be interested to know. What happens in their life. What will he/she do next? Also, is the lead role to be played by a boy or a girl? Or a dog or a cat? Whoa...
How's the name Jeream? Is it a name? Or the name of some weird thing?Hmm...
More later!

Kneading into simplicity...

A tinge of bright yellow sparks in the dark hue of orange. When I "zoom out" on that, I see black coal burning away in the choolah and the rotis being cooked just over it.
Walking down the lane, a light lits up in that tin-roofed room. That is when I realize, that is home for somebody.
Then, I realize I have to pause during my driving test...due to goats!
I guess its all a part and parcel of the clear bright sky turning from blue to orange to yellow to purple.

This is not how most of us witness, but it is there and we all know that. When the yellow lamp in turned on in that tin house, it reminds me of the hard work that people are still rewarded for, perhaps not enough though. When I see the roti cooking over the coal, I see the love a mother has for her children; why else would she bother to burn her hand over it. When I pressed upon the brakes, I think I felt the timidness and calm innocence of the goats. Even though the word "Test" had stressed me a little, I nearly forgot all about it. (It might sound artificial, but I just cant help it then!)

I see mountains bordering the horizon when I am standing in the balcony. The clouds drift towards me and the sky begins to grown darker. Soon, its drizzling. And then pouring...not cats and dogs though! Its 6pm...the time for me to say "See you soon" to the Sun. He simply responds by painting the sky in bright shades of the rainbow. He makes sure I dont miss him or notice that he is gone...until of course I feel the need to switch on the lights.

At night, the horses tied by the bright yellow lamp-post stand silently. Dont you think they're probably dreaming of the vast feilds all around them, and running free in them. The wind blowing through their mane. The near-possibility of flying...or at least, hoping for it. Thats how I feel when I run too fast.

Well, I just felt like writing something...so I did.
Unfortunately, Mr.Riley would be unable to accomany me in my story...I suppose pre-booking would have been a better idea. So, now I'll be off...need to schedule a couple of meetings with some other characters...hmmm....

Gotta have somethin' to do yaar...

If I wanted the world to hear my thoughts...I'd rather write for the newspapers (not that they would bother to read, let alone Print it!) Also, there's no point in my sticking around the campus thinking "What to do or not to do? Yeh kaisi mushkil hae!" Why not then imagine a new character in this beautifully "engaging" scenario and give him/her a life of his own. Well then, what should be his name? Should the character, in fact, be a male or a female? And of what age? Where is he located? What does he do all day long?
Do all authors go through with all these questions in their heads or does it all come to them like electricity does through a switch, in which case, I hope the current keeps flowing through mine! Ok..ok..bad one...but seriously...what do you think about this character? If you just read through all that irritating mess of words, please do comment.
I'm thinking of waking up a Mr.Riley...is he the one or not???
I guess it's better to simply drool over that until next time...!

Back at my place..

Home is where the heart is. That is the most famous slogan known. Even the number of times Jerry (from Tom and Jerry) puts up that sign over his mouse hole is amazing. But, what is home. Is it where your parents are. Is it the place which you are allowed to call your own room at your parents house. Or is "home" even allowed to be used for that place where you've slept for most of the year with the other people in the hostel? The place where you have enjoyed so many times. Where is home?
For most of the year, I have sat in my hostel room saying to myself and sometimes to my friends, that I miss "home". Yet, now that I am here with my parents, I have nearly wept and told my mother, I want to go away from here. Why? Because my friends are not here.
So, basically, I want to be with my family when I am in the hostel; and with my friends when I am back with my parents. Why so? Why is it so hard to just be able to be where I am and simply enjoy whatever is happening around me? It is a little strange, but that is how it is.
In the dead of the night, I walk out into my balcony and holding on to the railing, I let the cool breeze twirl around my hair. And I am reminded of the times I enjoyed with my friends. The times when they sang the songs of Jodha-Akbar for me the day I wore a salwaar-kameez to class. The times when we all went off to the near by market and drove back in time for the exam which was already going on. The time when we played the kiddish games outside the classroom, with a faculty member alongside. The times we spent blabbing and singing just about anything till the dead of the night turned to dawn, with the breeze touching my cheeks, reminding me of my mother's warm hugs, cheery smiles and my father's adored pampering!
Wherever home is, I know I will always have two, one with my friends...the other with my family. And in the end, I will always have to miss one.

Chocolicious..

Chocolates..
In a world where confusion and trauma related to practically everything is so common, chocolates have been our gaurdian angels...or so I feel. As a kid I would be barred from having too many of these delicious treats. But everytime I got the opportunity to grab onto any amount, I used to thank the creator and feel jealous of the people who made it. Just the thought of pools and fountains of choclates (be it in the confines of metal drums and cemented walls) and the thought of being there 24x7 would delight me. I would be wandering off to the Chocolate Land as I loved the place. And there would be nobody to tell you not to have, after all, my hand would just accidentally dip into the pool.
Now at last, I got to grab onto the recipe behind the most amazing creations of this world...the magnificent chocolates. Perhaps I am not perfect at it, but I know that after spending a few moments by the stove and mixing the cocoa with the milk and other ingredients, I do get to lick the bowl which was involved in the "magical" process. And what can I say, the taste is good enough to send me soaring back to Chocolate Land, and this time, get into the pool and bathe under the fountain.
And though I get fat every time I lay my hands on it, I wont regret it...for Chocolates were not meant for people to regret on. The were meant to spread the joy and happiness.
In case that was too philosophical for you, here's an idea..drool over the pics..and remember that last bar of chocolate that you consumed...

here it begins..

I ate the dinner.
I topped it of with the delicious mango.
I came online.
I realized, I was lost.

The day went by cheerfully. Family friends and the great outdoors had individually greeted us.
Yet, I felt lost. As though there was something missing. I thought and I thought. And I gained nothing but a headache. I took the medicine. And I continued to ponder on what was missing. I had enjoyed with the friends. i had enjoyed moving out. I even enjoyed the dinner. And the best was the mango. Yet, the pounding headache was something I was not willing to embrace. What was missing? What was the thing that I failed to let be a part of the day?

Well, I still don't know the answer to that question. Perhaps I thought too much. Such a lot of stress on my tiny brain is absolutely unfair. Perhaps you could help me out with it. In any case, my thoughts now free to fly across the World Wide Web and enjoy the company of your thoughts..