Secret Words

They said I was too young, I said experience is the best judge not age. I carried on with what I thought was right. Life was so beautiful. The grass was green, the roses were red, the sky was blue. Oh! Life is so beautiful!!

They called me back, but I moved on. They told me I would sink, but I didn't care. They said it wasn't worth it, but I cared. Helping one to cross the river with the feet in two different boats is what I chose. Was I lame? Was I ignorant? Was I an imbecile? No I was in 'Love'!! Who cared about what's in the future when I can make future myself. Future with two of us. Future unseen. Future which was shrouded in the safe blanket of love. Love that will make us go through. Life with Love was worth living.

They said you will get hurt. I said Love is blind and lovers can't see. Life was a valley, in the ridges of the high mountains covered with green grass and endless swarm of colourful flowers around and surrounded by tall trees of love. I won't get hurt. All I will get is love and all that I have to do is love back. And so I did...

"What are you? why should I love you? What is there in you that I should love you back?"

Alas! The bubble of love was popped. Life had been brutal. It had shattered the fragile love into pieces. Trust broken. Damage beyond repair. A knot of infinity. Ad nauseum ad infinitum.

They said it's better to love and lost than to have never loved at all. I say if you fall in love with the wrong person you are good if you have not loved at all.

Travel and Living-Chapter 2-Darjeeling

My passion for travel was not an overnight transition especially when it wasn't a genetic disposition in my case. My parents weren't very enthusiastic travelers. For me travelling in my growing up days was travelling to my ancestral places for the vacations carefully divided between halves between the maternal and the paternal sides. One off vacations would be ones which weren't traveled to the seemingly familiar places. One such place I remember from my school days was our travel to Darjeeling. Adventure travelling had always intrigued me. Especially the ones in the hills. The deep valleys plunging down the hills, the view of the mighty Kanchenjunga, the view of the sunrise from Tiger Hill, Darjeeling is a place with which you call fall in love with almost instantly. It was a town of British colonialism with extensive tea plantations. The love for the black tea that can be dated back to the colonial rule and which is still prevalent not only in Great Britain, but also in this small town. Black tea with renewed fermentation techniques gives way to the the famous 'Darjeeling Tea'.

I remember for our journey to Darjeeling we had taken a overnight bus journey to Siliguri from Durgapur. I wouldn't say it was the most comfortable bus journeys I ever had, in fact not even close, given the state of the roads. However, I did not mind it much because it was a journey that I was making to unfamiliar surroundings and also because it was to a place which I found the most fascinating, a hill station. I still remember the hair pin turns from Siliguri to Darjeeling which made me puke several times during the journey. Yet I was enjoying the journey. The endless tea estates, the mountains, the small streams here and there, the sound of laughter from the back of the car. It was a journey of a lifetime for me. An entirely different experience.

Spread in ribbons of the Mahabharat Range or the lesser Himalayas, surrounded by stretches of emerald green tea-estates with a white jaded Kanchenjunga in the backdrop, there is more to Darjeeling than only the tea. It still has a train service which runs on steam. The remnants of the once popular mode of transport is not only enchanting but also very exciting, especially because it runs through the most picturesque landscape of the state. The famous Batasia Loop can be done on this Toy train. Posing infront of one of this famous 'Engine' was like witnessing history. Exploring the Buddhist Monastries, or sipping 'black tea' from the tea stalls when your energy starts to flag, Darjeeling is a traveler's paradise. And it certainly was no less for me too.

Five Years and Counting

‘Motherhood is a blessing for a woman. Motherhood completes a woman.’

Well there’s no denying with what has been said and being said justifying the arguments about motherhood. Motherhood is indeed a blessing for a woman. But one has to live it to believe it. And I know it though I cannot back it up with substantial proof that most of the arguments about motherhood have been said by ‘Men’ and not ‘Women’! Such is the irony…

Anyway, I was granted this blessing five years ago and indeed I consider myself lucky. It was a cold January morning when it came into my life. I became a ‘Mommy’ on this day, 6^th January 2010. Okay, now I have to be honest. Though I knew that I was a mommy, but the truth is stranger than fiction. It took me considerable amount of time to let the truth sink in. That my life is no more the way it was had a reality check when I was jerked out of my ‘deep sleep’ the moment the little hands moved. No matter how hard I tried to just ignore the little snores beside me and go back to my ‘deep sleep’, my mind was like giving testimony to the real world. And then there were the numerous expressions on the little innocent face which I kept looking at for hours like a bovine.

Time was an illusion for me in the initial days. The days turned into nights and nights into sleepless nights. My thoughts and life were encircled around a little life that I held. Every day was an enriching new experience to endure. The vomits, the allergies, the smiles, the cries, the dadas, the nanas, the crawls, the scared to walk. Everything which is a fond memory now unlike the time I had to undergo the reality check. And there you were a fine one year old. A cry baby to a happy toddler. Your smiles made our days. Just to see you walk all over the house with my slippers on was a moment to die for. The way your eyes lighted up when I entered the room and your hands slowly rising up for an act of endurance from the only person you knew even before you came to this world is a feeling beyond words. I guess this is what was meant when it was said that ‘motherhood is a blessing for a woman’ and I was lucky to have it. 

As the days passed and you started speaking, life suddenly had a new dictionary of baby language. The endless ‘Mama’ was just a common word in that dictionary! Milk became Mimi, Helicopter became Helicapit and so on and so forth. Though my first instinct was to correct you but then I had to let it go because the sheer joy these little mis-spelt words brought into my life were worth cherishing a lifetime. And then there were the endless flying kisses blown my way that took my breath away. Every day I watched you and thanked God for this priceless gift he had granted me. Though sometimes you were difficult and I lacked the patience which I regretted later, yet, I knew life wouldn’t have been more meaningfully augmenting without you in it. The playful and unending bath times, your fascination for mud and water growing overtime puts a smile on my face even today. And my little sweetheart turned two.

The deadly two’s as they say did not seem deadly at all. Though your tantrums increased but so did your endless smiles too. And then my little baby starts school on 3^rd September 2012. Big day for my little girl. I was more scared than you were. Random thoughts about how will you stay without me for ‘THREE HOURS’ made me feel weak in the knees. I knew I had to do it. So I left you in the school with a high five without you realising that you were all alone without mama and papa by your side. I know I prepared you mentally before it started. Infact, more than you, I was preparing myself and my mind to be ready for it. And my brave little sweetheart made it through the test. And I can’t say how proud I was. You said bye to mama without a tear in your eyes. And then when you saw me after those THREE HOURS’ with tears in your eyes I knew both of us have passed the test; both of us had emerged as winners. Without words our souls could touch and say everything that words coudn't. Those happy tears in our eyes bear testimony to the neo natal bond that a mother shares with her child the moment she conceives. The look that goes beyond words. The feeling and emotion that is attached is a bond which stays till the end no matter what. My little baby is grown up now and she turns three.

School to home and home to school becomes a ritual now. Soon we return to India in July 2013 and my baby joins a new school. The anxiety, the fear of a new environment, new teacher, new place and new people seemed too much for the little soul to take in. First day in a new school proved a challenge for Saanvi. She held on to my hand like she always had and refused to let it go. I could feel her inability to acquaint herself to the changed environment but I knew she is a fast learner and an even faster adapter. And there she was free to go on her own on the third day. Confident and smart. She knew she is having a language issue because of her inability to converse in Oriya yet she took it as a challenge again and emerged victorious. She amazed me with her quick learning skills of a language she knew very little about. Though we used to speak in Oriya in the house, English was something she was well versed and well equipped with. Though the school in India was an English medium, seldom children speak a language they are not familiar with. Saanvi initially conversed in English but saw that she couldn’t make friends if she continued to converse in the language she is familiar with instead she had to converse in a language they were familiar with. She knew she had to transform and adapt herself with the language others were familiar with. And Voila!! One month and Saanvi was fluent in Oriya and she had made friends. She adapted to the changed environment and merged herself in and emerged as the winner. Though others couldn’t speak English so well, here she was who not only spoke fluent English but also fluent Oriya. Such is her adaptability and learning skills. I cannot say how proud I am of you my darling. I know no challenge is challenge enough to dampen you firefighting skills. Guess that comes from your dad!! With facing challenges and being a winner my brave, confident, happy baby turns four.

Another year, another round of challenges. Schooling in India comes to an end for the time being and we again move out of the country to another new country with another new language, Denmark. Another new environment, with another new set of friends, a different school this time and needless to say a different language, again. But I knew as always you will take the challenge head on and emerge as the winner. I know sometimes you have felt out of place when people around you speak a language you don’t understand yet I was always confident that you will make your place. And you have. You have inspired other kids to speak better English. A language which you have always been familiar with since you started understanding languages. And yet again you have surprised me with you command and fluency with which you have been conversing in school in English although you were forced to precinct the fluency in India. The mastery that you have achieved in adapting to the changing environment makes me feel so proud. I am the ‘Mommy’ of a smart, confident, go-getter who does not shy away from accepting challenges and test her limits just to unleash her potential to the fullest. And I am so proud of you my little five year old…

When I look back to see the last five years of my life I see only you…because it is only you that my life has been all about…The endless fears that I have each night when I go to bed thinking: Am I doing it right? Have I messed up? Am I being patient enough? There are endless questions that swish past as I pull you closer to me and put a hand on your little heart and hear you breathe. You won't remember the way my heart broke and grew a little bigger everytime I saw you pass through each milestone. It was as if I was watching the sand falling in an hourglass which gave me a feeling of content and joy because I could see you grow and expand. You won't remember the endless times I held your tiny feet in my hands and watched them grow little by little. You won't remember but I will...I will hold these memories tight and close to my heart for both of us....

A place called home

Home and Durgapur has long been synonymous. A small industrial town in the heart of Bengal which has grown from a small to not so small town. For me every street, every stone, every tree has a story to tell. A place where an imbecile me grew up to be a more explicate individual. A place where memories galore have been formed. Memories that will be cherished a lifetime.

I was born in this small town in the 80's. An era which saw a sea change from manual to computers, from tape recorders to CD players, from renting of a VCR/VCP's to watch a movie to the cable connection, from playing physical games to playing online or video games. A change which changed the lives of people henceforth. Durgapur in my growing up years was a place where hanging out with your friends either meant going to Durgapur Club or going to Paramount Confectionaries in Steel Market. Being seen in these two places was always considered hep n cool. But in today's modern Durgapur, these places have ceased to be places of cool or hep value. You rather go and hang out in the chic, glassy malls in City Centre. Small things which add up to greater pleasures and building up of memories that you cherish a lifetime are seldom made in a mall. Its always gaping and drooling over a nice piece of dress on the mannequin rather than sitting down with your friends in a small place and do things you love to do or discuss things which matter as being friends. Malls don't and can't give you the pleasures and the memories that we made during those years. Running to the local 'chop thela' in the evenings with just a rupee in your pocket and getting a paper packet full of delicious mouth watering hot chops was happiness worth dying for. The taste which I cherish even though so many years have passed by. Or for that matter an egg chicken roll or a plate of chilli chicken from a restaurant called 'La Cafe' or the steamed momos and noodles from a Chinese restaurant called 'Hongkong' or the prawn chops, again from a roadside thela in Steel Market. The tastes which can't be replicated by any 5 star restaurant anywhere in the world. Can these tastes and these memories be made in a mall!!? I wonder!! Sitting on the gate in front of  Amrita's house and relishing these delicacies, finger licking potato fries with 'luchi' that Ritu's mom made and we hogging them even before its the tiffin time in school, going to the school sister's den just beside our school on Christmas and enjoying the Christmas goodies, checking out the Xaverians' while parking our bike in school, the eagerness for the most awaited festival of the year, 'The Pujas', cycling to school in the foggy winter mornings, the computer classes with the boys, the first moped rides with Ritu and she telling me to increase the speed seeing a man on the cycle overtaking me, the fun and carefree school life, the making of new friends in NIT, the pandal hopping during the pujas, etc etc etc. The list goes on but the memories don't fade neither they will during this lifetime.

Durgapur, is no more a home for me now. Life has moved on and I have moved on with it leaving Durgapur far behind. But even now when I hear the word 'HOME', all that I can think of is 'DURGAPUR'.             

Shining India's Emerging Talibans

During my graduation days in one of India's premier universities, people especially boys who were my friends used to tell me,'don't wear jeans here. People here are not educated enough to accept girls in these kind of western clothes. If someone does something that you don't like, then don't come and tell us, because we had warned you in advance. Its not that we are asking you not to wear it, its just that, since we are your friends we don't want anything bad happening or someone misbehaving with you.'

'We are not asking you!!Hello!Are you not able to hear what you are saying!I mean I am over 18 years of age and here is someone giving me moral lessons on what to do and what not to!!!!You say you are just concerned but do I need to ask you before deciding what to wear!!!' That was ironical because these people belong to that section of society which call themselves literate.....But is just being literate means you are educated!!

Twelve years down the line, its not only what a girl wears to a party or college it is also what she posts on her social networking page makes headlines. People want to dictate terms to a female on not only what she should wear but also what she should write. I mention the word 'people' because it is not only the opposite gender who issues such kind of 'Fatwas' but also our own gender leave no room.

We say our India is shining!India is a sovereign country!!Freedom of speech and expression is our Fundamental right!!!But where does all these theories go when two girl express their discontent of not supporting the bandh issued on the demise of some party leader!In the name of saving the culture girls are issued 'Fatwas' against wearing jeans or any kind of western clothes!Why doesn't culture come in when men repeatedly rape women on the streets of Delhi?Why doesn't culture come in when a father, brother, uncle sexually molest and rape a class 8 student for 2 years continuously in Kannur, Kerala?Where does your culture go when a group of 30-40 men molest a girl on the streets of Guwahati?Where does your culture go when men go for an IPL match just to ogle at the skimpily dressed cheer leaders?Where does culture go when a lift man rapes and murders a bright young advocate for just refuting his advances?

Culture is not all about clothes. Culture is about all the values which are embedded in you by your parents and passed on to your next generation. If parents have a Talibani attitude towards girls then that is what you pass on to your next generation. Being literate doen't really mean you are educated. A person who knows how to put his signature on a piece of paper is also literate but a person who not only knows how to sign but also knows the future implications it will have on him and others is an educated person. Passing out from a renowned institution doesn't prove you are educated if you are using it as a ticket to call for maximum dowry.

India can only truely shine if women are respected else it won't be any different from a Taliban ruled neighbouring countries.