To Life....

Yet another day dawns,

when I breathe.

Yet another morning to awake

and look ahead.

Yet another day to live

and celebrate.

Few more smiles to smile,

few more tears to shed.

Few more secrets to share,

and few more syllables to utter.

My life gifts me yet another day

to stare at the same moon,

to think about the same loved one,
to feel a mother's embrace,

to make love.

Another day to see the clouds drift pass,

to hear the pitter patter of rain on the window sill.

Life, to whom i have been

unjust, unfair.

Life, who I scarred and marred.

Life to whom I gave nothng,

to whom I returned nothing,

gave me yet another day

to feel bliss

to feel ecstacy

to imagine

to dream.

And again, another day dawns when i breathe....

Independence Day

I was in Class-IV.

Returning home from school after celebrating Independence Day with much Pomp and Grandeur, I was shouting a lot about the love I have for my country and Independence (etc.).

Baba was reading the newspaper in the drawing room, Ma was trying to concentrate on a recipe book she had taken out from Dinna's trunk and I was--- shouting!

Baba called me, took me on his lap and kept his left hand on my head. I stopped. The calmness in his touch always did that to me. I was pacified and rested on his chest.

"You know, Gurai," Baba spoke, while his hands caressed me, "we are not independent."

A stunned me sat straight. As the words sunk in, I turned to face him.
"How can that happen? That's not true. Big Aunty said,' We are free. We are independent.' She said..."
"You are independent only when you realize your responsibilities and are responsible for your actions. We Indians, neither realize our responsibilities nor do we acknowledge them."
"But Big Aunty..."
"Remember what I said." Baba smiled. His hands still caressing me.

I was in Class-VI.

Baba was admitted in a nursing home in Salt Lake. Both the transplanted kidneys had failed once again. He used to go mad with pain after dialysis. His hands and legs were tied so that he was not able to throw them.

Nobody was there in the room. Just me and Baba.

Baba's hands tied. I was standing at the window, looking at the setting sun over the Salt Lake Stadium. I turned around. A drop of tear was rolling down Baba's cheek. I went up to him and brushed it off.

Baba smiled.

"Gurai,will you do a job for me?" I was running my index finger on the veins coming out on Baba's hand. I nodded. "Take care of Ma, Gurai. Don't ever leave her alone."

I was in Class-VII. It was three months Baba had died. One night Ma suddenly started howling in her sleep. She was crying for Baba. She was shouting. Her whole body was shaking uncontrollably. I held her tightly to my heart, wrapping her around with my arms, continuously whispering in her ears, "Its okay Ma. Its okay. I'm here." Kissing her on the forehead, shouting in my mind for help, for Baba. Ma was calming down. I was holding her. She fell asleep. I was still holding her.

Baba had said, "You are independent only when you realize your responsibilities and be responsible of your actions." Just realizing is not enough, no Baba? Just being with her when she cries is not enough.... I fight with her Baba. I make her angry. I get angry with her. I spend a lot more time with my friends, books and other accessories than I do with her. But I'm with her Baba.

All the time---like the Jasmine you planted--wrapping, climbing and growing up along that Cherry tree.

Early thoughts of the day....

Everyday when I wake up in the morning,the first thing I do is---CURSE everyone around... Why the hell do we have to get up in the morning? Why can't we get up in the afternoon? Okay, may be not in the afternoon but at least not before 10 to 10:30...Please!

But no point telling all this because everyone...starting from my Ma,my tuition teacher,even our milkman (HariDa) have the time to lend me a ear only and only (one last time please!) and ONLY in my dreams..which I usually have just before Ma pulls me out of my bed. Okay, I get pulled down,shouted at and then dragged into the bathroom.(Sigh!)

Everyday (when I say everyday I mean EVERYDAY), since time immemorial, while brushing my teeth, this mesmerizingly STUPID thought comes to my mind---"How do the Tigers and the Lions manage without brushing their teeth? And if they can manage without that Close-Up, Binaca,Oral-B and stuff then WHY do we take so much pain?"

However,before you start judging my mental condition lets proceed further.

I remember not many years ago,but a long time back I used to walk around in our garden,early in the morning,with the toothbrush in my mouth (chewing its bristles so very badly that it had to be changed every 15 days),stepping on all the dewdrops that I could see on the diamond-studded grass,may be standing under a over-grown shrub for a while and then again moving away,attracted by a Red Ladybird beetle with black polka dots all over.


Ma used to shout at that time also. But I never got bored. I always enjoyed it. Even if it ultimately led to a resounding slap,a blood-curdling glare or just an exasparated sigh. Now I just get bored.

Things were New then. Most of it is New still now( How much have I seen or known?), but still the fact that I can Actualy KNOW,LEARN,JUDGE and DECIDE is not New anymore,which at times leads to--BOREDOM. (Sigh!)

I KNOW Ma will shout, I've LEARNT why she shouts, I've JUDGED her reasons for shouting and I've DECIDED that no matter what, I simply LOVE her shouting. Somethings should always remain unchanged. (Smile!)

But however, the Red Ladybird beetle with black polka dots all over does not attract me anymore. May be because I know WHY its there or may be just because I know it'll always be there.I don't go out to my garden anymore. It'll always be there as well. Nothing is new about it.Even the NEW rosebud isn't new enough.

But its not the rosebud's fault. Its my mindset. Our mindset.

We are now in the INFORMATION AGE, where you are supposed to be INFORMATIVE. You'll KNOW what you are supposed to KNOW...you need to KNOW and are asked to KNOW. You know anything more than that and people start calling you a failure.

Nobody 'knows' for the pleasure of knowing. Nobody 'knows' for the excitement of knowing.Everybody knows just for the HECK of knowing.

The new rosebud (without a new air about it) is not in my syllabus for the Half-Yearly Examination.So why should I know about it?Why should I know that the Red Ladybird beetle WITH BLACK POLKA DOTS ALL OVER ("Not again!") has a new neighbour,the Mustard-colour Moth?

Why should you know my Early Morning Thoughts?

But then again if all the Questions had Answers and No-one also had useful work like Everyone then things would have been Quite Different... rather Very Different.