Reflections of a wandering soul

 A song from radio yesterday prompted me for this blog.

I have grown old with Indian Music (yup, English was never my forte except the ever so sexy number Waiting for tonight). Hindi songs were my first love teacher :) They are the best partners to a heartbreak too. There is more to what meets the eye, deep inside, between the lines. Here I go.

1) Chalo ek baar fir se - Gumraah

Melodical suggestion to amputate the disturbing memories, could not have been better. 

Wo afsana jise anjaam tak laana na ho mumkin, 

use ek khoobsurat mod dekar chodna achcha

2) Is mod se jate hai - Aandhi

The quest to unite, so strong, so ethereal yet so simple

ye soch ke baithi hu, ek raah to wo hogi

tum tak jo pahuchti hai

3) Mera kuch saaman - Ijaazat

A masterpiece by R.D. Burman and Gulzar, the perfect company to lonely nights with the raindrops plattering against the window panes. 

ek ijaazat de do bus, jab isko dafnaungi

mai bhi yahi so jaungi

4) Hum tumhe chahte hai aise - Qurbaani

An eternally romantic song, featuring the Ah so handsome Vinod Khanna. The desire of every heart in love

mere khwabon me jo saj raha hai

wo khuda to nahi par zamane me sabse juda hai

5) Jo tumko ho pasand - Safar

One song I would love my man to sing for me time and again. Throughout a promise of fidelity and unfaltering love. The presence of style king Firoz Khan lends more than just meaning to the song ;)

poore hue hai apse armaan zindagi ke

hum zindagi ko apki saugaat kahenge

6) Sagar jaisi aankhon wali - Saagar

Hardly will there be a woman on earth who will not blush listening to the song being directed to her. Full of enraptured admiration and delightful arousal of the senses.

ye armaan hai shor nahi ho,khamoshi ke mele ho
is duniya me koi nahi ho, hum dono hi akele ho

7) Humne dekhi hai - Khamoshi

a beautiful song which is simply out of the world. Every time I listen to the song the lyrics stir some unknown feelings deep inside me. The timeless art of defining love.

sirf ehsas hai ye rooh se mahsoos karo

pyaar ko pyaar hi rehne do koi naam na do

Am sure there are more in the list. Hindi songs have some of the most beautiful gems around. But for now this is all I recall. Feel free to add on. 

Lessons from Yesteryears

Dear Readers

This has been long boiling in me, but was too tied up to pen it down. Finally today I can stand it no more and have to write anyhow. My thoughts are foggy with so much to deliver and discuss.

We all during the natural phenomenon of growing up knowingly or otherwise experience so many things which mold us to be what we are, from insignificant trivia to remarkable episodes.

This column will be about important lessons that I have learned during the course of my growing years. They have all contributed in me becoming what I am today. So all those who think I am a good human being, I am hardly to credit. There are so many out there who have left a mark on me and have shaped me in my current form. 

My favorite lesson till date has been from a close school friend Vriti Sharma. I have hardly seen her after my college days but we still manage to catch up on phone at times. I remember it vaguely....something had happened while in school and everybody held me responsible. She was one of those who agreed with me when I said it was not my fault. As a kid I had learnt that at times saying sorry was the safest bet. In order to avoid conflicts I agreed to say sorry. It was then that I learnt this for life She came to me and very humbly asked if I genuinely felt sorry. " Are you out of your mind, of course not, you know I am not a party". "Then why do you want to make your conscience weak". Those words still echo in my mind. Sorry is such a small word, at times we do not even think twice before saying it. It has almost become a fad to say sorry and forget it. How many times do we actually mean it. More than that we just say it for the heck of saying. 

Today I realize this restraint has made me a stronger person. I do not say sorry now till the time I am sure I am at fault. Other way round, I do not even hesitate to accept my mistakes. Because I know what Sorry is all about. There is no fear, feeling of subservience or inferiority when I accept my mistakes. In fact it has made me more magnanimous in ignoring others' mistakes. 

The lesson has had far reaching impact on me. I am a more strong, accomodating and confident person now. I know accepting mistakes is tough job and hence take utmost care not to repeat it. I have learnt never to say SORRY without being at fault.

Thank you Vriti.

I am sure all of us had similar expereinces. Why not add to these lessons and make this a learning chain. After all it is never too late to learn. What say!!!

The Weak Planner

Before writing anything else, I want to shout at the top of my voice- AIR INDIA SUCKS AND I HATEEEE IT.

This week was one of the most depressing that I could reminisce. Even before the week began my two day  leave long planned for one of my close colleagues' wedding stood cancelled. The air tickets had looongg been booked and were non refundable. I had sooo wanted to be a part of the ceremony in Chandigarh. The flight was Tuesday Night and I am talking of Monday Morning.

Evening I get the favour through a mail - I can go, rather I must go. (Please read- the breed called boss) Period. I am not submissive either. I have a colleague's ticket still on and decide to maintain that.

This is Tuesday. Late evening I get a call from the concerned person who was supposed to travel saying somehow his tickets also stand cancelled and he cannot go (Why/ How is all together a different story. Demeaning the party is not my objective). It is compulsive for one of us to go. I frantically call the person and ask him to arrange for some mode of transport of which we can share the cost. I get a curt reply saying no.

My eyes are brimming with tears now over the helplessness and dejection. I am panicking big time because wedding is the next day and the tickets are costing me a fortune. I spend three hours on phone working out the cheapest combination. Finally I get them done. But I am torn between gifting my parents the much awaited holiday or attending the wedding. I settle on the later for reasons obvious. I spent one entire night reconciling my balance sheet where the debits overshoot the credit by half a lakh.   

Wednesday morning I pack hastily and leave for the airport. The entire journey went unevetnful as my thoughts were stuck on the mathematical figure. I reach late evening. My colleague is elated to see me. The feeling is mutual and so for the moment the pain is gone and the entire ordeal seems successful.

Thursday morning after bidding her off to the groom's house I take the hour long cab to Baddi where my Aunt lives. Gorge on some good breakfast as I had missed my meals the last day...one due to anguish and the other amidst all excitement.

Afternoon I reach the airport settled a bit in the mind only to be told by the security that my tickets are for 13th and it was 12th that day. WTF....sorry, did not have a better exclamation than that. I plead the guards to help me out. They permit me in on humanitarian grounds and advice me to talk to AIR INDIA MANAGER ON DUTY. Yes, this is where the second fiasco starts. My flight to Delhi and on to Ahmedabad were both AIR INDIA. The manager is magnanimous to accomodate my preponement but cautions me that this arrangement was only till Delhi. He cannot guarantee the DEL- AMD confirmation. I call up my Travel Agent and vent my doubled up temper on him. I am not used to being snapped by people at fault. He plainly replies saying he cannot help at the given point of time. Roger....the tears brim up again.

By the time I board the flight I am exhausted and mentally drained. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I try my level best to stay awake but doze off god knows when. I am startled by the whimpering of a kid and wake up. Flight was to land at 4 and it is 4.15. Lost, I ask the air hostess who confirms we will land shortly. I am getting worried big time because my next flight (if i am lucky) is at 6.50.  I suddenly start feeling giddy, weak and sick. I want to throw up badly. I was the last one to get out of my flight despite the urgency cause I can barely stand. Under normal circumstances I would have surrendered to the air hostesses on board pleading them to somehow seat me in my next flight. But no, I have to arrange for my tickets. For those who have seen the Delhi Airport, it is massive. There is a good amount of distance between the domestic and international transfers. The AIR INDIA Team ensures I traverse the entire port at least twice for whatsoever reasons. They also see to it that I am handled in the most rude and unprofessional manner on display.  I am willing to pay, I am struggling to be calm and polite. I experiment all grandma's ways to counter rising temper.

Finally at 6 sharp I reach my stipulated gate all dog tired and feeling miserable. I locate a coffee point and gulp down two extra large cold coffees in one go to keep me awake and sane. " It is to inform all passengers that the AI 010 to Ahmedabad will be delayed by an hour and will now depart at 7.50" If I were dying that day that was the last nail in my coffin. I told my neighbour to wake me up when the flight arrives and close my eyes for some peace. Once on board I have someone else sitting on my seat. I seek help from the air hostess. The AI hostessess are all the age of my mothers minus the compassion and warmth. I tell one to wake me up on landing. Big Momma retaliates it is not her job. Oops the Maharaja!!! I forgot.

Hair and Their

What is the worst comment you could have ever received!! Think,.think, what..... you can't remember, SURPRISING. I believe the source of such negative comments should be flayed alive. Please listen to this before you form an opinion about me. A close colleague of mine today whilst we were in the middle of an interesting conversation pops out the most horrifying statement my ears would ever be subjected to. She said,"What is it with your hair style. It seems to resemble Sanjay Dutt so closely these days." I snapped an instant SHUT UP, and carried on the conversation like nothing had happened. But the comment infuriated me the entire day. So what if she were a good friend, so what if I had given her the liberty to pick up on me, so what if I have made some nasty remarks on her clothes choice in the past, truth always hurts. And this time it stuck like a poisoned arrow straight on my left.

The ever so conscious woman I am, I lost no time in rushing to the parlour for a hair session. I chose the best parlour in town to get my hair done. My seething soul could be comforted by nothing less than a compliment from the same source on the same subject. 

I enter the parlour and ask for the an expert in short hair. I judge the expertise of my stylist by the hair he/she keeps. This guy (I would call him BARBER hereon, you will know the reason soon) had hair the shape of a hive. They were such a curly mass as if it were handpicked and dumped on his head to rust forever there.  I chided myself for being judgemental. However the moment he rolled the scissor in my hair, I knew today and atleast a month straight I will have bad hair days. What came out was nothing Halle berry or Gul panag but if it has to be a star..........it was Salman khan of tere naam. Very confidently the barber asks me," Do you want me to dry your hair." Equally confident I shoot back, " Niether am I shooting for a shower scene, nor is your salon short of dryers." I am sure he got the sting cause he revenged it on my already ruined hair.

By the time I reversed my car I had tears in my eyes and had checked my hair in the rear view mirror a number close to the oldest person on earth. My ears were ringing with the sequel of the day's comment. I heard somewhere Sanjay Dutt and Salman Khan are close friends.

For the barber, I wish the salon would stop picking their so called stylists from under the old favorite Banyan Tree.

I am still furious.

Pain, how I know it

Today the pain is bad again. I have been through this before but that was long back. I thought I had conquered it. But no, it is as vulnerable, as fragile as a ligament, needs to be tended for life. I was trying the hit formula - pain shared is pain halved. To my dismay it doubled up, all those memories came flooding back. Endless nights of pillow sobbing, days of brooding, I thought had cured me of the ill. But no, it was always there, waiting for me to get weak.

I never talked of it because I thought it was silly to bring it up again and again. I was assured with years of endurance I had become emotionally and physically strong. Now when I look back I think confrontation would not have been a bad idea. It could have been a outlet for all that is simmering in. One major reason why I could not encroach the territory was I felt weak and timid. I was afraid I would relent and portray myself as a looser. I was wrong. Draining the dirt out is a viable option always.

Pain can be all sorts and colors. Emotional, physical, mental, all increasingly worse. They are differentiated by the cure, physical pain can be cured. Emotional needs you to cure it. It is more a matter of trial and error. Not necessary one tip fits all.

I am still lurking without success. The pain of letting go is scariest. Even the happy memories will make you sad. All one can do is keep evading till time shadows it. Ridding oneself of Pain is a lifetime engagement.

Nonetheless I am not a quitter either.

Dum Maro Dum

*** - gritty movie
Well...I do not have a reason why one should go and watch this thriller drama infused with hints of Indian melodrama. 

I was more drawn by the imposing Rana Daggubati and the sizzling item number. I came out of the theatre more glossy, glitzy and edgy. The movie held me back for the entire duration. The screenplay was definitely not a award winner. Despite the loose strings the actors managed to hold it there. Abhishek Bachchan suits in the role of a cop on a mission of cleaning Goa, Rana, the idealist Indian hero, who plays a singer in the movie, Bips does not have much to do but manages to impress, the heart goes out to Pratiek Babbar who has been trapped by the drug mafia and is on the verge of loosing his girlfriend and family.

The sun kissed beaches of Goa have been depicted as the hub of narcotics. Rohan Sippy has well captured the essence of national Party capital. The dialogues are snappy and the music hummable.

The movie is fit for people looking for a escape from the daily frenzy and wanting to just DUM MARO DUM.

Memoirs of a distressed soul

Since the last few days I have been planning to write my next blog. I was tied up not with the demands of business, rather to the current frame of my mind.  How I recalled the subject of this blog is an interesting story. I was chatting to an old friend in the morning. She brought up the subject of memory lapse saying this morning she was about to put lipstick in her eyes.

You guessed it right!!! Off late I have taken on to forgetting. I pick up an idea only to forget it in seconds. The spell is causing me a lot of troubles and is a source of embarassement in many a situations.

Just today I wore my chappals on my business suit and walked till the parking. It was only when I kick started my bike that I realised my blunder. By the time I went up again and reached office I was late for my meeting. I was mortified to hear my boss ask What was it that I forgot this day.

I can also attribute my latest mania to the company of humans surrounding me. While writing the blog I thought it would take the lime light off me if I include the anecdotes of my friends as well. I turned to two of my 'friends in need' to bail me out. Now it would not be out of order to mention that these women have always proved handy in saving my distressed soul. I wrote to both of them to narrate similar incidents. Here I am waiting and waiting without any reply. I pick up my phone and take them to task for delaying the reply. To much of my chagrin one of them admits to have had ample of such situations but now she has simply forgotten about them. And the other even better forgot to check her inbox post the beep.

The ailment is taking me places- I have been forgetting important dates (including my sister's bday), appointments (one to the doctor for the same not ruled out), routine chores (as daily as eating lunch, brushing teeth and the worst wearing shirt under my coat).

I have tried all advices made to me right from eating almonds to concentrating on a point on the wall opposite my chair. Yeah.....that was the weirdest of all and my team next door thought I had forgotten to move. I know you are having a hearty laugh at the cost of a poor me, but mind it, some of the celebrated glitterati knew the same pain. Albert Einstien is well renowned for his forgetfulness. He would forget umbrellas, dates and many more. Marlyn Monroe, the heartthrob, would forget her lines, schedules, even her love intrests at times. The reads have been enough to console and raise my bruised spirit. Forgetting the trivia gives one more brain space for logic and rationale.

However one interesting thing that has happened to me amidst all this forgetting business is.......is.........is..........err....ummmm.....guess I will mention it in the next blog.

Sshhhh, please don't tell anyone I again forgot.