Unsent Letters..

My dear bhindi
there is a lot i know u know. like the fact that i loved u. like the fact that those days with u in class eight are an integral part of my growing up memories. and school magazine every year was our thing. our article every year. and the newsboard was our thing. we the editors. and how what we started never ended how we intended it to. which was fun.
and then our lives bifurcated. but i had a corner for u always and i know u did for me too.
but u came last month, december to visit. and for a brief two days we were happy. so happy. so we made plans to make our lives intersect again soon.
and then some incalculable factor, some inhuman person, some bakery table underneath which there was a bomb..... and then u were a face on a newspaper for many and a reason to light a candle for many more.
for me u are the girl who gave me a shoebox on my birthday with a bhindi and a potol stuck inside it. to potol from bhindi. and a lot of glitter. because u cared enough for ur friends to spend ur time doing crazy things like that. and a book inside the box which said to me from u on the first page. and to ankik from kaushik on the second. and u burst out laughing when i told u and said u had given me ur brother's book by mistake.
and now u and ur brother are gone. and in the hostel lawn is a ghost of a memory of u and me sleeping in the sun. and then there is me. sitting here wondering why, and what to do, and knowing that this pain will never go. what would i not give for u too call me and say ur coming tomorrow.
i'll do those things ok? and i dont know how i'll let u know. maybe i'll blog again. i'm sorry i dont know what else to do. i've never believed in god or afterlife. right now i wish i did.
u would have been very critical of this letter. u would have made me rearrange it.
and i'll finish here today coz im sleepy. coz i havent slept much coz every time i close my eyes the tears try to squeeze out.....and im signing of like i always do, always did in emails, and bhindi its too true......
"love, always."
yours
....


(something i found in drafts. dated december 2010)

Poet vs Physicist

Staggering up the stairs with two really heavy bags.
Thought process...
1st floor- This is a total work out. Weights.
2nd floor- Graaavityyyy. Working against meeee. (My brother is a huge John Mayer fan)
3rd floor- As I struggle against gravity, gravity pulls me in. As I step higher and higher, the bag gets heavier and heavier. It's a battle between nature and me. What chance do I stand?! (The inner poet in full flow)
4th floor- According the law of gravity, there is an inverse proportionality to the square of r. So as I'm climbing up, the bags are getting lighter. (The inner physicist kicks in. And wins...)

Mother's Day Ispeshial

The first day I went to school, I apparently ran in, screaming with joy at the sight of so many more children to play with. All the other kids stood there bawling because they had to leave their moms. My mom went home feeling a little hurt. Does my kid not love me and miss me, she wondered. She called her sister. My aunt, a doctor, explained to her how she had brought me up to be confident and secure enough to manage that super cool walk to my first classroom.

The Boringest Week Ever

Week? Month. Whatever...
All my seniors who took gap years warned me that they get boring in February. I sailed through Feb. Swaggered through March. I told people that gap years were meant for me, I loved every second.
Then I ran out of things to do.
One day I was bored and lying on the couch watching strangely dressed NRIs dancing around in a K-Jo movie with fascinated horror. Maybe the florescent clothes hypnotized me a little. The next day I was throwing up five times a day and too weak to get up. That wasn't even the bad part.
The bad part was my mom waking me up to ask me if I was feeling ok and then telling me the silver lining of my sickness was that I might lose some weight.
Thanks Mom. Worst nurse ever!

Once I was better I realised that I had actually slept for four days, not one and missed a Chelsea semi-final. I also started suspecting that I wasn't actually Sherlock Holmes and that might have just been a fever induced hallucination. Both these facts depressed me a lot so I enrolled at the local swimming pool.

I hate swimming. My total lack of grace on solid land is only magnified in water. Moms probably point me out to their children as an example of how-to-not-swim. The other day I crashed into someone, floundered in the water till I was sure I'd drown and then grabbed a passing butt to regain sea level.

I thought I'd hit rock bottom till I went to the vegetable market, lost one of the two bags I was carrying and retraced my steps for half an hour in an effort to find it. The vegetable-seller-person suggested that I look in bag one to find bag two. I mean, do I really look that stupid? I nodded politely and walked away. Then I bought a watermelon, telling myself that I could eat it for four days and hence wouldn't have to come back to the horrible bazaar. Two minutes later I realize that I'm not strong enough to carry it home.

After staggering home with that giant watermelon (it was the smallest in the store) I'm taking some well-earned rest. Mom walks in. She launches into a whole worry thing featuring a mean conservative mother in law vs me. ME? I'm 22 and weddings scare me. Not to mention relationships, responsibility and commitment.
"Ma, can we not talk about this?"
"Why can't we talk about this? We never talk. These things are real. We should talk about it. Listen I'll totally beat up your mean mother-in-law!"
The imaginary one?
"You're going to miss me when I die and there's noone to beat up your mother-in-law!"
Yep, that wiped the smile off my face. Now I was just baffled.
Still not finished she goes on,"I'm sure you're gay. That's why you're so uncooperative when I try to talk about these things."
I got up and ran. Earphones!

Did I miss the headlining research on mothers-in-law being nicer when the couple is gay?

Maybe I'll start reading newspapers to get rid of this boredom. Be up to date on mothers-in-law and genetically modified mini-watermelons.

MIssion Pudding

Bro and I venture into the kitchen yesterday. It feels like an expedition, a voyage into the unknown.

Mission: To make pudding. Ready-mix pudding.

You take the powder and mix it in milk and heat it till it boils and then dump it in the fridge. One simple sentence of instructions?

I'm hunting in the fridge for milk. Mom seems to have put the milk into several separate containers. I find one with enough milk to use and stagger back into the kitchen. My brother helpfully hands me the powder. I immediately start juggling with the packet. Toss it from my right hand to my left hand. I'm so cool I can catch things. And,"OH MY GOD YOU OPENED THE PACKET!!!". There is a fine dust of powder all over the floor.

Much deflated, I start boiling the milk while my brother sweeps the floor and hides the powder behind the dustbin. Why not in it, I wonder?

My threshold of boredom being a little low, I hand over the job of stirring the milk till it boils to bro. Two minutes later there's a loud shriek. "IT"S BOILING AAAAAAAH WHAT SHOULD I DOOO??"

I jump in and turn off the flame before it boils over and we are left with nothing to show for our efforts. The genius hadn't thought of turning it off.

It's going to be a while before we venture back in there again.

Marital and martial are almost the same word. Just one letter changes place!

Hmm. I started a post with that sentence a week ago. Then I abandoned it. It could have been a good post. I don't know, depending on where it went.

I abandoned it because I didn't know where it could go.

Speaking of things headed in unknown directions. My teacher from school asked me to come speak to her class about career options. The reason she asked me to come speak to them is that out of the fifty students who were in my class, I am one of the two who did not become an engineer.

Things headed in unknown directions, did you say?

answer 1- my life.

answer 2- that talk.

Let's not discuss answer 1.

Talking to schoolchildren. Schoolchildren are scary. When I was in school we made it a point to try to reduce all the substitute temp teachers to tears. And the career counselling sessions! Well, I wouldn't know, I was bunking them and playing ping pong. Hmm, that could explain answer 1.

In summers I teach schoolchildren karate. Summer before last, they misbehaved, I refused to punish them because I was just one year out of school and thought I was one of them. Then sir punished me for failing to maintain order.

Last summer, two of the boys thought it would be funny to run in circles when I told them to practice their kicks. So before I was punished, I went ahead and punished them. Thirty sit-ups. We start from one each time you stop you little buggers. Then I felt REALLY happy about punishing them. Then I felt REALLY guilty for feeling really happy about punishing them. They had turned me in to a monster!

This summer I haven't turned up in the club yet.

Maybe they've reformed schoolchildren since last summer.

Grandchildren

Yesterday, at the mall, mom demanded grandchildren. For a second I was sure I was going to fall down and hit my head on the floor, forget the moment and let it go. Then I didn't fall. Maybe I was too concerned about not letting the cheesecakes get ruined.

So I put forth my feeble defence. "Mom, I'm 21".

"I don't care. My friend from school had a grandkid last year, she keeps sending me pictures."

I skim through possible replies/plans of action in my head. Mom, but I'm 21/ It's not a competition/burst into tears/run away as fast as I can, with the cheesecake.

While I'm thinking about which door is closest and planning the best escape route she adds,"The only thing you are interested in is food. I have to bribe you with cheesecake to make you come to the mall. I could take my grandchildren shopping."

At this point I actually felt a pang of pity for the hypothetical grandchildren.

Then astonished at my own brain's uselessness, I come up with the reply "But I just got into university."

"Yeah but I have to have grandchildren so they can inherit my jewellery. You aren't interested in jewellery. I looked for abandoned children in the bushes whenever I went for evening walks but never found any."

(She's been out for two evening walks in the last two years.)

AND THEN. Then the ridiculousness of the whole conversation hit me. I finally come up with the correct reply. "Let's go home. You can ask bro if he is willing to go get you some grandchildren."

Clutching cheesecake, we make our way back in happy silence.