Out Alone

A thought generates an idea. An idea becomes a dream. I am at the Nizammuddin Station, New Delhi waiting for my Rajdhani train to Bengaluru, Karnataka. A new black coloured backpack filled to the edge, a handbag hanging to the side, ticket in hand and with a lot of excitement and hope, travelling solo begins.

Bowling Corner: Phoenix Mall, Photo: Jayashree

Just a fortnight ago, boring schedules, family tensions and lack of vacations’ feel did not sound right. Also, lurching in the Delhi summers became a no-no. Travelling was anytime welcome. Only problem after checking availability of tickets: convincing hyper and conventional parents to let me go alone. Why Bengaluru? That is so because all cousins from Singapore, Chennai and other ones were on their way to the city. “I need a break. I really want to go and meet all of them (cousins)”, I persisted. My dad gave it a thought for days together and my mom was unaware of it till a week before.

The scene: Less of expectations. More of apprehensions. Surprisingly, a green signal from dad meant a go-ahead for an eight day trip.

As the announcement sounds for the train arrival, I come back to the present. Train journeys always fascinate me. Entering the air-conditioned train, I breathe a sigh of relief not only because of the heat. It is good to know my co-passengers are not crying kids, bookworms and snoring uncles. A 33 hour journey is long but interesting conversations about politics, long-distance travelling, North v/s South Indian debates between an IT guy, army personnel, a hardcore Delhi- Punjabi family and an elderly Bihari couple makes the time pass quickly.

Street view, Photo: Jayashree

The train enters the platform at Bangalore City Junction. The smell of filter coffee brewing in the distance gives me a caffeine urge. A coffee cup in hand at my cousin brother’s place in Maratahalli, in the east of the city with a lovely breeze in the balcony is a memorable start to the day. But, I haven’t set a plan. I am ready to go with the flow. 

On a caffiene high, Photo: Jayashree

Coffee beans at StarBucks, Photo: Jayashree

 Shopping and window shopping in Total mall in Doddanekundi during the day and Phoenix mall in Krishna Raja Puram (K.R Puram) in the evening is a treat. A game of bowling is a surprise at the Phoenix mall. Squaring a perfect 7 is my first ever win and it’s beyond thrilling. A Subway cheese, veggies and olive dinner follows.

Lazer Castle, Photo: Jayashree

The next day, I meet two cousins each from Singapore and Bengaluru. They take me to a game of Lazer tag at Lazer Castle at 80 Feet Road. Wearing soldier jackets, we need to shoot the other team members with lazer guns, and we have three family members in the age group of 70. They enjoy as much as we do. Shopping in Lifestyle showroom, Mocha Coffee in StarBucks and I am already spoilt for choice. What a day! A lot of chit-chat, amazing fun and smiles complete the day.

The next visit is to my aunt’s place in Bannerghatta located in the outskirts of the city. As much as I want to take the public transport, relatives have their way. A lot of “ghar ka khaana”, different kinds of rice from lemon to curd, from ‘murukku’ to ‘mavaladoo’ as munchies are a treat for the couple of days of my stay. It pours in the evening and the rains lend the night sky, an exceptional romantic feel. That probably is the only time, I want a company! A game of cards on a lazy Sunday. An inspiring cooking class on Monday. Enjoyment at its height.

My Chennai cousin is on her way to Bengaluru. Reaching Malleshpalya to meet her, another extreme location in the city through instinct and Google maps is a crazy bet. Kudos to that bet. It did work. A fresh shopping spree at Brigade Road near M.G Road Metro station and Commercial Street which are the busiest markets in the city gives ample time for us, the three cousins to shop, talk and hangout after a gap of nearly three years.

Travelling by buses, recently started ‘Namma Metro’ (Our metro), finding out the routes add to the fun. Another stop over at Sarjapur where big bungalows are simply breathtaking.  A plan to watch a 3D movie at INOX cinemas, Forum Mall fizzles out but sharing stories over doughnuts doesn't.

Playing with my niece, exploring the city, admiring the rains in a pleasing weather, an extra bag of gifts filled with home-made mango pickles, filter coffee powder packets are perks of the trip. Indeed, this journey is all about Independence. Individuality. Insights.

LOWLing around!

Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. 

Well, that's how simple are stories of coffees, walks and talks. That's how unbelievable are those times of realizing how cranky one can be with only a few. That's one beautiful confusion that leaves one wanting for more.

Co-incidence is the word.
Going with the flow, I realised it long back.
A lot to say, plenty to blabber, and yet you feel completely comfortable to open up,
an assurance that no judgements will be passed;
no assessments will be done;
wading through levels of understanding, and yet you remain the same; of course, much lighter.

Number of days doesn't matter, decades of knowing each other still might not work.
Space is what matters, and its not taken, its given,

Pagli Journo!  Psycho!
Laugh. Cry. Overreact. Drama Queen. Anger. Patience. Stop overthinking!
Reflect yourself all through is what that company always says!

Woman! What are you talking about? Have you lost your senses or are in a trans-state?
Haha! LOWL!!
And with it, you have completely lost it you might say now, or start to wonder what's wrong with "Bharat ki Janta"!

No no, wait! Listen to the rest of the ______ (whatever you want to call it), I continue!

So, yes, time flew by quickly, there was so much to say and yet so much remained understood.
What do you call it as? A relationship of completeness with one's soul? Really?
No hi-fi stuff, please! 

Created by: Jayashree

So, finally, an evening where you know you have nailed it!

Silence broken. Simple Baat. High on Bakwaas!
Coming back is a promise, but you realise how tough it is?
Missing those times is mutual. Read my face and mind, and you will realise, certain other pieces of puzzle remain.

Never thought, addiction is going to be my way of life, 
It really is the matter!

Lost to the sounds of the engine, to another city, to another life, to another being, you'll be,
My Happiness is exceptional for the future that holds you dear, 
But what tatters me is to think, you will be gone away, and that's the way it has been with me, always!

I wish, a crystal would tell me why is it so?
Why do I have to give up on my walks and my dear talks?
A brewed coffee will always be waiting;
won't  tell you to re-consider, 
I know, it's not in your hands, 
I only wish you the best, 
Sure, there will be plenty of pretty walks awaiting your hand,
amazing chatter boxes, 
I might not be anywhere in the picture, and of course, I will be no one, 
PJ? No, not at all!

A serious thought, 

heartfelt concern, 
a great realisation,
and history will repeat a thousand times, 
and yet, I won't learn!

LOWL!




 

Happiness is storytelling?

Photo: Jazzy J

Photo: Jazzy J

Picture yourself in the care of your granny who amazes you each day with a new story.
Stories of bravery, pride, courage, wisdom to those of anger, jealousy and love.
Stories grow happiness.


Picture yourself with a group of friends, each letting on some secrets. From the first kiss to gossips.
Stories exude happiness.

Picture yourself sharing a cup of coffee with your beloved. Talking about stories of the past and expectations from the future. Stories of hearty fun to yearning.
Stories dream happiness.


Picture yourself with spectacles on a wrinkled face, sitting in the summer sun.
Thinking about stories that you shared with others, and others did with you.
No longer, those people remain, but only the stories.
Going over the times when stories were to convince others, now they simply mean existence.
However old and alone, stories remind happiness.

Cornering thoughts!

He: The world is round.
She: It has corners.
He: Still, it is round.
She: Agreed. But, I am in love with corners.
He: ??!!??!!
She: A naughty smile.

I wish, I was the 'she' in that imaginary talk from my diary. Dreams about one's life are always a part of one's growing up. This is one of them.

In general parlance, corners are places where two sides meet. I have always looked forward to meeting such edges from where I will never have to go back.

Photo: Jayashree

Corners give you a sense of what is going on in the world while being a part of it. There is life in them unlike the drama that goes on in the front. Being away from the limelight, and in a quiet corner can never be a failure. They give you a chance to understand the politics of decisions while being away from the pressure to perform.
They give you a chance to look back and wonder how and why.
Talking about the metaphorical use of corners as in the conversation, yes, everybody at some point, needs these corners. So, do I. Whether to pause and think, whether to share an intimate moment, or just observe.

These days, corners have very different perceptions especially when it comes to couples. Well, what is wrong? Corners give you your own space, you define it the way you want. They give you, your much guarded privacy.

Sitting in a coffee shop, with your eye lenses on, you observe even the minutest of details. The weather, the people going by, the coffee, the partner, the phone, the postures. Everything.

The obvious question would be, does not this happen sitting at the centre also? Well, It does happen. But the experience and the extent is much greater in a tiny corner. Experience them. Value them.

Roundness of the earth is a far-fetched theory. Four corners are for real. Vote for Corners!

Photo: Jayashree

Corners are immensely needed. Highly beautiful. Ultimately sane. Heartily shared.

If evenings were as comforting!

Evenings of life are as special as the mornings, but they become all the more comforting when the heart leads the way. It might be a riddle to solve but sometimes, the journey is all that counts.
As another birthday comes along, treasures that went by remind me of the numerous evenings when solitude meant comfort. When, togetherness became the moon and when expectations came crashing down. Yet, another evening, honeymooning emotions were a treat.

Think about it! We always welcome the mornings and treat them with great enthusiasm. But, evenings are as significant simply because they comfort the lowest points along with being a bedrock for what lies in the future, i.e, the next day.

Evenings have as many different meanings for people as the people themselves. A festival's eve rings the bell for celebrations, an evening with family after a long day is all that brings solace. Meeting a beloved over a cup of coffee rings in some great times or an evening of great weather, a dash of music seems to make up for all the time lost. Symbolically, evenings suggest the end of the day as much as that of life, almost leaving a bitter taste and an uneven glance. There is no denying that such feelings are true but there is also the hope for sufferings and pain to end whether at the end of the day or life. All that remains is the amount of knowledge gained and experience shared.

Watching over a sunset, as the wind blows, a familar face smiles at me through the rear view mirror of the bike;
as a pillion rider, I am in awe of not just the setting sun, but also the biker who takes me along;
A brewing romance, many might call it, but, I wish to name it as the evening that we share, of the several which I am hopeful, are going to come soon.

As we speed through, I remember, those ominous evenings which went by without a trace,
those moments of yearning which left me drowning in hopelessness,
and those special ones where my heart led the way.

Imagination is all I have as the biker seems to sense it and smile,
Infact, the biker looks weary but never seems to complain,
much appreciated, ofcourse,
but you need some rest dear, is all that I manage to say;

Look me in the eyes, I want to say;
as we take a short break;
a simple chit-chat follows without too much to talk;
all,  I ask, is an embrace and the biker gladly obliges;

How, I wish, I could replay the evening's happenings always, and whenever I wanted,
craziness is a virtue and I have it in plenty, 
sixty precious minutes seemed to make up all the lost time;
greed for more engulfs me,
as the time to say a goodbye to the evening as well as the biker draws upon.

I do not want to leave,
the biker knows it but is as helpless as I am,
all that I now, know as the biker helps me to my physical destination, is my destiny has already made its way.

Hard truth?

Red is everywhere. The colour of danger, of blood, of deep buried emotions, and of fear warning of tremendous pain beyond a physical injury. Each drop of blood rushing out of the wound reminds of each and every instance where I was disappointed and yet kept on believing and hoping for a miracle to happen.

A miracle which would end a lot of suffering and make me feel complete. Pieces of broken glass reflect images of fantasies I lived in, of a world of imagination that was so mine and yet I could not make them real. I never felt the need to justify myself but as the time passes, these shattered glass pieces hold the key for me.

May be, I am one of them or could be soon. The fear of being a victim of my own thinking overpowers me at times and these times are hard. As a drop of blood comes rushing out of the bruised finger, the reality of hoping for a miracle to happen soon seems vague and the journey seems endless.

Each drop of blood recounts a memory shared. I allowed myself to be taken for a ride because I have always believed in what the future holds for us. As i try to accept that a day may soon come when everything will be over and you will tell me the hard truth, I stop the fresh blood oozing out of the bruises.

The acceptance of reality is something I have gone over and over again but it never has stuck me the way it did today. I may become one of the pieces that need to be thrown out. My dreams look abandoned. My life looks incomplete. My love for you is still there but you never believed in it. I can not force my views on you but if it had to happen, it would have, had. Its time i accepted it. Let the blood flow, and give me the strength to fight it out with myself. Each piece of glass stands for all the times, I was shattered and yet i chose to live with it. Each bruise stands for the pain, I chose to ignore.

Yet, the reality is I was the glass in your life which would have hurt the dreams that you have. The mind says, it is better to move on, but it is heartbreaking just like the broken glass.

Why 'perfection' is not me?

Photo:Jayashree

As the new year 2014 begins, with the aroma of sweets and savouries, there are taste buds relentlessly waiting to approve of the 'perfect' pie.

An idea of the 'perfect' in the seas of imperfection have always been a matter of great discussion and still the struggle continues.  This constant tussle between the mythical 'perfect' and the realistic imperfect resonates in our lives. From food to appearance, from voting in the Elections to being voted as the most desirable personality, from 'swayamwar' to sex and from YOLO to R.I.P, 'perfect' is what we all seek in somewhere, something or in someone, infact generally everyone, including oneself.

There is no point in talking about something which affects us so dearly with sarcasm but with an understanding of how it manifests in our way of life. Our ideas about 'being there' or 'reaching there' have only multiplied our problems more than opening up new and better avenues.

'Perfection' is an achievable myth. It does not exist and yet we are constantly taught to be 'one of them', the rich, the successful, the famous, the conqueror of the world and in short, 'the best'. To be in the league and to run fast in order to top the league become one of the first lessons of growing up whether we accept it gracefully or ruefully down the line.

We live in a world where the idea of being 'perfect' is as diverse as the different kinds of life forms. Where skin colour or the waist size or the rate of development of the economy are all valued on the same scale of 'perfection'. Marks on the skin or in an examination become the parameters to achieve what the world calls as 'perfect'. Confusion reigns and rings the bell of depending on what does not exist.

Photo: Jayashree

Dozens of resolutions are made every new year with anticipation of improvement and with aim of achieving the 'perfect' state. We simply forget that if resolutions could make us reach a supposed state called 'perfect', then dreams would have taken us to a state beyond 'perfection' owing to their much recurring nature. 

So, at the end of the road, what remains is the real 'you', distant and different from the 'perfection' that is so desired. That completes you. That completes me. It shall engulf the world. We shall bathe and brew in that feeling. Ignorance is definitely a bliss. Being 'perfect' is not by any means, for us!