Sunday, August 29, 2010

Something greater,something greater in You.

This post of fiction is dedicated to someone very close to my heart.

I saw that white skoda in the toll road. I thought twice on the fact that a lot of sand fell out of its Dickie when the car hit the speed breaker. Soon that thought was overruled by Indian Aristocrats,my favorite band, playing on the radio. While Shuddhi-their famous track, sent me into a semi trance, I almost reached out for the pack of cigarettes in the dashboard, when I suddenly realized my aunt sitting next to me enjoying the trance she was sent off to, as well.
"Yeah, she's cool. Bloody cool at 60. Just not cool enough to see her 19 year old nephew smoke."
I went back to driving with a smile.

"You know...Ramashish.. this lead singer.. used to be quite a heart-breaker when we were in college together. Oh he was such a charmer, I tell you. Those green bell bots with the cream silk shirt and the wayfarers he used to wear on Fridays to college.. All the girls used to drool over that chap!" , she said.
I tried imagining this guy I called my idol in the clown like clothes my aunt's teenage-hood considered hot.
This guy with the most amazing Fender guitar (Dave Murray Stratocaster) I've ever seen , wearing Green bell bots with a silk cream shirt. I concentrated on Torrent, before every preachy feeling in me for the poster-guy of Rolling Stones I considered God, melted to ashes.

"But pishi.. I thought you never gave any guy a second glance while in college?.." I asked, being a complete jerk and smiled slyly.
"Naa ofcourse, I never looked twice at him! I was just saying... acha let me listen ok. You just drive!" ; she replied in her sweet Bengali accent, looking away, trying her best to hide those memories of flirtatious youth that were so evident in the blush that slipped into her already rosy cheeks.
"Women!" I laughed, and shifted my gear. My aunt looked at me and gave a shy smile.

We were on our way back from Noida. My aunt had some work there. It was about 11 in the night, and we both, Indian Aristocrats fans were drowned in their music, while my subconscious mind managed to drive, and not get us killed.
That's when it hit me.
It had been fifteen minutes since a white Skoda had been following me. Each an every turn, every fork, it followed me.
I increased my speed to a 60 and hurried,as smartly and quietly I could. The car over took me, sped faster and zoomed away leaving my car smeared in dust.
"Sunofa!" I quickly stopped, when I realized for the second time,I wasn't alone. I was pissed. "These goddamn jath!" I said.
My aunt was silent. She was trying to look hard at something in the distant.
"Ric, turn the car around." ; She suddenly said. Her voice was serious, and somehow hid a hint of fear.
"What? Why? The main road's going to take us ages pishi, this ridge is fine."
"Just listen to what I'm saying. Just turn the car, Ric. Now!"
Her voice now screamed panic. I tried to follow where her eyes were fixed.... That white Skoda. The same one that had been following had now halted on the road in front, and five men wearing shawls and with guns, signalling me to stop the car.
And that's when I saw another appalling reality; There was a flag of an opposition party stuck to the car. I immediately understood what was happening. My aunt; Mrs.Rukhmani Ghosh was one of the leading  leaders of a progressive political party. A few weeks back, she beat Keshav Das in the elections.. These men stood there to kill her. I saw the dickie opened with sand and big bags inside.. I didn't even want to allow myself to think what they might have been for.
I had heard about this dirty tactic rising in Delhi and Calcutta. I had heard about certain selective opposition-party leaders sending out men to loot,rape, and kill women and men who went ahead of them in the Party. But I just couldn't believe my own aunt was the victim-to-be.

It was too late to turn around. There was a driver in the Skoda, they'd just end up chasing us, and it would lead to a showdown of blood. I was numb. My mind felt blank. I was 100 meters away from Death.
Something kicked in me. Something jolted me inside. I heard my uncles voice who told me once upon a time ;

"Ric, in life, somewhere there will be a mere five minute when you're an eyelash away from destruction.. Nobody will be there to help you,then. No matter how much you preach that guy sitting above, you'll just get silence from the clouds. That's the time when you need to reach out to something greater. Something greater in you, that heroes out as your own Saviour." 

It was either two innocent lives getting killed, or killing five Satans. It was either an unfair funeral dirage, or a national anthem- somewhere a favor to the Nation.
That's when I hit the gear, increased to an 80. The five men didn't seem to budge. I sped. I wasn't going to stop. When I was 50 meters away, there was a point when my eye met with one of the guys. I hit the gear the most aggressive hit and lapsed on 120. I felt a beast in me. I felt a Nation in me, striving to kill such epidemics- such filth of politics. As I sped fast, I could see fear hit those ten eyeballs.
I was 3 feet away, when they realized I wasn't stopping. They jumped out of my way, and I sped off to what lay as a perfect horizon.

My aunt was fielded. They wanted to kill her. They wanted to kill someone who wanted to bring a change, a stronger change than fear that haunts the minds of people, today.
She wanted to bring out a voice.

It takes a lot of guts to decide to kill someone when you have no right to. It takes even more guts to decide that in 30 seconds. It takes a lot of guts to make up your mind, and not choose the road of roses, but choose the one for the greater good.

But when the police puppets, the world, the god above, and the constant cacophony of voices in the universe fall silent, it is something greater, something greater in You that speaks.
Learn to listen to that voice. 


Awaiting your precious feedbacks, as usual.
Much much love,

Thursday, August 26, 2010

A lost friendship, but a memory I find within.

It was one of those random school years when all of a sudden, new kids flow into your school as a fresh year starts, and there's tonnes of excitement about the new faces, the cute ones, and the smart ones. And no matter how old we grew, there was always this thing about looking forward to school just cause you made an interesting new friend.
He was that. That random new friend who didn't talk much but was somehow someone you wanted to figure out. His silence was a constant indication that there was something going on in his head, which was a constant mystery. When he spoke, he spoke soberly, calm and composed. Never was he in a rush to make the other person hear what he thought. And when he listened... You felt like you were the most important person in the world, waiting to be heard.

My attraction for him was completely platonic. However, the few words that made out of him compelled me to try and trace where they came from, and which cobweb of a thought's part were they. When I spoke, the way his eyes fixated at my face was almost like he's peaking deep into what's in me, and reading in between the lines to what my voice tried to deceive.

We didn't talk much in the beginning. I decided he wasn't my type the moment I realized he wasn't a chatter box like me. He chose to sit with the dorkiest guy in class. The fact that he didn't like tomatoes was the final cherry on the cake.
Ciao New Guy, not very nice meeting you.

Every day at school,every class, I'd be looking around bursting bubble gum balloons rebelling and expressing boredom, and he'd do a better job of it by drawing hate cartoons on the back of his notebook sitting on the front seat in front of the teacher.
Now that, I liked.

So slowly, I started finding things I liked. Things I hated. And slowly I started finding him. He never let out too much quickly. So every time, I was left trying to find the latter end of the story.. The more frustrating it was, the more I got hooked to it.
With time, I realized he wasn't all about silences. He spoke so much. So very much. We started exchanging emails, texts, phone calls, and then finally started meeting up in the evenings. It was strange, cause we didn't really talk much in school. He didn't have the time, he was in the student council which leaves you with nothing but the classes to attend. Every other spare second would demand you to be out of class.
But probably that was the beauty of it. Probably that is why, I could talk so much to him. Maybe that is why, that space was maintained.

He being a Gujrati had a totally different upbringing compared to my Punjabi upbringing. He had crazy curfews at home, while I.. I couldn't get tired of roaming around the streets at odd times, singing loudly with friends, clicking photographs, and all sorts of time-killers.
He and I belonged to different worlds. Yet, there was so much beauty in the very fact, that it was always a pleasure to read each other and where we both come from. It was always fun to over react a little and go "wtf that stuff happens at your place?!!"
It was always fun, to realize that a person who has no idea about my roots cracks up with me in the middle of the night laughing his rear off trying to picture a funny tradition- not making fun of it- but laughing at the funny "nice-ness" in it [as he liked to put it].

We did our share of craziness for the two years that followed. We did our share of making every teacher hate us while still getting staright As. He had his first time night-out partying, thanks to me. I had my first time to a Kumb Mela, thanks to him.

Four years later, after school and graduation finished, Those photographs I clicked in the Kumb Mela were selected in an international Photography Exhibition by the UN. And my career took a new turn from a boring HR job.. And he.. my gujrati best friend- left for Manhattan to follow his call for singing.

We're no longer in touch, it's been years I've heard anyone speak of him now.
But it hasn't been long enough for my old self to forget how a random new gujrati school boy taught me a lesson- A lesson to realize that memories are in abundance.

It hasn't been long enough for my wrinkles to forget when he told me sleepily,once upon a time - "Your imperfection is perfection to me" .
Each an every wrinkle of mine, carries a smile. A smile to a memory a gujju guy taught me.


Waiting for all your feedbacks!
Ckear skies and memories,

Saturday, August 21, 2010

It's Saturday, tbh ;)

Playing Now: Free fallin' by John Mayer.

It's one of those lazy Saturdays, when you decided to skip school and just sleep. I got up an hour back or something, and I've been in a super pepped up mood - chattering away to glory, smiling a little more than needed, jumping up and down, giving my dad retarded looks, hogging on breakfast, saying "HIIIIIIIII" to my neighbor when he looked all grumpy getting up at 10am on a holiday, his wife giving me nervous looks [lol], and nowwww- sitting in my room, with all the doors opened, watching the rain pouring outside occasionally, listening to good music, and writing.
Yes, life's gorgeous, innit?  :)

Last week has been very eventful! My friends and I were busy with a debate for the British Council. Taking that as a very convenient reason, I went over to Remya's to "Prepare" for it, however we I ended up staying over at her den, watching movies, catching up and singing loudly in her balcony till 2:30am in the morning, giving the whole colony a nice lil over night concert :)
When her mother finally started to yell at our retardness, we went to bed, which was only another of our tactics to keep her mum and all of us awake ;D
I kept sniggering "dude this is so gay this is SO gay!" whenever she'd lean to switch on the AC or turn over to talk. And my occasional "lol" with a straight face left us in fits of laughter.

After that, we ended up giving the online test for the debate which was just about OK. But whatever, the stay back at school on last Saturday

SO. Now, I'm going to carry on listening to some nice music, while you guys can get a cup of a nice hot coffee, and sip on it sitting on your verandas and smiling at the Rain God being so generous ;)

Happy Saturday,folks!!! 

Oh and please enjoy the rains! :) 
A wiiide grin,
memories are in abundance :)

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Because she makes me happy.

I have been nursing her,
her tender frail hands move around in play,
with nothing but the stars above the cot she lies on.
The stars are always silent,though.

I have been scared,
for all of you think it's not worth it.
For all of you think,
she's not worth it.

But have you ever seen her smile?
Have you ever seen her tiny eyes crinkle at the dream only her heart knows?

I have seen.
I have seen her soft touch turn into a silent kiss,
I have seen her sleep in my arms, as an abode to the tired pilgrims.
I have heard her cry, turning into those nightmares that her mother can only wipe tears for.
I have heard you all, ask the mother-- Why?

And I have told all of you,
over and over again.
Because her baby dreams make me believe,
I was a baby,too.
Because her innocent mind made me believe,
that I needn't think so much with the mind.
and just because,
she makes me happy.

-- Nilanjana,
18th Agugust,2010.


Waiting for all your feedbacks,
-Nil :)

Saturday, August 14, 2010

That silent beauty.

 The story that follows is a Guestpost I did for Meera's blog . [Thank you so much,darling. It as a pleasure doing this for your blog!] So I thought I'll put it up on my blog too,once she was done publishing it, so you guys could have a look and tell me how you like this piece of fiction!
Awaiting your feedback,
Enjoy! :)

That Silent beauty.

 Our place to hangout was Jama Masjid. We both used to be in school, I- a year older to her. We were never really the girlfriend/boyfriend material. We were too busy with enjoying what we were as individuals, yet- together. We were too busy looking around at what the world has to offer and grabbing in everything with a little bit of this and a little bit of that falling out from the seams of our fingers. Yet we managed to grasp most of it, with beads of sweat on our foreheads but a wide grin of contentment on our faces.
She was the kind who'd punch you right on the face- "no nonsense." was her motto. Dressing up was something she didn't be live in, "why the f***? so that, that perv there smoking up can have a Joly time looking at my legs?" -was what she said jokingly. But I knew she just didn't care a damn enough to bother. Though her eyes were always boarded carelessly with kohl, yet they looked so perfect that even I used to get overwhelmed by that quiet beauty hidden behind the shades and tee shirts.
I- on the other hand was someone who'd prefer a plain white roll-up shirt to a backstreet boys tee shirt. A simple Bermuda underneath instead of baggy cargos.

And yes, we both had a camera. For sure.
Money was never an issue for us- cause we never had any! It used to take us about 30 rupees to get to old Delhi by bus, and about 15 rupees to get to CP. That's all we needed. We weren't hungry people. Our parents were bloody well off, but we sort of liked it that way. You know? Scrape it up, scrap by scrap.
It taught us something, in some way. And more than anything- it was fun to be beggars and teenagers at the same time. Yes, you can call us mad.
But at the end of the day, we both went home smelling the high of heaven..

It was one of those days of summer. She and I were clicking around the shops of Jama Masjid, when we both hit a shop with burkhas and cheap accessories. She usually never got very excited at the sight of these, however an odd day out that day- she did.
"Dude I've never tried a burkha.. I wonder if----" ; and she walked off saying something only she could hear leaving me behind,smiling- as always.
She hopped to the shop, and started asking the guy to show her colorful burkhas, and the jeweled ones. While she tried one out, speaking to this other lady standing next to her- all excited, I realized something. When I looked at her, wearing that burkha, I realized something more.

She was not a girl anymore, she was a woman. That chubby smile on her face wasn't just baby fat-as what I called it, it was a smile of a maturing flower. I could see the difference, that I didn't notice for so long as I was too convinced she was going to be 17 forever.
What I realized more was, the reason. The reason she always joked about.
She didn't need to dress up to look pretty. It was moments like these which brought out that silent beauty that giggles inside every girl's heart, knowing that it'll leave everyone staring once it tip toes out.

It left me staring, for sure.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Recess and school uniforms :)

11th grade has had its pace, now :)
So it started with me smiling wiiiiiiideeeeeeeee on the first day going "OMG OMG OMGGGGGGG" just cause I'd crossed The boards :P  [Now I realize what a 9 year old I was to have thought them a big deal]  
I was finally studying what I wanted to [ I mean hello, NO MORE CHEMISTRY!!!!!! :O], I didn't have a class teacher who hated me secretly anymore [lol Mathur, i hope you die in hell], I was rid of tonnes of losers from our class [yay, for rem and me :P] OH AND CAUSE I WAS IN 11TH GRADE ALREADY! [that's more than enough of a reason], and I just realized I've been adding brackets after everything [but that's okay :P ]

so since 11th started, I've made new friends, mended old friendships, PARTIED (Oh yes!!), had  Thee best  sweet 16 party at home with family and a post celebration of remya, megha and my sweet16 at Kartu's with school friends, I mean wow that party was Killer. 
And then there was Anajalee's 17th which was-- :OOOOOOOO ohmygod so awesome. We danced our heels off okay! 
Then Remya and I were bombarded [literally] with competitions- which we thoroughly enjoyed :) [yes, we got to miss classes, most of them] .>:)
Anndd ofcourse, few of us got the super cool "honor ties" of the prefectorial board. Which just adds a sexy look to our school uniforms ;)
But then there was also notebooks and pens to write and figure the syllabus out with, but skipping that annoying part :P 

So all in all, 11th has been good till now. I don't think I have EVER bunked so much as I am, right now, but I guess everything has its own time right? [thank god my parents don't read my blog] :P

But, I've never felt more like Myself  than I feel right now :D    A lot has been going on at my end, trust me guys. Good things, and bad things. Changes, from the heart and the mind. 
Things have been shattering down and falling back together in place. I've sometimes become blank with confusion, but sometimes, I've surprised myself with the way I've handled things. 
And I've slowly [still in the process] started accepting the fact that I'm growing up. But it doesn't seem so crappy anymore :) Maybe cause that fact never takes away those who're close to me, or doesn't fundamentally change me or my ideas. And just as long as I don't change from the original routes of my heart, I'm content in accepting change :)

And oh I can tell, the next two years of school [my last two years, HOLY SHIT] are going to be the best, ever. I'll make sure of that, and when you're adamant, the whole world conspires against all the odds for you to reach that goal. Just as long as you have a crazy wide 5- year old- like smile on your face :)

Andddddddddddd, before I forget, guys, I'd like to introduce all of you to my Sister Clone's blog that I'm sure you'll all thoroughly enjoy reading! She's a beautiful writer, and her words surely echo for a while after you've read her stuff. Ladies and gentleman, presenting my sister clone [yes I'm serious EVERYTHING about us matches] -- Shivangi Sud-- you'll find her blog Here
Happy reading!

So, all of you there! don't feel too old or too young! Just feel like yourself, and that should be more than enough for you guys to just smile and go "Ohhhh what the heck!"  :D

Much much muchhhh love,
and rainy downpours and the brightest of sunshines,

your's only,
Nil :)