pensive....

One's life is not made by the number of breaths you take, but the number of moments that take your breath away. :) i strongly believe so. The little moments like tiny drops add up to an ocean of happiness in ones life. there are so many such cherished moments....
And then there are those moments for which you wait all your life and finally it turns out some other way. You are standing there staring at the reality , helpless and speechless ; thats when life teaches you are just a player and nothing more in this game. Its a very humbling experience for one but also a saddening one...
There were a million times i would have imagined it, replayed it and corrected even the minute detail to perfection .... and then in a fraction of a second someone snatches that special moment and shatters the magic. One second you are the king of the world and the next you crash land in the mess around you. :)
At moments like this...i am reminded of one of my favourite poem from my favourite poet ...super senior bachchan. copying the same below....

Jeevan mein ek sitara tha
Maana woh behad pyara tha
Woh doob gaya to doob gaya
Ambar ke aanan ko dekho
Kitne iske tare toote
Kitne iske pyare choote
Par bolo toote taron par
Kab ambar shok manata hai
Jo beet gayi so baat gayi ....

Jeewan mein tha who ek kusum
The us pe nitya nyochawar tum
Wo sookh gaya to sookh gaya
Madhuwan ki chaati ko dekho
Sookhi kitni iski kaliyan
Jo murjhai phir kahan khili
Par bolo sookhe phoolon pe
Kab madhuvan shok manata hai ?
Jo beet gayi so baat gayi...

Jeewan mein madhu ka pyala tha
Tumne tan man de daala tha
Woh toot gaya to toot gaya
Madiralay ka aangan dekho
Kitne pyaale hil jaate hain
Gir mitti mein mil jate hain
Jo girte hain kab uthte hain
Par bolo toote pyalon mein kab madiralay pachtata hai
Jo beet gayi so baat gayi....

Mridu mitti ke hain bane huye
Madhu ghat phoota hi kartein hain
Laghu jeewan leke aaye hain
Pyale toota hi karte hain
Phir bhi madiralay ke andar
Madhu ke ghat madhu ke pyale hain
Jo madakta ke mare hain
Wo madhu loota hi karte hain
Wo kachcha peene wala hai
Jiski mamta ghat pyalon par
Jo sachche madhu se jala hua
Kab rota hai chillata hai?
Jo beet gayi so baat gayi ......

--HARIVANSH RAI BACHCHAN

wet wet wet....

“saagar se utha badal bankar

Badal se gira jal ho kar ke

Phir nehar bana …nadiyan gahari

Tere bhinna prakar…tu ek hi hein”

I woke up today to amma’s call reminding me that it was nearly seven ; had to struggle and dragg me out of the warmth of my blanket. Why can’t every day be a Saturday?

In another forty minutes I was stepped out of the gate for my morning walk to the bus stop in Domlur – on my way to work!

I was welcomed by a cold breeze and a tiny drop that fell from the leaves of the huge Gulmohar tree which covered most of the street. It landed on the tip of my nose, rested a couple of seconds before flowing down to my cheeks! I looked up at the huge tree. We have now celebrated three summers, monsoon and winter together. It looked as gigantic and beautiful as ever. In the full bloom at spring-summer time, I was welcomed daily with a red carpet of its flowers on the road. And now the lady looked equally stunning with the tiny crystals of water dropping down from every leaf, every branch. The slight drizzle had now turned into a small shower.

“It’s a beautiful day” – I sang to myself. The usually dusty and smoke filled air felt clean, fresh. I had to go to a corporate jungle which expected me to be neatly dressed and not dripping wet when I walk in or I would never have taken out my umbrella. Making sure that the speeding cars and bikes don’t soak me wet with the dirty puddle water I walked down the narrow lane which connects my house to the old airport road. The street is usually buzzing busy when I walk past it – but today I could just see people who had taken shelter on small shops on either sides of the road. The government school playground was empty. The kids were playing on the verandah instead. The vegetable sellers daughter was wise enough not to draw a kolam today or may be it had already got washed away. The flower lady had taken leave so I missed the smell of jasmine. Two kids late for school came running. They were enjoying the rain , singing, running barefoot ,without the protection of the umbrella – unlike a sophisticated software engineer. Before I realized it one kid jumped right into the middle of a puddle splashing the water around. The street vendor who stood on the pavement yelled as he rubbed the brown stain from his white dhoti. I smiled to myself and appreciated my common sense to wear brown today!

It’s a photographers delight and a writers motivation – a rainy day.

I love rains. My mallu roots should explain that. The sound of tiny drops of water landing on the trees around and on the roof tile has a rhythm and music of its own. The sight of a moss filled brick wall; to sit on the bay window of my house and watch people walking around holding to their brand new black “poppy kuda”; sipping a hot cup of tea- reading a book–aah I miss Kerala like hell. The rains there are not the small showers that we see here. Once it starts raining it pours and pours for days together nonstop. The first showers fill up the road in front of Thampanur railway station and the dirty knee deep water welcomes anyone who hops off @ Trivandrum central! :D

Its even more enticing to watch the rain pouring down onto the backwaters which are mostly lined with coconut trees on either sides. If you are lucky enough as I am you would have an ancestral house of your mom or dad in a village. J

As much as I love rains, I love greenery too. the villages are greener and cleaner than the main cities. On a typical rainy day there would be a few old fellas discussing “kaalavarsham and idavappathi” in the local tea shop. There would be one or two workers on the paddy fields trying to divert the water from flooding the fields. The only sounds you would hear when you walk down the untarred roads would be of your own footsteps ,crickets and the rain! The rubber estates would add to the darkness created by an already cloudy sky. The cattle would all be inside the thatched shelter and not running around through the estate. It’s all lovely memories , scenes that I have seen in my numerous trips to odanavattom ( my dads home town ) and adoor ( which is moms home town).

My bus arrived 10 minutes late to office, but I felt like just sitting inside and humming a familiar sonu nigam song to the “mungaru male” watching the rainy scenes flow by…..

PS: the poem in the beginning is from my KV diary. I forgot the name of the poem and the poet but he is describing that everything is god’s creation and he resides in all.

Of course! God only can create something so magical and beautiful as the rains!

2 states

thats chetan bhagats latest book. i think his first work has been the best till now. second and third were forgettable. this one might also seem so to many but i liked it. mebbe cause i could relate a lot to the book myself. my own wedding is a knot between the two states fighting over mullaperiyar and a lot of other things :D :D

depressed

I guess its something about the climate that everything looks really dull and irritatingly boring or am I stressed out?

Non committed / Uncommitted

The dictionary meaning says it’s the opposite of “committed” ; i.e. one who is not faithful , is disloyal, casual, uninterested, indifferent, unattached etc ...
Am I any of this? Have been pondering over it for a while now. There may be times when I seem to be unattached or indifferent to others, but am definitely not the rest.

I believe that words have the power to make and break relations, trust; make peace and war. It needs to be carefully used. Sometimes words that slip from the tongue cut through the others heart and create deep injuries. The person who uttered the nonsense would forget it in seconds but the person who receives it will carry it with them for a long long time.

As for me, I am very talkative with friends and relations whom I can talk freely. I am a person with few words when I am with a large crowd, and I am completely silent when there is an argument going on because I try to see both sides. I have my opinion on things, but I hate to push it on others. I understand that they would have their own too and I have no right to question their beliefs and thoughts. It can be discussed but cannot be questioned! Some people might see this as stubbornness – but that’s okay too. J

I have been most dutiful and loyal to all my friends, family…so when a direct accusation of being unfaithful comes that too in a very large audience it creates a distaste and injury that lives long, creates a gap or strain in the elations shared and it takes a while to overcome the shaken trust. I have always made sure I go the extra mile in all my relations; there might have been fights, misunderstandings and a few sad moments, but definitely I am not the one who goes and makes a statement or does things which I know will hurt others. I am very sensitive and respectful towards the emotions of others. I don’t play with it. At the same time, its not welcome that someone questions my identity , my being and walks away with a smile…

Laugh at me, poke fun
I don’t care of none
Call me an idiot
Call me silent
I won’t shake a bit…
But my friend,
The last thing on earth
In all my births
Would be to be –NON COMMITTED!