Every cloud has a silver lining

29th July 2011
We were all called there. All the members of Parivartan, Social Service Society of Sri Venkateswara College. Even the non-members could come along. Its Mr. Dinesh's birthday today. The chairman of Friends' Organization (ngo) at Karampura that works for the rights for differently-abled people. That's the first thing I learned there: Replacing "dis-abled" with "differently-abled". The not-so-wonderful auto ride didn't give us a boost to start with though, still the hopes of having a great day kept us alive. We were called at Haus Khas, Aadi (Action for Ability Development and Inclusion), one of the biggest ngo of Delhi. I ask Swati why are we called here? "That's because Mr. Dinesh has done his schooling from this place", she said. "Maybe the school is organizing it for him or maybe he asked them to organize it here, either way round", she completed. We brought along a beautiful bouquet of flowers made at satya niketan. Then, entered (after our obnoxious auto ride) into the aadi foundation. "Okay, I didn't expect this", I said looking at Kritika. "Neither did I", she said.

The school, was next to beautiful with red bricks, in the shape of an oval building covered with greenery, spacious classrooms filled with neatness and large corridors- seeming more of some hill station school from the first floor as we enter the F1 hall, offered by the person sitting at the reception, he too, differently-abled. Enters Dinesh Sir on his wheelchair. Greeting us with a huge smile. We could make out how happy he was to see us all- we a bunch of around 10-12 members. Dinesh Sir suffers from cerebral palsy, a disease in which the brain works but the body doesn't. We greet him with the bouquet we brought for him, which adds up his happiness factor. He starts talking, when we sat. Even though, its troublesome to understand his words and sentences at the first meet, but now we understand him to a large extent. We sat, talked to him for a while. Enters a man, nearly fifty years of age. Followed by two more teachers of aadi foundation. Then, comes the IIT  "dudes", as Swati calls them. They sat at one chair distance from Kritika, our new president (we have two Kritikas), we giggled. When the IIT "dude" sat near the chair of Dinesh Sir, and started speaking, the fifty year old man prompts and says, "be a bit louder". He increased his pitch, for that's the only option for him. Then, comes the special guest- a major chief and mentor-cum-guru of Dinesh Sir. We all stood and greeted him. He starts speaking, as Sir said I've spoken a lot. "Speak a bit louder", says that fifty year old man again. He too, increased his pitch, for no other option left. He starts, " I know Dinesh since he was a student of this school and how he used to come with bruised chin all over". That's what has given him so many marks at the chin- the stitches, something that I kept wondering since I met him over a year ago. The major continues, "Thats because the people at the bus used to call him mad, make fun of him and hurt him badly, push him while getting down the bus. But, thats the best thing about Dinesh- his enthusiasm and guts to go ahead in life. Most of you would not know but this is the man who introduced the idea of low floor buses which you all get to see all throughout the city. Yes, it was a long case, which he finally won. Where, I supported... a bit. The idea of low floor buses helps the differently-abled people easier to commute". He keeps his hand over Dinesh Sir's shoulder and continues, "Dinesh belongs from a well groomed family. Yet he used to travel through buses not cars, all because he is down to earth. The best things about him is, if he gets stick to things he will complete it some or the other way, but he won't leave it". He praises him a lot. When, Sir introduces his father. The fifty year old man is his father. That came as a bit shock, though. I know now how he is down to earth, so is his father. At the end we were supposed to jot down something we felt during the session, in just five to six lines. It was just not possible to describe Dinesh Sir, the day in five or six lines. Somehow we did it.
The program went on, when me and Swati had to leave (her dance class and mine, home far away). We apologized for going this early. Followed by an enjoying auto ride with Swati. The giggles even irritating the auto wala. The day ended with even more respect in my heart for him.
Such personalities always enhances the positivity around.

(L-R) Me, Swati, his father, a teacher at Aadi, his mentor. 

You may also visit the Friends' Organization, he always needs help in drafting letters and other paper works.

Major with Mister Dinesh

Rainy Love

She texts him, "Its raining".
He texts back, "Yes, it is :)".
She replies, "Love you".
He replies back, "Love you too :)".

She imagined him smiling with each of his smilies he'd send her. The smile that could kill all. The smile that reaches his eyes. The smile that calms her soul.
Her imagination takes another leap forward. Feeling his warmth around was her desire.. always.
She goes outside. Feels the rain with her eyes. Takes another step. The drops fall on her skin penetrating into the bottom of her being. Filling her with vivacity. He sees her standing just ten steps away from him. Waiting to grasp her in rain. She takes nine steps, stops at tenth. He, waiting for the tenth step of her's. She analysed him in rain. For, it was their first rain together. They've been together since the end of winters, but brewing up in rains was their first chance ever. Something that they both have been waiting for a long time by now. She watched his hair wet. His hands wet. All freshened up by nature. His eyes seeming glittery. She couldn't resist longer. They both held hands. She felt his hands, still warm in rain.
She drowned into his eyes. "Take me away", she said in a monotonous tone. A tone only he could hear. He smiled. His everlasting smile. They walked out of the people's eyes. Both holding hands, walked in rain. A long walk. All her desires were coming true one by one. He took her to some abandoned place. They entered the park- her favorite venue with him. Nobody around in this heavy rain. They sat on the bench under the tree. Still holding hands tightly. She staring at his hands, touching his fingers, tickling him- her favorite play. He kept looking at her, her presence soothes his eyes, playing around with her flicks- his favorite play. Another dream of her's, now a reality. Rain drenched them heavily. She leaned her head over his shoulder. The only most peaceful place for her.
No word was uttered. None. Their presence speaks it all. The smile pronounces their feelings.
"Look into my eyes", he said. She glanced at him. Took her eyes away withing a few seconds or so for she couldn't deluge much into his eyes. His beautiful eyes would always make her blush. His mystical eyes would always stare at her without a single blink. The already existing romance adorns up more. The moment comes when they had their first kiss in the rain. Eyes shut. The feelings unperturbed. The Love indispensable. Her final dream came true. He smiled again. She blushed again. His still warm hands touched her pink lips.
"I Love you", he said.

She just nodded for she had no words to express what she felt for him. He understood and smiled. The smile that makes her alive, makes her life beautiful. They sat there till the rain ended. But it was another phase of Love that started.
The rain filled them with vivacity.

The best moment yet :: 30kms. 4th gear.

Today, at 6:30 pm, I convince my dad to take me driving in his car for I've learnt driving from two different agencies (yes, twice). He agreed. I changed into jeans and top from shorts and a pink Tee. He opened the almirah of his room, got hold of an old cushion for I need to increase the level of viewing on the seat (until he gets the foam seat, I've to make use of it).
He handed me over the keys with a huge smile on his face, "start the car". I grabbed the keys so tightly for I had adrenaline rush building all inside. "This is the best moment yet of my life!", I said inside. I inserted the keys.
Sitting on the pillow. I adjusted the mirrors. With my three-sized-spark sandals, I adjusted my foot on the gear. The first gear was put. The car starts & stops, stars & stops and the same procedure continued for five times. But, finally, I start the car! Gosh! Its moving.Yes, its moving. In first gear though. My dad only asks me to put the second gear when I start sweating. Still, I managed. My heart beat almost at 300 beats per minute.
For the next two and a half kilometers, it only ran on second gear. No acceleration. Until, my dad asks me to. I came on the main road. The speed increased. Followed by the third gear.
I noticed the differences between our car and the agencies' car. Ours is pretty lose. The accelerator, the break, the staring wheel, the clutch, everything so smooth. Plus, since am sitting on the cushion, I could (for the first time) witness the entire view. Clear. (Don't ask me how I've learned. All by a rough idea, with only half of the scenery available in the agencies' car).
We went in the (in)famous ramleela ground, where all the new learners drive. I only drove there for five minutes. My dad asks me to take it back on the main road. "Does that mean am driving good?" I asked myself.
I drove it at a stretch in almost all sectors of dwarka, the market place, the crossings with and without red lights. The main phase comes, when I drove all way till IP university (Dwarka), my dad asks me to put the fourth gear. What? I haven't even ever learned how to put it, yet. They didn't teach me. "Just take it backwards from third, its easy", he said. Yes. Right. Is it?
I put the fourth gear. Open road. Air blowing my flakes (hair tied). Both the front windows open. Now, I know why guys love driving!
For my dad, his heart sinks when someone else sits on the driving seat of his car. He loves his car. (The same reason we all think he didn't let my elder sis and my mum drive the car, even though they too have licenses). He didn't show any signs of heart sinking. For, in my case; he loves me more. Correction, most. Am a daddy's girl. Not even my elder sis. I always blackmail him truly well, getting all my wishes come true (for instance, the car).
Even though, I agree I did a few titsy-bitsy mistakes. But, he said, its fine.
We came home in an hour. I drove thirty kilometers (and it was just the day one) and learned to put fourth gear too!
We returned home, I parked the car back as it was before starting it. "The car's home as it as, no scratches, no dent. Safe", I said to dad with a huge smile which I haven't had since ages.
I gave back the keys to the owner (dad).

That day isn't far when I'll take (my) dad's car to my college, driving all the way on Dhaula Kuan Highway.
The experience was AWESOME!!!

Confessions of a Shopaholic???

It happened last Monday. Me, Samvita and Varuna were on our way to watch Delhi Belly (me for the second time) in English of course, for our loath for dubbing cannot be buried in sand. We were too early for the movie, cos of my obnoxious planning. We decided to take a walk down the Pacific Mall. The awesome mall is a mark of high quality I must say. Having seen like a hundred brands (which weren't new to our eyes), we decided to shop. Not literally shop; window shop is a better term.We, love window shopping as we are most of the times left with such option at heavy brands. (Heavy not by weight, but by price). The lights at the showrooms were shut (it was just 9:15am when we reached), but we were able to see everything! Yes, that's a quality only we possess.
"I wish I could just pause the moment for a long time and steal away everything", Samvita says intaking a heavy breath looking at Da Milano.
And then I remember, how once at Lajpat she grabbed a bag, staring at it, she started shouting, "Aavika am buying this, Aavika am buying this". Her breath almost stopped and she; hafting. Literally, hafting. Her eyes growing bigger, the size I only get to see during shopping. When I gazed at her and said, "Samvita come back to your senses". She drops the bag. "I'll wait outside", she said while she moved out. She becomes claustrophobic. I hauled cos buying that bag for no reason would have disturbed the budget (which anyway, she never sets. She knows it'll be destroyed anyhow).
"I just want fifty thousand bucks, which isn't too much, to just shop here", I say with a glory in my voice. The glory I've been familiar with since ages. The glory of being a  "Shopaholic".
Followed by our high salaries (expected in future) we keep coloring our dreams even more.
Varuna just laughs at our dreams, for she has even the same.
Coming to Varuna, she shops ninety percent with me. She, too, is a typical shopper. She takes five hours and comes with only one single top. With her evil smile, she gets it billed. Yes, I have witnessed that evil smile. As if coming from winning some battle!

Yes, we are girls. Yes, we dream for bags, foot wears, watches, accessories, clothes and everything all over the world. Yes, we all are shopaholics. The girl isn't a girl until she is a shopaholic, I believe.
Finally after the movie, we decided to shop. Yes, the best part of the day. We three are the typical shoppers. We shop with insanity. Lifestyle at Pacific has raised its bar of quality, I must say. Amidst in the clothes and accessories. Good decision of shifting from Lifestyle at Rajouri. We'd spent two hours there, tried like over twenty tops on & on, we didnt buy anything. Yes, we are obsessed with quality (followed by price tags which cannot be ignored). Also, I always face size troubles, which doesn't affects me now.
All I know about my profile, is an important point of being a shopaholic. Highly obsessed. (The sale season gives me more hope).

I can shop anywhere & everywhere. Most of the people take me as a companion with them, in reverse am always bribed with burgers and ice creams. None-the-less, I never say a no. (Sometimes I do, due to tight schedule). I have shopped with and for school friends, college friends, friends of friends, friend's bf, bf's friends, bf's family, bf's friend's gf, my sis' bf, friend's elder sis' marriage (even chosen bridal wear for two), her gonna be family, my family, their friends, even for unknowns. I for myself, can shop alone, but a company always matters for a nice opinion. They just take me along!
The hint that I offer them every time is, look at the cloth, ask yourself, "is this me?'', if yes, buy it. If no, grab something else and repeat the procedure.
Be, it Khan Market, Lajpat Nagar, Hauz Khas, Subhash Nagar, Chandani Chowk and what not! Name it and I've been there. Name it and I've shopped there.
Besides I can shop for bedsheets, crockeries, mum's sarees, dad's formals, and everything. Even the tiles are selected by me for the renovation. And so is the kitchen's slab. My mum, doesn't even buy a cup without my opinion. "You are a smart shopper", says my mum carried with higher pride than mine. When it comes to my sis, she doesn't even buy a top without my assessment.
Even though, it has happened that given over ten tops, I'll only select two. For am a typical shopper. I always have a budget which shall never be shaken.
A few times, I shop to make my mood good, too.
Am proud of this quality of mine!

At the end of the day,  I bought only three tops (sigh), watched movie, ate, on & on in just nine hundred bucks!
Nobody would believe that!
Huhh!! Girl Power!

The hardest part

She didn't call me on her birthday, so did I. Moreover, she didn't even wish me. Why should I? It has happened  many times with me. I've tried to talk to many people and they keep on ignoring me. Tried to gain many's attention but gained only rolling eyes. I called them to my birthday party and I know I was nowhere in their mind during their's. It hurts a lot. Indeed it does.
Not now. Not anymore. I know I have improvised a lot. Made don't know how many friends in almost all parts of the city. That makes me proud.
Anyhow, this post isn't in any negative sense. It's about someone, who tried to be friends with me and I kept keeping her at bay. Even though, somewhere, I do not know, but yes, I've done it to many people. There have been times when people need me, but I haven't given any heed. The reason being: they don't mean much to me. Still, I mean a lot to them. Its paranoiac.
Two days back, I had a look at my phone. How broken its edges have been. How it has lost its metallic lusture. Even the alphabets have started disappearing cos of excessive typing quality of mine. How like a million times it has fallen off from my hand. It needs a cover, badly. A cover which needs no washing, and suits me. Plus, fits in my tiny little hands. I remember I had one a few months back. Which I never used deliberately. True, you remember the importance of things once its gone. Not to forget, It was a cover just for name.
It makes me remember someone. Someone from my college. A simple girl not from this city.
It was my birthday. Having known like a million people from the world and everyone screaming for a treat in my ears, I always have a collective bunch of humans which only get exclusive treats from me.
She wished me. I didn't call her for treat. I remember how nicely she tried to talk to me since the very beginning. I, being selfish on my part, used her extensively for assignments and files. I think she knows this.
Later I remember, the glory in her eyes when I started talking to her. We sat under the infamous tree near the canteen door. It was the exam practical time. Having most of the friends in another batch cos of alphabetical disorder, I only had her in my batch to talk to. We had a nice lunch followed by a chirpy talk. That was the first time we talked for almost two hours without any disjunction. I came to know she belongs from Rajasthan, a city which am fond of. I felt some roots attached to her cos my mum belongs to Ajmer. I haven't been there for more than once. Her golden words about the state made me live there some longer.
We went home. I agreed am a jerk who couldn't understand her in the beginning. We became close friends. Her simplicity touched me.
It was her birthday. I ran screaming her name, almost pounced on and hugged her tight leaving her in awes and open mouthed. She called me for the treat. Wait! I wasn't expecting this nor was I prepared how to react over this. I thought she would have remember I didn't invite her on my birthday treat. I felt small & embarrassed. She is the ocean of love. Am only an apprentice. Since the beginning she'd been appreciating my phone cover, which I barely used. It was a jute one. Just the size of my phone beset with thin lace.
She asked me "where did you buy it from".
"Cultural fest, Assam quarter", I said.
"Buy one for me the next time you visit it, I always wanted one such", she said.
"Ya, sure", I said.
At the end of the day, when we were leaving. I stayed and handed it over to her. Asked her to keep it. When she was about to open her wallet and pay me for that, I hauled her and said, "Keep it as my token of love". She smiled. Her beautiful one , filled with innocence.
On my part, I do not regret giving it to her.  It was a cover just for name (for me).
{For now, I do not have a pic of us together, but I'll get one and upload it as soon as the college reopens}

Thanks Archana, for everything. You taught me a lot. You forged me into another being. I'll always cling up to you.

The Ting Things

It was day before yesterday, when my elder sis was planning to donate what we call waste to a shelter home called "kilkari" under the infamous ngo "Dil se". Yes, she is a regular volunteer there. It feels like a great deed to me. I, myself, have donated tonnes of clothes to many shelter homes. It feels heaven when I imagine children wearing my ex-favorite clothes. In spite of the fact that some exes can not be forgotten. Even if they are blurred from mind, they cannot be erased from memories. Something similar happened that night.
As soon as she collected the stuff and made, like four bags out of it, I was called upon, to lessen the burden. "You should be in packers and movers", she says. Yes, I can squeeze bags into bag & things into thing.
"I cannot give this, sorry. Am taking it back", I said to her.
"You dammit, you do not even remember when you touched it or even glared or gazed at it last time", she said.
"Chuck it, its mine, I cant give it away", I said.
"What the hell yaar? This can be useful to someone", she said.
"It is useful to me", I said.
She was quite.
"Atleast, pack the rest", she said. For she cannot do this without me.
Feeling like winning a battle, I glared at it.
Rotated it top to bottom. Left to right. Gazed at it, and quietly kept it back in the upper shelf of the almirah (where it has been kept like this since years and decades maybe).
It was my first teddy bear. Not like rest what are usually kept at archies. No, not at all.
It is very bright. Fore-casted in yellow & blue colors. With a cap almost equalizing its own size. Tiny little ears and hands ready to hug. Small.
It took me back to when I was six or seven years old.
(I do time travelling a lot, trust me)
I remember how I used to make id cards for them. Pin them up on their chest. Prepare tiny notebooks for all my toys and teach them. And even make tiny homes for them. I can only laugh at my silly games now. Seems like yesterday only. Wish those days had never passed.

A happy go luck child, as I have always been :)

All I know about me is, I cannot get rid of things. I just cannot. More of I do not "wish to" rather than "cannot". Be it my kitchen set, be it my all the then-latest barbies which made all my mates jealous (and I teased them more), be it my toys (even all I got from happy meals), be it my friendship bands (yes, I possess even my first ever one), be it anything and everything. Its all in the lower berth of my almirah. Even though it takes dot fifty percent of my almirah's space which leaves my mum always shouting at me to throw them away, but that's one of the things I just won't do. I am fond of keeping memories, in the form of photos, videos, gifts, anything. Cos, I just get connected to them. Parallel to it, I am very much connected to my childhood. Maybe because its very special to me or maybe because am still living in it.
The time travelling gets over.
"Do it fast now will you?", screamed my sis.
"Packers & movers on their duty", I said.
Withing two minutes, I made two bags out of four. Satisfaction with relief follows from her side.

This, too, shall pass....

Something opulent, magnificent, impenetrable, ghostly, unfathomable, and what not, that I discovered yesternight.
Something each one in vein, troubles, doomed shall try. You ought to know this.
Its 11:50pm.
You have a fight with someone. Someone close to you. Someone you usually look up to. Addition to it, you are problematic since many days by now...or maybe weeks by now...oops! sorry, months by now.
People do not understand. Why can't they see you are star-crossed. Cursed by demons, things are going off the road. But, wait... they are still the same.

Just wanna be unrestricted. Exonerated. Free of vows.   Free of duties. Liberated.

You turn on the radio in your dad's phone (as your phone disturbs you a lot). You put on your headsets. Switch off the lights. Just the voice of the ceiling fan is available. Just the voice of the ac is heard.
You keep switching radio stations. Its hectic. None of the radio stations are playing the music according to your mood. Ten radio stations available. All you have done is switched from first to last, about five times. You pause, look at your phone kept at a hand's distance from you. No calls, no messages. The person isn't bothered. You throw the phone away in angst.
Its 12:15 am now. Wait, the third radio station plays a good song.
Gaye tum gaye ho kyu
Raat baaki hai
Gaye tum gaye ho kyu
Baat baaki hai
Gaye tum gaye hum thum gaye harr baat baki hai
Gaye tum.. hum jeeye kyu
Good song for the start. Great! You shut the door. Its all dark inside. Inside the room. Inside your soul. You lie down on the bed. The pillow just beneath your head. The headset in your ears.
You burst out in tears.
They say, If first tear comes from the left eye, means you are crying in happiness. And if, from right, you are crying in sadness, angst, fear, hopelessness, hopelessness.
But what if, both tears fall from both the eyes at right time?
You cry. You cry in vein. You cry alone. You miss that person? You miss the happiness? Or maybe, you do not miss anyone. Yet, something is missing. "You" is missing.
You just cried two-three tears from both the eyes.
The song is over. Great! Now the radio jockey is blabbering.
You switch the channel.
Dil toh aakhir dil hai na 
Meethi si mushkil hai na
Piya piya
Jeeya jeeya jeeya jeeya
Dil se re.. 
Good very good! You are getting better. You decide to shed some more tears. But wait, you phone's screen shows some light (after you've put your phone on silent). Someone's text appears. Remember, you are in no mood to reply. You throw the phone away, away from your one-arm-distance.
Its 12:45 am now and You are bawling badly. Do not forget, your parents are sleeping. You can't weep and shout at the same time. The sobs should have minimum frequency. It shouldn't go out of your bedroom door.
Someone's calling you now, who is it? Is the same person for whom you are crying? Then, do not pick up! You know your pain which is eagerly coming out now, will go back into the depths. Remembrance; you want liberation from pains. You keep the phone aside, let it ring (in silent mode).
The song is over. You aren't.
You switch the channel again.
Hum dil de chuke sanam
Tere ho gaye hain hum
Teri kasam
Cool! Almost a river is shredded from your eyes. You look at the ceiling fan. You still wish to cry more. Wait! you dad's awake. You hear the voices. You invert the phone screen and act as if you are sleeping. He came. He went back. Gosh! You should have kept the sobs at lower volume!
It 1 am now. Another two hours, you do the same.
Let it all come out. The fear, the angst, the pain, the suffering.
Blame it all on you. The blame game will anyhow terminate at you. Either now, or later. So why not now? Accept it all. "Yes! It was all my fault". 
At last, you are the one who make choices. You've made the decisions. More or less, you were given the options. But the path on which you are walking, was indeed chosen by you.
Pull your hair. Throw the pillow. Be mad at you. Although, its better not to cut off your hand or vein or whatever. It fetches you nothing. The pain grows day by day and each day you look at it, it reminds you more of it. After a month, it gets healed, injecting more poison inside your very soul (trust me, I've been through this). You gotta be grown up!


Next morning, you wake up. With eyes swallow, but the mind is back to its normal size. The eyes red, but the soul is crystal clear. Outside, it pains a lot. Never the less, the heart is at peace.
You have shed away the pain. The guilt is gone. You have done it all.
Even if the pain isn't completely gone, I guarantee at least the pain is halved. You are ready to tackle the person now. Yes, now you are strong. Now that you have cried at your wrong decision making, you will surely make the right choices now. Using the brain, along with the heart.
You still won't leave hope. Hope is a little fairy you once met with a promise you won't leave the her hand. The fairy too made a promise, to be with you in the dense forests, in the endless oceans, in the dark nights. The fairy will keep her promise, only if you do. "Do not leave her hand".
And you say it to yourself, "This, too, shall pass".
Of course, why wouldn't it? After all, life goes on. Doesn't it?