It is fun to celebrate anniversaries though it is not as much fun to count years and age gracefully.
Our 8th. It is amazing how time flew. It wasn't long ago that I was this naive young bride that had travelled to the other side of the world searching for her identity. I became a wife, a mom and a complete woman. The girl that day dreamed and loved romance novels has transitioned into a woman that runs a house hold and a mom that nourishes an offspring.
I have mellowed, matured and learned to love in the true sense of loving. I do have my down falls, my flip sides. But I did grow.
Friends and family called us to wish us today. Geeta, Sudhakar and his family and santu got us a cake and we cut it at the strike of midnight.
Sarat and I didn't hold hands and talk sweet nothings. Love is not in the back seat. It had just blended into the background of our lives. It has aged and its flavor has enhanced. We didn't exchange gifts, we didn't even exchange cards, we probably didn't even exchange glances. We did a lot of things together though. We ran around Aarti together to feed her. We walked her in the park together. We are parents and Aarti has added a new facet to our love.
That friend of mine, Avi, called me from Dubai. There is going to be a new baby on the block in February next year. I am very happy for him.
Life will go on. There will be paradigm shifts. Things around us will change. I'll probably take for ever to lose those post natal pounds and Sarat's crowning glory will probably start to turn silver in the next decade. Time will change things.
Some things never change.
Family celebrating together, parents chasing their off springs to feed them or driving them to piano classes, Friends calling friends from across the oceans or two people in love looking in different directions but still staying connected.
Time changes everything - appearances, expressions, points of view, people, opinions, tastes, likes, dislikes. Actually, the whole nine yards. With a single exception. True love
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Sight.
I know I am bad at remembering names. This girl was called "Bujji" at home. I never cared to ask what her real name was. her younger sister Sridevi was my classmate form 8Th to 10Th grade. One summer afternoon of 1990, Bujji came into my life. She was dressed in a skirt and a blouse. Her stroll was scary. Her feet pointing sidewards and her head tilted on an angle facing upwards. Her lifeless eyes wandered in their sockets and a pair of shaky hands felt my face as she talked to me. My heart skipped a beat and my stomach knotted from feeling her hands on my face.
I used to visit Sridevi's house quiet often from then on, clutching a chewing gum in my hand. Bujji would come to me the moment I entered their house and feel my face with her hands. Her lifeless eyes filled with a light that told me that she liked me. She used to take the chewing gum and thank me.
This girl loved to laugh and sit beside me with her body arranged in a strange angle and her shoulder resting on mine.She loved to talk as well. She used to get upset if her sister asked her to leave. She used to beg me to stay back for a little longer when I was ready to leave. She was so full of life. So uncomplicated and so easy to please. Give her a chewing gum and she would fumble on the wrapper and pry the gum out and into her mouth, chewing it away with great relish and a funny sound.
A facet of Bujji made me very happy. Another facet made me very sad. She must me thirty years old now. (I am not in touch with her sister anymore.) She must probably still be the same uncomplicated, fun loving, bubbly girl that I met seventeen years ago. She must probably love bubble gums as much as she did back then. Would she be married? would she have kids? I still think about all these things and it's been 15 years since I last met her.
The fruity smell of a chewing gum puts a smile on my face and my eyes become a tad misty sometimes thinking of Bujji. I admire her for the way she looked at the world!
I used to visit Sridevi's house quiet often from then on, clutching a chewing gum in my hand. Bujji would come to me the moment I entered their house and feel my face with her hands. Her lifeless eyes filled with a light that told me that she liked me. She used to take the chewing gum and thank me.
This girl loved to laugh and sit beside me with her body arranged in a strange angle and her shoulder resting on mine.She loved to talk as well. She used to get upset if her sister asked her to leave. She used to beg me to stay back for a little longer when I was ready to leave. She was so full of life. So uncomplicated and so easy to please. Give her a chewing gum and she would fumble on the wrapper and pry the gum out and into her mouth, chewing it away with great relish and a funny sound.
A facet of Bujji made me very happy. Another facet made me very sad. She must me thirty years old now. (I am not in touch with her sister anymore.) She must probably still be the same uncomplicated, fun loving, bubbly girl that I met seventeen years ago. She must probably love bubble gums as much as she did back then. Would she be married? would she have kids? I still think about all these things and it's been 15 years since I last met her.
The fruity smell of a chewing gum puts a smile on my face and my eyes become a tad misty sometimes thinking of Bujji. I admire her for the way she looked at the world!
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Friend.
Avinash is my friend. A very dear friend close to my heart. Actually I didn't realise this till I was friends with him for a couple of years. He is just as tall as I am and is very proud of his frail resemblances to Salman Khan. I personally think he is better than Salman. My lil sis thinks so too and so I am very sure:-)
Anyway, this Avi is so much fun to be around. He talks so fast that it is sometimes a pain on the ears. But he has this perfect sense of humor and impeccable language and expression that could make him the next Pulitzer prize winner if he'd venture into writing. I recently had to read one of his mails thrice before I realized what he was trying to say (and had to refer to the dictionary thrice)
Well the idea is to tell that he has the vocab of a CAT aspirant. I see myself copying a lot of his humor and expressions and that is the best way I can flatter him.
One day he came to visit me and confessed about something that was bothering him. It was then that I realised that he considers me to be a very dear friend to actually come and discuss his personal matters with me and ask me for advice.
He used to say "girls like you should always get flowers, chocolates, fragrances and diamonds! And since the latter two are out of my reach, I'll get you the former!" Yeah, we earned a lot of revenues to Cadbury's with special reference to Fruit and Nut and every time I look at that chocolate bar, I am reminded of Avi.
This guy had something in his blood that made him fall in and out of love - perpetually. He used to bore me with his escapades of amor. It was an Anglo-Indian girl once and a very pretty and level headed girl (I approved of her as well , for once) and once it was a Banajara girl who used to sell fire wood on the platforms of Tandur station . Well, this time around, he just used to write to me about how pretty that girl looked and how much pain he saw in her eyes!
By pain I remember. He is a very sensitive guy. He would not get mad at anyone - okay, he didn't get mad at me anytime and if someone knows me for long enough and are not mad at me , they are saints!
He is hitched now. Is not in India anymore just like me and from what I've heard and seen (in pictures) his leading lady has a personality to match. He still jokes with me about how he wants Sarat to join him on his terrace over a glass of Vodka and cry his heart out for being married to a person like me"
"Tell Sarat that my offer is still open" he pokes fun at me, Everytime we talk over the phone.
He was born on the 13th, a Friday. I always forget his birthday which is a couple of weeks before mine. No matter where he is in this wide wide world , he calls me on my B'day and scolds me for forgetting his'
It is 5 years since I last saw him. The last time I talked to him was 4 months ago, but something about him is so magical that I think of him a lot and often. he eats like a pig. Was a boy scout and played hockey at a professional level. He is a voracious reader that had introduced me to a lot of books that I cherish till date. he taught me what unconditional friendship is. He is the one person that I can connect to, instantly even if we are out of touch for years. He can make me smile just at the thought of him.
Avi my dear friend is so unlike me. He is rugged, an extrovert and a very interesting conversationalist, he drinks and can't survive without chicken.But we are so bonded that we could easily be long lost twins separated at birth. I often tell him that Sarat is for love and Avi is for friendship. I hope he takes that seriously.
Avi had made me feel like an Angel on quiet a few occasions. He is truly the purest form of friendship anyone could ask for.
Anyway, this Avi is so much fun to be around. He talks so fast that it is sometimes a pain on the ears. But he has this perfect sense of humor and impeccable language and expression that could make him the next Pulitzer prize winner if he'd venture into writing. I recently had to read one of his mails thrice before I realized what he was trying to say (and had to refer to the dictionary thrice)
Well the idea is to tell that he has the vocab of a CAT aspirant. I see myself copying a lot of his humor and expressions and that is the best way I can flatter him.
One day he came to visit me and confessed about something that was bothering him. It was then that I realised that he considers me to be a very dear friend to actually come and discuss his personal matters with me and ask me for advice.
He used to say "girls like you should always get flowers, chocolates, fragrances and diamonds! And since the latter two are out of my reach, I'll get you the former!" Yeah, we earned a lot of revenues to Cadbury's with special reference to Fruit and Nut and every time I look at that chocolate bar, I am reminded of Avi.
This guy had something in his blood that made him fall in and out of love - perpetually. He used to bore me with his escapades of amor. It was an Anglo-Indian girl once and a very pretty and level headed girl (I approved of her as well , for once) and once it was a Banajara girl who used to sell fire wood on the platforms of Tandur station . Well, this time around, he just used to write to me about how pretty that girl looked and how much pain he saw in her eyes!
By pain I remember. He is a very sensitive guy. He would not get mad at anyone - okay, he didn't get mad at me anytime and if someone knows me for long enough and are not mad at me , they are saints!
He is hitched now. Is not in India anymore just like me and from what I've heard and seen (in pictures) his leading lady has a personality to match. He still jokes with me about how he wants Sarat to join him on his terrace over a glass of Vodka and cry his heart out for being married to a person like me"
"Tell Sarat that my offer is still open" he pokes fun at me, Everytime we talk over the phone.
He was born on the 13th, a Friday. I always forget his birthday which is a couple of weeks before mine. No matter where he is in this wide wide world , he calls me on my B'day and scolds me for forgetting his'
It is 5 years since I last saw him. The last time I talked to him was 4 months ago, but something about him is so magical that I think of him a lot and often. he eats like a pig. Was a boy scout and played hockey at a professional level. He is a voracious reader that had introduced me to a lot of books that I cherish till date. he taught me what unconditional friendship is. He is the one person that I can connect to, instantly even if we are out of touch for years. He can make me smile just at the thought of him.
Avi my dear friend is so unlike me. He is rugged, an extrovert and a very interesting conversationalist, he drinks and can't survive without chicken.But we are so bonded that we could easily be long lost twins separated at birth. I often tell him that Sarat is for love and Avi is for friendship. I hope he takes that seriously.
Avi had made me feel like an Angel on quiet a few occasions. He is truly the purest form of friendship anyone could ask for.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Memory
It is weird what I can remember and what I can't. For instance I can remember things from as early as my kindergarten but ask me what I did last weekend and I might think twice or even thrice to actually remember what I did.
My earliest memories are about a pale girl with soft and thin hair always wearing her shoes on the wrong feet. I remember smashing idlis into powder and then making the powder into little ovals and eating them with sugar.
I remember an old lady who taught us Telugu in first grade. She was strict for an understatement and my poor scores in Telugu didn't make matters any better.
I remember my mom teaching me the language during summer holidays of my first grade. Ever since it was never a problem. As a second grader I sucked (excuse my language) at math. I wish that had improved. It never did. Even today if you ask me how much 8 times 7 is, I"ll have to be silent for a moment.
It is 56 BTW and do tell me I am right.
My third grade was awesome. I was a bright student and teacher's pet and I already had a crush on a guy that was the class topper. In my fourth grade, I remember doing well in sciences and having a knack for writing poetry. In my 5Th, I was embarrassed of a little sister crying every time I went to see her in the KG section. She was brown and lanky and had hair that knotted at the drop of a hat. More often than not, her pig tails used to come off into a nest like structure at the end of the day.
From my 6th, I can write books on what all I remember. My scores, the class toppers, my subject teachers, what essays I wrote in English 2 papers and the benches I used to sit in.
I can recollect in great detail how I celebrated my birthdays, what I wore and what kind of sweets I distributed in the class.
My high-school was the golden period of my life. I was the most popular girl in an all girls' school, I used to sing and dance and paint and win prizes right left and center and wrote a super duper sloppy short story for a leading newspaper's contest for children. I remember the characters, my awkward sentences and blush at the thought of what would have gone thru the mind of the person who read and eliminated that piece of crap (yeah, my language sucks...oops! and no, the pun is not intended!)
I remember copying two lines of a poem from a friend and almost dying of guilt complex when I won a prize for the highest score in the class!
I remember lying about ill health when I didn't submit my geography project in time
I remember how my physics teacher made me stand in the class and tell me what an insult it was for a teacher if the student wrote that electrons have a positive charge (not my fault you know, I write too fast, and at this particular time, I got my basics wrong too! LOL and I hated physics anyway!)
Just yesterday, I finished reading half of a novel not realising that I'd read it before.
last year, I forgot how much I paid to get fans installed in our living room just two months after getting them installed.
I was trying to retouch the paint in one of the bedrooms and can't remember the name of the shade or the make of the paint.
I blanked out at least twice upon being asked my cell phone number.
I don't remember the plots of most movies I watched last year.
Isn't it weird, I do remember the exact shade of the leading lady's Saree in a song from a movie I watched when I was 12.
Memory. I don't know if I have to talk about the capacity of remembering things or lack thereof:-))
My earliest memories are about a pale girl with soft and thin hair always wearing her shoes on the wrong feet. I remember smashing idlis into powder and then making the powder into little ovals and eating them with sugar.
I remember an old lady who taught us Telugu in first grade. She was strict for an understatement and my poor scores in Telugu didn't make matters any better.
I remember my mom teaching me the language during summer holidays of my first grade. Ever since it was never a problem. As a second grader I sucked (excuse my language) at math. I wish that had improved. It never did. Even today if you ask me how much 8 times 7 is, I"ll have to be silent for a moment.
It is 56 BTW and do tell me I am right.
My third grade was awesome. I was a bright student and teacher's pet and I already had a crush on a guy that was the class topper. In my fourth grade, I remember doing well in sciences and having a knack for writing poetry. In my 5Th, I was embarrassed of a little sister crying every time I went to see her in the KG section. She was brown and lanky and had hair that knotted at the drop of a hat. More often than not, her pig tails used to come off into a nest like structure at the end of the day.
From my 6th, I can write books on what all I remember. My scores, the class toppers, my subject teachers, what essays I wrote in English 2 papers and the benches I used to sit in.
I can recollect in great detail how I celebrated my birthdays, what I wore and what kind of sweets I distributed in the class.
My high-school was the golden period of my life. I was the most popular girl in an all girls' school, I used to sing and dance and paint and win prizes right left and center and wrote a super duper sloppy short story for a leading newspaper's contest for children. I remember the characters, my awkward sentences and blush at the thought of what would have gone thru the mind of the person who read and eliminated that piece of crap (yeah, my language sucks...oops! and no, the pun is not intended!)
I remember copying two lines of a poem from a friend and almost dying of guilt complex when I won a prize for the highest score in the class!
I remember lying about ill health when I didn't submit my geography project in time
I remember how my physics teacher made me stand in the class and tell me what an insult it was for a teacher if the student wrote that electrons have a positive charge (not my fault you know, I write too fast, and at this particular time, I got my basics wrong too! LOL and I hated physics anyway!)
Just yesterday, I finished reading half of a novel not realising that I'd read it before.
last year, I forgot how much I paid to get fans installed in our living room just two months after getting them installed.
I was trying to retouch the paint in one of the bedrooms and can't remember the name of the shade or the make of the paint.
I blanked out at least twice upon being asked my cell phone number.
I don't remember the plots of most movies I watched last year.
Isn't it weird, I do remember the exact shade of the leading lady's Saree in a song from a movie I watched when I was 12.
Memory. I don't know if I have to talk about the capacity of remembering things or lack thereof:-))
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