The bed box

She was sitting on this dim corner of the cave, very peaceful, not even caring that she had lost her way, and that she was away from the company that she had entered with. The place was unnervingly silent, and the cool setting was a bit too much for her to take. Still, she sat there motionless and tranquil not thinking about the consequences. She knew someone would ultimately find her. She was also aware that subconsciously she wanted no one to discover her, and stay completely lost in her own world, hidden away from everything else.

That is when I woke up, realising that I was sleeping inside the bed box- the extra bed that the hotel provided. With that dream ending unexpectedly I could only hope for someone to come and push the bed box inside the bed and let me just sleep and to know that if she is eventually able to stay away from everything?

The need for a bedside table!

I lie on the bed with the lights dimmed already, with the temperature of the room set accordingly, and with the novel in my hand, ready to be lost into. In order to avoid any kind of disturbance I put my phone away, on the study table at the far corner (I don’t need it anyway plus it helps me wake up in the morning if it is far away). All set for the perfect ‘alone time’ I start reading the book.

A page or two goes by and then I have something in my mind; a topic on which I feel should write and share it with my fellow bloggers. So I lazily stand up, scribble on a post it and stick it on the wall to remember the next day. So there I slump again on the bed, cuddle against a cold sheets, soothing and yet again I loose myself amidst the fictional world.

This time not even a paragraph goes by when I remember something from the day and again, unwilling I get up, post-it on the wall and return, this time making it sure I would not get up before I complete ten pages.

And so I wait for the ten pages to be done, and hastily get up before I forget to jot it down, and there goes another post it on the wall. This is how my wall is always clustered with post-it for to do lists, for something to share with my blogger friends, and even something that I have to let other people know.

This goes on for a while, until I am tired enough to get up again, after which I unwillingly take my phone with me, so that I at least do not have to get up. After another couple of reminders set on my phone, finally I decide to doze off. It is after all 1:00 AM.

Of course my mind is unwilling to shut down and so I aid to my ear phones, leaving behind my comfy bed, one last time. Somehow amidst the dreams of the story going on in the novel, with the lyrics of the songs and with many other unfiltered thoughts in my mind I doze off, finally.

And that is how my mother finds me often, early in the morning, with music flowing through the earphones and yet scattered somewhere under the pillow, with my phone snoozed off and hidden somewhere between the sheets, and the novel that I would be reading tucked beside me. And every single morning she would wake me with same monotonous say, “Why do you have to sleep with all of these things? Why can’t you just keep them all away on the table?”

And every single time I would say, “I just need a bedside table, mom. It would solve all my lazy problems. You don’t know the struggle of waking up once you are tucked into bed, restfully.”

“Yeah, right! But why do you have to get up in the middle of the night anyway?

Atithi tum kab jaoge?

If you are tired of your work, if you really need a break, what do you do? Most certainly, I would go off on a vacation and not barge into someone’s place uninvited, unwelcome. I also thought that most people would do the same until recently when I came across a person who was willing to break into anyone’s apartment rather than hers.

We had the terrible month of the year, with a wedding just done with in the family, with renovation in the house going on, with my brother’s college going, with my exams; in short every one of us in the family was deep submerged into work.  And on top of it all we had a distant relative coming over. This relative of us has never been that close, we have never visited each other; in fact we don’t even see each other unless there is an occasion. So she called us one fine day to ask if it was okay for her to come over and stay with us for a while? What were we to say? No? of course not! That would have been just rude and mean, but a yes was an added trouble at that time.

So with a diplomatic answer my parents hung up the phone, hoping she got the hint. With no door bells for the couple of days we thought she did get the hint, but then the third day brought her in with her two daughters just when we were having our lunch.

What is it a hotel? No!! We live in our house and we don’t expect uninvited people all the time. So how are we to feed them? Of course the men don’t realise this.

“Come, come, eat with us.” Said my dad.

But what do we serve them? I was to eat out so there was food for the only three of them. Any how my mother managed to prepare food for all. And she also made separate food for her 6 month old daughter.

Food was not the problem. It was her distance from us. We barely meet and talk, and now she was at our place, and we were lost with what to do with her and her two daughters. Her 6 month old was still fine to be with, but her elder daughter 6 years old, she was a child I have never seen. She would not sit still for a moment, and I can safely say that there is a fine line between being a child and a manner less one. Believe me; you wouldn’t have seen such a kid. I lost all my control when she tore two of my prepared answers to which I had no other copy of and still her mother did not say a word. I lost all control and yet all I could do was ask her politely to take that child away! What was I to do?

I knew kids are not my cup of tea, but I also am always capable of handling them well. At least manage to. But she was out of my imagination. All I wanted was to ask her to leave but of course that was out of the question.

And so this whole inconvenience went on for the next week. Our home was just a weird place to live in even for us. When she lived with us, we realised that she had guests at her own place and she was just tired of all the work and needed a break herself.

I don’t know how relieved she must have been living with us and having very little in common with us, but for us it was very bizarre. And all the while we just hoped when she would leave and we could get rid of fake smiles, unintended politeness, and all the formality.

We were in a situation of-

“Atithi tum  kab jaoge?”

 

Den. Ben. 10

Many years had passed when,

I found myself living in a troubled den,

It was surely a troubled den-

For it seemed that there I had passed years 10.

I cried and cried, I tried to complain to Ben,

But no fruitful aid could he provide me then.

This my situation was, my dear Ken,

And I could not overcome it even in 10.

I cried and cried

I tried and tried to talk to Ben,

But time was unfortunate for me

And nothing could happen then.

Disturbed as I was, to soothe myself I took a pen,

Comfort was not meant for me,

Even after scribbling on pages 10.

And yet many more years had passed when,

I was still living in the troubled den. !

PS: This is a small piece that I wrote really a long time ago, probably during my younger school days. I don’t know if it makes sense to you, let me know on the comments below.

Carpe diem

There are times when I have; rather we all have at some point in our lives wanted to seize the moment, which is all what carpe diem is about. I mean just for a moment think how beautiful it might me if we could actually seize the moment, live and relive our best flashes of pleasure and contentment. If only we could…..

We all at some point of our lives must have attended such theme based parties where we want nothing but to save the blissful time for eternity, in form of reminiscence or even as snapshots and pictures. Haven’t the modern technology made quite possible the impossible.

And yet at times I wonder why can’t we seize the day, not only in form of photographs but in some different form where those happy days might just not vanish away.

I always keep wanting for the best days to come, for instance when one of my cousin was visiting me this summer, I was all excited about it since days. Overjoyed as I was, the days came and went away and all I am left with is the nostalgia that how quick it all went by. First in the wait of his visit, then the days when he was here, all just seems now as a split second. How highly spirited those days were but it all went by just as it came. Of course I have the photographs and the beautiful memory of his stay but isn’t it all going to fade away?

We humans will always want more and here I am wishing for more…..if only I could relive it again and yet again….

Do we really seize the moment? Does it really stay with us all our lives?

And so they don’t like me now!

I was sitting with my cousin and my aunt in their house, munching snacks and having a relaxed time over a cup of tea. We were having a blast, my cousins who have come all the way from Gujarat are really chirpy and can make you feel instantly at home anywhere, even if they are themselves not at home, and my aunt surely enjoys their company. Whenever they come over it is like the house is full of people, despite them being only two teen girls.

One of them just went upstairs to bring something to show me and that was enough for my aunt to start on me. She definitely likes to know everything going on in my life, and I on the contrary hate telling her or any one for that matter everything going on in my life. I can tell you just the thing you know but not every petty thing. So somehow we landed on the topic of girls being educated which made her say that she wants a “Beautiful, educated wife for her son who would stay at home and look after everyone.”

I could have made 1000 jokes on this and let it go but I could not, just as I am never able to let it go. I tried to make her understand what she was asking for and yet I could pass nothing into her chained minds. For her education is important but when it comes to utilising it, girls aren’t meant to do it. I mean do these people even understand themselves what they are asking for? They want an engineer homemaker for an engineer man, a doctor for a doctor, a management student for a manager? They want a girl to spend years and years educating her, working so hard to bring her to certain level and when the time comes to marry, they want her to leave it all behind and shove her degrees in the store room.

I respect completely stay at home moms or wives who choose to not work for their families, but the respect only extends to those who CHOOSE it, it turns to pity for them and disgust for their family members just the moment I get to know that the decision was forceful.

I know this brings us to another statement put up- ‘FIGHT FOR IT’.

What do you think? Women don’t? Of course they do, but somewhere down the line, there are many boundaries, emotional or otherwise which she just can’t cross or is forced again not to cross. If a man says he understands all this, I am sorry I am not going to believe it. I think you do not understand a person’s feelings unless you have been through them.

So there I was trying to justify myself but it was very clear that I was speaking Latin to a person who understood only plain Sanskrit.

Before the discussion changed into a heated argument my cousins took over and there was no further chance to discuss anything else, but my aunt’s curt replies and behaviour made it clear that she didn’t like my presence anymore, so making some excuse to my cousins, I left bidding them good bye.

I could not stand being in the wrong. I could not help being there, feel disgusted. The fact that I was trying to explain my point, talk up to my aunt made her feel that I was in the wrong then how are we supposed to make them understand things that are beyond their understanding?

We think that we can change these people, these circumstances but I don’t think so. We will fail until we have such people (MEN AND WOMEN) in our lives.

I don’t care if she doesn’t like me, now that I have raised my voice, put forward my opinion in front of her; what I care about is I like myself. I know I didn’t change her mind, but had I just taken it all without even trying, putting a little bit of effort, I would have hated myself. I failed but at least I tried. Well, that is what I am trying to say to myself and keep calm.

“Oh, I am all good.”

It breaks my heart every time I see him and I still have no idea what to do about it. I thought he completely forgot me, I did not even existed for him but then he just comes in front of me and is gushing all his charm on me and I the instant fool, am all over his flaws.

‘Oh I am all good’ I say, but inside, my heart is piercing, shattering into pieces.

What do I do?

Run away?

But my heart never wants to.

So I stay and talk despite all the impossibilities.

“I am all good, how are you?” I really want to know. I want to know how has he been? How has life treated him? How is his work? Is everything okay at home? Above all, I want to know why, just why it took him so long to acknowledge my presence? I had been around for quite a time now but it didn’t seem to matter to him. I had a lot many questions but I kept shut, we smiled and talked about general stuff and after a while I say good bye. I knew, this time I had to say it first, I didn’t want to be left back again. I can tell from his ways that he has to go now, and I have to accept it.

“Good bye.” His smile went deeper into my heart.

It was easy for him to come and go and return after even declining my existence for so long.

But it wasn’t for me, just wasn’t for me.

 

Finishing line

What is the meaning of our life?

Who are we?

Has anyone ever thought about it? I don’t know, I keep thinking and questioning our existence but of course have no answer to it as yet.

To satisfy myself I came up with an explanation just to quench my thirst of these questions or at least to make peace with unanswered questions.

Our life is a game, a race where the result is unknown until we cross the finishing line. We have to walk, run until we cross the finishing line, keeping in my mind all throughout that it is a run where our competition is with ourselves, not with someone else. We cannot know the end result before playing the game; similarly we cannot know the true meaning of our life unless we have lived it. We may not even know until the end, may be our lives imprint on someone else’s without our knowledge. We might just not know it. But surely it does have a meaning. We just have to go to the finishing line.

So till then we should try and live our lives to the fullest. It is almost impossible to have no regrets and live like we want, there are twists and turns on the road and that is the game we are playing. So we should live with regrets and fulfilments, with happiness and laughter, with tears and sorrows, with positivity and negativity, with failures and success, with friends and enemies, with love and hurt, with everything that life showers us with. We should live our life with everything in it, because once we cross the finishing line, we are not to come back, at least not as the same person anyway. So why not live it, play it rather than constantly trying to figure out everything which as mortals clearly are unable to?

Let’s just not focus on the finishing line and for once try and play the game. May be the game would prove more exhilarating than we’d thought. May be the finishing line is not worth so much of concern. May be this game is all about finding answers to our questions and by the end of it we’d get them all. Just may be.

PS: It is just a small way to try and satiate my unending curiosity, to make temporary peace with these questions and get along with the ‘game’ so that I can concentrate on more important stuff.

I am Nobody

I’m nobody! Who are you?

Are you nobody, too?

Then there’s a pair of us -don’t tell!

They’d banish us, you know.

 

How dreary to be somebody!

How public, like a frog

To tell your name the livelong day

To an admiring bog!

-Emily Dickinson