Missing the sheep...

December has that distinct Christmas flavour. In school it used to come with the winds that knocked the windows shut loudly.Those little shopping sprees for christmas cards, the whole 'christmas friend' excitement, school carols, the crib making competition.... Later, thanks to Philip uncle, the best part of my christmas became the carol competitions across Thrissur.

I don't wanna write about the beauty of four part singing here. You've gotta experience that yourself. Around a month before christmas we start practising. With the famous chaya and parippuvada combo up in the church balcony or library hall.

This is where the 'V' club(just for valips) was born. With wonderful members including Linu Babu, George Immatty, Joseph Abbey, Abhijith Charles and yours truly...Either we open our mouths to sing, or we open it to let out the next big valip of the year.

How we managed to practise in the midst of valips, cackling laughter sessions, food adi, discussing the uniform etc remains a mystery. But we did. Though I doubt if Mr George Frederick Handel is pleased with our renditions.

Here on the Lavale hills I miss christmas. It has the wintery feel, chilly breeze etc, but my dear warm Thrissur seems much christmassier than here. I miss the infinite number and varieties of cakes that amma would bake back home. I miss those little glasses of wine we sip when each guest comes in. I miss going for endless practices on my Flikky. I miss going to each new stage and the tension before each performance, the anxious wait before the result, the joy of winning, the gloom of losing, the food therafter...

Christmas might be a holy religious day for some. It could just be another international holiday for the others. It could be the family get together time for yet others. But for me, the whole of this season speaks of harmonized notes and mellifluous sounds. And all of the sheep.

Back to that Hill...

I remember that hill slope. The barbed wire fence that went around has rusted now. A few years back, only a single line of wire had broken. And it was through that little opening that he and I raced to the top of the hill.

It was a clear sunny day. Like the old songs said, the grass was as green as you would want them, soft to our bare feet , the sky a brilliant shade of blue so pleasing to look at, speckled with fluffy white clouds. Little flowers grew here and there on the hill in varying shades. It was here that we made a banquet for ourselves with yet another lot of stolen food- A loaf of bread, a couple of oranges and that chocolate bar which had slipped off the hands of a little girl...

Life had taken a quirky turn when I met him. I gave up my dinner table with a spread that would never leave me unsatisfied. I gave up my wardrobe which would house any cloth that I chose point my fingers at. I gave up the softness of my bed and warm blanket. When I had to choose between all these and him, my heart whispered his name, and i was out in the wilderness with him.

I loved him a lot, but he loved me even more than that. Though I no longer had the luxuries of home ,I was still happy. In fact, more than happy. It was all an adventure for my 17 -year-old self. Everyday we walked on further. New places, new people... Sometimes we did small odd jobs for money.And other times we just stole the food we wanted. Some times we made a cozy little tent to sleep in. And at other times, we slept beneath the starry sky. We were happy,content, satisfied. We had each other.

This grand old tree down the hill is now bereft of its leaves. When a guard shood us away in the middle of our lunch that day on top of the hill for tresspasssing, it was under it's shade that we took shelter. We lay side by side in the aftrenoon sun holding hands. The little rays of sun peeked in through the lush green and yellow leaves , but they were soft, not disturbing our heavy eyelids.

He hummed an old folk song ,my favorite and I smiled, turning towards him. He was looking up at the sky, enjoying the picturisque beauty surrounding us. His eyes had their distinct twinkle. I could see those little black lines inside the brown iris. I could see the wind ruffling his hair and his smile. He put an arm around me and I felt good. Safe. I could now sleep blissfully.

Though a lot of things have changed here, the brook is still the same. It still sprays and froths. It rushes by in its hurry. The water is icy cold and fresh. It sped on over the jagged stones untamed by the brooks hurry.

He was looking at me when I opened my eyes from my sleep that day. He showed me the little mud path he'd spotted on the other side of the brook. We were off again.

The stones were sharp beneath my feet. I still hadn't gotten used to walking barefoot.I'd never realised how much slippers and shoes meant to the human kind.The water was knee deep and the bed was uneven. The stones showed no mercy at all. It was hard to walk across with the rushing water and the jabbing stones under my feet. I tried not to show it, but I kept slipping and sliding and he could see shades of red and purple on my feet. He came closer, held my hand and helped me walk. It was a relief to feel the sand and grass.

The mud path gave way to an old rickety bridge that swung lightly with the wind. There was a little village ahead on the other side. Dusk was setting in soon and the breeze turned chilly. Momentarily, goosebumps arose on my hands. He ran his hands on mine and hugged me tight. We stood on that old bridge like that for a while. Little orange dots in the distance showed us the village in the increasing darkness now. He wanted us to walk faster, before we were left stranded on the old bridge in the darkness.

He walked on ahead , gingerly, testing each step for me to take. I followed, holding his left hand, which he'd held out for me. I didnt realize what happened when suddenly he pushed me back. The bridge was shaking, and i was sitting on it, and I was holding on to thin air. It was completely dark now and i couldn't see him. I called out his name but all I could hear was my own voice echoing from the deep valley. Frantically , I tried feeling about for him in front of me, and my fingers felt cold as they traced a gaping hole right in front of me. He was gone.

I must have screamed out loud because some traders near the bridge's other end coming from the village rescued me. I never thanked them for their kindness. I was shouting out for him. But I knew it was in vain because I could hear them talking about how deep he must have fell....how he couldn't have lived... I screamed. I wanted him back. I couldn't live without him. My sweet traveller, my love, my all.

But I lived. He'd taught me to. And I went on to more places, met more people , learned the ways of the world. I'm not the innocent little 17-year-old anymore. I've changed. But he never changed inside me. So when the roads I chose brought me back here years after, I still feel him. The hill, the tree, the brook....they light up my memories- bring him closer to me. And tonight I sleep alone- beneath the old tree, wishing upon the stars above to show his smiling face in my dreams.

An Angry Rant

He's six years younger to me. Why does he get to do things six years before I could?

I had nothing against having a baby brother. Sure, I wished for a little girl with whom I could play "Barbie" & dress up. But I was cool about him being a boy.

It's a story told again and again, but still, why did i always have to let him win? Did I choose to have a sibling 6 years younger to me?'Isn't he younger to you?' Is that my fault in any way?

It was never okay when my report card showed marks less than 90 %. But when he brings home a mixed bag of Bs and Cs and Ds it's always Okay.

It's alright if he goes to the corner store at night to buy anything he likes. And I should plead with him to 'accompany' me? I'm not scared of the night. Or the 'creatures' of the night.

I've always wanted to go out with my friends, watch movies,eat out go for little trips. And the permission was never granted. And he gets to go and do all that.

In the first post i wrote about my first adventure. About my first bus ride. I realise it is way lame. WAY LAME. Because my baby brother has been there,done that and more ,4 years before i did.

He can leave his plate on the dining table and leave. He needn't put his dirty clothes into the Washing Machine. The idiot gets to choose what he wants to learn and where he wants to go, when i couldnt with all that marks i had.

All because he is a BOY?

Note to self

1. Follow Lejin's DTA

2.No masks. They were only for him and it's over.

3.Think of what u've come through,then u won't feel bad abt anything.

4.Someone LOVES you a lot.YOU.And that's never gonna change.

My Duet with Celine Dion

'And you're heeeeeeeeeeeeeeere in my heart and...my heart will go oooooooooooooooon and oooooooon......How's it Georgetta?'

'nice....but you need to put more...'feel' into it.'

Georgetten's my cousin. My first Photoshop teacher. My music helper.My guinea pig when i buy a new flavour of Tang.My Yellow Rose.

Oops! before i go on being sickly sweet ,let's get back to the story. I was in Class 11 and i was gonna perform for the Charity Day Event at Chaldean Centre.Of course you know what i was going to sing.Georgetten had come home to help me out-give me tips,correct me,make the whole thing sound better and all that.

'Why do u make dat sound? did u bite a chilly?' i asked kuttan(my brother)

I was trying hard to do this thing perfectly,and this idiot was sitting next to me making these stupid sounds.

'Di, i was trying to give the 'feel' sound. Georgetten and amma laughed.

Kuntham. Why can't i get this 'feel' thing? I was trying really a lot to make that come.But the 'feel' never did.

And no one's taking me seriously. Hmph! I'll show them when i actually sing the damn song on the stage.

*****

The hall upstairs in Chaldean Centre is huge. So is the stage. I was wearing my 'Juliet' costume to get the 'feel' which i was missing all day.My mom was sitting with all her 'women's youth' friends from where she could get a perfect view of me. She was already telling them about what i was going to sing.

I walked up the huge stage and i could see people backstage staring at my dress. Ofcourse. This is Thrissur.What is this 'big kutty' doing wearing a 'dress'?

'Next we have Reshma Raju Emmatty singing the 'Titanic song' 'said the compere and I switched on the mic in my hand.There were lots of people by now. I could see Amma clearly.And Georgetten was right down the stage putting the Karaoke CD in for me. I was supposed to give him a nod to let him know that I was ready. And i did.

The intro music started.I tapped my feet to the rhythm, cleared my throat away from the mic, took a deep breath and started singing.

I amazed myself. I was awesome! Take that ,ppl! I could hear the 'feel' in my voice.It was here! And every little slur was perrrrfect. It was like i was singing just like Celine Dion! Wait a minute- am i sounding exactly like her?

Rewind.

Georgettten and I had got two CDs - one with the original track for me to listen to and learn and the other one from Kalyan recordings with the Karaoke .

Play.

Did Georgetten just put in the original Cd???

I tried lowering my sound a bit...to check . And i found my fears were true. Georgetten had put the original song and i was singing along with Celine! no wonder i sound great. What will people think when they find out???

Gulp!

but my gulp never affected the song. Why would Celine stop for me?

From then on, it was a battle between me and Celine. I tried to be louder and still keep in sync so that people wouldnt find out about this mix.

But when the track reached to the 3rd stanza, Celine beat me. I had problems with the high pitched last stanza and when we reached that portion, Celine and i parted ways. She went on smooth and strong ;I cracked. And people knew.

Every one gave sarcastic smiles when i got down the stage. And cold stares and murmurs. I could see that they were all talking about me- how i tried to do something i possibly couldnt. How i tried to 'cheat' the crowd and got red handed...I could see Amma still not believing Rosy aunty's accusitions about me trying to be 'oversmart.'...

Going to school was a relief next morning. Atleast I would get busy with other things than think about the dreadful time last night. It was languge hour. You could just sit around and chat in that hour if you didnt make too much noise.

we were all doing our usual stuff when Antony Varghese came down and sat next to me.

'Did you guys know, i saw an amazing performance last night,' he started.

I was crossing my fingers.

'It was at the Chaldean Centre. Big hall.'

I'm done for it.

'This girl walked on the stage wearing a big gown sort of dress'

well, the rest is history. Every one in school knew about my 'duet with Celine' too. Ever since that incident, i somehow dislike listening to that song.

And for some strange reason, for that year's Ootty trip, Georgetten made me a CD with that particular song in 5 different versions.

Why Timmy wouldn't get you a Bangalore sim

'Um....I don't think i have my liscence with me.'That was me with the usual sheepish smile on my face when i kinda forget or lose things.

My parents didnt seem to be quite amused with that statement of mine.After the wonderful experience of getting a cupboard at Marianville,(described in detail here) we were going back to my cousin Jimmy and Timmy's place .I was supposed to get a new sim for myself so that i won't make my dad poorer than he should be.

After the usual talk on how careless I am, blah,blah blah and repeating it in front of Bobby Vellyappan, Maries Velliamma ,Jimmy and Timmy, a magical solution was found for this apocalyptic problem- get one of my cousins to get a sim for me.And the lucky person was Timmy.

He's my age,a nice sweet person,recently graduated as an engineer and who is ,by my standards, quiet. I've never seen him violent or angry. Ever.His final year exams were approaching and he was supposed to stay indoors ar all hours and learn.Now dear cousin Timmy went out and got me a new sim.

Which resulted in-

7 Am:"Get up! it's 7 already! you have to reach your office by 9:30!'

(I know Amma. I have this thingy called an 'alarm' in my phone which I have set so that I can get up when I want.)

9:15AM:"have you started walking to the office? Is there a lot of traffic? Do you remember the way? are there people walking ?Are you about to reach? Are you sure you are on the right way?"

(No, I'm still thinking if i should stay and reply to your questions or get to the office on the first day before time and create an impression. )

1:00 PM: 'Is it your lunch break?What have you got for lunch?Did you buy a pickle bottle yet?Don't go out of the office,just stay there even if the break is long,Okay?'

(yeah,yeah,right.I'll surely stay put when there's a pani puri ,pink guava and lots of other things beckoning my tastebuds to wash away the hostel food)

5:30PM:'Is it over?No? It will get over soon, right? I mean before it is dark?'

(Sure.The main concern of everybody at Draft FCB+Ulka,Bangalore is to ensure that I reach back at Marian Ville before dark.)

6:30PM:'How much longer would you have to stay there? Tell them that your hostel is strict and won't let you in after 7.'

(Ofcourse.That is exactly what i would do on my first day-ask them to leave me early. )

8:00PM:'Are you back? No? It must be really dark ,right? You sure you are on the right road? There are people on the road ,na?Like, don't walk through deserted alleys, Okay?'

(Fine.Fine! And I can cross the road if you would just stop eating my ears.)

9:00PM'Did you have dinner? What was there?"

(Amma.I.Am.Just.Too.Tired.)

11:00PM:'Sleep early, na? You have to wake up tomorrow at 7! Want me to call you?'

(No.But you are not going to 'Not call' ,are you?)

Since my phone connected me with the rest of the world, i had to fight the urge of flushing it down the toilet. But thankfully the no. of calls per day drastically reduced after i lost my temper once and said i won't pick up if there's more than ONE or a maximum of TWO calls a day.

A couple of days later ,i was happily working away on my comp at the office when the phone rang.

'Hello?'

'Hello.May I speak to Mr Rohit?'

Rohit? Oh Timmy! For a fraction of a second i was lost coz i had forgotten Timmy's real name.

'I'm sorry,he's not available right now.Who is this?'

'This is from Airtel, Ma'am. We are calling for the verification process of this number.This is Mr Rohit's number,right?'

'Yes,Yes.I am his sister.'

'What is your address,Ma'am?

well...Jimmy and Timmy lived at Horamavu....

'Horamavu'

'The complete address please.'

'I....I just moved into Bangalore recently...I dont...'

'Ma'am can you tell me your father's name?'

That was easy.

'Bobby'

'Full name please'

Gulp. What was his full name? I call him Bobby Velliappan.Lemme guess...

'um....Bobby Emmatty?'

'Ma'am, I'm sorry,but we have to cancel the connection to this-'

'No, Bobby J Emmatty!'

'Sorry, Ma'am, we'll have to cancel the connection. Kindly contact the customer care.'

'Bobby James Emmatty?'

'Ma'am I have to hang up now.Please contact the customer care.'

Darn. Why the hell did i pick up. And what a great call that was- claiming to be Rohit Bobby's sister without knowing Bobby's full name? Well done, Resh.

Timmy wasn't picking up his phone, but Jimmy was online then and i explained how my mom would die of heart attack if she wouldnt be able to talk to me.Jimmy said that Timmy should be in some class or learning something. After a while, i got through to Timmy.

The poor chap had to leave his books go to the Airtel customer care and fix things for me when he should have been earnestly learning.

My internship was over and I was enjoying the last weekend at Bangalore with an assortment of friends- Shibu,his junior ,Jo and cousin Nitin.While coming back from Amoeba,I just looked around my camera bag for my phone and I couldnt feel it. No amount of frantic search in/out that place could find it and i sadly realized that my phone has also entered the long list of things I'd lost recently,including 4 umbrellas and one sim.(the stars hadn't revealed yet that one more umbrella would be lost and that i would jump into a swimming pool with the new phone i was going to buy).

The sad news had to be broken to my folks who'd be coming to B'lore the next day.So i called up Amma from Nitin's phone.

'You lost your phone now????What were you thinking?How could you lose your phone???Now how will i get to meet and everything else? Silly Idiot!'

Nitin had to part with his phone for the night so that my mom could sleep peacefully during her busride to Bangalore.

Now dear Timmy, who was supposed to learn for his exams, who was not permitted to wander around with Nitin and me because of the exam, had to take away a few hours of his precious time trying to cancel the number-

'What was the last call made from this number?'

'I don't know...It was with my sister'

'What was the duration of your last call?'

'@#$%%^6^77'

From what i've heard, Timmy lost his cool completely and swore that he would not offer to buy a sim for any living soul on this planet.And though i caused him to lose out on many many hours,he's finally an engineer now :)

Growing up

I am growing up. I never thought that would happen anytime soon but i think i am.May be not in every aspect,may be most people who sort of know me won't concur with me on this. But it's true.

Take the case of Love for example.

Till recently it was something I could easily fall into. Who has not had a crush or a teenage love? The excitement, the passionate feelings, the little secret moments...you just believe that while you are in love with your special person everything is okay. The universe is doing it's job perfectly. Nothing could ever go wrong.

At 16, love can blossom with a few poetic word, long gazes into the eyes , a few blood drops....It's simply hard not to fall in love.

My sweet 16 was years back but I had hardly grown up from that mental state.But now I know things are not always that easy. There's no real black or white in this thing. May be you say you love someone but you actually don't. Or you say you hate someone and adore that person. Maybe you love two people at a time. Maybe you are with one person and think of the other. Maybe you've broken up ,but you really can't stop thinking about that person.May be it's all just lust. May be there's is no such thing as love?

No clue.One thing i know. If two people can love each other easily and passionately if they are not in the '16', It sure is magical. By then you would have become selfish, loving yourself more than anything els eon the planet. If you can still love another human being so selflessly, so easily,Love sure is a magic.

Now, that's a different kind of "magic' I associate with Love now.The earlier magical love implied things like 'true love' s first kiss' which could turn lead to gold.

I have grown up, haven't I?

Sandra

‘Such a cute baby!’

‘She’s got gray eyes….lovely’

‘So fair!’

Every one showered compliments on the new born baby. And yes, she deserved it all. Fairer than all her cousins and sister. A light brown mop on her head unlike the usual jet black. And to top it all, she had beautiful blue grey eyes. A lovely little thing indeed. But as she was being praised and cuddled, standing aloof was Sandra. Her 5 year old big sister.

Sandra was excited about having a baby brother or sister. She was too glad to know it was a baby sister. But when she actually saw the little baby and how others seemed to be paying all their attention to her, Sandra felt alone. She was the youngest little girl of the family till then. She wasn’t exceptionally pretty like her little sister, but she was cute in her own way. Fair, like her mom, nice straight hair, loved to doodle about with paint. She never talked too much. But she was happy in her own quiet way.

*****

Megha grew up from the little bundle in wraps to the cute little toddler. She was curious about anything and everything around her-especially Sandra’s things. If Sandra was reading a book, Megha wanted it. If Sandra was painting, Megha wanted the colours. And since Megha had the wonderful habit of pulling all those things apart, Sandra stopped getting nice new things- ‘Megha would pull it apart’ was the reason always.

*****

Cousin Mariam was goofy. Or so everyone in the family said. The late teen always hung around with guys, threw huge tantrums to get her own way even in front of people-relatives and strangers alike, wore clothes which most of the family never approved of…And she was into music. No, she didn’t play the drums, but the violin. Recently she bought a new violin coz her older one was child sized. Which Sandra was dreaming to use.

‘Your new violin is nice, Mariam.’

‘Thanks Sandra. I love it. You like music too, right? ‘

Sandra nodded.

‘Don’t they teach you instruments at school?’

“No, Mariam. After your batch passed out of school they stopped it.’

‘Oh. That’s bad.’

‘What instrument do you like?’

‘The violin.’

‘You idiot! Take my old violin and learn something! My music class is near your place. Go there.’

‘I’d like to, but mom won’t let me.’

‘Why?’

‘Megha’ll tear anything I own apart.’

‘Oh. I know. I’ve been through the same thing till Ben grew up. What am I saying? That idiot still makes my life a wreck.’

‘Will you talk to my dad and mom?’

Of course, the family goofball talked to Sandra’s parents, but they didn’t take her seriously. After all, they were ‘grown-ups’. They knew how to deal with things. And Sandra was their daughter, wasn’t she?

*****

Megha joined school. Same as Sandra’s. But Megha was not going to be the goody goody like Sandra. Sandra knew she was not allowed to take part in the school performances as they charged you for the costume. She never signed up, though she always wanted to. She never fought with her classmates coz her parents wouldn’t approve of it. She never threw a tantrum to get her favorite food packed in her lunch box.

And Megha was just the opposite. She signed up for every event in class. She was made to stand outside the class everyday either for talking continuously or for beating up other kids in the class. She always made mom pack her favorite food in her tiffin.

And when Megha got away by being the naughty little squirt whom everyone adored, Sandra felt hurt. Was it her fault that she tried to obey her parents? Wasn’t she being good? Then why are they still happy with Megha?

Sandra watched the family soaps with her grand mom. The harsh dialoges and actions struck her. People hitting each other, people leaving their homes, the words, all that

*****

‘Need that’ demanded Megha

‘That’s mine. You’ll destroy It.’said Sandra. She started going red and her voice started cracking already. For she knew where this would lead to. Megha would cry, mom would come and her favorite hairclip would be tattered. And no one cared, did they. They’ll just say it is a little clip. But it was her favorite.

‘Need clip NOW!’ shouted Megha. And then started to wail loudly. Until their mom came.

‘Sandra? Why is Megha crying?’

‘She wants my clip.’

‘So just give it to her! Grand ma is sleeping, can’t you see? She’ll wake her up.’

‘But she’ll break it…’

“Look, I bought you that clip, didn’t i? Just give it to her. She’ll leave it after a while.’

‘I’m going away.’

‘What?’

‘I’m leaving this house where I’m not loved.’

‘Wow. Which serial dialogue is that?’ there was a hint of laughter in mom’s voice.

In the serial, when this was told, everyone was shocked and asked the character not to leave. They loved her. No one loves me here.

It only hurt and enraged Sandra when her mom told her granny, dad and aunts about her talking ‘serial dialogues’. They all laughed.

*****

“Hello? Is this Megha’s mom?’

‘Yes. Who is this?’

“This is Megha’s class teacher. Looks like Megha missed the school van. Can you come over and pick her up?’

“I’ll be there soon. Thank you Miss Elizabeth.’

When Megha and Mom reached back home, Sandra wasn’t there yet. And the calls to the school, her teacher and the school bus driver didn’t help.

“Where’s my baby? I need my girl now. Find her, Joseph……..’ Mom was inconsolable. Everyone was worried. All were out looking for her.

Sandra never knew that her mom loved her as much as she loved Megha. And her mom never knew how much it hurt her when Megha seemed to be getting more attention. Mom knew Sandra wanted to learn the Violin, that she wanted to participate in the school functions…she thought she wouldn’t be able to manage all that as Megha would take up a lot of time…but now she wished she had.

It didn’t matter now anyway. Sandra was lying unconscious on the back seat of an unknown car, off to an unknown destination.

Reshma Emmatty,Cupboard at the end of the hall, Marian Ville

‘ee ucha nerathu vannu ingane bell adikkunnathu sheriyano? Ningalkku ithu veruthey kuthiyal mathi . Hmph!’ (Translation: Do you think it's okay to come in and ring the door bell at noon ,like this? All you think is of your need. Hmph!)

A short grumpy looking lady in a white and blue print saree came out of the door leading into the hostel corridor. Me, Dad, Mom, Kuttan and Dad’s friend Unnis was taken aback.

We were in Bangalore, hostel hunting for my summer internship there. The hostel Unnis uncle had searched was called Brigittine hostel, where the lights go out at 10, and which had 4 seater rooms. And u had 2 be in by 7 coz supper is at 7:30. And if u are late u have to tell the nuns here why. And where. And with whom. And all the other answers too.

No way I was gonna stay there. So I went to Brigittine’s and found more reasons for not staying there.

‘Appa, there’s no plug point there.’

‘So?’

‘So? How do I do work if I have to use my laptop? How do I charge my mobile?’

Unnis uncle: ‘it’s just for six weeks, child, don’t worry.’

Yeah. And I’m gonna be living here. I had lots of things to do here and that needed a longer curfew. For starters, I’d told Jo that we’d go to pubs and stuff so 7 pm and work wouldn’t work.

So after showing me the room, Sr Francesca asked my parents if I would be moving in right then.

‘Yes Sister. Rajetta, pay the fees.’ That was mom.

My face was ….i dunno, the nun herself knew something was wrong and asked me

‘I think you don’t like it here. Try Marian Ville. It’s nearby. In museum road’

And so we came to Marian Ville and rang the bell. And out came the lady in the permanent grumpy mood.

She walked pompously to the office room and we followed her. We were expecting the nun to come and occupy the seat in the office when she sat there. Okay. So she is the nun. Why is she in a printed saree?

‘Sister, we need a room….’said dad.

‘Yes. We have rooms here. So?’

‘She is here for doing her summer internship…at MG road. This is the closest hostel….’

‘Do you have single rooms?’ I interrupted the tense conversation.

‘No.’ came the angry reply.

Back to dad. You take care of this one!

‘When do you want to move in?’

“Tomorrow?’ in a soft pleading voice, my dad asked.

‘3800 for the room. It’s a double room, but no one else is there. So she’ll be alone.’

Yay!

‘Does it have a plug point?’ I had to know that.

‘Yes’

‘Can I see the room please?’

‘Yeah, when u come tomorrow’

Um…I need to see the place I’d stay for the next six weeks, lady!

‘But sister, could we see the room now?’ asked mom meekly

‘You people treat your kids like some treasure of sorts. It’s just of one and a half months right? You can see the room tomorrow when you move in.’

With a chorus of ‘please sister’ she got up from the chair. And we wondered if it was for showing us out or showing the room.

‘Aren’t you coming?’ she snarled at me as she walked into the hostel corridor. My mom and I stepped forward.

‘Only the girl can come. No mother and all.’

Okay. Was she going to shout at me alone inside?

We walked into a narrow corridor which was completely dark. Not a bit of sunlight from anywhere.

She opened the door to a big closet, sorry, small room. Two beds, tables, cupboards all crammed into a small place that there’s no place to move around. And no windows. I sincerely hoped that the tube light worked or my eyesight would diminish considerably in these six weeks.

She had said it would be bath attached but I couldn’t find any in this box.

‘It’s not bath attached, ‘she said with an evil grin. It's over there. ‘4 cubicles in the end of the corridor.

Oh, and another for right next to them.

‘So eight loos, right?’

‘Do you require more than one?’

No comments.

Well, that was the end of the tour.

And I was in a dilemma.

Hostel #1, seemingly nice sister. #2, the lady think s i’m the little girl who threw a stone ay her 10 years back on whom she’d love to take her revenge.

Hostel one, rules and more rules. Hostel 2, no big rules

Well, after weighing them over and over again, I chose Marian Ville. That’s right, the one with the wicked witch of the west.

But I have the big closet for myself. I pray every day that no one else would come in to join. There are TWO plug points for me to use. I can come in by 8:30.

Life is not so bad. The nun only bothers you if you chanced to meet her. Which happened the next morning when I came out to put my washed clothes on the lines. There were two big washing stones for us girls outside, which I didn’t dream of using. I’d managed it in my lazy way with wheel and water.

‘Where you washing?’ came an angry shout (Where did you wash was what she intended to say). Yep. It was sister…gosh! I don’t even know her name. And I don’t think I want to.

‘That sister…in the loo, with my bucket n stuff….’

She gave an angry glare, but I gave a sweet smile and rushed putting all the clothes and left.

I might have got into trouble with her for another thing a few days later- there was a ritual to be followed in the hostel- you had to sign your attendance every night after dinner. I used to gladly go to eat dinner (and come back sadly hoping there’s more of those bourbon biscuits in my room) but had never signed for some 3-4 days.

But thankfully, I that night it was an old sister who was taking attendance that night. She was nothing like the grumpy one. She smiled sweetly and marked me present even for a couple of days before I joined there.

Anyways, life there is pretty cool. My own big closet, messy, like my room. My hard disk with my kind of movies- and that hard disk helped me make friends coz I discovered that there are more ppl like me who love Disney and fairy tale like movies. Unlike my hostel stays before, I’m having a lot of fun- glad to have fellow mallus Deepa and Lakshmi as the occupants of the closet next to mine.

Well….I’m having a nice cozy time in my new cribJ

What i want

Please don't go.............

:( :)

a group of friends

class time fun

teases and laughs

'intersting pen'

friendship pacts

signed and torn

comes a new year

comes new surprises

silence and no chatter

a quest to know why

a piece of paper

alphanumerals scattered

'it's not from,me,but him'

says the messesnger

alone inside my room

upon my study table

time,time again

i try to make sense

one new method tried

and it all fell to places

'***** ***** ******'

a lump inside my throat

butterflies inside my tummy

what do i do now?

what shall i say now?

pretended i didnt know

pretended i didnt care

until that fateful day

my friends tried to say

then i had to say

that i knew it too

but right now i dont want

all this silly stuff

let us both be friends

let us both grow up

let us stand on our own legs

and let us then decide

it took a lot of coaxing

to get him to talk to me

but then with time

the best of help

we grew to be good friends

and then to best of friends

and then,my best(est) friend

inaugerating pens

letters in old notebooks

words written in blood

poems and quotations.

walks to tuition class

waits till i go back

drenched in the rain

feelings unspoken

fights in between

always solved by friends

trys to move apart

but always comes together

when new people came

when new loves blossomed

the old 'friendship' couldnt resist

to see it silently

denied being jealous,

but jealousy was all

untill i had to go and say

i felt the same too.

but time cahnges people

time changes things

my bird was not the same

i'll never get the same

together the journey went on

with rough moments now and then

passions grew stronger

they expressed

egos too, may be

and they too.

the next separation was

for me the worst by far.

no one can get it

not even him

and so the distance's far

tried to be close still

but somehow didnt work

had to part our ways

a year of solid silence

talks are now not real

and when real ,not right

lives have twisted,tangled

lets not get them mangled

memories just come

when we least expect

a song,a sight,a note

is all that it takes

Penning down thoughts

'Get a life' said my friend as he hung up the phone.

Life?Would you mind telling me where you are taking me?

Around this time,four years back,and all through out the three darkest,lowest years of my life,i was sad. but i had a wish,a dream a hope. Though i lost manythings,many people and that someone special, i still had something that kept me strong,something that made me work hard and 'achieve my dream'.

It involved me. Just me. I didn't need anybody else. Lej is right-'don't trust anybody'.I was glad that i was going away. I was going farther and probably higher than most of my friends. And as i was going,i found someone else.

Did i want all of that again? Well, i had thought i didn't but it looks like i did. Yes.I wanted love.

Now i'm here,right where i wanted,doing what i wanted, but am i making the most of it? May be dad's right. I'm just looking for excuses not to do things. While in hell i said i wouldnt send anything i write to get published coz i didnt want that place's name 2 be attached to me in anyway. Now i'm here and i don't have TIME?

What do i think of the most part of my day? What do i wish for and hope for these days? Why am i not doing all those things i should be doing?

Everyday i go for my walk .I feel the breeze kissing my face,caressing my hair.Everything around me looks green,yellow,brown,orange,pink and red.All vibrant and looking at me lovingly. Ilook up at the sky and get amazed each day by the colours, patterns and the majesty. I hear the music i like and i feel good. And i get pregnant with ideas and thoughts and an urge to get them all out in paper,in words,in a cam, in colours...

But they never see the world. It's like i'm too weak to let them out.

Ranting in here helps.Coz i know that this is just my digital diary and not a blog.And writing here helps.

I'm not writing in my old diaries which i had to burn. I'm not writing in those later versions with the locks. I'm not writing in that one last one where i wrote with inkless pen on a 'used' sheet again and again and again. This is my space, for me. Just me.

Now

I wanted to write about love today. I don't know wat everyone else thinks about it. For me it is a special feeling,way about everything else. I wanted to write about how happy it makes you,to make someone else happy, how special it feels , to know that there is someone who cares a lot about you,and you feel the same about that person,how good you'd feel to have someone to whom you can talk any crazy thing that comes into your mind coz that person loves you for what you are...about how it can make you do things you'll never even dream of doing.

It is a funny feeling.It can make you change the way you do things, your liking for certain things...But right now what i can write is ,it hurts. It hurts when you just want to scream to the world about how happy you are about your love and its not a mutual feeling. It hurts when you want to tell him how happy the last time 2gether was when he does not say a word. It hurts when you just look at the chatbox and the phone to blink,but it doesnt.

It's a sad,scary,loneley feeling then.

Miaw

'Miaw....Meeeeeeeeeeyaw....'

The poor little kitty is lost, wandering in the girls' hostel searching for its mom and siblings.And i know realize that i love cats more than dogs.I love animals. And birds.Mostly anything that does not have eight legs. And i have a cat and a dog back home.I always thought i loved them the same but ,no.The furry 'purr' ball is my favorite.

I've had cats,kittens as far as i can remember. There was an old 'kadan' whon we called just that.Then came Bubbloo with his total milky white hair and blue eyes.Sundari was my lil baby.If my brother hadn't whacked on her head with that stick, she'd have stayed on for longer...I so hated him then. Katmandu and Tinker Bells came together. They were siblings. So Katmandu was my stupid brother's and Tinku was mine. Katmandu's original name was Kadamani. Katmandu was just a western sounding nick name. He was such a biiiiig cat. Cute. But not pretty as my lean Tinku.

Tinku and i used to have such a nice time together. Back then, I had this craze of growing a watermelon garden in a couple of little pots.Yes, the seeds would sprout,a little sapling would grow,the brown tip with the seed would go and it'll be green, it'll open up, tiny leaves would come,and thats it. End of another generation of saplings. But i'd 'sow' more.

Tinku used to be my companion when i tended to my 'watermelon farm'.She would come with me, lie down in the sunny patches, and scrath stuff. A funny thing about Tinku was that she licked me! She wasn't a dog! And i could really play with her. I'd prop her up the ledge near our well and poke on her paw. And she'd try to poke me back on my hand. And no, she never took those claws out while we played.

My stupid neighbours kept poisoned meat to kill the dogs which were eating their chicken but Tinku ate it. And she was gone.

Next was Binku. Binker Tells. His tail was as thin as a rat's. Usually , all our cats traditionally have thick, fluffy tails. His tail was thin and it was as if he had a joint in the tail. He could make it appear broken. He cared for that old female cat a lot....she used to come around our house, poor lone thing and our Binku would keep her company. Played with her, didnt mind her skin disease....the poor old cat was devoted to him i guess. It was sad to see her come and mew for him after he was gone.

Now we have Chinku. He was the only one who dared to come outside the paper bundles in my dad's shed .And for that, he is alive. well, not just alive.He eats 2 fish in the morning. Even if we get no fish 2 eat, he gets it every day. And after the fish he needs a big bowl of milk. After filling his big tummy with the fish(he leaves the bones and d head. Such a cultured cat...),he goes to the woodden swing in the living room. And sleeps on it.

He was having a royal life here when he started having this interest in the female cats in the vicinity. The number of kittens here started increasing.And so did his fights with the other tom cats. Now everyday he comes home with a new scar or without a patch of fur on his skin. Idiot.He likes to go for walks for a few days. But he'll be back right in time for food.

He has a new friend to play with now. Minju. Rukmini chechi calls her( we just found out she was a he but i'll call her minju.) Manikutty.She's a cute little thing. Always playful, always moving about. She's grown longer than the last time i saw her.My little minju.

Now as i hear the mews of the kitten in the hostel i miss her. I miss stroking my cats on their forehead. Sneaking them on to the bed.Seeing them sleep so innocently on me keeping the 'purr' motor on....And i now know that i love cats better.

An apology

I wore a mask while i was with you

I was rude, selfish, in my shell.

I never let you near 'real' me.

I dampened your joyful spirits.

I pretended your inexistance.

I made up stories,miserable.

Never a word about your love

that put smiles even in Hell.

Lonliness was a choice- mine.

And i blamed it on all but me.

I was there,in your midst

just to put you guys off.

An apology here makes no change,

i know but still i say:

'I'm sorry for all that i did

and more for all i didn't'

I Need It...

My teeth are stained reddish violet.I long to suck more of that liquid.I can't stop myself.I need more.I dip the icy chunk again and again into the dark liquid and suck it hard.And within a few minutes, that Kalakhatta is also over.

'Can i borrow twenty bucks, plz?' i ask any familiar face around coz i've finished all the money on me already. Now for my favorite- Panipuri.

There are a few sacks full of the puris in the stall and near it are the vessels filled with the tastiest, tangiest liquids ever concocted. And a bit of the aloo and whatever it is mix.

I get my paper bowl.

'Teeka or medium?'

'Medium'

A hole is cracked on my first puri, in it goes to the sweet and sour tamarind water which is thick and gooey, and now it takes a dip into the less viscous green hot thingy and he holds it out to me.

As i put it in my mouth there is a burst of various tastes tingling my tastebuds. There are crisp bits of the puri and a mouthfull of tasty water and before i can savor the taste of each part of it separately,i am handed out the next one. And the next...And so it goes. It doesnt even take two minutes for my twenty bucks to depart from me in this process. But thats just one amongst all the other 20 Rs notes that have gone away from me. Including the one today.

I crave for it these days. Usually my cravings are for chicken in any form, so long as it is dead and not bloody. But this little round goblet of exploding tastes have won my heart over now.There are no city trips for me now,which does not include a plate(or two or three or more) of panipuri. May be i'm full with a pizza from Pizza hut, a happy meal from Mc Donalds, a nice dosa from Vaishali, paneer and romali roti from good luck or a sub from subway....i need my panipuri.

This post ends here with my stating again that i love panipuri. A lot.