Lights On

As I sit in my room feeling the breeze that my window is letting in, I sense the change in the nature again. Winter is making way for spring, flowers already blossoming. It is said that spring is the most lovely season in India, when the entire ambience blooms in beauty. The nature around is bedazzled with the colours and fragrance. No wonder, we have the festival of love around the corner.

I can relate to the joy of the nature – the colors, the frangrance and the blossoms. The thrill in the nature is similar to that in my life. The nature senses my happiness and is happy for me. It gives out the blossoming flowers to express my happiness. When I held his hand and walked, everything in the creation stood still for a while. There was silence, only two people existed in the whole world – just he and me. The entire nature salutes us when we stand together.

I have a feeling that our oneness has a purpose – a purpose that’s much above sharing our lives with each other. Being with him are moments filled with pride, integrity, respect, honor, dignity, love and hope. I feel complete. My existence gets a purpose, and my life gets a meaning. If I am one half, he is the other half. Both put together is one and complete.

The nature is happy, and I feel its bloom. Certain feelings make everything around you seem just beautiful. Everything including the train, the polluted river water, the forest around it, the cabbage crop – just everything.

I give my heart to my Lord, He stays there, and everything that I do is for the fulfillment of His plan. Life’s beautiful in the hands of God, where we walk holding hands.

Yes, I’m stuck. I’m in love. Madly, madly in love. This pain is suffocating. Never thought I could be in a situation like this. We have not verbally exchanged our feelings. We know it though. “I need time to sort out things”, he tells me. “How much time?”, my heart asks. I’m not the kind of gal who would initiate such things. He needs time, but its painful for me to hold it back. Seriously, its frustrating and suffocating. I love him. But this pain is unbearable.

I’ve decided not to talk to him till the day he has made up his mind. I give him the time he needs, but I don’t want to keep in touch with him. Its better to stay away than to hang around and still be distanced. I find this ‘real’ distance far more peaceful than the daily confusions that haunted me through the days, and lulled me to sleep in the night.

I love him. I can wait, and I don’t even want to see his face till the day he comes to me finally putting an end to all dilemmas and this excruciating pain. Lets see what future holds for us.

As the last day of the year ends, I take a look back at the year that just passed by.

I kick started the year with a Malayalam Mass at the Cathedral here. The first few months of the year were light, fun-filled moments with my friends at my class. Come, 14^th February and we were all set to display our ‘single-mindedness’ by wearing black dresses. “Wearing a red outfit on V-Day means you are committed, and wearing a black one means you are single”, my friend explained. So we all wore black dresses that day. It was a Saturday, and I attended the evening Mass at a Church here. My black dress, kohl in the eyes and smile were appreciated by my dear friend later on. “…just loved that look of yours…any guy could get floored with that smile, it was that beautiful”, he expressed his view. Well, personally I do feel that he’s a bit too extra generous when it comes to complimenting me. Well, a compliment is always music to any girls’ ears. So, thank you once again my dear friend.

I got back my two precious friends whom I had lost earlier – one due to a stupid miss-understanding and the other due to some conflicts that could not be handled given our age and maturity at that point of time. I got in touch with both of them, we opened our hearts and cleared the miss-understandings. Strange, the time gap has not diminished the fondness and love that we had for each other. We have moved on in our lives and don’t talk as frequently as we did earlier. But whenever we do, we talk with that same trust and love and confidence. I love both of them dearly, and they love me too. Some relations are too strong to be strained by differences!

The year brought me closer to my friend whom I refer to as “my dear friend” in my blogs. I tried to kill our friendship, because I was apprehensive it wouldn’t work. “Lets give it a try”, he told me. I tried to push him away, and urged him to leave. But he urged to stay. He was stubborn and did not leave, or let me leave. I wonder what impelled him to stay friends with a person like me when he was repeatedly asked to leave. It was really kind of him that he urged to stay. I am still wondering why, though.

But, I must tell you he’s sweet, cute and gentle. He’s caring, warm and affectionate. He’s genuine, humble and sincere. He’s intelligent, wise and supportive. He’s tall enough, dark and handsome, well. Words fall short when I have to describe him. I feel confident when he’s with me.

I was in deep pains and he helped me come out of it. I just wanted someone to be with me, and he was there. Rest, God was there to take care of me. My God gave me hope and happiness.

I will always be there to support this special friend of mine, whenever he needs. I know he’s strong, capable and intelligent. There’s a place which he well deserves, and I will help him get there. Though, somewhere down the line I do feel– hey he’s such a strong guy, why would he need me. I want to be around only if it does him any good. Let God show me a way.

This year, the power of God pulled me towards Him. I had lost this touch for quite some time, but He never left me. I realized that when you have faith in Him and trust Him, He never fails you. He always does wonderful things – things that you never imagined in the wildest of your dreams. He knows what’s best for you, and He’s the perfect “event manager” ever.

The year ends and I would like to bid good bye to this year with a thanksgiving note to my Heavenly Father, my messiah, my shepherd – the God who loves me so much and did all these wonderful things for me.

Cheers to life!!!

I’ve just discovered that my dear friend is a genius. Yes, he truly is an extremely gifted and intelligent person. But, the modest guy is not aware that he is one of the rarest diamonds and his brightness would shine far and wide. He hasn’t realized his true capabilities. “I’m just a normal guy”, as he always puts it. He’s scared of being tagged as an extra-ordinary person. God knows why? But let me tell you, he is no ordinary guy. This guy is a rare being. And, for some unknown reasons, I tend to believe that he’s been called to do extra-ordinary things. My job, well, is to support him.

But, the fact of the matter is that this gentleman just doesn’t know, or is not interested to know, how special he is. There is something that keeps him live and kicking. There is a fire within him – a fire that was sparked by bitterness, a fire to defeat, to prove himselves. This has got him somewhere. But this is not where he ought to be and this is just not how he ought to be. This guy needs to discover himselves. Or shall I say, he needs to re-discover himselves. He needs to understand his true capabilities. He has been called for something big. He should focus on himself, his capabilities and his purpose of life. Everything will fall in place. There should be an urge to exploit his capabilities not because he wants to prove something to the whole world, but because there is a place that he truly deserves, and which he would obtain when he explores and exploits the fullest of his capabilities. He is not going to get it the easy way. The race is a tough one. And why not? My friend is one who loves challenges and would plunge into action to defeat them. But the race should not be run because he wants to show it off to the world, but because he truly deserves to win. Fighting against the world makes you aggressive, but the urge to excel in what you are best at makes you confident, optimistic and peaceful. Let this urge to excel would keep you going.

So my dear friend, here we set off on a new journey – a journey wherein you would discover the true material you are made of, the true purpose of your life and the place that you truly deserve to get to. I would always be there with you [and to you left ;)].

Cheers to life!!!

There’s a touch, a care, a pamper that I miss. It is something which I’m deprived of, and once tried to seek in somebody else.

Somebody once told me that you need to have a really good relation with your father. Its nature’s law that girls have an attachment with their father and guys have an attachment with their mother. “It is this bonding that makes you complete. This is what you lack, and you lack something really important”, he said.

The words were sharp and pinching, but absolutely true. I agree with it because I’ve felt it. I’ve known it over the past 20 years.

I don’t want to blame my father for anything. I love him. He’s been kind. He’s provided me with all luxuries that he could afford for me. What he could not provide me with is the soft, tender affection that fathers shower on their daughters. There’s a deep, tender relationship between the two. And it is something he could not give me. Not his fault. He just could not. All have their own share of weaknesses and limitations. My father was brought up in a way that did not teach him to love and be affectionate. All he could ever learn throughout his childhood is some abusive language and the art of torturing those who offend him – be it his wife or daughter. Its been painful growing up in a family where your parents are fighting, who don’t respect and accept each other, and where your dad’s all drunk and thrashes your mom and you have to run around desperately trying to protect her. It’s painful to hear the desperate cries of your mom, knowing that there’s nothing you can do about it. Her wailing hasn’t stopped yet, and may not stop as long as she lives. It’s painful when the only language your dad knows to rebuke you in is abusive. “You are a CG”, he sms’ed me when I had my waist-long hair cut up to my shoulders. I kept wondering what CG means. What could it be? Later, I was told CG stands for call girl.

Once, quite sub-consciously I tried to seek this fatherly affection in somebody. He was a priest and a loving person. He loved me a lot. I called him “Father”. Both “Fathers” have different implication, though. I truly looked up to him as a father-figure. But, later on our relationship took a hit, and things have changed drastically since then.

I loved my brother, whom I lost to brain-haemorrhage. I had a great bonding with my cousin bro during our childhood days. But later, the relationship dented because of my father. Now, he doesn’t care for me or bother to have a loving sister like me. I really love him a lot, though.

Life’s been really rude at times. But everybody does not get everything. That’s life. But, I don’t want to be rejected and dejected again. Once bitten, twice shy. It’s difficult to depend upon anybody now. Pain of rejection is greater than the pain of solitude. And I’ve had it more than once.

Life needs to answer has to many of my questions. Its my turn now. And I’m sure, I firmly believe God will take me to something good. The signs are already here. I don’t think I need to look back now.

Looking forward to what future holds for me.

I’m down with fever, but I feel like blogging. Moody and impulsive as I am, here’s an interesting piece from my childhood memories.

Both my parents were working. They engaged an aaya to take care of me and my younger brother in their absence. Later Justin passed away and the aaya would come around the time I returned from school. When I was in the 3^rd Standard, our aaya left. My parents then made an arrangement with a mallu tuition teacher that I would go to their place right after school, have food and then attend the tuition classes that she takes. Well, the unwanted tuition class was just an excuse for keeping me there.

Well, I was quite satisfied with her style of tuitions. She would just make me right the question answers 5 times. What sense does it make? As a child- and even now- I am very lazy if I have to write anything. I would cry when the teacher at Sr. Kg. asked us to fill up the cursive writing book. Gosh, what a task! I always muttered when we had loads of Diwali homework. And here, I had to write the same stuff 5 times!

Even, my mom wasn’t very convinced with this style. She very well understood that students need to understand and not mug up. But, she had no other alternative but send me to the tuition teacher.

One day I decided “Enough is enough. Now, no more of this Herculean writing affair. I can’t take this anymore”. I approached my mom. “I am not going to that aunty again. You give the keys of the house to our neighbourhood uncle. After returning from school, I’ll collect the keys from them and sit at home alone” I told her. She replied with a silent smile dismissing off the firm decision I took. She perhaps smiled at my conclusive maturity – or immaturity as she might have assumed it. “You are smiling today, but tomorrow you will know what I mean” thought I. I did not speak, because I wanted my actions to speak. And they did.

The next day while returning from school on my auto, I asked the autowala uncle to drop me at my home. He just turned and looked at me with a sense of sense of doubt- such instructions are to be given by the parents, and not an eight year old herself. Well, my firmness seems to have convinced him and he dropped me home. I went to the our neighbour for the keys, knowing it thoroughly that my mom has not left it with them. They were confused at my question.

They rang up my mom at the office. She was more than shocked. She informed the tuition teacher who then sent her servant to pick me up. But head strong as I was refused to go with her. She pulled and dragged me to the road. I cried and tried to push her. “She’s just not going to leave me” I thought. Just then, the sinister lady left my hand and let me go. I was relieved and rushed back to our neighbour’s home.

It was half past two in the afternoon, and I had not had anything. They insisted that I have my lunch. But I said I don’t want it. Let my mom come. They kept on insisting and I kept on refusing. Later, my mom had to come from her office in the 3 o’ clock trip. I assumed that she would be angry and would shout on me. I was prepared for it as I had a very valid point myself – imposing such a harsh work load on an eight year old was too much.

But contrary to what I thought, she reached home with a smile on her face. She said nothing, but I told her “I told you, na. Why didn’t you listen?” She did not reply. I enjoyed the victory of my decisiveness.

From that day on, I started sitting alone at my home after returning from school.

This November 4 , it will be 17 years since my younger brother passed away. I was 3 when he was born. Since my childhood and right through my teenage, I had been extremely possessive about my mom. She once told me that when I was a child I would start screaming if she took any other child in her arms. Even when I was 17, I could not see my mother pamper a toddler. But strangely, when Justin was born I was not the least jealous. I very generously allowed my mom to give him all the love and care in the world. Perhaps, this is what is called bonding.

Because of delay in delivery, he had brain hemorrhage since birth. He lived for 3.5 years. But never in his lifetime has he over-turned or uttered a single word. All he could do was lie flat on the bed, and cry when he was hungry or wanted assistance. My mom tells me he was very intelligent, and knew all of us.

Once when he was 1.5 years, he was crying very badly. Our bed room, where he was lying, was in the upstairs. Mom and dad were watching a television programme. I informed them that the child is crying. Somehow, this 4.5 year old little girl could not see her brother crying. But both my parents seemed to be too busy to respond to the baby’s cries. I went upstairs and did everything I could to console him. But he refused to be consoled. Perhaps, he wanted his mother; but, well she was busy. What could I do? “What if she can’t come upstairs? I can carry the child downstairs”, I decided. But I was scared to carry the baby. He would not even sit in our arms. The tall child needed to be carried flat, something very risky for a 4.5 year old to do while taking him downstairs. But I was determined. I could not see him crying, and I wanted to teach my parents a lesson, not through words, but through actions. Gosh, was I so mature even then?

I picked up the child, praying. I did not know how to pray. All I knew was “Oh God, oh God, oh God”. With fear in my mind, and prayers on my lips, I slowly moved downstairs. There were some ten BIG stairs. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6… I slowly descended. When we reached the 5^th stair, he stopped crying. Because perhaps, he sensed the love his sister had for him, and the amount of risk she was taking to console him. Or perhaps, simply because he wanted some attention and somebody to pick him up.

It would be more risky to turn back and climb upstairs. It is always easier to climb downstairs, I calculated. So I decided to move downstairs. 4, 3, 2… When I reached the 2^nd one, I said “God, just one more”… and there I was downstairs. Huh! I moved towards the living room both with a sense of anger and pride. Anger towards my parents for not responding to the child, and pride for having accomplished the Herculean task. Mom was alarmed, and dad was angry. I asked mom “I told you na, why didn’t you respond?” She gently smiled taking the baby from my hands.

Clearly, I loved him and could not see him crying. Had he been around, he would have been a tall, dashing, handsome 17 year old. Ya, he was cute when he was born and tall too. I always try to imagine how he would have looked and what he would be wearing now. Would he be wearing those loose fitting clothes that most boys of his age wear, or something very simple and sober. I like to see guys well dressed. So I would have made sure that he wears something contemporary and chic. I would have been a very dominating, strict and friendly sister who would scold him like a teacher, and love him like a mother. I would make sure to know everything about him – his friends, his studies, his list of crushes, etc. He would definitely address me as didi or chechi. No tu, tera, etc. No way!

Tears would roll out of my eyes while praying for him in the Church. I miss him, and I love him. Miss him at every raksha bandhan when guys in our office would plan their gifts for their sisters, and gals take our time to buy rakhis.

But, God knows what is the best for us. It was His will to call Justin back, and He did it. Now he’s my angel of God in Heaven, praying for me and our family always. Amen! Love you Justin…

“Change is the only constant” concluded my ma’m while teaching a poem at school. She also added that change is always for the better. True. Things must change, people must change and situations too must change. Otherwise, life would be very monotonous and boring. But human beings have a general tendency to show resistance to change. We feel apprehensive about leaving the cozy environment we are used to, and shifting to a new environment. We all want things to be just the same.

Well, but I’m not the least apprehensive about this new change happening around me. People change, and let them change. But I wonder how to respond to it. Shall I let them be, leave them alone and give them their solitude and space? Or shall I stick to them and behave as if nothing has happened? I’m mystified.

I guess, they need their solitude and space. And giving it to them is the best I can do for them. I’m there whenever they need me. They can knock my door in the dead of night, and I would spring up from my deepest sleep to assist them. But for the moment, they need space, and I give it to them. This, in a way, would also help me to grow. I guess, I’m being too very friendly and informal with this I’ll-keep-a-little-distance-with-you friend of mine. Our friendship also needs loads of time and space.

So, no mystifications, only conclusions. I give to the Lord. He’ll do what is apt and appropriate.

Right after brushing my teeth in the morning, I found the 108 ambulance waiting outside our flat. Soon, I realized it had come to collect somebody from our opposite house. The grand-mom in that family had expired. They were searching for a doctor to certify her death.

I’m just coming from my visit to their home. Somehow, I don’t really feel comfortable visit a house where someone has died. The entire aura is so sorrowful. Everybody would be mourning, and I find it difficult to figure out how and what to do. Departure of the beloved is, of course, painful.

But, contrary to all my thoughts, the scene here was completely different. Not a single person mourning here! May be they were quite prepared for this sudden departure. The departed was a heart patient; she has had a series of heart problems earlier and was in her mid seventies. My mom told me that after the age of 65, gujjus start believing that they have lived enough and prepare themselves for the departure. They tend to ignore critical health problems and take it for granted. My mom also told me that generally daughters mourn and sons do not mourn much. This lady only had a son. So the entire situation was very mild and light. The event was taken very casually. The son, who is a school teacher at Bombay (oops, I hope the MNS isn’t reading this), was found worrying about the exam answer sheets that he hadn’t checked so far, and may not be able to, because of the rituals that would follow the death. I also found the man smiling once or twice while talking to the visitors. Was he being stoical? Well, I guess not.

Death being taken so casually is quite surprising for me, and definitely an unprecedented experience.

Life’s truly changed from what it used to be. I’ve a rare tendency to relate my life with the climate or the weather. With the changing weather my mind sub consciously brings back the memories of things that happened during the same weather in the past years. Rare, but ya, my skin (and subsequently my mind) does react to the changes in the climate.

Today there’s a little cold in the atmosphere. It takes me back to the same time in 2007. I’d freshly joined my office in the middle of September, ’07. During October I was learning the skills of auditing directly from the one whom now I consider as my guru. Initially, I was not very much pleased with him and the way he delegated work. But, now realize that instead of spoon feeding me, he has actually modified me into a pakka auditor. Auditing is in my blood now. I think and act using my mind. He just showed me the way, I had to do the walking. Had he helped me to walk, I would never have been independent. Today, when people compliment the auditor within me, he’s the only person who has to take the credit for it. I really salute him for giving me this wonderful wisdom, which would stay with me all my life.

I’d just passed out from my care free, innocent, cozy school days, and barely six months later, I found myself in a corporate platform. Young, immature and innocent as I was, I found it extremely difficult to settle down. We shifted to Baroda in late November. I remember it was the day when our Church was celebrating the feast of Christ the King. I hadn’t attended the Mass that Sunday, and didn’t wish to miss my Mass because of the shifting business. I’d worn an old dress that day, was very tired and shabby towards the evening, but rushed to the Rosary Church for the Mass. Among all the people glittering with fine clothes, I was one shabbily dressed girl. It was a time when I would never bother about how I looked and what I wore. Things are definitely different now.

Everything had changed – my home, my friends, my lifestyle, my Church, my schedule. Later in November my tuition classes had started and so also my audit at a company in the outskirts of Baroda. Day started at 5 am and ended at 10 pm. Really long days. Those days I never got to see how my locality looked like in the daylight. It would be dark when I leave and also when I return.

Things moved on, and so also my work. In April, 2008, I carried out an audit at a school. Some incidents there, earned me the image of being an honest person in front of my guru. He was greatly impressed by my act of honesty and endorsed praises on me. Well, I personally never felt I did a great thing; had I not done it, it would have been one of the greatest downfalls in my character. My guru spoke to my father over telephone. I don’t know what they spoke, but there were tears in my father’s eyes. Proud moments for a daughter.

Later in summer I was brought to realize that not always do auditors bring out the real facts. Sometimes, we also have to cover things – things that I strongly believed every auditor should bring to light. Sometimes we also have to guide our clients as to how to evade things – again something that should ideally be unethical. Given my pure, innocent background, it was difficult for me to digest the reality. But with time, I learnt the skills to digest the indigestible. I asked my guru how to deal with this dilemma were you are stuck between your moral and ethical standards and what is expected of you from your boss. He gave a very wise reply – “you do your work with complete honesty, submit your work to your superior and then blindly obey his instructions regarding the same”. In this way both, honesty and obedience remains intact.

Moving on, in August, 2008 I was shifted to another department where I got the chance to directly work under one of our major partners. He’s a genius and a true professional. The shine in his big eyes boast of his intelligence. It was great working with him. So, last October I was working with a genius.

Two years have passed in this city. I feel nostalgic about my home at my old place, my school where I spent 14 years of my life and met some of the world’s best teachers, my room in my home which was, and still is, the best place on earth, all my friends, everything.

Life’s truly changed in many ways. My ma’m at school would say “Change is the only constant, and it is always for the better.” Yes that’s absolutely right. All the ups and downs, highs and lows of my life have changed me. Somewhere deep within I’m still that old person, but many things about me and my personality have changed – the most imperative one being that I’ve changed from being a recluse person to a sociable creature. And I’m more than happy about it.

I’ve now settled down in my office and feel at home in a crowd. Feels great this way. Cheers to life!