Fate, and the shiny red helmet..

“The note just said ‘This is not working any more. We have to break up. I’m so sorry. I’ll miss you a lot.’ No reasons, no more talk. Just an abrupt goodbye was peeping beneath the shiny red helmet. it dawned on me that the best thing that happened to me ever, is getting over. We had drifted apart for a while and this was bound to happen. I didn’t want to see him so sent the helmet back with my note, ‘If it was meant to be, it would be. I’ll miss you too.’ Then I was crying and smiling ironically at the same time, thinking of how funny fate is. It all started with the shiny red helmet, and is now ending with the same…” I spoke dreamily as I stared at the broken pieces of the red helmet.

“Oh yes you never told me, how did it start?” Preeti asked me, cleverly changing the subject before I could start crying again.

“Hmm.. How do I begin? I was in the bus, going to college, and it was crowded. Only a privileged few were sitting, and as one of the ladies gathered her bags to get down, the other passengers waiting by her gathered around like vultures to get to the empty seat first. I am no saint, I glanced at the picture of the lady over the seat and slipped in...”

“was he one of them standing?” Preeti interrupted.

“if you want the full story then let me talk” I said and shot her one of my stern looks. She piped down, but I knew this kid will open her mouth again in a minute.

“anyway..” I continued “I took a book out and started reading. Serial killer story, I couldn’t keep my mind off it. Except when there was traffic and real life caught my attention. More than that, the red signal and the guy on a black bike right next to the bus, in a shiny red helmet. I looked down, he looked up and our eyes met for a second. I did not notice it till then, but his eyes were dark and chocolatey..”

“Is there any chocolate in the fridge?”

I got up to leave and Preeti pulled me back saying “OK sorry sorry… go on"

“Hmm.. where was I? yes, chocolatey eyes. Then I went back to my book, and I looked up at the next signal he was there again, the shiny red helmet. And we had our second eye contact. And also a smile this time. But at the next red signal when I looked up, he had taken a free left turn and disappeared into the traffic.

The serial killer was now prowling along the fence ready tp strike, and romanticizing was the last thing on my mind. The shiny red helmet would have been totally forgotten, but for the fact that I saw it again the next day, right next to the bus. We hear often of bus friends, bus stop friends, parking lot friends. This guy became my signal friend. Every day I looked into those chocolatey eyes and the day somehow got better. as he took his free left turn I would doze off until the conductor shook me awake at the last stop. Until one day, he did not show up”

“and you missed him….? Awww….. sho shweet………” those annoying faces made the kid look cuter. I ignored her interruption and continued.

Yes I missed him, but not for long. He was at the next bus stop, waiting. And grinning wide, as though saying ‘You were looking for me, weren’t you?’ I frowned and gestured to ask him ‘no bike today?’

And as though I invited him, he hopped into the bus and came to stand next to me! I stared at him blankly, when he thrust his hand and said ‘I thought you might want to see my face clearly. I’m Kamal”

‘I don’t even know you….’

‘Well, now you do! But my mother told me not to talk to strangers so will stop being one and tell me your name?’

‘Nidhi….’ I stammered, and he said ‘Ah ha..! I found treasure’

We were talking for just 15minutes but felt like we know each other. And two weeks later we were getting down halfway to have coffee.”

“wow… so forward!!” Preeti was gaping. Understandable, as she was 25 years younger and practically the next generation.

“Actually yes, it all happened quite quickly. He started dropping me to college, then we started going on real dates, and two months later he proposed.”

“aww..! He got you a rose?”

“Hmm no.. He gave me the helmet” I laughed. But the tears came down anyway. Preeti slapped her forehead and stomped out, grumbling “Mom… you’re completely crazy. I’ll get you some chocolate wait…”

“Can you not tell you dad about this……?” I called out.

“Not tell him that you broke the engagement helmet he gave you?? I can’t.. I love to see you both in all this emotional drama…” she groaned. “So how did you get back together?”

“About two years later I went shopping and I saw a shiny red helmet in the bag counter. The moment we came face to face we just knew…..”

“That he had to get a new helmet??” Preeti quipped and ran out of my reach, giggling.

Anyway, it all worked out somehow… I thought, happy tears still running down my face. Fate really works.

Story in a story

When the Kahani begins you could expect to enjoy a thriller with a few twists in the tale. But a few minutes into the Kahani and you really don’t know what to expect next.

Kahani (the story) begins with Vidya Bagchi (Vidya Balan), pregnant and wobbly, shuffling out of Kolkata airport and going straight to the police station, to lodge a complaint that her husband Arnab Bagchi is missing. It would have been just another missing person case until, one by one; all her leads prove that the person named Arnab Bagchi never existed. Vidya (or Bidda coming from the Bengali tongue) sets on a quest to find her beloved, with Rana (Parambrata Chattopadhyay ) trotting next to her, desperately wanting to help but puzzled about how to find a person who never existed. The story goes on to halt at dead ends and take sharp turns, entangling itself in a maze mingled with lies and crime, and treachery, and the unconditional love of a wife. It holds enough stories within stories to justify the title of the film.

Vidya Balan’s performance is top notch till the very last bit. She makes the character of a pregnant woman convincing enough, just like she did in her last film The Dirty Picture as Silk. Parambrata Chattopadhyay has performed equally well as the meek policeman who cannot stop caring about the pretty pregnant lady. Cinematography by Setu is impressive; especially using minor jerks in the camera work makes the ambience more natural, and also eerie when it is needed. Beautiful views of Kolkata city gearing up for Navratri celebrations, with Amitabh Bachchan’s voice singing Ekla Cholo in the background, give the film a colourful edge. Kahani is yet another terrific story, told by a team of brilliant story tellers. With no exaggeration or typical Bollywood masala, it stands among other films.

Kahani is a terrific story; one so fast moving, that once out of the theater you might have to jog a little while to shake off the inertia.

What a woman wants

On the occasion of Women’s Day, I respectfully demand the educational institutions to start a department for young men to study this subject! I am hundred percent sure it would work out! It is a marketable curriculum with academic advantages, and it better be a huge building with lots and lots of ‘seats’.

Actually knowing what a woman wants is not that difficult. It is one simple thing- every woman wants to be special. And every woman is, in every sense, special! That is why, the one sentence which makes a girl want to remove her Marie Claire high heels and throw it at a man, is when he implies that ‘all women are the same’. (In fact, nobody ought to make that comment or judge anyone, man or woman. Each person is different, and the world also has some very good people. The only proof is that Earth still has life on it!)

The formulaic story goes like this. Boy steps outside. He sees a pretty girl and falls in love. She has no such feelings. She rejects him. Boy is heart-broken. He blames the girl instead of gathering the pieces of his heart and moving on. (Intermission.) Boy goes out again. He sees another pretty girl. And history repeats. At some point of time this broken-hearted genius concludes his research with a declaration that ‘all women are the same.’

My point is, is beauty the only thing a woman has? I am sure every self respecting woman wants to be much more that just beautiful. She would want to be known as generous, smart, friendly, fun to be with, and so many more things! Because she is a PERSON, not a Barbie doll, to sit and be pretty! (And if you look closely, every woman is beautiful.)

It is so not fair to judge any woman by the colour of her skin or her physical fitness and decide that it is love at first sight. A woman wants to be made to feel special by listening to her talk. And knowing her fears and comforting her. By listening to her dreams and not laughing at them. By agreeing with her, and sometimes disagreeing too. Everyone needs a critique to improve in life, and Women are no different.

All a woman wants is to be treated with respect and dignity. A little bit of chivalry here and there would be welcome, but otherwise women want what everyone wants. To be loved and supported. Not just on women’s day, but every day. If that is so difficult, ask my father how to do it! Two women in the house and he has always been the perfect gentleman!

And to all the awesome ladies I know, HAPPY WOMEN’S DAY!!

A spoonful of 100% real

The best thing that happen to me in life, are almost dream-like and unreal, like animated films with lavender-cloudy visual effects that I save in my mind and play again and again. Most of my childhood was like that. But the worst things that happen to me are called harsh reality, so thorny and itchy and painfully real that I avoid thinking about them and dwell in the dream world. I never associated "real" with anything nice.

So when the contest in IndiVine asked for an experience I had growing up, that is one hundred percent real, I was one hundred percent confused. Does real mean good or bad?? And where do I find an incident that is both good-experience and real??

And I found one.

It was the time my life was spun 180 degree, upside down. When I got admission into the MCJ course in the University of Mysore, 200km away from home. (It’s not that far… I know…. But it is a big deal for me okay….I had never stayed away from home before!)

Until that day my only worry was what I would do if I did not get admission. Out of fear I studied hard for the entrance exam, never once worrying about what would happen after I joined this course. And now, suddenly, as I paid the fee for the first semester and tucked the receipt safely in my wallet, the realization hit me. This was going to be the first time ever that I would be staying outside home, out of the comfort of my room, and the freedom of my kitchen, away from Mom and Dad!

That was not the worst part. The worst was when my parents came with me to Mysore to get me settled in my room the day I shifted. When they had to help me unpack and head back home, without me jabbering in the back seat. The hardest was when I had to go back to that dingy little room and fall asleep knowing that Mom would not walk in to say good night, with Dad already snoring in the background. That next morning nobody is going to pester me to fold my sheets or hang the wet towels out to day, or trick me into eating Upma early in the morning. (It was delicious, I never noticed it until then)

As I watched our little white Alto disappear from my sight I realized how much I was going to miss hearing that annoying reverse gear tune every morning, so also the blaring classic music from the stereo that gave me headaches. Now I could go back into my room and listen to anything I liked, but the tears came down anyway. And the tiny white alto turned into a blurry white dot on a blurry grey road. This was really happening!

Life had changed so suddenly, but the change was good. It made me stand on my own two feet set firmly on the ground and watch my picture-perfect fairy tale drive away and 40 kmph. There it was, one of the best things in life, minus the lavender-cloudy-visual-effect, my spoonful of “100% real”.

Makes me realize now, after two years of staying alone, real is good! 


(This post was written for the Kissan 100% Real Blogger Contest on IndiBlogger.) 

My new-found passion!

Somehow the art of writing and designing was not enough to define me so I found something new to add to my list of 'activities'- Photography.  I will be sharing my photographs on my photography blog, the "click" moments, and then i will be waiting for your comments.......

ByeBye...... :)

“Khali dose, two-by-three coffee”

We’re simple people and we like everything to be plain and simple for us, even our food. We don’t want big restaurants or a buffet or those Tide-white napkins set on our table folded to a perfect triangle. 

That is why it made me happy to go have breakfast in the Janata Hotel near Lal Bagh. We went for a morning walk in Lal Bagh, then walked up to this tiny place just a few lanes away, and had the best plain dosa and coffee, ever. it was self service on plates of stainless steel and plantain leaf, the tables were plain, the food was absolutely yummy. 

Usually if my parents decide to “go out to eat!” I’m hardly excited about it. Not that I’m a big fan of ‘mane oota’ and don’t want to try anything new. No offence mom, I love your cooking. But the thing is, eating out is not as simple as it sounds at all!

First you have to get ready. Like we’re travelling to space, we have to wear jackets and scarves to cover as much skin as possible and be protected from the blazing sun and traffic-dust. Then we decide where to go (in our context this is read ‘we decide to go to ‘Shanti Sagar’ because my parents are huge fans). But usually it is a name that ends with ‘Sagar’ or ‘Bhavan’ or ‘Darshini’. And then we decide how to go.

 If we take the car there’s no parking space near the restaurant we want to go to. Or there is no right/left turn leading straight to the place and we have to take the U-turn which is like a tiny slit in the long stretch of road divider. It is literally like eating like ‘this’ (imagine the age old gesture… taking the food and twisting the hand behind the head to reach the mouth… its complicated!) Sometimes we park the vehicle a mile away from the restaurant, hence the elaborate dressing up I mentioned before.

If we take the bus then all that message therapy on the bus ride will get us so comatose with relaxation we tend to fall asleep on the table before our food is served. Aaand don’t even get me started on autos!!

Okay, imagine we reach a really good restaurant really quick. We don’t want to order the same South Indian meal (that’s mom and me. Dad is super loyal to Idli vade and full meals). But if we choose other cuisines we can’t even finish half of what is served. You see in the scale of munching, eating, gobbling and devouring, people in our little family usually peck on food. It is a poor eating culture. And we hardly get our money’s worth and we’d rather go home to our ‘anna saru’ than eat unauthentic but overpriced Chinese food.

With a bunch of friends I hardly notice all this stuff but when I’m out with parents all that is wrong with eating out looks highlighted with a yellow colour marker. I just wish we had a people’s (Janata) hotel in every area so sometimes mom can take a break from the kitchen and the three of us enjoy a good meal.

Its 2012!!!

The year we have all been dreading and waiting for has finally arrived!!! IT IS 2012!!
it is kind of sad that 2011 has gone by; it passed like a flash and click of a camera. it was a good year, 2011.

the year i shopped the most in my whole life.
the year i made the most number of friends.
the year I watched 'Brave Heart' and 'Big Bang Theory'
the year i attended my first concert and my wore my first 'press' ID card.
I was doing the 'countdown' on my laptop clock and when the seconds hand struck a straight 12, the calendar for December 2011 swiftly moved aside, making way for Jan 2012. made me want to pull back that December and give it one last kiss, and say Goodbye... *sniff!*

anyway from 2012 onward,
1. i will write/blog regularly
2. i will stop biting my nails, and
3. i'll stop sulking for silly things. and be happy!
this last one i recommend for everyone else too..! I hope this year turns out a hundred times better that the last! HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ONE AND ALL!