Kuch dil ne kaha.. Kuch bhi nahin

Happy Celebration of the Colours of Life!

Holi - The Festival of Colours. The colours of the universe.

The azure skies, the blue oceans, the green earth, the reds-pinks-violets-oranges of flowers, fruits, vegetables..the glorious yellow sunshine... . And the purple yonder.

Also the Colours of Life. Happiness, smiles, friendship, kindness, charity, excitement, hope and most importantly - Love.

Gulaal is just a reflection of all-of-the-above.

So why not celebrate the festival in its rich entirety? Don't hide indoors and mock the celebration of living. Come out. And fling that gulal. Aim that water balloon. Fire that water cannon. And take back what you give. Colours, gulal, water, friendship and love 

HAPPY HOLI!!!!

For oft in contemplative thought...

Rain. The sound of the word rolls itself around your tongue with liquid magic. Baarish.. The swishing winds taking the excited raindrops on a rollercoaster ride... Incidentally.. The first word Aanchal ever spoke after beatifically beaming at the world for 14 months..

There is something so very magical in just the idea of rain.. The freshness of water, the shades of green, the song of crickets, the croaking frogs.. Cleansing the earth, sweeping the skies...the promise of rainbows in distant horizons.

I love rain. I have always, since I was a little girl, lying awake wrapped in a blanket, inside a mosquito net in the sprawling lawns of ancient cantonment bungalows..Feeling the first few drops of rain splash through the canopy of the net and sprinkle all over my face..Remember, Vinnie Dev?

School. Splashing through puddles, turning my face towards the stinging rain, tasting the droplets as they fell..

College. Bunking classes and Walking with friends to the corner teashop.. Sumedha Sahni?

Long drives on the motorbike with face tucked into the back of Rajiv Tyagis collar... Hundreds of hot finger chips eaten guiltily.. Sitting on the floor, leaning on the granite pillar in the front verandah, watching the pouring rain with Sangeeta Tyagi.

I still love rain. Maybe only Saahil will understand. How the very ions of elemental nature sometimes conspire to collide with the ions of our bodies our minds.. And somehow form a connect, a bridge as it were.. Transcending life as we know it...

Restlessness. The Restlessness of the clouds, the blowing winds.. Carrying the raindrops up and down a rollercoaster.. Transferring the restlessness into creatures part of the universe. Cawing crows, jumpy birds.. And me.

Doormats or Goddesses??

8th March- International Women's Day, as decreed by the powers-that-be. Great. It's nice to know we have a special day in the year allotted to us. Thank you. We are indeed honored. The other days , numbering 365 1/4 per year ..from the day we were born, made a cheerful loving, caring happy home for you..to the day we got married..and ditto for the other you..to when we carried the yet-another-you around inside of us till you made an official entry into this world..those were just random days, weren't they??

We don't hear of an International Men's Day..do we, Ladies? is that because they aren't important enough to have a special day allotted to them? Or too important so all 365 1/4 days are theirs??

So, basically- this could be another attempt to guarantee us our "special" status? The "weaker section of society", the "under-privileged", the "vulnerable" kinds??

Thank you. But, NO Thank you! It's definitely time to take that giant leap into the present and our collective future. To become the kind of person- nee woman- who when our feet first hit the floor when we get out of bed every morning, makes the devil say "Oh Crap! She's up!!!" Time to stop extolling our "weak" status. Be strong. Strong women don't ever ever play victim. They never whine, look pitiful, or point fingers at men for their plight. They wipe their tears, stand up and they deal! Nobody can make us feel inferior without our consent. So next time you have a weak moment- just get up, pour yourself a drink, put on lipstick and pull yourself together!

Remember - Us women come in two models only - Doormats and Goddesses. the rest of the criteria - Size, shape, colour, height, weight, etc etc etc are just inconsequential data.

So, here's to "strong" women- the Goddess category.. May we BE them, may we KNOW them, may we RAISE them. Like my mother did. I did. And you both ARE - Aanchal & Shalu Tyagi:-)
Then lets celebrate Women's Day.

So- A very Happy Women's Day- in advance to all such women. Not to the doormat category. Because they don't exist.
And you men, are welcome to wish us too:-) Because we are angels. If you break our wings, we don't give a damn. We simply continue to fly - On broomsticks:-) We are flexible like that.

Happy Women's Day- to US.

Vanakkam, Chennai

Dear North India,
I have spent one short week in the land of the Tamil, and experienced what is the true essence of India. Just want to share this with you. Because forewarned is forearmed after all. So, restrain your machismo, stop strutting around, lower your voice, lower the volume of that #&@# music, stop honking your horns.. And listen.
1. The roads of Chennai, Mahabalipuram and Pondicherry are narrow and as crowded, but nobody leans on the horn or attempts whizzing past the other, yelling obscenities. Everyone somehow reaches where they're going minus all of that.
2. The toll booths mostly are open, minus the electronic barrier. Just Nobody yells Yayyyyy or flashes beer bottles and speeds through. They stop, exchange a pleasantary and pay up.
3. Stop anyone on the road and ask for directions. They reply with a Thank you prefixed and suffixed.
4. Catch anyone's eye.. You can be assured of a warm smile.
5 . JUST NOBODY OGLES WOMEN. No matter what they wear. Or do not wear.
6. There is hardly a police presence to be seen. People haven't locked themselves behind a thousand grills. I have never seen such a safe place in my life.
7. An inclusive people, language barrier notwithstanding. It's Enlightening and so warming to realize that language is so unimportant and trivial to communicate. Gestures, a few words in English, and numerous smiles.. And Bingo! You're connected.
8. A people in no hurry. No ratrace competition. Living life as life is meant to be lived. Healthy. Happy. And it shows in the lack of queues outside hospitals and clinics.
9. In 7 days, we did not see a single man peeing on walls, and no man, woman or child spitting anywhere!
10. Last and very very definitely not the least , there is complete equality among the people. . Rich and Poor, Hindu and Muslim, Black and White. No subservient attitudes, no looking up or down at the other. You do your thing, I will do mine. Peacefully. With honour.
The driver, the peon, the household help, the employee.. You are your name to them. They will refer to you address you by your name. Yes an odd "saar" from time to time. But that's it.

Please wake up. This means You - Delhi, NCR, Punjab, UP, Haryana.. You have defiled, degraded, destroyed the spirit of India. With your uncouth manners and rotten ways.

Suddenly.. In this short week.. I saw India. The real one. I will never forget you. Because this is the India that lives inside me.

Valentine Madness

Promise day, Chocolate day, Teddy day, Hug Day, Promise day... Then the day of the deepest, awesome-est, divinest emotion ever.. Love. Makes me happy to see how our children have raised themselves from days dedicated to assorted Gods and Goddesses, fasting, doing penance, steeped in rituals.. Meaningless indoctrination of the mind. .. At least now the focus has shifted to realistic facets of life.. Food for the body, food for the soul :-)

- Happy Every Day to all.


Dear St. Valentine,
I have a serious complaint to lodge. Why did you not clarify your legacy? Why do generations who love the legacy of love, feel it is restricted to just a tiny age slot? 16 to 26 year olds? Why? Can love be compartmentalized into any shape, size, era or age? Can relationships override each other in supremacy? Is the love for a parent, a child, a sibling, a neighbor, a friend.. Any less than that for a partner?

You have to admit. You slipped up. Everyone enjoys a surprise gift. Opening one's eyes to the fragrance of fresh flowers. To see a warm smile in the eyes of those who care. That precious feeling of being made to feel special. Am I right or am I right? Sigh! I am always right. People know that by now.

So - here goes! Happy Valentine's day to you St. Valentine. And to every one I care for. And who care for me. Also.. I will put my nasty side away in commemoration of this season, and wish the same to those who do not care for me. And vice versa
Fair enough? Here's gifts in abundance and loads of love and best wishes to one and all here.. May everyone have those special people in their world.. Who make everything worthwhile . 

Randomness:-)

Looking out of my railway carriage
As oft I am wont to do for fun,
(For it isn't you alone who has that poetic licence-
dear Alfred Lord Tennyson)

I looked into the deep dark woods
For to see the precious sight,
A few pairs of tawny eyes,
Maybe a flighty deer fight.

With the trumpeting sound in my ear
In my mind's eye I saw.
How many pachyderms are these..
Did I see five and six?
Or were there five and four?

Then all at once the train doth pass
Over a meagre stream.
And inward flashed upon my eye
As though part of some dream.

A pride of proud peacocks
Gallivanting back and forth,
Their heads bowed down, their tails held high -
Water filled in their throats!

Oh but what a majestic sight that was
That I had the good luck to spy.
Afore we steamed into a busy town
And there goeth my inward eye!

-With due apologies to Robert Frost, Robert Browning, Lord Byron and Affred Lord Tennyson

Seema Tyagi

Happy 32nd Anniversary to us:-)

February 1980. That's when we met (I think:-p)
You came to meet my best friend. Destiny laughed. And you got stuck with me:-)
And then began-
A whirlwind romance, friendship, fun and heart-pounding excitement! The unique proposing- the kind only YOU could pull off:-? (That's another nightmare..errr..story, to be told another time) ..
The engagement --again the unique kind, where the army pundit made my phoophaji and you exchange rings:-)) And the journey began!

A fairytale journey of innumerable friends(both of us being the gregarious kinds), of starlit nights, bike rides, fighting & making up, dreams and nightmares, a thousand love-letters (ALL of which I have hidden away Mr. Tyagi- for blackmailing purposes!!)

The era of picnics with friends, sitting in abandoned boats on the Mulla-Mutha river in Pune, singing songs and playing romantic songs on the flute(AGAIN another nightmare story, to be told another time!) , the era of shy smiles and innocent courting, the era of demure damsels and dashing debonairs ..and DINOSAURS! Sigh! What an innocent, beautiful era it was!

It was the first time I had heard the surname “Tyagi”. The first time I acknowledged a town named Meerut was on the map. The first time I was in love. With a real person. A person who was all-of-my-dream-heroes rolled-into-one. (your choice of romantic songs left a LOT to be desired, but that's yet another story, to be told another time:-/)

And then my came October 1981. The 100 red roses you drove to Delhi to give me on my birthday- the last single birthday:-) And then came D-Day.

The kaleidoscope of  black & white photographs and Kodak colour memories spins through my mind. I think we made it good, didn't we? Learnt from each other, evolved, grew into our own personal spaces- all the while holding on to the gossamer soft yet toughened steel bond that has kept us together through ups & downs, thick & thins (And HOW!!), helped us navigate the various potholes life threw in our way..

Thank you for being my best friend, my staunchest support, the father of my children (conjecture? Sigh- No. They have way too many of your traits for me to romanticize that or throw it on your head!!)

Thank you for the space we built with carefully placed bricks, which we do not attempt to invade. Thank you for teaching me the meaning of “unconditional” love and respect, belonging and acceptance. And for turning the shy, soft-voiced, trembling heroine of yester-years into a ferocious fire-breathing dragon:-)) ….(I am sure our offspring & friends will vouch for that)
 To borrow some lines from yet another of my favourite songs-

Humraaz, humkhayaal toh thhe ,
Humnazar baney.
Tay hua zindagi ka safar..
Jab humsafar baney..

Happy Anniversary Pardner!

Kuldeep Sagar Sharma : 28 October 1936 - 30 June 2013.

For you, bhaisahab.

One is born and lives in the hope of becoming a memory- a good memory. Because to live in hearts we leave behind is not to die. Nobody is ever really lost to us if we hold their happy memories in our hearts and remember them. For that truly -is immortality.

Sharing stories of those we have lost, thinking of the good times, is what keeps us from ever losing them. Because although good times may come and good times may go- it is good memories that last forever.

It is very difficult and very painful for me to know I will not see you again. They were good years- the last seven years. The fun times we shared, the festivals and special occasions you were with us. The strange way we vibed , in spite of our age difference and our relationship.

Aap hamare samdhi thhe..dost thhe...aur hamesha hamaare dil main rahenge.

In the words of a famous song -

“Ke marr ke bhi kissi ko yaad aayenge, Kissi ke aansoon main muskuraayenge...Jeena issi ka naam hai....”

Here's to you, Kuldeep Sagar Sharma -the most positive, strong, happy man I have known. No Holi, no Diwali , no special occasion, no New Year eve...will ever be complete for me without you. Miss you.

RIP

Happy Mother's Day!

Mother. Mummy. Mom. Ma. Aaii. Amma.

The first word spoken by a baby. The easiest word to speak. Just close your mouth, and open it. And the word emerges straight from the soul.

There is a story I want to share before all else:

When God was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of "overtime" when the angel appeared and said. "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
And God said, "Have you read the specs on this order?" She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 moveable parts...all replaceable. Run on black coffee/tea and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said. "Six pairs of hands.... no way."

It's not the hands that are causing me problems," God remarked, "it's the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have."

That's on the standard model?" asked the angel. God nodded.

One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, 'What are you kids doing in there?' when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say. 'I understand and I love you' without so much as uttering a word."

“God," said the angel touching his sleeve gently, "Get some rest tomorrow...."

I can't," said God, "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick...can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger...and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower."

The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. "It's too soft," she sighed.

But tough!" said God excitedly. "You can imagine what this mother can do or endure."

Can it think?"

Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise," said the Creator.

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.

There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model."

It's not a leak," said the Lord, "It's a tear."

What's it for?"

It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride."

You are a genius, " said the angel.

Somberly, God said, "I didn't put it there.”

There is a moral to the story. That the “standard model” is fully loaded with all specifications. Yes- There are the sub-standard models, I agree. They probably have their reasons.

Also- a woman does not have to bear a child to be a mother. A mother is borne every time we have a smile in our eyes and a lump in our throat when we watch an advertisement on TV with a baby in it. A mom appears inside a little girl when she cuddles her baby brother/sister. A mummy breathes inside any of us who pats an urchin child on its head, or covers a plastic doll with a piece of an old blanket in the freezing cold.

When I think about my mother, and myself..and so many of my friends who are mothers, each a little different, each with their own unique quirks and methods- I find there are a few things we all do/have done. It is our combined custom to kiss our children to sleep, and then do the following-

AFTER they were asleep:

1. Rummage in their drawers, shelves, schoolbags, cupboards- for as many articles as have wandered through the day and mysteriously either disappeared, or reappeared in other unfathomable places! (Aanchal- I remember how your uncorrected notebooks would vanish from your bag and Hey Presto! Appear behind the shoes in the shoe shelf!

Saahil- The numerous gifts from/to your assorted girlfriends, your test/exam

papers with 3/100 marks- the former I used to find in my rummaging efforts, and

file away in my mind. The latter are one of those inexplicable mysteries that

vanished forever into the depths of the black holes in the Milky Way, the

mysteries that the universe is so famous for!)

Shalu- the secret love-letters from your..ahh..admirers that you think I haven't

read)

BEFORE they fell asleep:

2. Rummage in their minds and put things straight for the next morning, repacking into their proper places, the troubles that had wandered into their hearts and souls.

In both of the above, there were new discoveries every day- some sweet, some not-so-sweet.

I remember doing this every so often. Had I remained awake when I was a child, I would have seen my mother doing the same (You, Vinnie Dev). All I remember is that whenever she held me close and spoke with me, heard the words I said and left unsaid, I slept peacefully. And when I awoke, all the naughtinesses and evil passions which would have shared the pillow with me, were all folded up small and placed at the bottom of my mind, and on the top, beautifully aired and scented, were spread pretty thoughts, many rainbows and colourful butterflies- all ready to fly into my new day.

I think I repeated that method with my children quite well:-)

They say, a child is born. Actually, a mother is born along with her child. Before I became a mom- I had never held a sleeping baby that much longer, just because I didn't want to put it down. I had never felt my heart shatter into a billion pieces when I saw the scraped knees and elbows of my children, or their broken hearts and dreams- and I couldn't put them back together again. I didn't know that something so small could leave the broken shards of pain inside of me, and hurt everytime they sprung out from my memory. I never knew I could love another being quite this much. I never knew I would so love being a Mom:-)

(This holds true much more for you both, my Terrible Twins- Saahil and Shalu)

Today, on Mother's Day – I want to say a heartfelt THANK YOU. To my mom. For being my mom.

To my children. For making me their mom.

And to every mother out there who loves her children with unconditional intensity, and trusts in them blindly, and never falters in her love for them.

Happy Mother's Day.

“Har pal khushi deti hai maa,

Apni zindagi se jeevan deti hai maa.

Upar wala kya hai, maa ke wajood ke aagey--

Upar waaley ko bhi to janam deti hai maa!”

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