In the moment

The listless wandering mind

The call of the wide seas

The pull of the land

Neither makes sense to me

The ambiguity and indecision

Hand in hand on the wet sand

The restlessness and inactivity

Neither makes sense to me

The desire to take the plunge

Held back by a frustrating need to float

Swaying on the string of insecure security

Neither makes sense to me

A huge tree fallen to ground

Revealing decaying roots

Seemingly arrogant yet so weak

Just when it seemed to be dying

One leaf sprouted defying

Fragile and oozing strength of life

Both make perfect sense to me

Like the circle

Neither a beginning nor an end

I feel free to embrace the confusion

I feel free to chase the closure

Neither bothers me in the moment

I am free!

But have I freed myself?

In the moment

A flower is born

The sky was overcast

The stones dark and dry

Awaiting the downpour

I walked past the crevice

As usual and stopped

There in the recesses

I saw a tiny bud

It was strange

Stone giving birth

It was a moment to behold!

I was drawn to the crevice

Every day! I watched

The bud was inching forward

Growing, acquiring new colours

The progress was slow

The struggle was on

I was anxious

I was scared

Today the bud is out of the crevice

Today the petals are unfolding

Today the core will reveal

Its secrets!

The dew is soothing its pain

As the sun kisses the tip

The breeze infusing new energy

And the bud is transformed

A flower is born

Still green from the pains of birthing

Shy and not fully open

Peeking at me eager and mischievous

I rejoice the new-born

I gaze fondly and I reach out, almost

I realize… the bud needs no help

To blossom!

The Sting Operation

The recent times have been the best for the likes of me. Our clan has flourished over the last few years especially in the suburbs of mega cities like Mumbai and other metros. You see most of our folks feel that the larger the city the better. Till the recent past, say as early as about thirty years back, we used to stay in large colonies in jungles and swamps. As the jungles started thinning out we moved to the edges. The swamps were not spared either. Most of them were re-filled and put to use under the new fangled schemes of the reclaimed lands. It was not only our population that had grown! In fact I had heard the parents and older guys talking about the competition that we, the mosquitoes faced from the human beings.

I was born in one such swamp on the outskirts of a wasteland. The entire clan was waiting fervently for my birth. You see it had been a long while since a female was born into the clan. I suppose, I need not elaborate the superior status that the females of my clan enjoy. We are gifted with the capacity to sting causing illness and destruction to human race. All hopes were pinned on the eggs laid on the surface of superbly slimy, greenish-grey water puddles. The members of the clan had been to various places and pledged offerings of various types of blood, shit, garbage and whatever they could think of, to all the deities of the world. The head of the clan had even risked visiting the lord at the dumping ground, behind the huge building from which the humans managed their cleaning operations. It was big deal you see, to be able to get into the dumping ground. One would assume that a dumping ground would be easy access for our people. But mind you it was easier to get into the building itself than the dumping ground! I am told that the security here was higher as more than just garbage was dumped there by the men of foul means. Anyway coming back to the point, every single mosquito was silently or openly hoping that I would be born a girl. And lo! Girl I was.

“Isn’t she a beauty? Such beautiful mouth brushes and what a thorax!”

“Wow, mark my words she is going to make history with those superb antennae.”

Such and more comments were made by the humming and whining females gathered to see me break out from the egg. What a stroke of luck for the rest of the clan! I was the darling of the group. Now they could hope to renew the war against humans. I was the original Anopheles reborn to avenge the pride of the family of Culicidae.

The clan raised me with much care and love. The oldest member of the clan, Mr.Toxhorynchitinae, was assigned to oversee my training. He had an impressive body of work with an impressive name to go with it. But to us he was simply Guru TC. I was given the best of training about every possible skill required to make a success of the war that we were fighting. It started with flying classes. Everything depended on how I would make an entry, how precisely I could land and most importantly how efficiently I could take off for the next flight. This I realized was the first key to long survival beyond the customary 2 weeks. As far as infecting the men is concerned, I had learnt how to sting from my mother’s womb, so that was not something to worry over.

My Guru chose to put me under tutelage of the most experienced flier. His name was Crane Flier. He had been in and out of thousands of houses and had landed on the most number of hands, faces, legs and such surfaces available at large. I was put through several hours of grueling flying classes. Initially I used to feel tired and often landed haphazardly on the stagnant water and dried feces. Gradually though I built up strength and could fly without stopping for as much as 10 seconds. Then I was cleared to get on to the next level. Crane Flier told me that if I had to make a success of my flight and landing, I need to be very careful of what surface I choose to land on. Landing on the left side of any person seemed to be most dangerous. A lot of my friends had met a bloody end while sitting on the left hand of the human beings. It was so easy for those humans to tap us off with the right hand.

By now I had started attending more than one class. While I enjoyed flying, I needed to know more. Guru TC had told me that my purpose in life was to be of use for the greater good of mosquitoes of the world. I was destined to be the savior and inspiration for all. My aim and goal in life was to bite as many human beings as possible and once I had come of age, I was expected to spread the malaria far and wide. That was the best weapon that our clan had against the rising numbers of species called man. While I knew about our weapons, I needed to know about theirs too. I was no ordinary mosquito. I had learnt to take off after landing in less than half a second. Not a small achievement! I had inherited my brains from my father’s side and courage from my mother’s side.

So I set out gathering knowledge on their weapons. I pestered the oldest mosquito in our wasteland. Everyone called her the Fortune Fly. She had great experience of various lands and had survived over 14 days when I approached her. Such a long life was totally unheard of in our society. She was weak these days and had broken her left wing and right eye in the last attack that she led against the filthy humans. So she set about down-whining all the knowledge that she had gathered over the years to me. Right hand seemed to be the most powerful weapon that all humans possess. Other than this they use all kinds of gooey stuff that can lead to fainting. They must be really thick skinned to be able to stay afloat after using all those pastes known as repellents. There are some other huge white luminous things that make horrible noise. I have extra sensitive antenna and can pick up the thin sharp noise miles before that giant looms up in front of us. Then there are the huge things hung on windows that they call mosquito net. These are not so difficult to negotiate, I soon learnt while out on a date with my would-be suitor. Some other things that we come up against in our part of the world are newspaper rolls; blindingly white yards and yards of stuff around the sleeping areas of the humans and some horrible smoky things coiled in corners.

Armed with all the information above, I debuted into the war in a high rise building on the edge of the swamp. The first day was a success. I got the sweet salty taste of blood the hard earned way. Later in the evening the leader of our swarm told us that 6 out of 102 folks that I had visited in the early evening were now looking dull and had already pulled out their woolen clothes and may be visiting a doctor. We celebrated by sharing the blood that I had carefully carried in my antennae.

Life was a roller coaster ride as the minutes and hours progressed. I was a veteran at biting and stinging by the end of 72 hours. My strike rate had gone up and I could infect as many as a hundred and more folks in a day. I had just returned with my swarm of boys that day. The night had been exceptionally busy. We had taken up a crusade in the new complex where the residents had piled onto the grounds for a night of revelry. Some of us had perished, some injured and some defeated. But all in all the night was a success. We were relaxing by the dark wet patch when I was challenged. I was feeling on top of the swamp as I had infected a record number of humans that night. I was here there everywhere!

“Andromela, don’t think that I don’t appreciate your success, but I still think you are far from being the best amongst the best.” Spoke the Young Turk, Antopodes.

I felt stung first time in my life. Yet keeping my cool outwardly. No point in getting anxious when I knew that he was simply jealous. The creator had robbed him of his sting since childhood. Yet my curiosity got better of me and I asked, “What makes you say that?”

“You can only be called the best if you enter a place that I tell you and infect the humans in that house and return back to us.”

Not the one to be put down, I accepted the challenge blindly. Evening 8pm was fixed as the time when I would be introduced to my challenge. I decided to catch a wink before the task was due. The swarm set out well in time to reach the destination. Antopodes was leading. He took us far out over to the other side of the swamp. Not our regular route. I wondered when this fellow had been to explore the unseen parts of the swamp. Anyway the air here was cooler and thinner. It was easier to fly and we soon came upon a set of newly built houses. As we buzzed through I saw that the houses had large open windows covered with the infernal nets and good light and air. The drain was well covered and the pipes were invisible. Thriving and surviving in these conditions would be so difficult. But I could not call it off without hurting my ego and pride. So I hummed my way to the house that Antopodes had marked as a challenge.

And what a challenge it was. The Windows seemed to be sealed with no opening. The entry was tricky as I saw that it was a three door circus. There was an iron front door concealing a solid wood door which in turn was hiding a door with a fine quality net. And the three were never opened together. The net door was firmly closed before the wooden and the front door opened. The drain pipes were covered with fine net also. I was stumped for the first time to make an entry into the mosquito proof fortress. I was more determined than ever to prove my expertise and establish my supremacy by breaking and entering this particular place. So I decided to stake out at the place and look for the best possible opening.

After waiting for endless minutes and hours, I figured out that the best way to get in would be to find a carrier. I decided to wait at the entry door. Soon it became apparent that not much activity happened here. And no material was taken inside the house without checking for flies and mosquitoes. No vendor was allowed inside the main wooden door. All the vegetables and newspapers were checked using a strange weapon that I had not yet encountered. It was oval shaped and had a net on it with a handle. I heard the maid calling it a racquet. I wondered if there was any similarity to crickets of our world. The maid moved it over the stuff that entered the house and also the people who came in. I saw the flies dropping limp and almost dead when this weapon was moved over all things.

I went back to the swarm of friends who were waiting a safe distance away to discuss what I had seen. All of us agreed that the challenge was beyond any difficulties that any one of us had ever faced. I was told not to risk it in my condition. You see I was ready to lay more eggs! But my ego was pricked and I could not back out from the sting operation. It was a matter of pride. So after much discussion, I realized that the only way to get in was to launch myself on the maid who seemed to be the only one coming in and out. She was the only one not being checked by the racket. We finalized the entry exit route through the maid and I set off for the battle.

I waited for the maid to appear again and quickly launched myself on her hair when she opened the door. I was finally inside the fortress. To be honest, I was scared as I was carried inside on her person. What if somebody came with that racket? But nothing happened. I managed to escape into the dark corner of the house. I waited till my humming came back to normal and decided to find my victim. There was no point in taking back the blood from the maid. That was easy enough and no good to establish my supremacy. I need to take blood from the head of the house. From my hiding post I realized that there was a huge woman moving from one room to the other, who seemed to be giving orders. Everyone around her seemed to be obeying her. So I decided to target her.

I waited for the correct opportunity and soon saw the woman heading towards my hiding place. I was scared for a minute and wondered whether she had sensed my presence and decided to kill me. The entire swamp was before my eyes -- my mother, my loyal swarm of friends and my guru! I had not even said good bye. I shut my eyes and gathered my antennae close to me waiting for the end to descend upon me. But a few trembling seconds elapsed and nothing happened. I was convinced that the lord of the swamp was protecting me.

It was a now or never situation. I had to sting now. I gathered all my courage, spread out my antenna as long as I could and landed on the ample surface on which the woman was sitting. She cried as I stung and drew the blood. Oh! The sweet taste of blood that has never been sampled by our kind of folks. I was euphoric and heady with success. In my sense of glory I forgot to fly away immediately and barely missed the hand that would have crushed me. As I took off to me safe hiding place the hand caught my left antenna at the back. It pained a lot. But I needed to lie low and not make a whisper of a humming so that I would be safe. Within seconds the house was full of smoke. Those guys had started lighting the coils in each corner and had started spraying some liquid in dark corners. The combined smell took its toll and I fainted.

I opened my eyes slowly and looked around. Was I dead? There was no sound around me. Where was I? The place looked familiar. I was in the same hiding place. That means I must be alive. Now all I needed to do was get out of this place. I inched out of the place slowly looking for the maid. I decided to switch the place of hiding to rest in her thick, dirty smelly hair. Much better than the corner that had no dirt or grime. My broken antenna was slowing me down. I could not see the maid around. In fact there was no human presence. My escape route had vanished leaving me aghast. I had given up hope when I sensed the door opening and to my great relief the maid walked in. But she was armed with a racket. I slid back onto the smooth brown corner that I was in. The maid moved around the entire house and was about to point the racket to my resting place, when the woman shouted at her to stay away from the mandir. God bless my soul! Here was my one and only chance to escape. I gathered all the strength that was left in me and landed on her hair. She proceeded to scout the nooks and corners looking for me. Then she swept the whole place and finally collected all the dirt to be thrown out of the house. I did not have to wait long for her to open all doors. The second she opened the front door, I took off and flew all the way to meet my friends. I dared not look back. The mission was accomplished. I was successful in meeting the challenge thrown at me.

The Sting Operation was finally through!

Routines … love them or hate them…still follow them!

The Ganesh festival is round the corner. Across India and maybe even around the world this is one routine that all the Ganesh devotees love. My family celebrates the festival too! The preparations start much before the D-day at our place. Not so much in terms of making the goodies for the feast or the decorations for Ganesh murti. It’s more in terms of setting stage for the expected schedule of events that will unfold for the 2 days that the family meets. The time of puja, the lunchtime, the arguments over breakfast at Mani’s, the menu for Prasad lunch and everything else is absolutely predictable routine. The guest list is predictable, so are the entry and exit lines of the guests. The conversation topics of the close family are the same every year. The close circle enjoys taking pot shots at the distant relatives who drop in for Prasad. The relatives I am sure do the same, once they depart after feasting on the mouth-watering Prasad for lunch. Its absolute routine stuff. Nevertheless, it’s a routine that all of us enjoy! It starts with planning what will be the surprise announcements, which are privately circulated to all members of the family, who then suitably act surprised and happy for the announcements. It ends with all family members promising to plan a picnic so as to improve the bonding and declarations of keeping in touch!

Another interesting routine that we go through - en masse - starts unfolding in month of May. We start speculating the arrival of rains. Invariably the rains are late. Then we worry our heads over the delay and discuss the fall out of global warming. Finally when the rains arrive, we wish that it would stop raining so that life would be free of dirt, grime and rotting garbage. It does not end here. When the rains start receding we get into the famous panic of the lakes and water reservoirs not being full! The beautiful aspect of the rains is the almost routine rainy day picnic to a nearby hill-station, getting soaked to the last fibre and then huddling together for the steaming corn on the cob along with hot bhajiyas and a cup of cup. Wow!

Talking about picnics, I am reminded of the routine that my husband and I go through every 15 days of late. We talk about taking a vacation and the burning need to take time off from routine J Most of my friends also follow the routine of discussing and planning of a holiday for self and family. But none of us convert it into a reality! Most of us are at a stage in our careers where long absence is not possible OR may be dangerous ;). If all that is sorted, then we are faced with the challenge of coinciding the dates when all members can be away from their respective routines. So all in all, we have developed a routine of planning a holiday. Just to break the routine!

Some routines are traditional. For instance, every South Indian girl is enrolled in a dance and singing class as a matter of routine. It’s a given task, never questioned by anyone in the community. I have also seen them loving this routine. Or take the case of a routine enquiry thrown at all newlywed couples. Every couple faces the enquiry about when will they give the good news – read as expecting a baby - irrespective of caste, religion, geography and social status. The only change to this tradition, nowadays is the time when the enquiries start rolling in. In olden days the enquiry would start within 3 months of the marriage. Today the elders of the family are willing to hold their aspirations for as many as 5 years!

Some routines are customary. Like washing feet and covering your head before entering a place of worship, be it anywhere in India.

We are at times not even conscious of some of the routines that each one of us follows. One of them, I think is praying to the Almighty in times of difficulty and crisis. I know a lady who is a complete Atheist. She professes that she does not believe in the concept called God. So much so that when we were traveling to various locations in India, she refused to enter those places of interests i.e. monuments where people also pray and worship. I was surprised by this extreme display of atheist values. Yet, I saw her pray – which she denies – with her hands folded and clasped together, kneeling on the floor and eyes tightly shut, when her sister was supposedly caught in the recent terrorist attacks at a city hospital.

Some routines are fashionable. Like falling in love. Most of the population on this earth goes through motions of love in teens – used to be late teens in my time, but it is early teens these days. This routine is almost always accompanied by the high drama of parents not approving and the kidults (wonder who coined this word!) rebelling, followed by eventual fall out and settling down for more compatible acceptable prospects.

In my professional life, I have seen (and also been a party to!) folks invariably going through the routine of appreciating the previous employer as against the current one. I have observed that for most of us, the previous employer always seems to have the best practices and standard processes. It’s so convenient to forget that almost all of us are equally dissatisfied with the ex-employer while working there, isn’t it?

I use a routine to break the monotonous weekly routine. Confused? Don’t be. I am simply talking about my Saturday routine. I look forward to all Saturdays because it breaks the routine of the weekdays. It gives me respite from dancing to the tune of wall clock on weekdays. However, funnily enough, my Saturdays are also a routine. I get up late, laze in the bed, say bye to the husband, make myself a cup of tea, surf the net till I am hungry, fix a brunch, eat while watching TV and watch TV while dozing, almost reluctantly go into the bedroom and sleep soundly, until being rudely woken up by some caller… and so on and so forth. I simply love this routine Saturday. It’s my day!

I am sure all of us have personal routines that we enjoy. And I am not referring to the mundane routines of waking up, brushing teeth, crapping, having tea, taking shower, getting ready, going to work and so on till we sleep and wake up again. I am sure there are routines unique to every person. Be it a dance routine or an exercise regime or a visit to someone special or a shopping spree in weekend bazaars. It exists!

There is no escaping the routines. Its inevitable just like the seasonal routine of Nature around us. Its as true as the birth and death routine of life. We get bored of the routine and often feel like running away. We seek new things to do. We crave for adventure and challenge. We move to newer pastures. All to break from the routine! But there is no denying that inspite of all the breaks that we may take and new things that we may pursue, we still lapse into routines.

There is a comfort in it, isn’t it?

Perplexed

I feel perplexed, confounded, mystified, confused, at a loss, puzzled, baffled, bewildered or thrown! I feel different at different times or sometimes all this together. And then again I feel this and that too! In general the feeling is totally utterly all the things I said above. Why?

I mean what am I supposed to feel when I realize that random folks on the street are staring at my boobs? And they have various expressions on the face.

Expression one --- “?????”

Expression two – “!!”

Expression three – “@*&%$$^*@”

The above three are the most common discernable and oft repeated ones.

Other than this I feel utterly perplexed that SRK can get the media to dance and gets so much air time.. Whoa! He is on every FM station and every channel and every news paper shouting “Its no big deal”. Yeah! I believe that…

I am at a complete loss when people turn around and ask me, “what’s wrong with me?” Figure it out yourself man. How do I know what’s wrong with you when I don’t see anything right in the first place ... how do I know what’s your idea of right?

I am confused about why the local trains are smelling like Nilgiri(eucalyptus) oil these days and I am thrown by the number of people wearing masks while getting on the train, promptly removing it when asking for a seat and then putting it on while getting off the train.

It baffles me when my co-passenger asks me, “Are you Mulund?” Do I look like a suburban train station? It took me a while to figure out that the question is “Are you getting off at mulund?” which is invariably followed by a booking request for the seat that I occupy…And hold your breath, cause these days it’s also for a standing space on the foot board J

I am bewildered that a man hits a woman while they are walking down the pavement and neither breaks their stride… She says nothing and neither does he! Two minutes later they are sitting on the bench furtively smooching… beyond comprehension. Neither is more than late teens of age... Some passion, huh!

I am mystified that I have not yet learnt the art of talking without stopping to breath. Some folks do it , you see. And they talk for as much as 15 minutes non-stop. Try doing it for 5 minutes by the watch… I am certain most of you will be out of breath ....

I get thrown by folks who are blessed with an immune system as far sense of smell is concerned. These folks almost always decide to relax in an AC theater and start by taking off the shoes! Aaahhh … what a comfort it is ... the stench… Shudders. But that’s ok… for the blessed ones!

I am puzzled … cause I am now feeling great! Sharing does help…

So what if there are going to be more random folks staring with many expressions tomorrow ;) --- at least they get to see the most magnificent pair of twins around ..ha!ha!

A whisper on my lips

She was getting ready to go out for a date. A chance date that had materialized out of the blue yesterday! She was home to spend some time in solitude, fix the leaking roof and sell the produce from small patch of land in the house that once belonged to her parents, now hers to tend to. She rarely sold the produce as she felt that the caretaker should benefit of it. The caretaker had been in the family for generations and traditionally the produce had been handed over to his family at a token amount of 1anna earlier, 1 rupee today. She often came home when the pressures and bustle of the city got to her. Being a freelancer had its advantages and usually she could take off at will to be in her childhood home. This time the attraction was the Festival of Performing Arts.

Yesterday’s event was special as her best friend was performing a ballet. She decided to reach the venue ahead of the actual show time in the hope of catching up with her before the show. As is always, backstage was extremely busy and she spoke with her friend for a total of five minutes with many interruptions. She decided to let her friend get on with preparations of the show, with a promise of dropping in at her place for lunch on Sunday. Now left with some time on hand, she decided to stroll through the exhibition stalls lining the premises of the huge auditorium. The shops were predictable – handicrafts of various states, textile merchants, local dresses and scarves, tourist mementoes and cards, a small book shop, a painter’s stall, some traditional craftsmen doing the lac bangles and mehendi and so on. It was still 45 mins to the main show. She decided to park herself on the bench by the riverside and read her book. At the far end of the premises, she saw a vendor selling coolers. She reached there and opted for a kokum soda. The tall glass with lots of ice looked yummy. Instantly refreshed, she walked on to the benches. There was an empty one under a huge banyan tree. That set her up for half an hour of reading.

“Well! Well! Is that really you?” said a voice from above her. She looked up from her book and saw him looking down at her, a distant recognition in his eyes and a question on his face.

As soon as she looked up, the curtain of hair parted to reveal the oval face he knew so well. The question in his eyes was replaced by a warm smile and he was joyous to see her. It was a pleasant surprise to find her there, sitting on the bench by the riverside. He wondered, whether she would recognize him?

She looked up at him and was instantly reminded of how handsome he used to be. Years had only added some grey to his hair. But nevertheless, she felt her heart skip a beat. She stood up in a single graceful movement and came up to his shoulder.

“What a pleasant surprise! What are you doing here?’ she asked

“Looking for you!” was the cheeky reply.

“Oh sure! And I believe you” she mocked.

Laughing the two of them sat down on the bench. They looked at each other once again, almost certain that neither of them was truly present in the frame!

“I am here to get some work done at my parents’ house and will be here for a couple of days more. My friend – Shalini, you know her- is performing a ballet in about 10 mins. I was early so decided to park myself in the shade and read. One can rarely do this in the city, you know! What the hell are you smiling about?” she spoke hastily and was perplexed to see him laughing.

“You still talk a dime a dozen and still explain everything that you do” he said. “I guess one never changes. I am still tongue tied as I used to be, looking at you and am wondering, if I can persuade you to bunk the ballet and spend the afternoon with me.”

“No chance that I will drop the ballet. Shalini will kill me and complain to her mom about me. I can suffer Shalini’s complaining but you know her mom. Do you really want me to suffer her chiding?”

“So let me join you and watch the ballet?”

She knew the tickets were sold out, yet she did not tell him, hoping to keep his company for a while longer as the two of them walked to the booking counter. Actually seeing him standing there was so unexpected. She admitted to herself that she was happy to see him.

At the counter, he turned to look at her and shrugged his shoulders, “I knew. But I was looking for an excuse to walk a few more steps with you.”

She did not know what to say. Both were suddenly uncomfortable and lapsed into a silence.

Finally, she heard the 3^rd bell and said goodbye to him. As she climbed the steps, he called out and ran upto her. “Let’s meet here around 10 in the morning tomorrow. The café down the road makes superb breakfast.” She nodded and disappeared in the crowd.

He continued to look at her receding back and remembered the time when he had sa

id bye to her 7 years back. It was the end of 3 years of college. Most them had chosen their careers and were moving to different locations. He had been to the station to say goodbye to friends. She was taking the train too. Most of the college seemed to be there at the station. As he said bye to her along with many others, he suddenly realized that this was the last time he would be able watch her smile. The sudden sense of loss was still fresh in his mind. He had an empty feeling in his stomach that time and he realized now that the feeling had been with him through the last 7 years. He realized this, when he came upon her today, sitting on the bench that had been his favourite for the last 10 days. He felt the warmth spreading across his body filling that emptiness.

The ballet was colourful and expertly choreographed. But today, her mind failed to see the graceful movements of the dancers. She hardly noticed that her friend had mastered the art and was now using it as a tool to make a strong social statement. Her mind kept taking her back to the guy standing on steps, telling her; not asking her, to meet him tomorrow. Someone she had rarely spoken to during the college time. They had been together at few parties, exchanged notes, spoken in the corridors but never bonded beyond knowing each other. But her pulse had quickened when she saw him today! She was already looking forward to tomorrow.

The doorbell rang and she heard akka opening the door. Before long she came in to tell her that the crop was ready for her inspection. As she went out akka noticed the pile of clothes on the bed and stopped.

“What is the occasion? What are you piling up the bed for?”

“I am going out to meet a friend. Can’t you see I am getting ready to go out? Tell me what I should wear.”

“Depends on where you are going and who you are meeting?”

“I don’t know where I will be going. I am meeting an old friend from college.” She realized that it had not occurred to her to check where they would be going. Then she remembered that he had spoken about the café. Finally she settled for the jeans and T-shirt. The clock was telling her that she was going to be behind schedule. She rushed out and zoomed out ignoring akka who came running after her to finish the chores and then go out.

She parked here scooty and picked her bag. As she turned, she saw him coming towards her.

“Hi!” he said opening his arms to give her a hug. The gesture was spontaneous and casual. It felt as if this was normal for buddies meeting after a long while. Yet, he felt that she was a bit awkward in his embrace and quickly moved away. He realized that, however natural the action may have been they had never been more than classmates. It’s possible that she may be married and would not be comfortable being hugged by another man. Or may be it is just the awkwardness of meeting someone after long time. Or may be she did not like the way he had summoned her here without checking, if she would indeed like to meet.

“Let’s walk across to the riverside and sit there. There is so much that I would like to catch up on. Where have you been since college? What do you do these days? Where do you live?” he said releasing her and turned on the narrow path to go to the riverside.

They walked in silence, each lost in own thoughts. As they sat on the bench, neither wanted to begin filling the gaps. Both of them were reluctant to be the first one to break the silence. It must have been a while since they were gazing at the water gushing by. They saw a small fisherman’s boat pass by and heard the boys on the boat making cat calls.

“Nothing changes here!” both exclaimed together breaking the awkward silence.

“Sure. And let me remind you mister that we were supposed to meet for breakfast. My stomach is growling. Where is this café? “

He was embarrassed that he had forgotten all about the breakfast and hurried to the café.

“You must be hungry. I am so sorry. It slipped my mind!” and almost as an afterthought he added “but then do you really need to eat. I mean a few meals skipped now and then will do you good you know!”

The waiter approached them before she could answer. If looks could kill he would have been dead. The choice was limited and they settled for eggs, sausages, bread, fruit and coffee.

“So tell me what have you been upto after college?” he enquired.

“I have been busy.” she replied “It takes lot of time, dedication and hard work putting on weight, you see!”

Amidst the laughter, the conversation was easy. They talked of what they were doing professionally and shared success stories from their careers. She was freelancing with newspapers and mostly covered the world of art & artists. He had worked in UK for 6 years with a consulting firm and was back in India on an assignment for the last year or so. Before long the breakfast was on their table. It was simple and tasty. The creamy scrambled eggs and crisp toast were done just right. They chatted about friends from college and who was doing what. He had stayed connected with the college crowd after he took up the posting in UK. Surprisingly, she had never been on any of the networks.

“How is it that you were never there on any of the networking sites? All of us always talk about you and have been searching you on the net. The old bunch of guys will be thrilled to know that I have met you. You must connect up with everyone.”

“I am not so keen on networking sites. Besides my work takes me into interiors, where net access is negligible. All available connectivity is used to upload my work to newspapers. Anyway, let me hear about you. How long do you plan to be here?” She said hurriedly.

He got the impression that she was brushing aside the subject and almost felt as if the disappearance was willful. He did not press the subject and signaled the waiter for the bill.

They returned to the art academy chatting about here and there but nothing in particular. Once at the academy they turned on the narrow path leading to the riverside and walked together up and down the river, enjoying the carefree chat and more importantly each other’s company. She was animatedly telling him about her investigations and report on one of the fast disappearing tribe of artists, how she had done a feature and promoted the cause of basic education for the tribal children , when his cell phone rang. She looked at the watch and realized that it was almost 2pm. She had promised akka that she will be back in a couple of hours and would take up the pending tasks. He finished his call and looked at her apologetically saying that he must attend to some work urgently. It should have been done a while back, but he had lost the sense of time. She was reluctant to part and he seemed hesitant too.

“What is it that you need to do? If it is mails you can do it from my place. I, too, need to finish some work with my caretaker. It will take me a couple of hours to get it done. You work from my place while I finish my chores.” She suggested.

“Brilliant! I have my laptop with me. I can get on to the net at your place and finish my work in a couple of hours. After that I am at your service the whole day. Let’s go.”

She drove back on her scooty all the time wondering whether she was mad to invite him home just like that. He was following her in the hired car and she could see him already working on his laptop. Once they reached home, she showed him into the living room and he was lost in his work. He hardly noticed when she left the room to attend to her duties.

He was composing the final draft when she walked in with two cups of tea. They sipped the tea in silence till he finished his work. It was 4.30 when he finally shut down his laptop. It was humid inside. She was perched on the railing of the verandah with her cup of tea thinking about what to do next. He was watching her from the window and saw her face light up. He knew she had hit upon some scatterbrain idea. She was famous in college days for spur of the moment plans. Inspite of himself he smiled, as he knew that no matter how scatterbrain the idea may be, he was going to give in.

“Let’s see if the motorbike is ok. If it is good we can drive up to the fort.”

She was already fetching the keys and running to start the bike. He followed her and watched as she made efforts to start the bike. Ten minutes later she lost her patience and declared that they should take the scooty and go. He grimaced at the thought of sitting on a small scooty and tried persuading her to take the car.

“But you know that the car cannot go up all the way! We don’t have time to climb up to catch the sunset. Don’t argue for heaven’s sake. Come on. I am ready. Are you coming?” She was already wearing her helmet and waiting for him to climb pillion. He knew that it would be a wasted effort to tell her to ride pillion. Besides, he had not been to the fort ever since he was in town. His thoughts were back into college days when their batch would often pack books and sandwiches and climb up the fort in morning and come down only after sunset. The days when he had looked at her from distance. He had made serious efforts once or twice to ask her out on a date but nothing had worked out. He pondered over how easily, the date that he had sometimes dreamed of had happened today.

She was driving as fast as the small scooty would allow her. He was amazed that the scooty was already climbing up inspite of their combined weight. They reached the plateau in a short while. She jumped off the scooty and threw the keys and helmet at him asking him to park the scooty while she sprinted to the sunset point. By the time he parked the small two-wheeler and joined her, she was gazing out at the setting sun. The view was breath taking. Both of them stood gazing at the setting sun. The sky changed its colour gradually from clear blue to orange to pink to mauve. The water below reflected the colours of the sky. The creator of the universe had squeezed out numerous tubes of paint simultaneously and was freely mixing colours. The painting that unfolded in front of them was unique. Just like the moment that they were sharing. She reached out and held his hand as the venus - first star on the horizon- twinkled in the twilight. He felt a tremor in her grip and the moistness of her palm. He had barely registered the tremor before she let go and jumped down from the boundary wall. He wanted to ask her what it was. He had an urge tohold her hands too and wanted to re-assure her. But she was gone. The moment was lost. Just like the one so many years back. He had asked her out on a date for dinner and dance. She had been on the verge of agreeing and something happened in distance. Her brother had called out to her. She had been looking at him fondly one moment and the next was replaced by fear and regret. The effort was wasted and so also the tickets to the event.

This time, he did not want to loose the moment. He reached for her hand and pulled her back. She saw the question in his eyes. Uncertain of her reactions she pushed him back making to get back to the scooty. He was silent most of the way back and she was chattering all through. She knew she was nervous. She knew that if she had encouraged him many years ago, the relationship may have blossomed into being more than classmates. She had been scared of her parents not agreeing to a match. Socially unacceptable and impossible! Would it have been different if she had chosen to defy society and parents? She had no courage then! So she had decided that it was best not to acknowledge. The ghosts of the past were still present. Though her parents were beyond the realms of dictating, she saw another shadow lurking in background. A shadow of their choice for her!

As she came to a halt in the drive of her home she felt wistful that the day would now end. But he was determined to pursue his moment and invited her out for dinner. She was surprised and thrilled at the same. They agreed to meet at half past 8 and he said he would pick her up. He asked her to wear something formal and be ready for a dance or two. She was reminded of the date that had never materialized so many years back.

She hated this business of having to make a selection of clothes and especially formal. In the end she settled on a pleated white skirt of full length and paired it with a beautiful top in burnt orange. Simple silver choker and ear studs completed her accessories. She was just finishing her subtle make-up when he came to fetch her. She hurried into the living room and

saw him waiting for her. He was wearing a pair of jeans and shirt paired with a jacket, looking COOL! She was about to slip on her usual flat shoes and remembered that they were to go dancing. She discarded the comfortable flats for trendy heels and turned to go. Neither realized what a handsome couple they made.

He drove to the heart of the city and turned towards the hill top. He said that he wanted to try the new lounge cum restaurant that had opened at the hill-top. Apparently the place had a splendid lounge and dance floor. The place lived up to its reputation. The location was awesome and overlooked the river. The dining area was on an open terrace offering the view of the cruising party boats in the river. They were shown to a table by the hostess and thus began an evening to remember! The music was exceptionally good and the band played a mix of numbers that kept them on the floor most of the time. When they came back to the table finally, the kitchen was taking last orders. They ordered simple meal and lingered over the dessert and coffee.

“This place is so peaceful. I am enjoying myself so much. Thank you!” She said

“I am stuffed and feel so heavy. Guess I will need to take a stroll before going to bed.”

“Come on! If you are done, we can take the stroll now. The premises of this place are supposed to be beautiful. We can explore the old structure.”

He saw her face light up at the mention of an adventure and yet there was a hesitation. It took him seconds to get up and pull her chair back. She seemed incapable of refusing, in spite of all the warnings that she heard in her head. She was unsure yet looking forward to the stroll. If she were to be honest with herself she looked forward to not just the exploration of the premises!

The property owners seemed to have developed the pathways and roads very well. At the far end they saw the entrance and the flight of steps leading to the entrance. As they stood at the foot they realized that it was a steep climb.

“Race you to the top!” He challenged her. On the count of three they ran up the steps each determined to win the race. He had almost reached the top when he realized that he was

running alone. She was limping up the steps. Worried he climbed down to check on her. No sooner did he reach the step where she sat, then he saw the wicked smile and she raced to the top, heels in hand and laughing at him. He felt stupid at being tricked and followed her, rage written loud and clear on his face. She was still laughing when he reached her and pulled her to face him. Her laughter froze as she sensed his anger. Instantly scared, she thought that she had crossed the line. Men, she knew hated losing, especially to a woman! This was going to be a repeat of all her past experiences. She braced herself to face whatever was to come.

He saw the quick succession of emotions reflected on her face. The laughter replaced by fear, then worry and then resignation. He was shocked out of his anger and wondered where did the fear come from? His grip on her arm slackened and expressions on his face changed.

He was no longer angry. She saw the confusion on his face and sat down with a resolve to share her past and present with him. He leaned forward with a resolve to drive away the fear. They looked at each other with a question on their lips.

They sensed an answer a mere whisper away!

Feelings and More

Finally, I wrote something... Its been so long and I was getting worried whether I had recahed a permanent block. The famous writer's block and all that..

But no fear of that.

I have just written some stuff on my other blog. -- www.feelingsnmore.blogspot.com

Actually its the first post on what I plan to develope as a subject based blog. The subject is - applied behavioural science.

Having said that , rather written that let me share what else I have been writing.

And hold your breath.. I have also written a short story. Its really short ... just 7 pages! ;)

I will publish that after sometime, just so that I don't shock all my innumerable followers with the sheer creative brilliance..... Apne aap ko boost karne mein kya jaata hai. Mera blog hai ... main khuch bhi likhoon!

So long..... till the next post ......"A whisper on my lips"...

Psst... I am not finiding the courage to publish the story ... yet!

The Art of Hosting

My association with hosting people for lunch and dinner goes back to my childhood when my parents would host their friends and relatives at our place. As I grew up I acquired the traits of being a host from the two of them. My husband and I have a fairly large social circle. We both are foodies. We have friends who enjoy food as much as we do. Naturally, the fall out is getting together to enjoy great food in great company. We enjoy hosting at our place. We enjoy being guests as well. It gives us opportunity to smaple different types of food and beverages. And boy have we been to different types of functions! Some memorable, some lip smacking (a Parsi Lagan nu Bhonu will qualify tops for this one), some unforgettable and some immensely forgettable!

One of the most memorable functions that we attended was a traditional wedding lunch. The food was to be served in a “pangat”. This is typically a set-up where the table is laid for a traditional meal and food is served to the guests by a bevy of stewards known as “wadhapi” in Marathi. The table would seat at least 20 people in one row. Another 20 facing them and 20 back to back and so on! 

The fare in these meals would be a set menu. Batata bhaji, Alu chi patal bhaji, Varan-Bhaat-limbu, Masale bhaat with clarified desi ghee(clarified butter), Chutney, bhajji/vade/pakoda and kakadichi koshimbir would be standard. The variation would be in the koshimbir where cucumber would be replaced by tomato. The desserts would vary from Shrikhand to Aamras to Jilebi. The bread would be most likely Puri unless in the recent health conscious scenario it gets replaced by chapatti or phulka. The meal would conclude with a mattha - butter milk variation that is tangy, spicy and sweet, a fitting coolant and digestive to the heavy meal. This is followed by a “Vida” made from beetle leaf stuffed with dry coconut, poppy seeds, beetlenut powder and sweeteners. All this is to be wrapped like a packet in the leaf and is fastened with a clove. The most interesting part of this meal is the warmth and the affection with which the caterer would serve and encourage the guests to eat. He would insist would on serving at least one more jilebi or a dollop of shrikhand. Mind you this would have nothing to do with the cash register as his client (your real host) would have already paid up for X number of guests. The caterer is the host who prides himself in being a master at his craft of dishing out extremely tasty stuff and enjoys feeding people.

The other spectrum of the good food is the gourmet dinners that are served in the banquet halls or restaurants of five star hotels. Food is prepared with great care and pride. The emphasis is on turning out an exotic fair from hors d'œuvre (classic starters) of caviars and cheeses to finishing it with the Desserts of exotic baked and tossed variety. The starters would be served with cocktails. The cocktails would be usually served in the large foyers of the main dining room. A smart Maitre de host (senior captain) would then clink the crystal and announce the dinner by opening the doors to the dining room. Stewards in starched uniforms with tail coats and absolutely white aprons would usher the guests to the table with a benign smile.

The ceremony of devouring food would begin with a soup accompanied by breads of various kinds. These meals include entrée dishes of meats and typically the entrée course extends over three meats - seafood, white meat and red meat. The type of dish is carefully chosen keeping in mind that there is no overlap in the taste that the gourmet enjoys with each course. The master chef would never repeat a sauce or a garnish in a single meal. Each Entrée would be accompanied by a carefully selected wine. The courses would be interspersed with salad depending on what the master chef has planned. Often the salads are a clever trick to buy oneself time to prepare and present the next course of entrée. The reason is to keep the freshness of the meat and sauce. The heavy meat dishes are followed by pasta and vegetable dishes. The meal tends to draw to an end with parfaits (flavoured ice) and mousses. The finale is usually a flamboyant display of desserts cooked a-la-minute. The most favourite here is the classic Crepe Suzette!

Kaustubh and I have been guests at one such lavish dinner and enjoyed the pomp and the show thoroughly. In fact the meal was a 2 and half hour affair with a spectacular dance show thrown in. Thankfully the portions were small and meal was slow with plenty of time between courses allowing us to enjoy the company of those at our table. We were uncomfortable when the dinner ceremony commenced, feeling slightly out of place for that gala dinner, being the youngest couple on the cruise and also not as affluent as the senior members of the entourage. Yet the superb meal and thoroughly enjoyable company of the other two couples at our table has made the experience unforgettable.

In contrast we have also, been subjected to thoroughly forgettable meals. Sometimes these have been social events like weddings and thread-ceremonies. The fare has been a complete hotch-potch of everything . One such menu had mocktails as welcome drinks, farsan and pau bhaji for starters, masale bhaat and veg makhanwala for  main course, bhel and pani puri on the side, hakka noodles and veg -au-gratin for seconds and finally vanilla ice-cream with aamras for dessert! We have since then avoided all events at this particular location catered by a thoroughly confused chef.

I wonder, what kind of planning (if at all) people get into when they host meals? Kau and I often plan the menu ahead of the party. First of all, we enjoy cooking and like to serve from our kitchen. I mean, what is the point of calling someone to your place and then serving them packed food from restaurants? I have nothing against ordering out, but then why not go to the restaurant and save you the messy clean-up after the party. Yes, we do order out for stuff like chapattis or pick an ice-cream or a mayonnaise off the shelf. But that’s where we draw the line. In fact, even when we serve ice-creams we like to do something with it and serve. Sometimes, it’s with fruits, sometimes sandwiched and so on. We generally try out whatever we want to serve in advance and especially, if it is catered out.

When hosting at your residence, its best kept small. Invite only if you feel like hosting. We have been to events where the host is obviously inviting the bunch of suckers out of some compulsion. What would compel them, I do not know! But the fact that the host disappears for personal work while we are left to do the ordering from a close by takeaway tells me to think twice before being conned into a meal experience the next time. Aisa bhi hota hai! The great part of this is that, we order what we want and are not subject to awful selection like what I have narrated above.

Then there are many others who make great hosts. We have had some delicious meals in company of likeminded friends. We have been floored by the sincere efforts put in by the lady of the house with ample support from the spouse. Floored because it’s so difficult to make time to put together a meal in hectic Mumbai life where both husband and wife are working. The meals have been simple day to day fare, well cooked and served lovingly.

So there are meals and melas! We have been to many and guess we will continue to experience and experiment. We make great meals most of the times but also goof up sometimes. Like when we served ourselves and an unsuspecting friend some awful parathas packed from a takeaway. Saving grace was the fact  that we had eggs and bread in house and finished the meal with lots of ice-cream. Whether we are hosts or guests is immaterial, one thing is sure every meal brings a lot of  adventure and fun.

  

Love - the basic emotion

A stray comment by one of my friends on my Facebook status triggered a thought on various meanings and concepts that surround the word love. I had written on the wall that I was feeling loved and young. To this one of the comments alluded that my husband was taking good care of me. There were others that were equally tongue in cheek and harbored around romance with the spouse. It leads me to conclude that mostly the top of the mind association of love is to a spouse/partner. I felt the romantic in my friends awaken. Some called and some wrote to me, but one thing was sure, I had touched a chord in some more hearts around me.  Everyone wanted a piece of that feeling. 

In reality, this feeling emerged from having had a wonderful time with a bunch of friends! I continue to feel the warmth and the love even two days after our sojourn. 

I have experienced love in many forms, many times! Sometimes as a receiver, sometimes as a giver, sometimes as a witness, sometimes in the flow of being and sometimes in loss. The first memory of love that I have is my grandfather sitting forward with his cheek almost flush to the ground, looking at me unblinkingly and waiting for me to wake up. He was visiting us in Gujarat and was meeting me after a separation of 15 months. They reached our place in the middle of the night. I was a baby and sleeping soundly. Mom told me later that he was sitting in one position for almost 6 hours for me to wake up and look at him. I do remember leaping with joy and hugging him as soon as I saw him. 

Recently, I experienced such love with my niece. She is so unpretentious and so completely trusting. I am just the same with her. We have a great time together and I look forward to being with her more oftten. In her playfulness I revisit the child in me. 

Both the memories above are linked to childhood. So is this form of love most valuable to me? The love that stems from innocence and is complete in its sharing may be the form of love that I cherish the most. 

Spring in my step

A spring in my step!

Life goes on my dears and how so… Well I find myself in a joyous state! Kyun?? Kyun bole toh aisaeech! Why should there be a reason to feel happy? I am happy cause, I had a great learning trip some time back and the after effects are still with me.

It’s going to be a fun weekend tasting wine. The countdown has begun. I am going to be with friends and have fun with homemade wine. Good Enuff to be happy, naa!

What else? I am happy because I see a change in the way the commuters on the train behave with each other. The usual garma-garami ; pull and push; frustrated mumbling seems to have made way for orderly getting on and off board. Only those who travel by Mumbai locals everyday can relate to my state of joy at this change. Furthermore, the lady near the door beckons to me and points to another one and says she is getting off at Ghatkopar, you can stand there! Wah, kya baat hai. I pinch myself thinking that I am dreaming. I look at my watch thinking that it’s a Saturday and I am on board a train by mistake. Neither is true. I am awake and it’s Monday. Smiles all the way…

I tune in to radio city and toggle between fever 104 and the city. Both play all my favourite melodies. The tracks disappear as the train flies to the destination. I am still humming the melody

Dhadkan Jaara Ruk Gayi hai
Kahi Zindagi Beh gayi haiPalkon mein yaadon ki doli
Bhitar Khishi haans rahi hai
Yeh khishi tum ho
tum hi tum meri janam
Karo Aitabaar...

Milte hi aakhon ne ...


Work is pure fun! Every paper seems to be in place; the meetings happen on schedule and end on schedule too! No complaints today…

What a beautiful day. I wind up work and decide to walk to the marine drive. 

I was to meet a dear friend. She calls and says, “Let’s meet at Eros”. Cool! I wait at the old landmark and am busy looking at the changing face of the road that was. When I was in college the road had shops with unassuming windows and drab displays. I had to climb a couple of steps to get into Croissants etc. Today it’s Kamdar and the french windows and display, beyond the window, in the shop is very inviting. While I am debating whether to get inside the shop, my friend turns up and much to my surprise with another dear friend! Too much.. lovey dovey scene ho gaya.

We go for an early dinner and freak out on some good veg stuff at Soam! Well, my husband is likely to say and also some other friends … "Veg?? Good stuff??? How can veg classify for good.. it's gotta be non-veg only" But what the heck… Its good stuff so its good. Who wants non-veg especially in the heat? Frankly, it was not about the food tonight. It was about catching up with friends after a really long time! We yapped and laughed and surprised each other.

The final stroke was getting an auto rickshaw that ran smoothly, no signals on the way, the meter reading correct fair. So I had a great day :)and the best is yet to come. 

Husband is making a cuppa chai for me :) :)

Aaj mein upar aasman niche
Aaj mein aage jaman hai peeche
Tell me O Khuda
Ab mein kya karoon...

My mum says apni khushi k nazar mat laga! So here’s the black lining to the silver cloud. Still no word from ….

Relationships and my take on it

Relationships: The quest for an answer to successful relationships

The other day I met a friend from school. We were buddies then & used to sit on the same bench in class. 25 years ago we shared everything. We looked at the same boys, together played pranks on teachers, bullied other girls into doing our homework and even got punished together. We used to have a great time then and propelled by that memory I was mighty thrilled to see her. We had drifted when her parents moved house to their native place. So the chance meeting in a crowded market was unexpected yet pleasant surprise. I dragged her to my place and time seemed to have come to a standstill. Memories were fresh and we laughed over the childhood till tears gathered in our eyes. She had changed over the years and so had I. She was back in Mumbai and we promised to stay in touch.

When she left, the smile on my lips lingered on and I engaged myself into the routine of cooking dinner. This is one relationship that I cherish and would love to nurture it. I know also that my efforts will be reciprocated equally. Today it is easier as one is not dependant only on postal services to keep the link. E-mails ki jai ho!

What is it about relationships that some survive and some don’t? What are the key drivers to a continued relationship? Are the key drivers same or different for personal and professional relationships OR are the logic / emotion different in both?

I often hear people say that this relationship was doomed from start as it was forced upon me. If that be true, why do love marriages end up in divorce? It’s a relationship of choice, isn’t it? So does freedom to choose a relationship guarantee the success of it?

Let us first define the concept of a successful relationship. In common parlance a relationship that has continued over many years with seemingly no conflicts is a successful relationship. By this logic my relationship with Seema (friend above) is not such a successful one. We were out of each other’s lives for 25 long years. Yet, I see this relationship as successful. The years just melted between us in the chance meeting. This tells me that success or failure of any relationship is very relative. It is relative to how one chooses to look at it. I feel connected with her and hence rejoice the success of this relationship.

In case of parents, family and boss, one has no choice. These relationships happen. You cannot choose who you will be born to and who will be your family. Similarly, you cannot choose who will be your boss at work. Well, largely you cannot! In some fortunate cases this choice is possible.
In these cases, we make the relationship work. As I look closely at these relationships, I see a pattern emerging. The lead and responsibility of laying a solid foundation to success of these relationships; parent-child, boss-subordinate etc.; rests with the one with positional authority. In each case the fabric of a relationship is decided by the tone that the parent or the boss sets. The balance is set by the one in authority. An authoritarian/autocratic parent or boss can give rise to a rebel or submissive child / sub-ordinate. In contrast a guiding hand that gives space and freedom to each other will see the relationship blossom. The balance will help empower the two thus strengthening the relationship.

As I pause to think about relationships of choice, it strikes me that the balance is equally essential here as well. Amongst any two individuals there is bound to be power play and authority issues. The success of that relationship depends how each one relates to each other’s power and holds his/her own. This thought brings me back to the divorce in a relationship, especially love marriages. It’s often seen that one or both partners give up their own power in early stages of wooing and courting in order to make the other person feel good. As the time goes by it can be stifling for the person or partner to constantly give up his/ her power or to carry the load of the other one who depends on the powerful one. The balance is tilted and hence cannot last. Bust goes the relationship, the pink turns to grey and then an ugly black.

Success of a relationship is dependent largely on the acceptance of the role by both parties at each stage in the relationship. Mistaken role plays and misguided sense of responsibility will lead to an imbalance. Such confusion is often seen in family / peer relationships. These are more difficult to map and are largely based on individual choices. Hence we have some cousins or siblings (or colleagues in professional set-ups) who hit it off with each other, while others simply don’t give each other the time of the day. In my opinion it often boils down to non-acceptance of the other person’s individuality and power.

The concept of Choice in a relationship comes into play in case of contractual relationships i.e. relationships born out of or created for a common objective of growth or betterment to business, society, self. We have here as examples various Business associations, Deals and Marriages. In each of the cases people after intense scrutiny of each other would get together. The understanding of the common objective and each other’s needs are spelt out. Both parties seek clarity till it satisfies them. Subsequently they make an informed choice to go ahead or withdraw. Fact remains that continuity of such relationships is subject to the common objectives being met consistently. Where there are people, there is bound to be interplay of personal dynamics and emotions. So it’s about emotional intelligence of the players on stage!

At times I see every relationship is like a machine and needs constant supply of oil and periodic maintenance to keep it in top performance. What is the oil and maintenance in a relationship? The instant answer that comes to my mind is “Communication”! It keeps the gears meshed up smoothly. Communication of needs and objectives and a review of these from time to time is essential. Gears either mesh up too tightly or un-mesh forcefully when this grease is missing. In extreme cases the teeth are bared and broken. It is not easy to replace gears especially when one wears out the other.

Time and tide waits for no man(woman either!). Same applies to an interpersonal relationship too. Best friends of school have at times little to say to each other only because they have not met for years. They drift apart, develop new interests and find nothing in common after school. In contrast, some of us meet after years and yet connect deeply almost as if time stood still and took off from where we met. Spending ample time with each other does not guarantee you the success of a relationship and lack of it does not lead to it withering away.

However, making time for each other especially when a relationship begins is helpful. This is especially true in marriages. I would take this thought further in saying that it’s equally important to give time for a relationship to bloom. Just being together for two hours a day is not a quick fix for strong relationship. Your relationship to your spouse, team or even something as inanimate as your stock needs time to find its feet, stabilize and then bloom. Every moment dedicated to the relationship is the investment in it and it gives itself a manifold return over time. What is the qualifying factor here? Is it the amount of time that one spends with each other or the kind of time? Popular terminology for this is quality time. Today around us we find so many dysfunctional families or dissatisfied consumers. What is the reason? As I look closer, I see that though it’s a relationship of choice, there is very little or no time given to the defined relationship. One can’t expect wine when grapes are neither crushed nor set aside to mature, right? Little wonder then that most marriages in my generation are the weekend marriages of convenience. They are strained and generally break sooner or later.

As I dig deeper, I am becoming aware and just about coming to grip with the phenomenon of social net-working sites. What about a distant fellow sitting in remote location attracts the net buffs? I see my friends chatting away to someone remote on a laptop, but when it comes to having a two-minute conversation with parents or spouse, they have nothing to say. Relationships of convenience! She keeps my house so I need my wife, he gives me a feeling of security so I need a husband, they are there for my child so I need my parents…. So on and so forth! Where is the connect? When one connects to the live persons next to him/her there is a whole lot of dynamics that come into play. That sure can become difficult and too hot to handle. So what do I do…. Turn to the social networking sites! It’s so easy, one does not have to deal with real time emotions and feelings. Safe zone!

Many a people have wandered afar in quest to find answers about relationships and people. This is my small little take on the subject. There is so much more to write. Perhaps later!