Traumatic Will

A silent wish to be lulled,
A verbal desire to sleep.
Rock my cradle with every breath I take.

I wake up every day
With a piercing pain so sharp,
And a fatigue never dying in my heart.

Oh! I want to have that thing called ‘peace’,
And tap my feet with the flapping of my wings.

Alas! I do not get what I seek,
Summers of solitude and autumns of worries make me weak.

Still I rise, I fall and again I rise,
From the murky clouds of uncertainty and surprise.

He, who makes me fall and rise,
Knows not that I possess the will to follow him
In this world or otherwise.


I Wish to Thank You

My 31 year old life has hurled countless challenges on my way. But, I have stood the test at every step. It wasn’t that easy, I must say. But, it could have been way tougher, had I not met a few special people at various junctions of this journey called ‘life’.

I am still in touch with a few of them, while others have gone – some are busy in their life in some corner of this world, while others have left this world forever.

I have thanked them many times for the good they did to me, and for the help they extended to make difficult times easy for me. Yet, I feel still indebted and wish to thank them again, for what I am and where I am today.

To start with, it’s my mother. She is a super mom for me and my sisters. After the tragic separation from dad, she brought us up with great care and love, singlehandedly. She managed to give us the best of everything that she could.

In times of financial crisis, when there was no food at home, she sold off her priced possessions to feed us. I saw her crying in isolation, but she always appeared before us with a dimpled smile on her face.

She gave us the freedom to think, to decide, to choose and to tread on the path that we thought was right. She taught us to become independent, in mind and heart.

Schooling and college education would have been impossible, if we didn’t have such marvelous mamas (maternal uncles). They earn an average monthly salary of Rs 5000 per month today, they earned lesser when we were in school. But, they did all they could to pay our school fees.

Thankfully, we studied in a government college – Cotton College in Guwahati. Here, there was no monthly fees required. It was just an annual fee that was to be paid. That too was a small sum of money.

When we fared well in exams, my mother’s uncle and aunt (my nana & nani) presented us with cheques as gifts. I still can’t forget the joy of receiving a cheque of Rs 3001 from them. It was not less than a Bharat Ratna for us.

Throughout the year, me and my sister competed to claim the coveted honour. Interestingly, this was not because we could buy dresses or other things with that money, but because we could pay our annual fees comfortably. Nana & nani made that part of our student life so much happy and stress-free.

We started giving tuitions to kids since we started college. My sister and me earned Rs 600 each. So, our family income was now of Rs 1200! I still remember, being a music lover, I bought an audio cassette of the film “Ijaazat”, with my first earning. It cost me Rs 28. 🙂

Our life in Cotton College was so much fun with a couple of wonderful buddies – Angana, Shekhar, Starson and Raktim. These friends made our life so beautiful. In every crisis – emotional & financial – they stood with us, helped us and pulled us out of it.

I still remember, my mother’s life saving medicine – the inhaler that she took for asthma – exhausted one fine day. We didn’t have money to buy it as it was the last few days of the month and the tuition fees were not in. It was then when Shekhar borrowed us Rs 200. What a happy moment it was! We could at least buy mumma’s medicine then!

There are countless such moments when these friends – our angels – helped us out in grim crisis. If I start listing them, I would have to spend all my life for that, I guess.

In the year 2007, when I came to Delhi and joined the English news channel NewsX’s online team, I felt like “no one” in the crowd of experienced journalists. Being from a completely different industry, journalism was not my cup of tea! But, the online team showed absolute trust in me.

My boss, Mr Ajatshatru Singh, rested all his confidence in me and taught me what web writing is. He taught me what blogging is! My colleagues and dear friends, Sitansu Mahapatra and Rohit Bhardwaj, taught me the technicalities involved in web writing.

They helped me grow professionally. I emerged as a good web writer, because of their trust in me.

A year later, when I interviewed actors Nandita Das and Sharmila Tagore for the website, I realised what I have achieved with the help of my lovely colleagues. They taught me to trust and be patient with those who need my help and guidance.

In my personal life, my twin sister has been a pillar of support to me. 🙂 🙂 She is there all the time to help me out, in times of emotional crisis. My friend Angana, despite being away from me, still understands from my voice if something disturbs me. Would I get a better friendship than this?

Today, I wish to thank you all, for being there with me, for showing confidence in me and giving me so much of your love.

My life would have moved on without you, but it certainly wouldn’t be complete.

Sad Musings of a Woman

My friend once asked me: What do you feel is the best way to vent out your sad emotions? Is it writing or talking?

I thought for some time and then answered: It’s writing.

After this I thought, why didn’t I feel that talking was the best way? I have a bunch of great people around to share my feelings with. I have my mother, my siblings, my husband and my best friends too! Then why is it that I choose writing to talking?

It was then when I realized how lonely I am, in this crowd of known faces.

When does a human being stop sharing his/her pent up feelings?

It’s when he thinks that either he is disturbing the peace of his/her loved ones by doing that, or they will not understand his/her emotions. Or may be he/she is not capable of putting it across to them articulately.

In my case, I feel that the emotions I am going through are now so chronic or moronic that they interest none.

In addition, the feeling of loneliness is at its peak when I realise that I am bound to adopt writing to talking. This also implies that there is none whom I can speak with to lighten my heart.

There is none, who can help me out, who can hear me out without misunderstanding me or justifying me.

At that very moment, the realisation of being lonely appears killer.

All of us I think, at some point in time or the other, must have felt lonely, as much as I am feeling today.

The only difference is that, I have none to share it with, but my blog.

Ae Khuda mujhe bachha kar dey…

I wrote this piece, one fine Sunday afternoon, when I was tired of my daily chores. I missed my childhood peace so much.

Ae- khuda..muje phir bachha kar dey.
Amma k god mey leta rahun, aesa lachaar kar dey.
Roney ki koi vajah na ho, na hanse pey koi rok.
Har shaqs achaa sa lagey.
Apne lagey paraye log.

Kya sahi hai kya galat..
Is baat ka koi andaza na ho
Raat ko subah ki fiqr,
Aur subha ko raat ka darr na ho.

Gir jaun toh amma tham ley mujhe
ro padun to aanso ponch dey mere
Bukhar mey amma ka mere sir pey hath rahe.
Jalti tapish mey sukun sa mil jaye mujhe.

Na koi daud ho, na koi haarne ka darr
Khud mey khoya rahun..
har baat say beykhabar.

Mere bachpan ki khushiyan mujhe dey dey ae khuda.
Badle mey chahe ley-ley
Ye daulat ye shohrat….
Or kambakht zinda rehne ki saza

Dil Kambhakht…Kambhakht hi Rahega :)

Now this is really offbeat! I am writing something so different. It might read weird to some unromantic souls. But, it will surely touch those hearts that still live in their bygone past, that is lost, still lingering somewhere.

Roz shaam hotey hi dil javan ho jata hai. 🙂 Hanso matt please, ya kahoon romantic sa ho jata hai. ❤

Suraj ko roz doobtey hue dekhti hoon. Muskurake jaise TATA keh raha ho.

Aaj bhi kuch aesa hi ho raha hai. Sooraj doob raha hai..or smile kar raha hai. Dil bada kambhakht hai..roz laut jata hai college k corridors mey, canteen k shor mey or… ….

Yaad aati hai mujhe…

Wo dhund mey lipti raatein..wo subah ki meethi dhoop
Adrak ki chai or bohot kuch.

Garmion ki shaam, ghazlon ki cassette..
Timtamatey taarey or bohot kuch.

College canteen k parathey, doston ki gup-shup,
Note copion mey chipey pyar k khat or bohot kuch.

Liril saabun ki meethi khushboo, Park Avenue ki mehek
Thodi si kahi-ankahi baatein, or bohot kuch.

Waqt ki race…
Wo dilkash face… 🙂
Wo dhadakti awaaz…
….or bohot kuch.

Yaadein hain..yaad hi rahegi.
Jub bhi sardiyan jayengi, garmion ko lay aayengi..
Yaad sub baatein or bohot kuch. 🙂

The Pursuit of Happiness

I sometimes find it weird, how almost all of us, living in large cities, have cut ourselves so brutally from the beauty of life.

Running after material pleasures like, building a great career (a building process that has got no end) and amassing wealth (that is seldom amassed; thanks to the cost of living of big cities!).

In this rat race, one day, we will perish, with romantic dreams half-lived, peace of mind never attained and happiness that is ever elusive like the “great Indian butterfly”.

When I was in Guwahati, as a teacher, earning in four figures, eating mom-made food, meeting my best freinds often and spending weekends with mummy and younger sis, with no malls to hang around, was so much fun.

The rains, the green mangoes fallen on the ground after a thunderstorm, the hailstones that made the muddy ground turn snow-white, were all so beautiful.

Festivals spent with family gave so much joy.

Here, I haven’t seen such a rain for so long. I haven’t seen a single mango tree laden with green mango blossoms. The sky is seldom blue in colour. I have’t spent long evenings with my best freinds for years!

Sittting in the comfort of this posh aprtment, I only wonder that life has taken away so much from me, giving me almost nothing in return.

I am in a conflict of questioning thoughts. I wonder, is it my over-expectation from life or I do not know the real meaning of life.

I have no answer.

I can just say that I miss those days. I miss my home, the place where my heart lies.