The Waiting Room

A common room. A place where all the stranded try to while away the time... waiting for the ever-so-late train.. A place where i learnt a lesson on life and choices.

Waitng... waiting... waiting..

I see an old couple, waiting just like I am. The man sitting, reading the news paper, and the wife sprawled, not in an undignified manner, besides her husband, her head on his lap.

I see other people. Many sleeping. And why not? Its 4 am after all!

Others, just like me, killing time...

But my eyes keep wandering off to this particular couple. Keeps tracking their movements if they change places. There is nothing special about them, really. Both in their early 70's, bedraggled just as we all are.

But it is what the old man said to us earlier that keeps repeating in my head like a broken record.

"God bless you", he'd said before leaving. "God bless you!" Again and again. Just the 3 words.. and shame fills me. Suffocates me.

You see we all are travellers, travelling to and from great distances, stranded here in this waiting room , waiting for our trains. Stranded and waiting, trying to make a haven out of this crowded place for those few hours.

Finding a seat just to sit, even at 4 am is a difficult task. We were lucky enough that a family just vacated their sanctuary for the waiting hours, as we arrived. We were even lucky enough so that two of us could sleep, leaving the other two to play guard-dogs.

As we settled in our new santuary this same couple trotted towards us asking for place to sit. Had i been the one sleeping i would have immediately sat up and made a place for them to sit. Not because i'm a model citizen but because they were as bedraggled as we were and looked very tired. I know what state they were in. Been there, done that stuff. But it was my cousin and my aunt who were sleeping. One awake all night, vomitting all the contents of any food that we had eaten and other tending to him.

The old man tried to reason with my uncle to give them place to sit. My uncle (at any other given time a your-most-model-citizen when it comes to doing what is right) retorted with a somewhat rude... "we have travelled long distance. just leave us alone" jesture. After a few exchange of words and a bit of glaring (and coaxing by the old lady to her husband "to let them be"), the old couple had to leave. But not before letting us know exactly what he felt of our model citizenship and humanity.

"You would let an old couple stand so that you young people could sleep comfortably?" --silence-- "God bless you"

And he left.

He was ofcourse right. But when it comes to that, the choice between our family and strangers is not really that difficult, is it? Even if our family is wrong. Right?

But shame on us. You see because the same old couple after trying a while finally got two sofa's and tried to take a nap till their train arrives. One on each sofa. but when another stranded passenger came along, the old man immediately sat up and gave him place to sit. I am sure if it was his wife sleeping he wouldn't have asked her to sit up and provide place for a complete stranger to sit. Or may be i'm wrong because you never know how people react when it comes to family or following principles of life. I can never guess nor would i try to. I know we made our choice. But thats life. Its all about choices, and right or wrong doesn't matter when it comes to family. But the incident still leaves me with shame and now i think does the choice we make really matter?

Replubic day

Its Replubic day!!!
For our Government its a very important day.. Why? Because our constitution was formed..the Assembly met... in sessions... for 166 days, which were, by the way, spread over a period of 2 years, 11 months and 18 days before adopting the Constitution....yadi..yadi..ya.. and so and so forth... it was "finally" finalised today as 26th January, about 61 years earlier...
So all in all a very big day for our "Gorvernment"- 'By the people, for the people'
And yet the "people" don't even know what the hell government does. Atleast most of us don't. Neither do we care much. For "us" common people, its a mere Holiday. Well apart from the part where we hoist our flag in honor of...
Of what?
Well no one really gives a thought.. besides... 'now i'm gonna go home, rest, watch TV... do "stuff".'
So over all today symbolises...
For grown up - holiday, rest, TV... hit a mall may be
For kids - No school..hurray!, miniature flags waving in small hands or pinned to clothes, and total oblivious of the "republic day"
But for me... its nostalgia!!!
Oh it has nothing to do with Republic. Neither did i know then nor do i know now what's it mean...
Call me unpatriotic! immoral!
May be... but hey i'm just a face amongst most others.
My nostalgia is for this very day we spent at school and it takes me back...

I hear shuffling feet...innumerous feet.
I look down...what i see is canvas copper brown colored shoes.. worned, a bit tattered at the edges.. the rubber soles and tips peeling due to all that running around...dusty with typical copper red soil of school grounds.
The ground it self so dusty due to all the loose, same copper red soil.
Much of that soil has settled on my socks. They are new. Just bought a month ago or so.. so the elastic isn't worn and all lose and rolling off to curl at ankles, as does for many feet when i look around.. All in all, they seem like small pillars of brown boots and socks in two shades darker than soil...but all are soiled, shuffling, impatient, tired from hours of standing, feet raising small clouds of dust.
I can hear the speaker going on and on about country and constitution. But i'm not listening and i know i'm not the only one.
The ground seems increasingly interesting and i draw small circles in soil with my feet.
More dust rises and now its on my well-ironed biscuit-colored tulip, as well.
I fidget with the crimsom tie rolling it on my finger. It has red cross lines and red school symbol. "Red house".
I look around. We are arranged according to standards-divisions-houses in that order ascendingly.
Five standards. Four divisions in each standard. Four houses - red, green, blue, yellow, in each division.
But from here, all i can see is a sea of heads. I have to tip-toe to even see the stage.
Drum rolls and parade marches.
Every head turns around.
I can hear them march but can't see, since, like me, everyone is tiptoeing now. So I quit my efforts and turn my attention back to the stage. I know I'll see them in front, which I do!
I see them march, a bit unco-ordinated but in unison they come to a halt in front of the stage.
And now the big event... Flage hoisting! The fun part being, seeing the flag hoister stumbling on the cords and somehow managing to tangle it even more, than untangling it.. After about 10 mins into this he finally manages, not without help, to finally raise the flag and it unfailingly flies with the wind as if they belong together!!!

They are not good memories or bad.. but they are memories among all the innumerous ones we fail to remember. These are the ones i remember and i associate. After all isn't that what everything falls back to. Remembering the day constitution came in to existence. Remembrance!!!

Kids are kids!

Have you ever observed kids? They have an amusing way of reverting back from a phase or a mood so quickly, like Jack in the box?! It's amusing! Uncanny even!

There goes an impish little kid, happily galloping away, aiming to leap over the super low brick hardly-can-be-called-a-wall divider. And... Thwamp!...he goes down sprawling... For a moment he just stays like that, still and silent... and then starts the wailing... And God! what a racket! How can such a petite little thing make such a lot of noise defies logic? Though, besides the wailing he is still not moving much. So I go there and try to get him wobbly on his feet. The wailing subdues a bit. Thank goodness, for that! This close to the source of all that racket, I might as well be at a risk of damaging my hearing.
So he wobbles, a bit unstably, wiping tears and smearing his face with dirt in the process... and just like that... in what seems like a part of a minute.. his face brightens and he shoots off, galloping towards the nearest just vacant swing, like nothing ever happened. And now he is swinging away merrily with such a vigour that he might as well be falling off again.
Like I said, uncanny!

A ray of light…

Like a ray of light through dark rain clouds, the best part of my whole tiring day was my visit to my school. Well when we are in school we never really realize its importance to us. And I don’t mean it in the way by imparting-education-which-helps-us-in-life-ahead-of-school. No not that way, however true it maybe. But I mean it emotionally. It is the place where you belong, where you can relate to, to which you can look back. Now I know you must have heard this a lot many times and I really can’t hold you guilty for being bored. But if you have to decide…

This is the day when I had to go to school to get some documents attested. Frankly speaking I was really nervous and excited. The person who was in my school and knew Lorna Demello only would understand why. As I entered my schools vicinity I was welcome with a welcoming smile from one of my teachers, Arpita teacher to be specific. Which helped to perk me up a bit. And as I entered the premises I was really welcome to my school by a clerk Satish mama’s warm, hearty, joking laugh.

But it was just not him, all the staff from my school recognized me. It was really a welcome to me. And the best part was that I didn’t even have to meet Lorna Demello, teacher, though I would have mind it after that.

After that though my whole day was really hectic and really, really tiring, I think the nostalgic memories kept me going on.

It just makes me laugh and now a little embarrassed, when I think about the time, I had once said to my friend. I was really enraged at my school’s inhumanity to call us all early at 7.00 am to give our respects to the national flag on the Independence Day. I said, to quote in my exact words “I so hate this school. Calling us so early in the morning! What do they think they are going to achieve? When I get out of here forever I’m never going to look back! Oh I can’t wait to get out of school and go to college!”

My friend totally agreed with me. Now I could easily give a good reason that I was groggy and infuriated. But that would just be a totally childish and relatively ignorant reason.

Today I don’t know about her but I know that now I regret saying it. Cause I know the only truth is when I look back after a long, hard, tiring, day, when I’m totally void of any strength, the only thing that really makes me smile is the smiles on familiar faces from school, my school.

Life or something like that!

It has happened yet again! I can’t believe it! It has been happening a lot these days. Again here I am slouched on my couch surfing the idiot box called “Television” (expressed by some as a visionary accomplishment of “man”. Till now I must have gone through all ninety-nine channels at least twice and yet could not find any program that could retain my eyes more than a minute. Actually the radiation from the screen is starting to hurt my eyes. Now for the third time I have switch to channel 66 ‘The History channel’ a discovery of ‘The Discovery channel’. I don’t know what they are showing but I can see lady dressed in the late 50’s style drinking what I assume to be tea. Hmm, that makes me wonder how can she drink with her lips so tightly pursed, a mystery that is difficult for me to decipher.

I finally decided to settle down with “The Gossip Girl”, watching it again for the second time in two days. Hey I’m not saying that I don’t enjoy the program. It is, I must say quite enlightening as to the lifestyles of uptown New Yorker’s. (Especially the hot guys they feature)

It is Saturday and I can’t believe that I have spent all my day just reading and sleeping. Though I didn’t have any plans for today (not that I always have any) I still sometimes end up doing something good and almost worthwhile but most of the time just doing exactly that I did today – nothing! Is my life ever going go past reading and sleeping all Saturday?

But I guess right now and for sometime hence the above question is just rhetorical.

Hence I sit down with yet another ‘visionary accomplishment of man’ and decide to type my emotions out on the very MS word, a savior of the bored.

It may seem that I’m droning and that I don’t enjoy my life at all, well though it is true up to some degree, it is not entirely that way. I just had the best Diwali ever in past 7 years. And not only that, but after three days of complete contentment of the vagabond side of mine, I had yet another opportunity to spend the day with my closest family members in a days trip to a temple. We did what all families tend to do on such a day picnic – traveling, taking photos in my not-so-newly acquired digital camera, which is one of my treasures, made fun of each other, discussion (especially it was most apparent in between my mother and my aunt. They were so involved in their conversation, both talking at the same time that I completely lost track of the subject, not that I bothered to keep update with them). The above all activities also include getting us completely tired by the end of the day.

However fun the trip/ trips might be in times to come you tend to forget all that. It is the same reason why I chose to put it in words (thought I cannot put everything in word. I guess some emotions are best left unexpressed.), so that whenever I look back, at times I’m sad or otherwise, I have an opportunity to remember and get contentment, however momentary it might be!

Pensive

“Breathe in”….Shnnn….. “breathe out”…..whoooossh….. “deeper breaths”……shnnnnnnnnnn…….. “hold your breath” ….. Head-rush …. “let it out slowly” ……. Whhoooooooosshh “concentrate. If you concentrate hard enough you’ll be able to hear your heart beat. Let your self lose…. your too stiff…. Concentrate”

The multiple instructions weren’t making the job exactly easy. Not only can I not concentrate but all the trying just made me nauseous. It also gave me a splitting headache.

“Concentrate on a point between your eyes” the yoga instructor voice rang through my ears. But which point to concentrate on. There were so many points in between my closed eyelids which were the sole result of all the concentration.

“loosen your body. You’ll feel calm” she persuaded on. I had no idea how to loosen up. I was concentrating on my breathing. I took a long breath in… held it a moment…. let t it out slowly. The result was a long raspy let out of air through my nose. Why was it so difficult? Wasn’t breathing the simplest and most natural thing to do? The only thing that man knows with out learning it! And yet hear was I trying to learning it and apparently doing a bad job at it. With every breath I took instead of calming myself my heartbeat raced and I felt that I had just ran a mile or a cute guy had just given me a BSAAW ‘big-smile-and-a-wink’. I thoroughly regretted my decision of joining yoga classes. The only reason I had done so was to help myself concentrate in my studies and maintain a so called equilibrium with my body and mind and all that the yoga instructor had promised us to get. Already three classes had come and gone and I felt exactly, if not worst for putting so much money in learning yoga, like before I joined the classes.

“Empty your mind of all thoughts” the instructor went on with out consideration. How was I supposed to do that?! Try by stop talking in your mind. That would be a start. This contradicting thought hit me so suddenly that I let out a loud laugh. But only before I realized that I couldn’t do so in yoga class. To hide my laughter I faked a cough. The resultant was that I succeeded in steering half the class off their concentration.

After a few unsettling moment and stern glares from my instructor that cleared all doubts in my acting ability, I settled down and resumed my task of breathing. The unsettling moment had some how relieved my stress and breathing was easy. I almost felt calm. Then came my instructor’s voice “Concentrate” and I knew somehow even with my eyes closed the remark was pointed towards me in a subtle attempt to rebuke me. So I did. Concentrate I mean. And then started all my previous problems over all again. My breaths came raspy and uneven and my heart race violent. There was no rhythm in my breaths as my instructor said there should be.

Then some thing happened…

“Try not to concentrate so much. I can actually see the nerves on your forehead. Relax” Huh? That was not my instructor’s voice. This voice was much calmer, softer and mature. I opened my one eye to peak as to who dared to talk in yoga class except the instructor and disturb the silence. But now that I wasn’t trying to concentrate on my breathing I realized that the room wasn’t exactly silent. When the instructor was silent the room was filled with un-rhythmic intake and let out of breaths of my classmates. I also realized that I was not the only one whose breaths were raspy. Some were even worst. That gave me such a relief. I finally saw who the voice belonged to. He must be 60 or so years old, a scrawny man but with a calm face and calm demeanor, almost as calm as his voice. In fact every thing about him was calm. Looking at him some how calmed me. He had bright eye though grey with age. I realized I was staring at him but I didn’t look away. He however didn’t seem to realize it or at least didn’t mind it. He again talked to me softly as I acknowledged him.

“You are trying too hard. Don’t concentrate so hard.”

“But the instructor said to concentrate.”

“Well the instructor is not really doing a good job then” That almost made me smile. He smiled too and urged me again “Just breath as you simply would. Don’t think about breathing. Breathing itself becomes a task if you concentrate on it. Instead think about some place that makes you feel good, like mountains, beaches…”

Yeah right now I was getting instructions from an old person I hardly know.

“I know I have no right to tell you. But I got old with experience. It is a package that comes free with old age.” And he smiled. Does he read minds?

“No one can read minds.” That took me back completely “Huh!”

“But one can read faces.” Does my face show all that much?

“People can only hide and mend the expressions on their face when they are aware and prepared. But no one is prepared all the time.” He was really freaking me out now.

“Listen to me. Think about some place you feel calm and comfortable.” I did listen to him. I thought of what place made me feel comfortable. Many suggestions sprang in my mind. Mountains, trees, grassy bed… then a picture rose in front of my closed eyes, a picture from one of the chapters from my 10^th grade English study book. An image of a boy lying on his back below a growing cherry tree, looking up at the sky through a leaves of the small tree, seeing it move ever so slightly in the wind, feeling the contrasting feel of light breeze and soft sunrays that dare to pass through the leaves of the cherry tree. I imagined myself in place of the boy. And guess what for first time in three classes I actually felt calm and gone to another place. A place that I had only formed through the writer Ruskin Bond’s writing and made it in to a place so real.

I realized something that day. If you try too much and too hard to achieve something, it will come to you eventually. But it might not always be worth the effort. Instead sometimes it is better to let it go and let it come to you on its own accord.

A Vanity Fair

Well what can I say my story always starts with my growing up days. They were difficult and my parents didn’t do much to help it either. Now don’t get me wrong I absolutely love my parents. They weren’t the most perfect parents but they did all in their capacity to be one. Thought it was precisely this factor that made them not so perfect. But they did good. I’m well off at least till now though I’m still living on their bread.

But it is not that what is I’m here to tell about. It is the fact that growing up wasn’t easy for me. I wasn’t the most accepted person in a group and I only had a few good friends which I’m proud to say are still my good friend till today though a few are long distance relationships now. But I never really made good friends after that for a few years since. It was in this period of time that I thought that making friends was all about looking good to people. Though I still cherish the idea my perspective is changed a bit.

Then it was about how I look. Face! It is all that mattered. You look good you make friends. Hence whichever friends I made then only lasted a year or so and now I know that it was because they shared the same view as me. I am not proud about thinking so, but I was insecure and vulnerable then and well wasn’t that good looking. I was stubby child with thick glasses and carried a very nerdy look as you can well imagine. But I see now that not much has changed from then and now. I’m still that insecure, vulnerable, not so stubby girl with not so thick glasses.

And though it is not about looking very attractive anymore it is still about looking good. It is about poise. It is about communicating at a comfortable level. And about thing that I just cannot seem to do. Yes I do have a very few good friends still it is because I can be myself with them and they can be themselves with me. But with the world outside mine I’m still trying in vain to fit in. It is but a continuous pursuit to fit in this Vanity Fair.