The mail arrived three days ago.Well not really a mail..more of a facebook message.Funny that a networking site that I hardly even use would surprise me this way! I knew her when times were different.When I was a foot shorter.. when she had freckles and a pony...when I believed that maybe I could iceskate! When we were both on a different continent...

Eleven years have passed since.Eleven turbulrnt years.Eleven long years.Eleven thousand changes.Eleven million things still the same...

Her mail brought back a whirlwind.. All memories of a life that seems unreal now.Running thorough knee deep snow with her to catch the tram.Tiptoeing myself to reach her height.Hot chocolate and cheese cakes.Pictures plasters with grins.. grins with teeth missing..Chrismas carols.. and me the sheep in the birth of Jesus.Then Goodbye.. promising to be friends still..Back in my country, all the memories of running to the postman to see if he had her letter.On my lucky days,dipping the envelope corner in water and saving the stamp...

But as I said eleven years is a long time.. the frequency of the postman ringing the bell went down.So did my cravings for them.Our lives were too different to be interwined..There were still times that I wrote to her,but answers didn't come.I lost her....Until three days ago.

She said she's going to visit India this summer. Again a pocket of time together on a different continent... eleven years... a different medium...yet the letter arrived..and the smile on my face is still the same.

Bhang Barse....

I haven't been blogging for an unpardonable long stretch of time.But the truth is that I wanted to write but couldn't decide on what to write about.The void just grew till I could think of nothing at all.But all that was before holi..
Holi this year introduced me to bhang....For all of you who have had it,I guess you already have a picture of what I went through. :) For all those who didn't..read on.. but believe me at your own risk.
My story:
I woke up late on the eventful day and so missed the Bhang served for breakfast.After being coated with colours in my hostel,I left for the 'Jhelum lawns'- the traditional holi grounds of JNU.I met friends..and bhang.There was no dearth of it.I guess I drank a bit too much..and that's all I remember of reality.
What happened after,is a daze..it changes versions in my head if I concentrate too much.I remember staring at some guy..trying to recognise him,realising that I don't know him..yet still staring..and laughing at me for making a fool out of myself.I remember walking towards the faculty houses and discovering that the roads moved on their own.I remember shouting at some senior..then realising that I would get away with it..and laughing at my feat.I remember the world suddenly twirling slower..and me blowing to help it rotate.I remember feeling inhumanly hungry,and then suddenly full again.I remember feeling that I couldn't walk another step..yet not being able to stop somehow...and so laughing.
I don't remember how I came back to my room..or the 12 hours after that.

They say:
I drank more than one and a half litres of bhang.I sat down beneath a tree after that.Then someone came and offered me pakoras..which I devoured instantly.What I didn't realise was that they were 'ganja' pakoras.They claim that I laughed for more than 10 mins continuously for no apparent reason.(Well I had my reasons as I told you before!!).At my favourite Prof's house I ate 6 sweets,continuously telling them that "I can never refuse her".And I screamed at my classmate because he was,"talking too loudly and there may be a warden checking."I laughed at others who were making fools of themselves...just that once I started I couldn't stop.Then when someone asked me to shut up.. I did.And I marched on with a finger on my lips the rest of the way.I went back on my own.Even they don't know how..
I was supposed to call my dad by 10 o clock..my roomie says that I sat staring at my cell from 9...and she couldn't make me realise that I could call my dad then itself..

When I woke up the next day.I couldn't remember a thing,and had a splitting headache!The only proof that I had played holi were the blotches of colours on my hands..and the words of my friends.
So I promised myself never to drink bhang again,since I don't even remember if it was fun or not!!...not till next year atleast ;)

A new city..some new dreams..new faces..new masks.
The first few days passed in a haze...struggle for a room..basic adjustments..getting pillows,cups,spoons,buckets and other ticky tacky.A dream had suddenly come true..and everything seemed to be falling into places.The sky seemed to be a new shade of blue..the grass greener.
Now the initial ripples are over.i know exactly which shortcut to take to reach my dept.Which canteen serves what cheaper and comparitively more edible.I have been introduced to campus politics..something that is an integral part of JNU culture.
But yet,even though things seem to be quite smooth,somewhere in that new shade of blue,I still look for that familiar hue of grey..in that greener grass I still look for that speck of brown..my roots.


This piece is in no way a clear or good read.so please excuse..I was just feeling very homesick..

The strings of life are just getting twisted...They are getting tangled up like the windchime you try to starighten out so carefully..yet fail over and over.They are knotting up like the ball of wool your kitten just played with..and shedded to pieces at last.Certain uncertainities and some sureshots are cluttering up my system..clogging me up and I just can't breathe!! It's like those days that you are crying..and don't know why..yet can't stop either. Like you need a hug..but don't know from whom...sometimes anybody will do..and sometimes nobody will do!!!
I see dark clouds...but please someone help me see the silver line....

Him..

My kid sister is falling in love with him. She's dreaming about him ..talking about him..running off to be alone with him...the whole package..

It seems kind of strange.As if that was me just yesterday! Me and him.I still remember clearly...rushing home from school, sometimes skipping lunch and closing the door of my room, just to be alone with him...Staying awake long past Ma went to sleep..and then sneaking off to him.Tests,exams..I never cared..he was always more important! I remember as we both together stepped into teenage..and journeyed through the days of our lives..his life and mine interwined to form 'ours'. Smilling with him, crying with him, dreaming about him...just as my sister is today.
Just one thing was different...she doesn't have to wait for him like I did...
Waiting had its own charm.Waiting for him to be back..and in the meanwhile..imagining.Turning off my sense organs during boring history periods,and smirking inside..'they don't understand!! I'm a witch!!'... Getting late for school..the peon locking the gate,and me desperately trying 'alohomora'.Craving for a wand when I broke the persian vase..Our world..a lot of mine..a bit of Harry's..

I still go back to him sometimes..times when I'm really low.And even though the butterfly has flown away..there still are some faint traces of colours left on my fingertips...My eternal bit of 'lumous'...

Magic is a powerful word...a powerful world.And my sister is falling in love.
I'm glad. :)

Fact is 'stranger' than fiction ??

A princess with long golden hair...A wicked stepmother who sends poisoned apples...A witch being pushed into a baking oven by two tiny kids...A mermaid who is reduced to foam because she can't hurt her beloved....A mother who dies to save her son from a certain dark wizard,leaving him a realm of protection and a scar.
Strange stories....my childhood passed as I escaped into these worlds.

A 6 year old girl is pushed into an oven because she, coming from a lower caste dared to cross a road 'owned' by someone from a higher caste.She shrieks and screams as her fleash peels away...nobody comes to her rescue. ..... A certain girl claims that her husband committed suicide,when the whole country knows better...the candles burned and melted..the placards were painted and washed away...'suicide' claimed the woman whom he loved. ..... A 25 year old youth was butchered by his girlfriend and her ex-boyfriend.The duo then burnt the peices,dumped it in a forest..and went out to dinner! .... A 15 year old schoolgirl killed by her father (maybe with consent of her mother too) Her throat was slit open and she was left to bleed to death in her own room....
Stranger facts....unescapable reality.
how long can we wince as we read these news and turn the page?How long can we close our eyes and pretend?How long can we not hear the shouts?Not answer the questions raised? How long can we just shrug....Fact is stranger than fiction?????

Behind a splashed door..

A layer of splashed water drops cover the mirror in my bathroom.Cold drops penetrate my skin like tiny bullets.The rhythm of water dancing on the floor creates a blanket of soothing sound that envelopes me,muffling the chaotic noises of our house.Tension in my back that I didn't even know existed..oozes out of my pores,and down my body in cascading litte streams.I breathe a mist of scented shampoo and dove soap..a welcome change from the polluted weather outside.

In the shower I'm alone.No younger sister barging into my room unexpectedly,no shrill ringing of the telephone and unwanted voices across,no parents nagging.
The ceramic tiles in my bathroom have perfect co-ordination that transform my shower into a romantic dream.The cubicle changes into a concert hall,as I sing my heart out on a shampoo-bottle microphone.In my shower..I'm free.I can make all my dreams come true.I can be a celebrity..flashing a smile at the camera or a writer..signing out autographed copies of her latest book...

Sometimes,I sit in the shower and cry.My salty tears mingling with the waterdrops upon my face..until even I can no longer tell them apart.I cried when I realise I knew nothing of my exams next week..I cried when S left..I cried when R and I stopped talking once..I cried the inevitable tears after watching 'stepmom' again,for the nth time.And sometimes I cry out of sheer reasonless frustration.Within these walls I can cry..and my tears are washed away,unseen and unknown.

The waterdrops that fall from my showerhead are not normal H2O molecules.They have the magical power to activate my neurons.It amazes me to realise how many of these posts originated in the shower!
This daily ritual lets my mind go free.To catch and reflect thoughts that drift over my mind,before they vanish like the flashes of fireflies.I know I have a tendency to deplete the house supply of water,much to the annoyance of the rest of my family.But my shower is just too inportant for mr to care.It is a pocket of time away from the franctic deadlines,numerous places to be and things to do.It is a chance to reflect and enjoy...a welcome bit of friction to slow down a hectic day.

The water that flows down in spirals beneath my feet and down the drain,cleanses not only my body,but my mind and soul...leaving behind the bare essence....that is me.