And then it came to an end

Living in a new exotic place can be exciting. I saw new things and I changed in a very subtle way. Nothing is earth shaking about it, my way of life and values remain the same, but I am not the person I was a year back. 

Some memorable moments were:

One day in the tram

I boarded the tram that used to circle the city. Since I don't work full time, I am usually never in a hurry. The tram had changed the route a little bit from that day. 

People are usually quiet in this country. A tourist was busy looking at a map. Then he said, "I dont know where I am!" The lady next to him spoke very calmly, "we are all a little confused today. Its the first time the tram is taking this route". If this had happened in my home country, there would be people shouting at the driver, and tempers flaring. Yet over here, there was patience and calmness!

Shopping

My mom bought a sweater for my dad. Five minutes later she liked another one better. She returned the previous one and bought the other one.... in 5 minutes. And the lady at the counter was smiling when she returned the money.

Taxes

I filed my taxes for the previous year in 3 minutes over the phone.

Opera

I saw the Opera for the first time in my life. 70% of the ticket price was paid by the government.

Lost

I have lost and recovered items from the bus twice.

And then it came to an end!

Go

Home is a mile away,

And I know the way.

Come anytime they say,

Night or day!

The first time I wanted to go,

A new river started flowing.

There was no boat to row,

And I started crying!

I heard about a ferry then,

And I went a second time.

I went to buy the ticket when,

I was short by a dime!

They built a bridge and I went again,

I walked and was so relieved.

Though there was the cold rain.

But alas there was no field!

Instead a statue lay,

I had stayed away so long,

I did not know the way,

It seemed all wrong!

Happy?

Today, I want to narrate the story of three friends: A,B and C. 

A lives at home. B lives in a city that is a little away from home. C lives in a country far far away. A, B and C were the best of friends. They went to college together and the friends you make in college are usually friends for life.

Over the years, one lost touch with the other two, but it was always easy to find the way back. 

There is nothing dramatic in this story that I am going to tell. There were no life changing experiences or turmoils. It is the story of three people from a city, who spent a few years studying together. 

Life today looks different today from the way we saw it in college. 

One of these, was the dreamer and the emotional one. One pursued perfection, and had a practical mind. One lived life oscillating between the two ways of life.

In those days, happiness came from hanging out together, window shopping and coffees at Barista. 

Fashion meant Janpath and GK. 

Silver was preferred over Gold. 

Khadi was cool. 

Communication meant missed calls. 

Food meant Samosas and Muffins from the college canteen. 

Transportation meant DTC busses. 

Email was not that "in" that time. 

Landline were still in use.  

Reading meant the British Council library. 

Today, one manages a line of business in a company, the second one works for a major auto-maker and the third one is looking for a job in that land far far away. Conversations are infrequent. But one always ends up saying...Ah!... those college days!

And now the three meander through life seeking happiness(as a state of being) and wishing it to be long lasting. As human beings, we keep selected memories. What the three remember of the past is the good parts only. And the rest is forgotten. We have forgotten the fights, the bad marks, the stress of exams, and all those nasty folks around us.

Today I really wonder: Is happiness the absence of turmoil, trauma and tragedy? If yes, then I am happy everyday. 

The Wall

There is this wall that I see
And it is mine to decorate as I please
What i do with it is completely up to me
I own it, you see!

It is a bland white
I could paint it any color I like
Either dull or really bright
Or hang a picture or another

I have choices and each
Will form a perception of me
It is within my reach
To decide what people think of me

Conventional, if I paint it a dull blue
Loud, if I paint it red
Pretentious, if it’s modern art
Insane, if I hang the skull of a human head

No one wants to know me really
I am new here you see
And what I do with this wall
Will determine what people think of me!

No one will come knocking
On the door
With any warm greeting
People don't do that anymore!

Train Journeys

I find train journeys exciting. The longer, the better.

In India, trains are still a popular mode of transportation for long distances. And till a few years back, unless you were travelling for business and your company could afford air travel, everyone travelled by trains. A typical journey from Delhi to Mumbai could be anywhere between 16 and 24 hours.

I did my first long distance train journey when I was 12 years old. I was travelling from Delhi to Kolkata by Rajdhani(the fastest long distance train in India) and this train had very few stops on the way. Indian trains are noisy and the windows are usually dusty, so the view is blurred. We travelled in the second AC compartment and there were two berths. The meals were served by the attendants and then sheets and quilts were handed out for sleeping. In the background, India's radio was always playing with some disturbance. All in all, the journey was fairly comfortable and I read the magazines that one usually ends up buying at the station stalls. From the windows, I saw the India that one only views during such long journeys, an India that we never really go out and visit, an India that we know exists, but is far removed from our lives. The train passes by a number of villages, fields and one sees people carrying on their daily life, and for a few moments I usually get lost in my thoughts and try to visualize the day to day life of these people. They are poor, many of them look undernourished and I wonder what role the daily passing of the train through their village plays in their life. Do they look at this as a way to reach a land far far away? Do they visualize about the place where this train finally stops? Does a young lad ever think of running away and going where he train goes?

The next year, we did the same journey again, but this time in the first class compartment. We had a coupe to ourselves, which means, a small room in a train with clean windows with curtains and a nearly full time attendant.

When one steps out of a train after a long journey, the feeling of the body moving with the train's vibrations takes sometime to go.

My next long distance train journey happened almost a decade later when I was in my early twenties. I was passing out of college in two months, I was starting a job soon afterwards, and more importantly, my parents had been kind enough to allow me to go with my friends to Goa(one of the most popular holiday spot in India...sun, sand and sea).

We were a large group of friends going to Goa. All logistics were handled by a couple of people. Most of us just packed our bags, and on the day of the journey, we got into the cab and headed for the station. We were going by a slow train and this was going to be a 36 hour journey with two nights in the train.

While looking for our coach number and seat, I got to know that I was going to travel in a coach called sleeper class. There was no AC, the windows did not close properly. The coach was dusty, food had to be bought where the train stopped, the coach doors were open, so hawkers, beggars and eunuchs could move through the coaches. During the day, I felt hot and at night cold. The train stopped a number of times, I heard people talk in languages that I did not understand. The train stopped at lesser known towns. I saw people climb on top of trains so that they can travel without a ticket. In short, it was as close as I have ever got to really seeing how an ordinary Indian commutes and goes about his day to day life. I call this person an ordinary Indian, because the majority of our population which is not visible to the outside world is made of people I encountered during the train journey. People for whom there is no world outside the place where they grew up, who have no connection or perception of the word "abroad". People who are far removed from the IT boom, or a cyclone in a distant part of the country. They have the same dis-connect with my life and my environment. I know as much about them as they know about me. Their definition of India is very different from mine.

The smell, the dust and the sounds were real and not muffled by the veils that can be created by getting into the better coaches. It was a journey through half of the sub-continent and it was felt by all my senses. It is a journey that I always remember as an experience of another India. Every now and then one hears praises of India's progress and the pet phrase "India Shining". I am quite sure that if I do that journey again, little would have changed. 

Today

Today I have a new obsession
Something that makes me go insane
It is not any kind of fiction
It is like a rainbow after the rain
It is the desire to write
To put emotions into words
Bring characters to life
A story beginning with the chirping of birds!

It is the story of a wonderland
Of Kings and Queens
Painted with the color of my imaginary sand
Of romance and heroic scenes!
The evil step mother
The King who was once a poor lad
The long lost brother
Good triumphs bad!

Simple stories we once loved
As all children do
But today all these are shoved
Without much ado!
As realism and practicality
Take over the innocence of a child
And break the illusion of fairyland with great brutality
My only prayer is - I hope the effect is mild!

My obsession is not to write
A tale about a dreamland
But I obsess on the need for a simpler life
In this great land
Where children remain children
And not obsess about life’s rat-race
And get happiness from simple things
And lead life at an easier pace!

Nordic Winters

I saw people walking on the sea and I wanted to do that too!

I came to Scandinavia when last year's winter was nearly over, so I truly experienced the winter for the first time in the past three months. I am from a country where the temperature range is 45C to 10C and the change of seasons is quite mild. Close to the Arctic Circle, the weather change is an experience in itself.With consistent negative temperatures, the sea freezes, and a whole range of new activities start. The ice is thick enough to support the weight of a human being and in some cases, cars too.

When the sea froze, I saw people walking on it and last weekend I decided to do that too. As I treaded carefully on the ice, I sensed the amusement with which kids watched me take steps and I am sure that they could just smell my fear. Near the shore, the ice is sometimes not thick enough, so one has to look for "entry spots". We kept looking for a lot of footmarks to guarantee the solidness of the ice. We had all heard to stories of people losing their life doing this, and we were nervous.Well, we did take a few steps on the frozen sea, but it will take us longer to be able to walk on the sea with the ease with which the Finns do. So And then to move on to more exciting things like ice fishing and snowmobiles!

We kept taking pictures of the frozen sea, and the people walking on it t share this incredible sight with folks back home. The most fascinating sight was this guy zooming around in this mini jeep on the frozen sea (picture enclosed).

I have truly enjoyed the winter and I shall look forward to another one to walk on the sea once more.

Life passes by

How much of what you do in a lifetime

Leaves an impact

Very little, only worth a couple of dime

And thats a fact.

When you look back

To your years of existence 

And really lack

Enough memories 

To be able to fill by counting

The fingers of one hand

Of moments when you achieved

The heart's dream and

When you don't remember 

The things you did 

In the cold winter of december

When you lived as carefree as a kid

When the past seems a blur

And some years in life 

Feel as if you can't tell 

One year from another

You feel the urge today

To make life more meaningful 

Day by day

And to ensure that the cup of life is full

Of experiences many

That leave you feeling peaceful

And if there are regrets any

Don't sit and mull

Make sure you completed

The list you have in your head

Of things you really wanted

So that you can go peacefully to bed

Woodall's

There is always an excitement in moving to a new place and new home. And if the place has a history it makes the experience of living there truly special.

I lived in a 150 year old house in a small town in India. And for once, our home address was really neat: 

Woodall's, 

Longwood, 

Shimla -1

It lacked the house number, lane, colony name and all that is expected from an address.

All old residents told us the story of the house. It had been the home of a British officer and then when India got independence, it became the IG’s bunglow. The opening scene of a hindi movie(Kudrat) featuring Hema Malini and Rajesh Khanna(Indian movie stars) had also been shot in that house. Over time it lost it glamour and it became the residence of ordinary people. It was also split into two houses.

It was a house with large rooms, false ceilings and skylights(that sometimes leaked in the rainy season). The doors were large with brass handles and there were fire places in all rooms. the house had a coal house too.

Its name was an amusement in itself. A sign hung up by some wire on a tree read Woodall's. People assumed(and were probably correct) that it would have been the house of a Mr. Woodall or Col Woodall. But that never seemed to be the correct. Afterall, the other houses were Westwood, Silver Craig, Green Gates, Fair Holme, and I am sure there never existed a Mr. Green Gates or a Col Westwood. The postman over time had names it in its own way, so Woodall's became Woodhall cottage most of the time, and one day it became Budhall cottage.

There was a well at about 5 minutes walk from the house. And it was in the middle of trees away from the road and surrounded by a lot of greenery. Our maid's daughter was once told me that in olden times people used to be hung in that well before India became a free country, and I was aways too scared to go around that place along.

One of the first things that I saw was the dining room cupboard where my mom kept all the crockery. And someone(probably a girl like me) who had lived in the house at some point of time, had signed her name, her school's name and the year on the inner side of the door, and other children who had lived in that house later had done that too. I promptly looked for some chalk and did the same.

All these years, I wondered if anyone had opened the cupboard and seen those marks and followed suit. 

Time

a new leader rises and gives hope

soon time will make him a person who lost

its only time before a child learns to cope

with the perils of the world and its cost

fashions change and bring in a new rage

what is “in” will soon be “out”

with time a young face wrinkles with age

a simple life is now full of doubt

not you nor I will in the end have a say

in the end only time will have its way

Silently

Silently I bit my lip
The words are there in my head
I want to shout but my lips stay still
The words echo in my head instead

I bury them deeper and deeper
And hope that they will be lost forever
But I am their silent keeper
Will they leave me never?

They cloud my thoughts and blind me
I want to speak what I feel out loud
My voice wants to be set free
But my lips move without a sound

No Going back - A refugee's song

I left my home so long ago

My childhood is a distant memory now,

I get the dreams of my lost home

I want to go back, but how?

I cannot go there now, I cannot go there now.

Its been years since I moved away,

I left as my house burned

I travelled through night and day

To reach a place where I could stay

I had a country and I had a song,

But today, to no place do I belong.

Yesterday I had a dream,

I saw houses, I wanted to scream,

Not one of them was mine, not one of them was mine.

how I wish I could live

in a place and truly belong!

Storm

the candle is flickering
as I hear the wind screaming
making the trees sway
and threatening to knock off all in its way

as raindrops dance on the window panes
and leaves move around in the dusty lanes

the thunder, the lightening
the stormy sea and the waves rising
the sounds make me fear
for I am alone and no one is near