You think, you always think that unannounced Goodbyes are the worst.
You think, you always think that unannounced breakups are the worst.
You think.
Then there are announced deaths.
Then there are announced full stops.
Hurts.
Just as much.
Little more?
Little less?
Various happy photos of a lifetime.
Photos, so perfect that you almost wipe your tears.
Of joy?
Of sorrow?
No,
For a change, you do not delete them.
You frame them.
In your heart.
In your soul.
Hoping,
They would rest in peace
And so would you.
That's when you know,
What hurts more.
What hurts less.
What brings peace.
Forever and always.
-Abhishikta
Wednesday, September 18, 2019
Not being able to dedicate songs is such a frustration.
There are these perfect places and perfect songs and you're there, almost dreaming, ready with a song.
Not being able to dedicate songs is such a frustration.
Not depression. Definitely not.
Frustration.
So you just do the age old I-dedicate-songs-to-myself stunt
"And you want to travel with her and you want to travel blind"
Sounds from kitchen are so comforting.
Don't get me wrong here. Staying away/alone at all/most times makes me feel very independent, very alive. The non self imposed state of life has not been too depressing to be very honest. Yet, once in a while when you're half awake and you hear sounds from the kitchen, of onions getting fried, water getting poured into bottles, you're half transported to the better old days at home (where you never did much, not that I'm gloryfying the bad that I was), but you know this is a different home, you're supposed to stay alone here without comforting kitchen sounds, however, Nibedita smiles away from the kitchen and you're comforted. You turn around and sleep off. Little joys really!
Ending the trip that started off with the mighty Ladakh mountains, sitting on a houseboat, looking at the backwaters flowing by, coconut water and fish by the bay, paddy fields of the background dancing in the rains, absolutely no forced small talks, before the Monday sets in, after my longest vacation of 2019.
To note the happiest that I've been in the last 10months.
Finally, I've tried to count my blessings.
Thursday, August 22, 2019
An experience, lest I forget.
Dusk lights slowly turning into night
An open sky full of stars
The mighty snow clad Himalayas in the background
Bone numbing wind, in full fury
A never ending valley in front
Ladakhi army doing their sundown parade
Lata Magneshkar singing Vande Mataram in the loudest of the speakers
Ishaq bhaiya explaining what each of the regiment flags mean
The central tricolor fluterring away in it's glory
Life seemed good!
Kashmir situation disturbing the life with a ticket for the Independence Day and the parents going mad with fear.
I wonder if I would have been this affected if I did not have that ticket that I am not ready to cancel already.
Selfish much??!
Hindsight, finally the attention from my settling down has been shifted to the tickets I push to not cancel.
Little mercies?!
To Kashmir, hold on!
You have all of our love.
Despite the authoritatve, fascist government that we've chosen.
But again, since when has love ever been enough.
To think of it, last year was just perfect in Kashmir. This photo, me, peace!
The entire India mourns today. For me and CCD, it's a weird journey.
As a human being who does not drink coffee, or tea for that matter, I never understood why would people go and spend so much money at CCD. But then, I just pretended I like it (mind you this is 2008 we are talking about, I had just joined class XI and had this huge crush over a guy who liked CCDs and I, of course, could hardly afford it, except for Durga Pujo luxuries).
Then came class XII, the HS center, Beltala Girls, landmark, CCD! The mothers waiting in line for us to come out and CCD treats on the last day of the exams (except when you come out too red after a scary physics exam which you might just flunk).
College dates at CCDs where you spend hours at the Dhakuria lake side CCD which had these pretty couch which no other cafe had (mind you this is 2010-2011 where there were not too many cool cafe-s at Kolkata and lake-er-dhare-prem had just started to be a little risky). The bonus being, they would not tell you to leave even though you're two people and one cappuccino for 2hours straight.
Valentine's Day with the first proper boyfriend at CCD with a 500rs note that the supposed father-in-law had slipped to the pretending-to-be man, saying "ghuriye aano", in 2012. Turning blue with cool blue (because some extra love for non coffee drinkers at Valentine's) with what seemed to be start of forever at the random S31 route CCD between Tollygunge and Sakher Bazar.
The cheapest that there was, Mango shots and Chocolate shots with R and S, bunking Gate forum classes at South City CCD at the hottest of summers and dreaming to be one of the suited girls I saw that time, at CCD, doing something that seemed like a "meeting".
Catching up with the old school gang at Golpark CCD, S and R fighting over their sizzling brownie while A and I had a mutual coexistence of harmony with ours, and photos to show for it almost 7 years later. The possobility of being able to smoke in the open seats, without getting caught by parar kaku/kakima.
The formation and execution of "English Tutor", our last year at college, 2013 end, Android project, which S simply copied down from Google, sitting at South City CCD. The joy when it was done, as a group, for the project and otherwise. The first ever tryst with a laptop at a public sphere, pretention, a lot of pretenton.
Post final semester, 2014, when the concept of coupons arrived, long romantic walks at southern avenue for CCD which had these coupons and offers after/before Wednesday German classes.
Post October 2014, getting down at Ruby on most of the evenings to have A waiting, walking further down to the petrol pump CCD for the same old conversation, my same old complains that I was flunking office tests and A-s same old argument that he's not meant for job, he would just backpack and my extra worries of how he would survive (mind you this where I still believed what he said is what he meant).
February 2015, my first ever breakup at the Sukanta Setu CCD which was again, a rather hopeful one. The CCD that day, seemed like it is going to swallow me down. The boy at the counter to probably noticed a tear and gave two extra tissues on the table later. No exaggeration. The boy at the counter will probably make it to my table topic someday at Toastmasters.
October 2015, the old South City CCD of meeting and greeting the ex. More hopes building and by now, CCD had introduced some mint lime drink which the ex realised and ordered, and added on the hope. The one change in menu made me very happy. Very, very, happy, and I still must have a photo somewhere.
S annoincing the Oxford PhD at the Tollygunje CCD and my mixed anger and pride.
Taking Maa to Jora Bridge CCD to explain life and how, probably, I won't live it the way that would make her proud very recently. The wraps took away the attention from my life plans, and thank God!
Bangalore first home had a CCD right opposite that remained open till 6. Every time I came rather late, I would still see night owls and love birds and life would seem happy!
The office tech park center had a beautiful CCD by the fake fountain which had me in way too many tired Friday evenings where chat over chocate drinks won over nearby boozebooze, especially the one rather late night when I realised I left the ubikey open at office and S accompanied me back, secured the ubikey and celebrated by the open Bellandur CCD.
The Kanakpura Ramnaga CCD beside rasta cafe, where I had always wanted to work!
Oh CCD. I remember fighting with the Accenture facility to choose CCD vending machines over anything and yes we got them. I remember being so happy when the new office had them already. I remember being so happy when CCD started selling filter coffee powder which became a standard gift to coffee lovers.
The coffee house er adda of our times.
CCD of bunks, birthdays, love, breakup, first meets, last meets, studies, interviews, suicides. Suicide?!
Woah!
Kissed light, like I'd do it everyday;
Laughed hard, like I'd do it everyday;
Like I've done before.
Like I'd do again.
For the rest of our lives.
Just that
It was the last
And we didn't know.
Well, maybe just
I, didn't know.
-Abhishikta
Wednesday, July 10, 2019
A: So understanding and accepting different sexual orientations even though you may or may not identify to them and are still figuring out yours, makes you queer?
S: No, that makes you human!
I've been weak on my faith for quite some time, I've been questioning the tattoo that was once made for days like these for quite some time, I've been escaping the societal pressure at a far away Bangalore for quite some time.
Coping up with pensive Sundays, and how?
Eye openers?!
Pacifiers?!
Count your blessings?!
Oh well!
This is not a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely intentional.
I: Kaunsa gana lagau?
A: Panchhi nadiya pawan k jhoke koi sarhad na inhe roke...
I: Shiiiii. Kyu?
A: Mere panchi k intezaar mein
I: Gaye huye panchhi wapas nai aate hai
A: Bas panchhi hi toh hai jo ghar wapas aate hai eventually
I: Kya pata tu jise ghar soch rhi woh unka pinjra ho jisme woh wapas nahi aate hai
Just the kind of conversation you don't need on a rather ill thursday night of red eyes and nose. Or maybe you do.
I've been a sucker for well defined goodbyes. For I've taken hope way too seriously for the vague ones.
I've been too bad with goodbyes anyway, both ways.
Today was a Goodbye to Ushashree Pg turned Lakshmi Srinivasa Pg. Not that I've been staying there for quite some time, but today, as N leaves, it somehow is the defined last day, post which I cannot just land up at Marathalli, go to the balcony and keep staring at the moon.
The dining space biiiiiig glass overlooking the city like I've always wanted from my house, the left window overlooking the board that said Hyderabad that I've been staring at since June 2015, the balcony that has been the post Friday high destination for long songs, the mid way maroon sofa for mushy sheltered night calls, 427 with Sunny Deol posters finally being taken off the wall, a room with million memories, takes its leave finally.
My first home away from home which I hated and loved, just as much.
And to think of it, somewhere, a little above 500km, another home loses its babies while little things of mine, little parts of me, goes down the dustbin as unnecessary, as well, which I thought would pull me back someday. Told you about undefined goodbyes and hope already ah?
That's a tale for another day.
My old mate, Goodbye!
Oh dear heart!
How would I be there for you?
The rain's already pouring.
My forever plan B, just in case I failed my semester was to buy a one way ticket to Amritsar and never return.
Suddenly, the plan B, for failing life is falling on the same line.
Full circle?
Plan B to remember
Plan B to remember
Plan B to remember
Monday, June 17, 2019
While we go gaga over Father's Day, and few of us go over the mile with father and father-in-law collage (something that I've never been able to understand, but then well, feelings are feelings as I've been told), let me wish the woman who drives better than she cooks but then, ends up cooking a 4 course meal every day (at the very least), and still shows up at work, sharp at 9:30, of course with a lot of complains, but well, she does.
Growing up with ideologies of challenging stereotypes, weaving dreams had all the support in the world; boyfriends, outings, staying out, staying away, travelling alone, travellong wide, travelling with rather questionable people, were always a yes. She regrets today, for the wilding she's raised I'm sure :D
Of course she faced the societal consequences since 199* but I was always at the best of my heart!
The society is getting to the best these days though, with marriage jazz, shall pass I'm sure.
So, to the mother who has NEVER let me down, who has taken impossible amount of stress at my 47 in Geography of class 8 but stayed rock solid with support and pamper when my first job offer went for a toss,
A VERY Happy Father's Day.
To all the Fathers, to my Father and to THE Father, enjoy your day Gentlemen! <3 p="">
To S (who has repeated and laughed and not taken cue) for the story
To A (who could not make it on 10th) for pushing me and prolonged evaluations
To S (who showed immense patience from Kolkata on date nights) for the tune
To K Di (who was there even from her Pondicherry trip) for the chords
To A Aunty (who would read this and not feel a thing) for the lesson long ago
Sometime,
Anytime,
In real
On in dreams,
When you're back to pay your due;
Know it!
Know it with all my pride
I'm doing more than fine;
With or without you.
The week was a lot of Goodbyes and start overs. Letting go-s and best wishes.
Minor thunder was Pavan's farewell from toastmasters and I specifically mention this to remind myself years later about the person who actually inspired me to join Toastmasters. That, and the fact that he looked a little like Nana. Him, and the Australia bound Bhaskar Reddy. How much I've seen Nana in both of them and how both, somehow, left.
Now, the other two-s.
Normoda! My friend, philosopher, guide, well wisher, secret keeper, tears counter, praying bank and best friend from Accenture quit Accenture. That automatically means my association with Ecospace B7C finally, truly ends. I spent the last day sitting on the old familiar seat and prayer corner, this time as a visitor on her last day. This is when, after 6months of actually leaving Accenture, I felt that I'm actually truly gone. The corner, where I made several plans, cried several tears (including post breakup breakdown as an ex employee), just because N was here and I sneaked in. This, this week, gone. Not N of course. Touchwood :)
The last. Sagar, my best friend from Wells, my sheild, my punching bag, my shouting zone, my fall back person. Goodbyes are always very tough, especially when it is about someone you've been spending half of your days with. And singing all along, everyday, with terrible movie dialogues, IT lessons and selfies! I am just so chocked to even write about him. I feel a sense of abandonment today, while the Marathalli sky cried red when he left for airport. One of those Goodbyes which you always know is on the way and never too prepared. Both personal and professional grounds are a little shaken.
Lesson last
"Peeney ki capacity, dosto ka pyar aur naam ka kauf kabhi kamm nahi honi chahiye"
I'm so glad to have been at least associated with this lot, and for the proper, defined Goodbyes.
I've never believed and always quoted,
"Goodbye is just another word."
Sunday, May 19, 2019
Everyone who is in pain,
Everyone who has lost.
Everyone whose efforts seem in vain,
Everyone who is paying a cost.
Remember this,
Remember, you must;
"This too shall pass",
It always does!
Songs
How they've always been with us across all phases, and years later, they remind you of that particular phase, the smell and sound of it! The trip/trek to/at Parvati Valley had bowled me over with three such songs!
Zooming through Delhi lanes and by lanes to Bhuntar, with a weird stranger by my side had made me very irritated. I chose the single window seat to sit at, to avoid long conversations and to really have small talks with interesting fellow travellers, if at all. I have gone into a serious no new friends midnset for now. But to my luck, some guy came, sat beside me, who also happened to be a Bengali. Now this was a new thing that I experienced with Himachal tourism buses, single girls could have fellow seat mate as single guys. This generally does not happen anywhere in Karnataka, across all travels. If you're a girl, you'll only get a girl beside you. This situation could have brought me interesting friends but no, my co-passsenger was nosy, irritating and over friendly with his Bengali connect. 3 hours into my irritation, A sacrificed her seat (partly because she found this guy cute) and we swapped seats.
This is where we crossed the HUGE Gurgaon toll, with golden sunset, after over 40 hours of no sleep (consider US timing office and straight airport cab and early morning flight and Delhi shopping and bus now), the bus driver played 'Channa Mereya' (another new thing about Himachal tourism where bus drivers play songs the entire night non-stop to keep themselves awake), B and I slept off with the ever so famous and repeated and learnt and felt and relatable old song, which was the last thing we wanted to hear but well, here it was, while the Golden Gurgaon waved bye bye...
महफ़िल में तेरी
हम न रहें जो
ग़म तो नहीं है
ग़म तो नहीं है
2 days into the trip (which I will write about later someday) it was time for us to leave Tosh for Bhuntar again. We had to make it to Bhuntar before 5pm to be able to river raft. We obviously were late since our over adventurous hotel to Tosh-stop trek was impossible on back to back days (again, a tale for later). When we finally arrived we had two options, a direct cab to Bhuntar (like we did when we came), or a cab to Barshaini and then, local Himachal tourism bus to Bhuntar. We of course chose the latter because
A. We were almost broke by the end of the trip
B. We really wanted to experience the local pahari bus
The problem being, all three of us were dead tired, slightly pukish and our river rafting timeline was at stake! We somehow made it to the local bus, fully crowded. The conductor confirmed that half of the crowd would get down at Manikaran/Kasol. We agreed, but to stand on the spiral roads in a moving bus which had nothing close to luxury, was difficult. Slowly the bus started to take sharp turns and the afternoon sun did was not kind. However, someone from the last seat had a speaker that played Yellow and Let Her Go back to back. That day, a bus full of high Israeli-s, young Indians and localites started to sing Let Her Go. It was unreal to look at the Delhi girl sitting on the seat whose support you're taking to stand, sing in chorus with the half eyelid closed and stoned videshi. It was such an overwhelming feeling to sing with a bunchful of strangers, over the Himachal twists and glittering sun. We of course made it in time for the rafting...
Staring at the bottom of your glass
Hoping one day you'll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast
Our rafting manager (Anuj bhaiya) was an over enthusiastic person who kept calling us ever since we contacted him. This of course made us, Bangali-s, a little skeptical. When we got down at his office he gave this HUGE introduction, and photos and what not about Kullu and his service. Occasional 'smoke karte ho kya', 'Kasol mein kya kya kiya ghumne k alava', 'Kullu aaye toh hum Kullu ki speciality offer karenge hi Madam' followed. His agenda included, taking us to rafting point, guide us through the rafting, rafting the entire 15km, drive us from the point where rafting ends to a changing point, take us to a hotel for dinner, take us through/to the local market and then drop us to the night bus. All of this for a pretty cheap rate and again, we were skeptic. We were so skeptic that mid rafting when he told us to jump into the river, I thought he is actually plotting to kill us! We of course jumped and had an amazing rafting experience (more on that later). After rafting and changing, we had no energy left to shop, it was close to 6:30 and our bus (which initially was at 9:30, got cancelled, and now new bus was at 7:30) was in an hour. We told Anuj bhaiya to take to a dinner place, to this he said 'hum apne favorite jagah le k jayenge'. He had called our travel agency, got the number of the driver and declared the bus will not come before 8:30. In the open jeep there were we three, Anuj bhaiya and three more of his 'bhai-s'. The jeep started. Parvati river on one side and mountains on the other, slowly the night arrived. The dim lit houses on the hills looked surreal, but in a while, Anuj bhaiya took a route which had zero lights and zero houses, we got scared. Thank you airport security, our pepper spray was also gone. When we panicked, he stopped us to a shady dhaba, started rolling joints outside and told us to order whatever we want. It was close to 8. A gave me a good scolding when I tried consoling them, saying I have crossed all limits of being irresponsible with life. I obeyed them into not eating there and taking parcel. Anuj bhaiya and his bhai-s were in their own world. B insisted that we leave and he started the jeep again, stoned. The winding roads again, no light, this time there was a sky full of stars, there was Parvati river gurgling beside, there was chilly wind and us in an open jeep. This is when Anuj bhaiya played a song which took me to a different world. I did not care about what would happen to us next and I'm not exaggerating (Maa, everything here is purely fictional, trust me). What actually happened and how is a tale for another day but since all three of us are peacefully lazying over Friday night at this time, this song, which will forever take me back, to the moon, and stars, and parvati river, and chilly breeze, and mountains, and open jeeps, and FREEDOM!...
Yeh jeevan tera moh k dhaage
Gaath lage tut jana
Mudke phir nahi aana
Believe it to be Pocha to convince me to write on a topic that I would never want to discusss
Believe it to be Pocha to completely ignore the guest from the groom's list and shout out Obhishiktaaaa loudly from the stage
Believe it to be Pocha to sit across the fire with shupuris on both cheek and still talk, read demand, to be included in selfies
Believe it to be Pocha to call 'boxers' to hold her during shubho-drishti and complete all seven rounds
Believe it to be Pocha to go all commando on the most important day and night of her life
Believe it to be Pocha to leave her royal chair and sit with us, almost sacrificing all the gifts, to bitch
Believe it to be Pocha to make us laugh like that
It was during one of the darkest periods of my life (atleast that's what I thought that time) that I was introduced to the Art of Living. My mother never quite approved the authenticity of the organization, the belief, but the Orthopaedic Oil from AOL worked wonders for her so she did not complain much (not that she has EVER complained about my life decisions beyond a point till last week) when I first enrolled for the 'Happiness Program'. The person who introduced me to it chose to part ways with me later, but I will forever be grateful for this one thing.
The same person and the same Happiness Program broke a very important news to me the next year and gave me the much needed closure. That evening, in between the Kriya, when even though I was broken and could not breathe to SO-HAM, I first believed in the energy of Gurudev to guide/push/force you in the direction which you have to walk anyway, for better or worse, I'm yet to conclude.
That was that and there have been visits to the Bangalore ashram very happily. The roommates have made fun of the 'pahar hai baju mein'. The place has never disappointed anyone and I was very pleased when Being Social chose ahram for their Valentine's Day celebration with the orphanage and old age home folks.
What started with a very early Sunday morning and ended on a Monday morning high and cry had a beautiful day in between with the detailed ashram tour being the highlight.
The bright eyes with which the kids had the ashram food while we made a face, the sloppy prolonged kisses from the kids galore because I was in charge of the sandwich dept., the shake of leg by the Granny at a known Kannada song, the genuine attempt of a kid to stop the tears of other, the sleepy but sincere bye bye when we parted, the takeaways, the real takeaways! The art of loving which I thought I had mastered, first time ever, returned back in manyfolds from the kids.
As the good old school anthem said,
To be loved, as to love with all my soul!
Here, at least here.
It's funny how many many lives have been colored by the song, for worse always, for worse.
Someday I was planning to write on the song and never had the strength. Someone did, I could have said it better but ouch!
So glad the roommate is off the song finally.
Guess it's just me and the song now.
So be it.
So long Kolkata.
Not returning anytime soon, for the shame and sham and the song.
We have forever heard and loved the song all over! I remember my dad singing the English, Bengali and Hindi version of it, sipping his tea on Saturdays and Sundays in the old red house, and Nana joining in. It was way later when I truly understood the power of the song.
Today, we went to teach 33 kids from the orphanage nearby. Sunday being Sunday and kids being kids, we had to give off the last one hour to cricket. Being horrible at batting and getting scolded by the baby captain, being slightly better at bowling, taking a wicket and getting victory clap from baby captain, being taught on how to juggle with a football without shoes, in red sand and epic sun by the 3 year old being the highlights of the day, the childhood song came back to me and how.
These babies, stood in 3 lines, of 11 each and sang "We Shall Overkaaaaaaaaam" to welcome us. One with nose flowing, one with milk teeth missing, most with no chappals and dirty clothes, the sincerity with which the kids looked into our eyes for their "welcome song" made me numb.
I had never been 'welcomed' so warm.
And to think of it, while we complain about every thing possible, these 33 kids with one bat, two footballs and a Government school hostel to call their home still have so much hope left.
Here's hoping that they really do overcome and have the best ever, forver.
A cake uncut by
A photograph pointing at
A soul dreaming of
A heart tired with
A ticket not shown to
A life dedicated for
Hello you!
Happy?
Happy now?
Last time I checked you said you weren't, with me.
Last time I checked you said couldn't breathe.
Happy now?
Happy?
Now that there would be no messages tomorrow morning, afternoon, evening, night wishing the same.
Now that your Goodnights messages are followed by a different name.
Happy?
Well
Happy B Eve and Everyday then.
Just the way you want.
