Category Archives: Blog Dedication

Ten years on.

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It’s been ten years since our country along with the city that never sleeps, Mumbai, had come to an unexpected and grim halt. I don’t need to describe the horrors that unfolded in those three days, the lives we lost, the screams that rang through the carpeted corridors and the stunned silence thereafter. My sixteen-year-old teenage eyes were glued to the television and life had never seemed so delicate. For more than 72 hours, I spent all my time at home, sitting in front of the television, looking at live media feed of the burning Taj, the admonishment from the Department of Defence and Army for telecasting our commandos, the re-runs of earlier videos, the winds, bullet firing, glass, shrapnel and the successful but painful rescue of the hostages. I was too young during the Kargil war to remember Barkha Dutt’s reporting from ground zero. For me, this was the attack that etched itself deep, deeper and closer home than the 9/11. There were several reporters lined up outside the Taj, covering the place from all angles, trying to relay, as much information as possible, to the nation. I now distinctly recall one of the reporters – completely unaware that he’d stayed on in my mind till today, ten years later.

That young face on the television which I kept looking at, not leaving his base, forming his thoughts into words, reporting from the promenade of the Taj, trying to give us news even when there wasn’t any, stayed on with me. The ticker below read his name as Arunoday Mukharji. Times have changed, news reporting styles have changed. I moved from television reporting to news on apps and Google news. But today when people all over are attending memorials to a decade of 26/11, I can only think of the young face again, who in the face of the harshest man-made adversities kept a calm and composed demeanor to allay our fears in the best way he could.

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Yes, there is fake news and crass media reporting but there are also brave, passionate and unflinching men and women who use the skill of the languages and strokes of pens to keep us from getting blinded in the darkness of lies and betrayals. To the innumerable journalists, reporters, news anchors, camera crew and all staff associated with bringing news to us – thank you!

Graciously Yours!

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Muse.

For writers, in life, some people end up becoming a muse – thinking about them gets the words flowing, the ideas add up and the fingers don’t stop typing (or writing)!

I was introduced to this concept of a writer and a muse way back in 2010, when the first season of Castle was being telecast on Star World India. That night I was switching channels with the remote in one hand, the landline phone’s receiver (good ol’ landlines!) in the other, sprawled on the sofa, talking to my soul sister about if we should have really skipped the party our batchmates were at, at that moment. After thirty seconds of awkward pause, each of the two imagining how outlandish the idea was to get out of your pyjamas, put on the little makeup our mothers would allow us to and dress up for a night out with people who you’ve hung around with for 14 years of your life, almost 8 hours each day. No, thanks! We might as well have crashed at each other’s place and have more fun poking fun at life! Which is when I came across Castle – the 90’s kids that I am, Tata Sky and it’s schedule of shows was new for me and I excitedly checked out the episode summary by clicking on the ‘i’ button of the remote. I was hooked – line and sinker!

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Beckett was a smart ass, Castle was a pain in her smart ass (but ruggedly handsome!), the plot was thrilling and funny, and there were English subtitles which helped me follow the dialogues delivered in hushed undertones at the crime scene. Little did I know that 8 years down the line I’d still be a fan of the man whose name I’d made fun of! I mean whose last name should even be Castle?

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But why am I telling you all this? Oh yes, muses! Castle found his muse in Beckett and I understood the importance of one. I haven’t fathomed the psychology behind it yet. I found mine a few years ago. I only found him back again. 🙂

Welcome back. The blog missed you! ’nuff said.

Graciously Yours!

#Swarun Again!

To the long evening talks,

to the short Ajmera walks,

to the values you taught,

and throwing away foods that rot.

 

To being a bride,

those bumpy auto rides,

to the faces you made,

and the cakes we smeared.

To the streams of rant,

to the walls dabbed with paint,

to the jokes we cracked,

and the looks we shared.

 

From being flatmates, to being chatmates,

From getting work done by the maid, to being your bridesmaid,

From finding a home, to setting up your own,

From discussing our dreads, to you moving into your husband’s bed.

Swati, it’s been more than two unforgettable years together and hopefully many more will follow ahead. You’re one sturdy lady and never let anything bring you down! We don’t often find people who match our frequencies but when we do, it’s best not to lose them so soon.

Varun, you’re one hell of a lucky guy and lucky enough is she! Take care of my friend as she makes you slog around the house. 😂

Graciously Yours!

This post has doodles provided by Priya Vyas and Abha Dalmia. I’m ever thankful to them for encouraging me to blog and for showing their love towards my passion! Thank you! 😍

You can send me your doodles too!

Pride.

Often times, I have heard the phrase ‘heart swelled with pride’ but in a long, long time, this has been a first for me. I feel full – full of pride and a truckload of tears which if they were to fall out of my eyes would make the rainbow look dull in comparison! That is how happy I am as I see you moving closer to your dream. I saw you struggle but you never gave up – maybe you did at times, but I was lucky to be around and keep you steady. I saw you smile through the worst nightmares and yet wake up the next day with enthusiasm. I saw you believe in me when both of us didn’t believe in ourselves. Maybe the faith in life is what paid off. Karma has secrets we don’t really know about. Karma is not always a bitch. Bad things happen, but so do good things. I know you don’t ask for much but life has its’ way of giving you what you deserve, and not just what you ask for. I wish you could see the goosebumps lining my arms right now and the headiness of such happiness. Who wants to get high when life can give you such shots?

People change, lives change but times change too! Your time, it seems, is here A!

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Graciously Yours! ❤

From home to away.

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A week off from work means going home and then away from home again. Home always is special but the day, when thanks to tech advancement, you are in both cities on the same day, when you leave home in the morning and are away by evening in another city, is the day the stark contrast between both hits you hard.

Back at home, I stayed 100 metres away from the kitchen and Mother was more than happy to feed me! Our domestic help whipped up my favourites, bringing food to the table for me every couple of hours. Her sole motto was to not let me feel even the slightest pang of hunger. Even on insistence to cook, Mother refused to let me enter the kitchen. Away though was a different scene altogether! Within two hours of stepping into our rented flat, I was cleaning the refrigerator with soap water and then stocking freshly bought vegetables in them. Our cook wasn’t turning up for the night and my flatmate, S and I were too tired to bother about even cooking Maggi!

Back home, well fed and humidity affected, we were ready to sleep by 9:30 PM itself, though I never did, because when else do you get to have late night chats snuggled beside the younger sister? On two occasions though, she’d slept off while I was recounting my stories! Wake up time was 7 AM, thanks to the Sun, Father, and my favourite radio jockey, RJ Praveen’s morning show. Away though, by 9:30 PM, dinner isn’t even ready, let alone thinking of sleep! Oh, but wake up time still is at 7 AM because someone’s gotta let the cook into the house.

Back at home, Dad knows I love fruits. So fruits are myriad and spread across the table to be eaten at different times of the day – sometimes even freshly cut. Fruits, here, however mean apples and bananas, which are few and far between, that too if we buy them on a one-off day. Oh and avocado on some days!

And considering I went home for Diwali, the spring cleaning time for the whole of India, there was a lot of cleaning, fixing and repairing to do, obviously! My mother made me a handyman, or a handywoman to be politically correct, where I sandpapered, primered and painted to complete pending repair on walls. Whereas here, even dusting once in a fortnight seems so tedious that we learn to live with the dust!

Back home, there’s family and friends too. Here, away from home, there’re friends who became family. Home or away – there’s none which is better or worse.

Graciously Yours!

Idea Courtesy : Ishita.

THE ADOPTED CHILD.

I sat alone in my new room. I’d tried calling up my parents but they were unreachable. Keeping the phone aside, I lay my head on the wall backing the bed. Outside in the living room, I could hear the other girls, both my age, my new flatmates, talking and laughing. I wanted to go out too, but I didn’t know them. In fact, I didn’t know anyone in the office, or in the city. I had only one friend in the crowd of tens of thousands of people camping their lives in the city. The friend lived with her newly wedded husband and I couldn’t even think of intruding into their space at this point in time.

Someone knocked on the door. I hurried to get up and open the unlocked door. The girl at the door, Maera she was called, stood there with a smile. “Come for dinner,” Maera said. “You guys carry on,” I replied, my stomach rumbling with hunger but hesitation creeping up and taking over. I had lived in a joint family and barely ever ate alone. But I didn’t know them either. Wouldn’t it be as good as eating alone? But Maera still stood there, arms crossed, and declared, “You must be hungry with all the shifting today. Come on. I’m not letting you eat alone.”

I smiled a small smile, thanking her in my thoughts for forcing me to eat. I needed energy to carry on without my family here. That night I slept soundly on the sofa while talking to my parents, until Maera came along in the middle of the night, tip toeing so as to not wake me up and then woke me up. “Come we’ll take you to your room,” she said softly, pulling me up. On my bed, I slept better.

***

A few months had passed. I still spoke to my parents’ everyday. And I still passed out on the sofa at nights. But now Maera and I fought to sleep on the sofa! I cuddled up in her lap as Maera sat and read a book. I was busy on my phone while she ran her fingers through my hair every now and then. “You know you should adopt me,” I said. “What?” she asked, stunned, keeping her book aside. “You should adopt me!” I repeated. “Why should I adopt you?” she asked, laughing and reading again, not even paying attention to me any longer!

***

I was cranky and hungry. I had had a bad day at work. I fought with a friend. I was not even PMSing yet. Even my hormones couldn’t take the blame yet. Maera sat me down and asked me,”What happened?” “Nothing,” I replied, waiting for someone to stop me in my tirade of lashing out at the world! “Sit here,” Maera said, her face grave, sitting me down on the floor between her knees while she gave me a head massage.

Half an hour later, I had offloaded all my worldly troubles into her ears and she’d filled mine with what little of worldly trouble advice she  owned.

***

I found in her a friend, a reminder of the love of my family, a corner to my worldly troubles, a shoulder to rest on, an adopted parent! Maera found in me an adopted child. Yes, she may not admit to it, but she did.

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Dedicating this to my (almost admitted, but not yet owned) adopted child! To hours of introspective discussions, shared love for music, long unwinding walks, cuddles and head massages, getaways at 2 am and gazing starry nights! Stay happy! ❤

Graciously Yours!

It’s Your B’day!

Finally coming around to a proper b’day dedication for you!

Dear D,

If friendships were made in heaven, ours would almost make it to that list. Well, almost ‘cuz you gotta work on being perfect from almost perfect. I crossed the perfection threshold long ago! 😉
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I still have to figure out why I disliked you in the beginning, so much so that I wouldn’t want to pay attention to you. But the tables turned soon. You should thank me for that! 😉 You get too much attention these days, too much for your own good! And I don’t mean just from me.

You’re a good friend to have, trustworthy to the core, too practical for even me to comprehend at times and entertaining like none other.

Here’s a small wish for you:

May you get bored less often,

May you start with Sherlock Season One!

May you keep winning cricket matches,

And less of those Tinder matches!

I hope to keep brewing trouble,

And see you rise from the rubble!

May your whites take you to success,

They make you look good, I confess!

May the love never diminish,

Before you get bored, I’d rather finish!

Happy birthday! To the guy who’s guided me when I couldn’t make decisions, who’s supported me when I needed a shoulder, who’s never asked for an iota in return, knows which promises to fulfil and which he can get way with breaking!

You’re not perfect, and well neither am I.

But we can keep giving it a try. 🙂

Graciously Yours!

P.S.: In the age of smartphones and 13 MP cameras, how do we  not have enough pictures?

Marmee!

She’s flawed. Yet she’s perfect.

She’s elegant. She’s hardworking. She’s barely tired. She’s always concerned.

She taught me to accept nothing lesser than what I deserve. She made me bold. She proved women are at par with men.

She put me to sleep on long days. She stroked my hair telling me how proud I made her. She let me make up my mind about what is right and what wrong.

She taught me life. She learnt from me too. She shared her mistakes, overlooked mine. She broke rules. Yet she respected them.

She let me fly free. She brought me back to the earth when I lost my way. She cried at my success. She held me through my failures.

She fought for me. She let me hold her when she was weak. She showed me her weakness. She became my strength.

She’s my ‘Marmee’. And I couldn’t have asked for any better!

Some days, I miss you here. Other days, I write about you! 😉 Love you, Mom!

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Graciously Yours!

Uncommon Us!

Here’s right back at ya, mate, for just being you ! (Your birthday’s too far away for a birthday dedication! And you just cracked your Chartered Accountancy exam today. So, I think the timing is just appropriate!)

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I was lost, wanting to be found,

I was expecting help from someone profound.

In you strode, with your humour and brains,

Breaking all rules, and everything that bound me to chains.

For long you’ve been around, some way or the other,

You’d crop up in my talks, with my brother or mother.

There were rumours of us, which had us in splits,

Your antics with staplers and laptops had me laughing in fits!

Times passed and I thought we’d go our different way,

But that’s when we came closer, what do I say!

You’re adorable as the brother, the uncle, the friend,

Always with a smile, a helping hand, a clear head.

I was lost, wanting to be found,

I was expecting help from someone profound.

You stood by, watching me, with patience,

A misstep here and one there, and you’d drill in sense!

Graciously Yours!

P.S.: By the way, Deepak, you do realize you need to treat me after this, don’t you? My fellow bloggers will agree! Don’t you agree, folks?

Little Sister.

The Little Sister is going away to study. Time for another blog dedication ❤

2015

The little birdie fluffed her wings,

Pruned the tips, Twitched her tail,

Cleared her voice, sang melodious rings,

Announcing her departure, she was ready to sail!


So now I have the whole bed to me!

But no one to wake up to.

I don’t have to share my clothes.

But I don’t have anyone to borrow from.

I can stay up talking all night long,

But there’s no one in my room I can talk to.

Those crazy, scratchy cat fights,

The late night snacking,

The binge television watching,

The dreamy eyed plannings,

The sessions of motivation,

The patience, the innovation.

I am going to miss it all!

Mary is going to miss her Little Lamb. And I know you’ll miss me too. The 21st century tech will be blessed more than before now!

Go rock it, girl! Make us proud ❤

Graciously Yours!