Suicide...She wrote...

1 pm....lunchbreak...had nowhere to go...no money...canteen was meant for those with a full pocket or atleast a half filled one...i settled down on the flight of stairs that led to my Dept...an empty stomach & a rigorous class at 2pm...that was enuf to drive me up the wall.
A girl came up & asked me the way to the Botany Dept,i barely looked at her & mumbled out the instructions...probably she was feeling hungry too...asked me if she could sit down next to me & have her food sitting next to me. I shrugged...she sat down gratefully.
We sat side by side...like two mannequins...no conversation...nothing...i was feeling too hungry to talk & she felt awkward eating her tiffin after i refused her offer.
Finally, i asked her what brought her to my campus....An AIIMS post graduate in Biochemistry...she wanted a Ph.D...fast,real fast...i don't remember when the conversation turned to the topic of suicide but i got to hear so many real life accounts from her, that i've lost count....she had been staying in the AIIMS hostel along with young aspiring doctors since her graduation & post grad days at AIIMS.
Sordid tales....suicide notes written by brilliant students...end of a life...candles that blew out prematurely…
The one that chilled me to the bones, was that of a post grad student from AIIMS who went on to National Institute of Immunology, for his Ph.D He had been her friend but had been depressed for quite some time coz his girl had left him for someone else.

Half my mind was elsewhere- delving deep into the dark alleys of my recuperating heart where tiny scrolls of secrets lay embedded like treasure chests on an ocean bed. But the girl sitting next to me said something that jerked me out of my stupor. In sharp contrast to my earlier listless, barely interested demeanor-I turned my full attention to her...oh my god! She hadn’t realized she had switched tracks from a third person narrative to a first person narrative....earlier, she had been saying...’he shudn’t have taken such a drastic step and ended his life by consuming that lethal chemical from his laboratory to ‘ Life can get frustrating but I should resist such a temptation’....a slip of a tongue ...but the raw feeling was written all over her carefully chosen words and I felt a shiver run down my spine as i realized i was face to face with a potential target who was trying to come to terms with her decision of taking the drastic step.
Her next words confirmed my suspicion, she said ‘ if he could have met someone at that crucial juncture, who could have talked him out of it...maybe he would have been alive today’..
She’s asking for help...no, she is begging me to talk her out of her suicidal tendencies...she’s picked up a random stranger like me to counsel and help her out...i’ve got to soothe her...wait, i’ve got to stay calm myself coz my heart is hammering real hard and my hands are shaking a bit coz i know what it feels like when u feel suicidal....‘

Hey’, i say to her and ...i cough a bit...to mask the nervous tone, steady myself and broach the topic of my childhood, transport her to those sunny days of my life that were full of laughter and naive innocence....i encourage her to open up...gently...coax her to uncoil her complex self ....i congratulate myself secretly....she took a bite of the bait i dangled in front of her...and now she’s hooked! I exposed a slice of my childhood, to enable her to speak about hers & thankfully the plan worked.
I cajole her...to go on, to speak up ...i keep my restless nature under wraps and turn into a good listener...we talk for hours…i pretend I don’t know what is going on in her mind, she has a satisfied look on her face, content that she has fooled me…lulled me into a false illusion….i let her play along…but under that thin veneer ….my mind is working furiously, against time….trying to think of the right things to say to avoid aggravating her…I can almost picturize her standing at the edge of a cliff, while the waves surge beneath….and i desperately want to pull her back

A beautiful sensation…the free fall down such a great height….almost flying…the sea gulls can join in too….the waves hungrily look up…waiting to devour the body….

The mellow afternoon hours sheds her glaringly canary yellow off-shoulder dress and dons a sensual dusky evening gown, somewhere nearby, my batchmates are attending their lectures ….a seat remains unfilled in that class coz I am sitting outside, trying to save a soul that’s sent me an S.O.S …Not everyday, do u get a chance to save a life…..we talk about a lot of things....they lie locked within me...maybe someday i shall write about it...

I see a change in her eyes, a steely resolution….


I watch her standing near the cliff edge…contemplating….the waves part and pebbles stare back at her…she turns her back towards death and walks away…

Clutching to a piece of my childhood...

Fake emotions...fake smiles...fake tears...fake people all around me...
I Feel like throwing up...i feel nauseated...i feel sick to my gut...somehow my system hasn't learnt to digest the fakeness that abounds in this world.
Why do i see everyone wearing a mask?happy masks...charming masks...sexy masks...vulnerable masks...guileless masks...seductive masks..
I feel i am caught in an endless evening party where the dress code is wearing masks of one's own choice...& the catch is- the evening never ends.
The party goes on & on....
Champagne flows...false talk keeps pace with it..i feel lost....suddenly it's time for the waltz.Men in masks approach women in masks....and beg for a dance.i refuse them...men with masks make clumsy dance partners, i remind myself.
Someone smiles at me...a deep dimpled smile...why am i attracted to him?Ah! a naked face...just like mine.A face sans a mask...
My hearts warms upto to him....he wraps his hand around my waist, pulls me close...too close(?)...fingers entwine...music fills up the Ball room....i tell him i dont trust people who hide behind masks...he looks deep into my eyes questioningly...nah! i assure him that i trust him....he isn't wearing a mask...an enigmatic smile crosses his lips....i feel lucky....i pity the women with masked dance partners...i tell him i loathe hypocrites...he says he loathes them too...i tell him i hate charmers, those glib talkers who talk smoothly but whose words stand hollow...smoothly he twirls me, i catch my breath when i realize he's bent halfway,staring at my face,dipping me over his arm... i am bent with my head thrown back...my back arched flexibly...i wait for his answer...but the lascivious music picks up & i get engrossed matching his step with mine...caught in swirling skirts & stiletto footsteps.He begged me to have faith on him...i did...i closed my eyes,put my head on his shoulder & danced...a content smile sitting pretty on those bow shaped lips.I didn't have to feel insecure anymore...

I dont remember how long i had been dancing with him...was it two years? was it a little more...pale beams of sunlight caressed his face & for the first time i noticed cracks on his face...on his honesty(?)...i watched in horror at the peeling mask....the enormity of the falsehood hit me not in a single blow but bit by bit...inch by inch...i was being killed slowly, softly...
Another masked man? my heart gasped...but dont masks hide everything except the eyes?and i had his every feature etched on my mind...his cleft chin...his square jaw...his nose...
Oh my god!My stomach churned...my body turned stone cold...i had been dancing with a masked man all along...with trembling fingers, i ripped the mask off his face...it was a face sans any eyes, sans any mouth, sans any nose...it was a face devoid of emotions,devoid of love, devoid of honesty....just like those millions of masked men who traded in flesh...not love.Who understand a French Kiss but not feelings.
A waltz of hypocrasy rather than a waltz of love....a waltz of fakeness?

It tears at my heart...the sham...the falsehood...i feel lonely...do i stand out like a sore thumb with my naked face in a sea of masks?
It reminds me of my childhood when i used to clutch my doll & hug it close...to seek comfort...if people used to let me down...or if i did something naughty...that doll went with me everywhere i travelled.
Wish i had that doll with me now....so that i could clutch that piece of chilhood close to my heart, that stretch of dream run of a lifetime that every adult looks back wistfully, that unmarred,unspoilt childhood...and close my eyes....and feel comforted...feel healed...

'A dash of Sindoor'...She said..

Celebrations are finally over…Dashami(tenth day) saw the immersion of Durga into the Ganges.
Transported back to a normal life…last week was spent romancing the Bengali culture that probably runs deeper in my veins than I had ever imagined.
Sound of conch shells emanating from neighbourhood houses….pandal hopping with friends….marvelling at the skill of men who built pandals to house Durga…each pandal was a work of art…..there was a spectacular pandal shaped like a huge rocket, towering like a Goliath, I went in & the angelic beauty of the idols made me regret for not having brought along a camera …long queues snaked through the streets in front of restaurants & the city was again a witness to the fact that Bengalis love eating……nearly all the apartments were decked up like Christmas trees, decorated beautifully with fairy lights, multihued tube lights…the city that dozes off by ten in the night, seemed to come alive as the clock announced midnight for those magical few days of Saptami(seventh day), Ashtami(eight day),Navami(ninth) & Dashami…couples walked hand in hand, the only few days when girls are officially allowed to stay out of home till late in the night…..if the nights were full of lights, traveling from one part of the city to the next on a quest to spot the best pandals…..the days were spent paying a visit to relatives, hanging out with cousins, discussing about the ‘new’ man in a certain pretty cousin’s life….eagerly running off to the pandals to catch the ceremonies being performed in front of Durga,eating at the community halls where the ‘Bhog’ was distributed to all the neighbours, it was more of a socializing that takes place between nieghbours at this time of the year where they hob-nob & catch up with each others lives.


One of the landmark celebrations on the last day ……watching married women play the Sindoor Khela- smearing sindoor on each others forehead, while the young unmarried girls smiled coyly when the married women applied a dash on sindoor on their cheeks & told them not to wipe it off…an auspicious sign that it would fetch them a good husband in the future.
I stood in a corner, touching the sindoor smear on my cheek….a damp wistful feeling settled itself comfortably in my heart…..someone somewhere walked across the shores of the Arabian Sea, oblivious of the dash of sindoor across a certain honey coloured oval face….

'The city I call Home'....She said..

Back to where I was supposed to have taken those first baby steps….back to that city which has witnessed all those tumultuous years of my growing up days…back to being driven from the Howrah bridge to a place called home…

Was is another lifetime when coming back home made my heart beat faster? Where has that child like exuberance evaporated? Those hand pulled rickshaws, those trams that moved slowly at its own pace while luxury cars whizzed by…why do they no more conjure up any old world charm for me? My eyes drifted from the angel atop the Victoria Memorial & the horse driven carriages full of tourists…to the billboard featuring a petal shaped sensually full lips on a glowing dusky skin that had the texture of velvet , a demure yet subtle wild smile playfully lighting the face that looked ravagable , her vermillion red round bindi smeared on her forehead gave her the typical Bengali touch….draped in a simple white saree with red border offset by an opulent rich maroon blouse with slightly puffed sleeves…reminiscent of the bygone dress code of the bahus of the Bengali Zamindar clans…Her oval face complemented her slantish doe eyed big eyes…kohl lined eyes….drownable eyes…but then, Bengali women have been notorious for these very eyes that have trapped many an unsuspecting man…vaguely, past memories stirred…grandma’s stories…of men from far away lands who fell in love with Bengali women after setting eyes on them, women so elusive that they slipped out of the fingers of their suitors & played the ‘hard-to-get’ game to the hilt …Bengali women who were known for the Black magic spell that they wove on men, …men who swore they’d never touched skin softer than a Bengali woman, like the wings of a butterfly.…skin that glowed with raw sensuality…
I touched my skin & realized that the Delhi sun had done irreparable damage to my once flawless glowing skin passed on from generations like a legacy….reminded me of the first time He’d touched my face on the pretext of getting rid of a mosquito coz He’d never seen such skin…and now what remained was a skin devoid of a good diet…but did it matter any more?
My eyes riveted to the fish mongers sitting by the sides of the road, while men in white dhotis noisily bargained. The taste of prawns dipped in coconut cream …hilsa in a rich tomato curry….fried pomfret….tiny fishes as surprise finds in dal…kaleidoscopic images floated in my mind.
Multitude of sweet shops stood silently punctuating the humid city like exclamation marks at regular intervals….childhood memories of me clutching dad’s hand & walking to the nearest sweetshop & buying my favourite sandesh mixed with jaggery, shaped like a sea shell & rajbhog dripping in a syrup. Spongy rosogollas that told sweet tales of its own…

Avoided looking at the strikingly palatial building where He used to work, the fountain at the entrance of His workplace wasn’t working, a metaphor for his love that had dried out ….but somehow the treacherous tears sprang up unexpectedly while I traveled on the familiar roads….ghost bike rode parallel to dad’s car & I looked in disbelief at myself sitting behind Him on his Pulsar….Misty eyes clouded by saline waters was watching the past unfurl…like an old movie being replayed…
I turned away my face & concentrated on the bamboo sticks & tents being put up in street corners as pandals for the impending Durga Puja…tube lights & bulbs of different shapes & sizes were being arranged in amazingly beautiful ways…some resembled the silhouette of Saurav Ganguli, the most loved ‘son’ of Calcutta…some resembled the Titanic…some resembled Charlie Chaplin & suddenly I caught a glimpse of a girl clad in a mermaid skirt teamed with a peasant top & a guy in a Red kurta teamed with jeans walking on the pavement, she hit him playfully with her thick book & He snatched it away…she stopped walking & stamped her feet like a spoilt kid & demanded the book being returned, her lips pouting alluringly ….wait, this scene felt familiar…was it bcoz they were dressed in an uncanny same way as Us…or was it the way ….a closer look at the guy made my heart skip a beat, in desperation I looked at the new girl & felt I was looking at a mirror…realization dawned….i was hallucinating.
Quickly blinked back the traitors & realized that I shoudn’t have come back to a city that didnot spare a minute in taunting me with His presence…
And for heaven’s sake, He’d quit this city long back….then why did I see Him standing under the 13 No. Tank landmark patiently near his bike….why did I see Him walk out of that plush shopping mall….why did I see Him step out of the Inox movie hall…why did I see Him step into the Oxford Bookstore…

I was not prepared for such an onslaught…..never realized He would ruin my own city for me, the city that I am so fond of inspite of the highhandedness of the Left govt , trade unions, Marxism & incessant strikes. The city that opened up its bounty of a treasure chest full of rich literature & famous writers ….the city that made me fall in love with books that became a part of my existence…the city whose culture ingrained itself in me.... the city that acknowledged the writer in me…and yet ….

Feeling chewy....

Dear fluff,
I am finally coming home…yeah you heard me right, on the 1st of October, have already packed my bags…but promise me you won’t knock me off my feet & cover my full face with your wet licks…buddy, that’s not how you behave with a lady! Remember?
Of course, I’ll always be that ten year old girl who brought you home as a pup from a different town. And don’t you sulk for my past refusals to come home for the past nine months ….coz I am going to compensate such a long absence by staying home for 15 long days.

Mmmm…those good ol’ days when u’d run off with our shoes, and sis & me in hot pursuit would run after you from room to room….till we’d locate a pair of emerald beads shining with a mischievous phosphorescent glint, under the darkness of a bed & before we’d be able to catch you…u’d dash off under a coffee table….i still marvel at the way u’d dodge us so expertly.
Wonder what was it with u & branded shoes(so, we had a pet who was a snob! Unbranded shoes never managed to elicit any reaction)….while the branded ones always got a ‘warm welcome’ from u….coz by the time sis managed to tempt you out of your hiding place with a promise of a biscuit(yeah! branded biscuits again, especially those laced with lots of choco chips) & I scooped down on you with a war cry of ‘Gotcha’…u’d nearly slip out of my clutches but for your tail. Somehow I’d drag the well chewed soggy shoe out of those devilish canine teeth of yours & not to mention mom, who’d have a fit when she’d see a saliva dripping & a wee bit ‘dog eared’ shoe…

Ummm…this might sound a bit strange but looks like your chewy habit has been passed off to me as well…maybe coz I am in a mellow mood (playful mood ?).

Feeling kinda chewy…a bit wild…a bit feral…a bit seductive…a bit naughty…

I am Nominated for Blog awards!!

Holy cow ! I have been nominated for the blog awards & I didn’t even care to check out !!!

i nearly fell off my chair when I saw myself as a nominee in the BEST IMAGE POST few mins back.

Slogan-"Keeping in touch....is it so hard?"
My Code 55 IMA

It so happened, that my friend Shilpa persuaded me to have a go at this unique Blogging awards. Unfortunately, they rejected 5 of the 6 entries that I’d sent them. The only one taken up for consideration was the entry for the Best Pic & this sole survivor seems to have nosed it’s way to the selected coterie!….i was disheartened by the elimination even before it could have competed with the rest,the entries which I sent for The Best Fictional Post & Best Personal Post etc etc were categories that I wanted to participate in.

I hadn’t read the rules properly,which said-the participant was supposed to send blog entries that were written from 1st july 2004 to 30 june 2005.
A new kid on the block…er,blog….i made a foray in the blog world on 20 june 2005 …so that gave me a mere 10 days worth of work to showcase & to my horror, I realized…except putting up pics I’d hardly done much.

Needless to say, this came up as a pleasant surprise…

'Hunger'....She said...

“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies- a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed."(Eishenhower,the 34th US Prez)

Dust swirled & pirouetted in a mad frenzy…..I coughed it out .Blinding heat…on a September noon in Delhi. The auto threaded in & out of the narrow lanes as deftly as a needle completing a running stitch along the hem of a cloth. Ensconced in the womb of the auto, I was sitting …lost in thought…the view outside a blurred haze.
So deep was my reverie that it took me a while before i realized someone was talking to me... .i turned my anesthetized eyes to the auto driver but his back was towards me & then i saw a wobbly hand extend itself in.
Ummm...it was a red light crossing & i wasn’t sure how long the auto had been standing still & then it struck me-Beggars!
I looked straight ahead of me, averting my gaze.....the way most of us pretend to turn blind whenever such miserable unfortunate people approach us with an empty hand but a heart full of hope.But wait a minute, this man had something in his hand-incense sticks...but i simply shook my head.
Brought up in a family which has never believed in Idol Worship, incense sticks were never used in our household...i explained to him-No idols in my room...no incense sticks required.
The more insistent he grew, the more adamant my refusal became.

At the crossing, the light probably turned envious & switched from red to green....at that instant he blurted out-‘Please buy it, i haven’t eaten for two days’....i looked into a pair of hunger ridden eyes & could almost feel my hunger hit me with a vengeance like a punch delivered by a wrestler on his punching bag.
Maybe, his words wouldn’t have had such an effect on me, had he met me ...say, a year back.
A year back, i didnt know what hunger was, i didn’t know how difficult it is to sleep the night away on an empty stomach....i didn’t know that the only way to stop the burning sensation in the stomach, is to keep drinking water every twenty minutes & stop it from growling...from groaning in protest...i didn’t know that your insides churn in agonizing pain & make you want to throw up when you haven’t eaten for one & a half day….your head spins,u feel dizzy & it becomes difficult to walk….maybe it sounds like an exaggeration…maybe my system over-reacts when I miss all my four square meals at the hostel coz of tremendous workload in the Lab & somehow I never have the money to buy something from a canteen etc.
Maybe I am so used to being a spoilt kid back home where food was always taken for granted by me that remaining hungry for a whole day is not my forte.
But I am learning….picking up the art of fooling my hungry stomach by drinking water.

How on Earth,did this old man manage to stand on his two feet & sell his ware the whole day long?had I been in his place…I would have collapsed coz I become so weak that I can barely walk, my knees turn to water & my hands shake a wee bit.

It was the last twenty rupee I had in my purse apart from the thirty that I was supposed to pay the auto driver,luckily I had coins that added up to another ten...it meant, I would have to walk a long distance at eight thirty in the night…a scary proposition…& then take a metro ride(luckily it cost ten) after a rigorous class.
I saw myself handing over the money to him & regretted that I didn’t have more to give to him….& I wished I hadn’t been so egoistic & walked out of office of the part time job as a ghost writer without any payment. Imagine! who would refuse to take her first payment ever, after having worked hard on assignments. But that’s me…

I could see drivers screaming at us, we were blocking their way…stuck at the crossing…pampering some woebegone old man selling something trivial.
But did they know how hungry he was? Hunger…that kills u slowly by inches…hunger that makes us impotent…hunger that gnaws at our insides…hunger that constantly draws attention to its presence inside us with it’s devious pin prick stabs….hunger that makes even thin arrowroot biscuits taste as heavenly as chocolate pastries….hunger that makes u look askance at people eating good food….hunger that makes you want to march into the eating joint with those delectable names that make ur mouth water….hunger that makes treacherous noises in ur stomach & gives your game away when you lie to ur friend & say you are not hungry….hunger that turns u weak & makes u want to compromise on ur principles & borrow money from others & somehow u battle with ur morals & stick to an empty stomach than an empty conscience....

'Go away..& don't distract me further'...She said...

"Go away"...She whispered hoarsely...
Please don't haunt me anymore...
Can bear the torment no more...
Make this anaemic bleed no more...

'A new beginning'...She said...

Where the azure sky ends and where the electric blue sea starts, I do not know.
All I know is- it is a new beginning…a new dawn…the story of the raging currents instead of the vagrant waves…more powerful, more unforgiving…
The story of Metaphysical Insanity which translated itself into a Once in a Lifetime story of two torn souls.

Same old players but new terrain, same passions but new twists thrown by Life ,it’s the same she & the same he but new feelings & new vengeance.

The storyteller is waiting to breathe life into the tales that were kept locked in two hearts but are the readers ready?

'Fluff & I say Goodbye to all'...

I have decided to spread my wings and fly to a different shore.This blog shall cease to exist,it shall disappear from the face of this Earth...
There will be those who will not want to travel with me,to the new destiny so it is a Goodbye to them & again,....there will be those who can relate to me,who have become a part of the extended family that I have and it is them whom I graciously invite to embark on a new adventure with me coz the September air has stirred the gypsy blood in me & it is time for me to go the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife....


This is meant for those who shall ride the wave with me & who do not mind getting swept off their feet to a distant land where hope flourishes,inspite of all odds.
Contact me at seven_seas8@rediffmail.com such that I can email my new blog address personally to all of u & yes,do not…I repeat…do not forget to mention ur blog url along with ur blogger name,that I am familiar with. Gaurav,vidhi,stranger & vish need not reply back coz they’ve already asked me to inform them of the change

And hurry coz after a few days, nomadicwaves.blogspot.com will be untraceable…devoured by the mighty waves while I shall re-emerge from the swirling depths of a turbulent ocean…..that’s a promise.

'From being mad about u to not being mad about u'..She said..

'From waiting to not waiting for u'...She said..

ON MY OWN....

'Doors of communication'...She said...

Apparently it is an illusion...these gateways that entice me to walk through them to the other side , coz they are closed-the Only means of communication between Him & me.
A grave misunderstanding between us, that pushed Him into His shell.
Wish He would open these doors & write again.....

And then a confrontation between them...

Some more misunderstandings between Him & Her..

He trampled on my heart & left it bleeding...

PS-Putting up this blogpost yet again...

'Freedom'...She said...

Would it sound weird if I say I drew inspiration from the toe that thrust itself out of the misty grey torn socks & proudly proclaimed its freedom from the shackles that subjugated the other fingers & kept them in captivity..... that it fired in me a burning feeling of breaking away from the self imposed restrictions that had turned me into a caged animal pacing up and down, trapped within the claustrophobic four walls.
That now, I don’t wait for Him to visit me in this city, that I buy Blood red corduroy jeans & don’t bother anymore what He thinks( and no, the color isn’t as scandalous as it sounds, it’s quite a pretty shade of maroon).
That I’ve got rid of the colors blue & white from my Life and introduced new colors that define the New me. That I am no more exclusive coz I’ve razed down the wall that made me appear an Ice maiden, that made me appear unattainable. That I don’t bother to carve out neat triangles out of my Mushroom topped Pizza with a fork & a knife coz I don’t want to please anyone anymore. That I am thinking of taking a new phone number to add new acquaintances & delete old ones. That I no longer call up those who expect I shall always be the first one to call & make up for old fights.

That I want to shed my old skin for a new one, like the snakes do but will someone tell me if old memories can be traded for new ones too?Or do snakes still live with their old memories even if they don a new suit...

'Blood is thicker than water'...She said..

Dear Sis,
It's been a month since you left home & settled in a new city. It's hard to imagine my kid sister living on her own, away from her doting parents & a sister who never got tired of mollycoddling her. Maybe it's our fault that we have always treated you like a fragile porcelain doll & sheltered you from every difficulty. Like a delicate piece of crystal ware nestled protectively in cotton wool-we’ve handled you with the utmost care.And now, unprepared we let you stray into a ruthless world that is not known to have a soft corner for delicate darlings.
It must have been a nasty shock to you when your professor scolded you , for baby, you are not used to being spoken harshly to.
Shielded by us, from the rotten eggs that abound in this world & now standing all alone ,unless you learn to live by your wits you'll be devoured by the ravenous wolves-I feel scared, helpless....stranded in a different city. Damn these STD calls,I can't even wipe away those hot tears when you narrate how the senior boys from the boys hostel harass you,make your life unbearable by threatening you with dire consequences when you refuse to become their girl while fever rages through your body coz you are not used to bathing in cold water & your legs are about to give way coz u’ve never stood for 6 long hours & worked in a laboratory.

And It tore my heart when I heard you burnt your hands in that workshop of yours & bruised it as well while beating the metals into shape & were unable to pick up a pen to jot down notes, the next day in class.
It's hard to believe our little one who would have the whole family fuss over her due to a minor cut & be taken out for an ice-cream-has no one to tend to her bruises.
And baby,do you know,how furious I was when I heard the boys in your batch made fun of the bolts that you created after four hours of sweat & hardwork and how lonely you felt being the only girl in that batch.
Mom could hardly recognize you when you came home for the weekend-dark circles,insect bites all over your face,thin as a reed but you made light of the situation and said-‘Atleast, I’ll not have suitors troubling me again’.

I am amazed at your indomitable spirit which remains unfazed by the incessant power cuts in your hostel, irritating roommates who keep you awake all night with their lovey dovey talks to their boyfriends over the phone & the way you ignore the leering looks of the boys & quietly swallow the indignities in the name of ragging.
Engineering colleges were always infamous for their ragging excesses but what horrified me the most,is the way 'strange' women with scarlet lipstick & rouge standing prominently on their cheeks are ushered into the boys hostel in the nights, not to mention the innumerable parlours overflowing with pornographic flicks that flourish near the campus. And professors who are equally notorious.
Sometimes I wonder where is our generation headed....

But did I tell you sis, you've made us proud-the way you deal with the tricky situations that life throws up, with a grace & dignity that is surprising at a tender age of seventeen.
Yeah,yeah,I know you'll be rolling your eyes when I say you are at a tender age.And yeah, according to you-I am too old at twenty two!
And did I tell you,I was bowled over...the way you manage finances & imagine! there was a time when you thought demand drafts were meant to be purchased from banks for Rs 100.
I know you are miserable staying in a campus cut off from the pulsating city, & instead there are the druglords & their band of thugs who thrive & where girls getting kidnapped are a common affair and yet you pretend to be comfortably settled coz you don't want dad to worry about you, you don’t want to add to his already tension filled life.
And I listen helplessly to your carefully manipulated joyous voice as you tell me about the amazing placements, the top notch companies like Wipro,TCS,Oracle that visit your campus every year & how you are ready to compromise on the comforts of life to stand on your two feet and ease off dad’s financial burden.

Kiddo,did I ever tell you that you are One brave woman....
And don't you feel blue dear,not just mom,dad & me...but even Fluff is there right behind you in times like these.
Remember,it's only one's family that remains stead fast by one's side when one runs into a rough patch. While the fake boyfriends are happy doing the disappearing act, & reappear when all is fine & the coast clear. Is it coz blood is thicker than water?
Anyway, fluff refused the juicy bone mom offered her,know why?

PS-Mom misses both of us,but she misses you more- for you are the baby of the family & shall always remain one & yes, fluff misses you too.

Take care
Your sis.

"Camouflage"...She said...

Grass offers anonymity to a grasshopper, a stem of a plant offers anonymity to a stick insect, a snow covered landscape offers anonymity to a polar bear, an unknown city offers anonymity to travelers, a graffiti covered wall offers anonymity to strangers who love to leave behind scribbled words & the blog offered me anonymity, where i could let the words flow out of my head uninhibited ,unrestrained... I could write unhindered, without being singled out , without getting to hear personal remarks from people who meet me every single day , without people questioning me why i write the way i do.The blog was my ‘Little Big Secret’ ; it was my hideout zone where i could transform into a mermaid at my whim & fancy ; play hide & seek with words; make new friends; dabble in old memories; get drenched in non existing rains & let my imagination run riot.But recently, i discovered I’ve been spotted by known faces, I’ve been hunted & preyed upon by meddlesome people.And just when i thought my secret was safe with me, just when i thought i mingled with the background so well that no one would mark me out ...i heard my blog bleed. Too late, someone in my hostel had managed to penetrate & violate the virginity of my blog & left it unclothed ,naked, vulnerable to the attacks by others. Once you taste flesh, you are bound to come back for a kill again & so it continues- the nocturnal visits by a particular salivating female in my hostel, who goes ‘in & out’ of the pages of my blog regularly. I caught her red handed few days back, under the cover of night, around 12.30 pm sitting all alone in the computer room while the rest of the hostel rocked to the music being churned out by a DJ. I froze in my track when i saw her raping my blog, her lecherous gaze wandered over every bit of my blog & I could feel my blog cringe, scream out silently,looking around helplessly for help,begging for a piece of cloth to cover itself up.I confronted that drooling female & she looked at me & said ‘You never expected anyone to be so sharp,so as to find your blog,isn’t it?’ I could feel my temper flaring up & had this sudden urge to slap her tight that would have wiped the smirk off her face but i kept calm & allowed my body language to convey to her that i wanted her to back out of my blog immediately. Later,it all came flashing by-why she used to peer at my computer (always) while i worked on something as innocuous as Microsoft Word & not to mention her dirty habit of walking into the computer room & slyly reading into the emails being typed by girls,with their backs to her & finally, armed with a treasure of personal details about different girls,she would call for a round table conference, after dinner & along with some like minded friends dissect every bit of itsy bitsy detail & tear their personal lives into shreds. Cowards like her, who sneak into comp rooms at midnights to read into the lives of others,can be expected to remain spineless all their lives. And the voyeur in her would never stop carrying a ladder to reach someone’s bedroom & peep in.Am i furious because she encroached upon & trespassed into my world or do i pity her for being gutless?One thing is for sure,I no longer have an iota of respect left for her. Her uninvited entry or should i say intrusion, caused me a miscarriage, my write ups curled up in a foetal sleep, dreaming of leaving behind the amniotic fluid & the dark interiors for a gulpful of oxygen on a blogpost , bled to death.The excitement that ran through me when I’d experienced the first kick from the foetus growing fast, feeding voraciously on the rich fodder of imagination & words that I provided it with…..and itz hurried termination before it could even venture out into the Blogosphere has left me feeling numb. And what to say of the Abortion I underwent to get rid of the unborn ideas before they get devoured by people not meant to read them. My wings have been clipped & I can never soar high on this blog but waves have never been known to be static & so, I shall travel to another spot where I can bask in anonymity, camouflaged against a backdrop that would let me remain half hidden & not stick out of a webpage like a fluorescent bookmark sticking out of a book.