Maybe

Seema quietly tiptoed into the living room, after an evening of mindless gallivanting within the limited confines of the suburb she called home; with the people she called friends. The comforting silences that pervaded her living room was interrupted by the obscene chime of the wall clock which screamed that an hour still remained before she was accosted by yet another day.
Her eyeballs hurt from the strain of attempting to fervently look beyond the parameters of her vision, for in her harried state to reach her destination on time she had carelessly left her spectacles at home. Seema slowly and deliberately massaged her shut eyelids in circular rotations to ease away the strain that was assaulting her senses when suddenly the room got bathed in a burst of ugly, fluorescent light with the definite click of a button. Seema winced at the unwarranted intrusion upon her private exercise of relaxation, but did not rebel openly.

Mother started intently from a sharp corner, adjacent to the light switch that divided their shared living quarters in a definite square. They exchanged a silent greeting with the flutter of their eyelids, acknowledging each others commanding yet reassuring presence with least awkwardness. Seema wiped her kohl smudged fingers on the front of her jeans, which were tainted by some of the smoky blackness that had been transferred onto her tips while she rubbed her eyes vigorously. She flopped upon sofa as she carelessly tossed her bag in the corner and gazed at mother with a warm stare that could possibly initiate the dawn of an interaction, the mood and tone of which unfamiliar to both.

“How was your evening?” She enquired.

“It was alright, coffee and dinner, the usual.” She quipped.

“I really wish you would stop wasting money eating and drinking out almost everyday, especially when there is food at home.” She muttered. Her decibels and irritation heightened with each passing word.

Seema stretched out on the sofa and shuffled around for the television remote, only half listening to her mothers rants that she was rather impervious to by now. After a long, lazy and a rather boring Saturday, she was ready to indulge in a good few hours of dreamless slumber that would refresh her senses and comfort her aching body that was fatigued from the week’s activities.

“I visited the astrologer today.” Mother said nonchalantly.

Her unexpected, matter of fact declaration invaded the empty thoughts that were beginning to wander into the deeply hidden barren wastelands of Seema’s mind. Her left kneecap twitched from the goose bumps that emanated from its epicenter and quickly coursed through the remainder of her limb. Her sprawled stance ended when she drew her knees to her chest and sat upright in one swift motion, now completely alert.

Encouraged by Seema’s minor show of curiosity and lack of dismissal in her belief that the seemingly miniscule twinkling celestial beings, nestled far away in some remote corners of this galaxy, held the ultimate power to unabashedly chart the course of our destiny, without so much as a passing thought towards our hopes and desires, mother continued almost uninterrupted for the next few minutes.

Seema sat horrifically mesmerized as mother unraveled the mystery of impending future meticulously and chronologically.
“December is a good month for you.”

“For what?”

“The stars are in your favor, a new phase unfolds.”

“Yeah?” She questioned with some hopeful caution.

“It’s an auspicious month to start something new.”

Seema brightened a little, the past year had been some what of a disappointment, largely due to her incapacity to finish anything she started or begin anything she wished to start. She wasn’t too deeply dejected though, the cold winter months always brightened her spirits, the tail end of the calendar year always brought with it the hope that the terrible waste she has subjected her being to would officially come to an end and the new year always brought with it possibility of a brand new beginning, something she embraced with childlike ardor.

“The starts favor your marriage prospects in the near future.” Mother added brightly.

Seema sat utterly still, paralyzed by the unwanted bulletin; her heart lurched forward with a deafening thud, while her lips parted wordlessly. Was this the news that she has secretly hoped to hear after all? Seema furrowed her brows in concentration neither encouraging nor dissuading mother to reveal further more.

“There is a good possibility that this maybe a love match. The stars are in its favor.”

The prospect of spending the rest of her life with someone she cared about, whomever it maybe cheered Seema more than she had ever anticipated. Her heart did a dainty summersault once again, thrilled by the prospect of being in love, again, hopefully for the last time this time around.

“Well, she asked me if you were in love in the past, the charts indicated that there was a phase like this once before.” Mom questioned, trying rather unsuccessfully to mask her peaking interest.

“Nah…” Seema replied with the nonchalance of a unseasoned liar as she smirked a little in amusement.

“I told her frankly that my daughter and I are friends and she tells me everything.” Mother said with uncertain finality as she stared at Seema pointedly hoping to fish out some of the truth carefully masked under an air of nonchalance.

Seema looked at mother with an equally challenging look of her own, almost daring her to prod her further, her silent smirk quietly tormenting her with the notion that there maybe many salacious revelations about her daughters life that she may possibly never be a spectator to.

The small and large hand of the clock in near perfect synchrony landed on the number twelve almost simultaneous, just when the breathing space between the two had begun to turn almost rancid with defiance and hostility.

“Tong” chimed the clock singularly, denoting the advent of another day.

*To be continued, maybe*

So where exactly is the Happy Ending again?

So where is the ‘happy ending’ Bollywood style I ask myself time and again?
I have been delirious with a mind numbing headache and a fever that refuses to go away. Being sick has it’s advantages of course, lying in bed all night wrapped in a blanket, shuddering from the unwarranted and uncalled for chills, on an exceedingly warm October night gave me the time and space to think and contemplate about the many complexities of life. I absolutely love the fact that everyone leaves you alone when you are sick! A terrible temperament and general frumpiness are discounted as bad, lingering side effects of your so called appalling suffering and you can almost get away with anything!
It seems sort of unfortunate that even though your limbs refuse to cooperate and your body rebels at the slightest movement, your mind is most active and alive than ever. Last night I desperately tried to put myself to sleep. At first I gently rocked myself back and forth as I sat hunched in bed propped against a couple of mismatched pillows. When this didn’t have the desired effect, I moved on to restlessly tossing back and forth in short, unstable jerky movements desperately trying to cling on to the smallest glimmer of sleep, only to come really close and then see it slip away, my eyelids drooping in exhaustion, but my mind alive and more awake than ever.

Once upon a time in a familiar looking suburb of big city there lived a girl named Sheila. Sheila was the perfect child next door types. Being extremely average has its benefits, thanks to this; Sheila for a good portion of her existence lived a very ordinary life. She always had a really difficult time waking up in the morning and getting to school on time. It’s not that Sheila didn’t enjoy the benefits of a rather mediocre education system, which she realized much later on doesn’t really prepare you for life at all. Quite the contrary, Sheila just didn’t find the morning hours very conducive towards her personal growth and learning. At the end of the day Sheila skipped home from school and then spent a good portion of the evening doing homework with great gusto and enthusiasm, a rather uncanny trait in a ten year old, but little Sheila liked to study and was indeed a rather odd child.

Summer was Sheila’s favorite season of the year. Apart from the obvious joys of not having school for three whole months and the sheer bliss and luxury of loitering and loafing around that the season offered, Sheila also loved summers because this was the only in the year that she got to see Ridhi.

Ridhi was a distance cousin, she spent the summers with the family that lived next door, who were coincidently were related to them both. Sheila and Ridhi were destined to be the best of friends, age and time being on their side helped speed up the process considerably. People smiled fondly as the watched the two girls skip together hand in hand on numerous occasions, apparently their mothers were good friends too and did exactly the same when they were their age.
Childhood, suddenly without so much as a slight warning gave way to those difficult teenage years. It brought along with it many joys and angst’s, but most importantly the painful realization and discovery of the opposite sex.

Sheila was younger than Ridhi by nearly a year and a half. To her Ridhi was almost a woman, all worldly and wise. They spent many a night, with their heads tucked under the same blanket, quietly and futilely fretting about the nature of men in low, almost inaudible whispers. They were always afraid of waking up the grownups with their scandalous talks. They were overjoyed to discover that each of them more or less wanted the same things in life. Ridhi was pretty and smart and all the boys seemed to like her, although a tad bit jealous Sheila enjoyed this and vicariously lived through her. When she finally got some attention of her own, Sheila emulated Ridhi’s ways to the tee to garner the same effect her friend seem to have on men.

Alas the long, starry, sultry nights filled with endless jibber couldn’t last forever. Today Sheila and Ridhi remains friends, they see each on rare occasion and thankfully sort of even share the same amicable feelings of warmth they once did for each other, sadly the similarity ends there. Riddhi now appears to be particularly tired and engrossed all the time. What seems like a never ending day is spent chasing after a hyper active but ridiculously adorable two year old and catering to her ever whim and fancy. Somewhere in the last five odd years or so, Riddhi had managed to snag herself a husband and produce a child. Sheila had been busy as well; only her days are filled with chasing after seemingly impossible, nonsensical, idealistic dreams, which had absolutely very little foundation in reality and unstable but interesting men she thought she was in love with, who ended up breaking her fragile and all too eager heart time and again. Riddhi basked in the glory of supposed marital bliss while Sheila reveled in her liberated, strong, independent woman of the 21st century existence. Both were seemingly content in their own right; yet felt that other lived a delusional, highly unfulfilled existence.
A couple of days ago, unexpectedly, Riddhi showed up at Sheila’s doorstep. After both got over the initial excitement and joy at each others sight, the conversation took a very sour turn. Riddhi pondered rather loudly on Sheila’s husbandless state and how incredibly unfortunate it seemed. The worldly and wise Ridhi lamented in great agony on how a life without the joys of marital bliss and snot nosed brats to run after was one badly lived. Sheila sat in utter silence as a feeling of loneliness and isolation slowly enveloped her, no words dared escape her lips.

“You are being selfish and horrible. Think about your mother, she isn’t getting any younger; doesn’t she deserve to see you happy?”

*eerie silence followed by a slightly throaty, awkward cough*

“You have some strange, funny ideas about space and relationships, what do you mean you aren’t quite ready to incorporate someone else into your life just yet? I haven’t heard anything more ridiculous!”

“Hmm.”

“What’s wrong with an arranged marriage? Not everyone is destined to meet each other and fall madly in love like Harsh and I did.”

“Yeah, thanks for rubbing salt on my nearly healed bruises.”

You must listen to your mother and meet some of these guys she is trying to introduce you to.”

“They sound like losers who can’t get a date on their own…” Sheila muttered softly.

“You think you are smart, mature, all knowing and wise but you are NOT! Have you heard yourself speak? You want the man to do all the work and make all the compromises, while you don’t give an inch."

“I don’t think that’s how I think or feel you are just misunder…” Sheila’s voice slowly trailed off as Riddhi once again loudly interjected.

“If I had an eligible, marriageable son, I would NEVER want him get marry a girl like you!!”
“Ouch.” Though Sheila.

“Change your ways before it’s too late! Otherwise there is a damn good chance that you might just end up all alone.”

“Fine, Fine!! I will meet some of these losers if you insist!” Sheila yelled, as she huffed out of the room, her composure badly shaken.

“Well NOT calling them losers would be a nice place to begin. Good.” Said Riddhi, with a triumphant humph, a big smile of victory plastered upon her lips.

The next night Sheila met Riddhi and the covered husband for dinner along with another married couple they were once very close too. The evening was fun and ordinary of sorts, the food although not exceptional was rather delectable. They all had a perfectly decently time, making small, individual contributions to the rather inane conversations that took place. Sheila remained silent through the bits where the discussed the triumphs and woes of matrimony due to her obvious lack of expertise on the subject. Now only if this was a discussion on disastrous relationships and terrible taste in men, would I have a thing or five to add, she thought herself in her usual self deprecating humorous manner. The evening ended on a good note with some scrumptious caramel custard that they each polished off with great gusto.

After the tab was paid and the husband packed off home to spend one more night in bed alone, Sheila and Riddhi silently walked homewards. Their private thoughts regularly interrupted by the sound of their sandals crunching against the abandoned gravel on the cemented side walk.

“Well, so tonight was fun!”

“Yes I had a great time. Thank you, wow we haven’t done this in a while.”

“Isn’t my husband lovely?” Riddi asked with a smile.

“Yes, he seems really nice.” Sheila offered.

“Didn’t you feel all lonely and alone tonight, having no one there to take care of you?”

“Not at all, I am quite use to looking after myself.”

Sheila strode ahead with a small yet determined and hopeful smile. She pressed a cigarette in between her parted lips and lit it with a sigh of content, all the while ignoring Riddhi’s look of disapproval and disdain, blissfully puffing away into the muggy October evening air.

Ode to the Spirit of Love

In our search and quest for meaning and affirmation we often look so far ahead that we forget to have a closer look at what lies around us. It has been my experience that courage, magnificence, beauty, strength and love, which we all so desperately seek is just around the corner, we just forget to observe what lies the closest in our belief that the exotic and the eternal lies in a place unknown to us, beyond our grasp.
I always felt that idea of eternal love, that epic romance, which servers as an inspiration to one and all has been lost in the annals of time, unknown to modern civilization. We all lament about it, cry, bitch and moan of how it eludes us as a generation caught up in our pursuit for material possession and self-indulgent gratification, well at least I know I do, we seek to vicariously live a small piece of it, in the reassess of our imagination, through film and literature, yet I have only just realized that ‘love’ may not after all be such a fictional entity.
Even though we might fail to see and recognize it, the ordinary men and women that we ignore for their plainness and mediocrity carry forth this flame of eternal love and carefully and tenderly spread it around, to their children, their friends, colleagues and sometimes even perfect strangers. If just for once we can push aside our ignorance and just learn to listen, we might just realize that there is still hope, everywhere.
I stepped out of the train at Matunga station at around 10.20 am. I was later than usual; well this has sort of turned into a nasty habit lately that I must get rid off soon. I love traveling by train, on most good days, encountering something amusing, unexpected and engaging becomes its highlight. I absolutely love observing the various species of human beings that share the crowded Mumbai public transportation system with me. I was never much of a TV watcher, with the exception of a random craving for something funny or dramatic every once in a while, for the most part I have been pretty detached from the idiot box. Amazingly enough, I have now completely lost the occasional longing for mindless mass entertainment ever since I moved to Mumbai and started traveling by train! Seriously, who needs a TV set when all the ingredients for great entertainment are around you! Bombay and its over crowed public transportation system has become my window of entertainment!
Yeah so anyways, I have this tendency of going off into these random tangents and completely postponing the point that I am trying to make. It was a scalding day and I was late for work. I was sweating profusely in the oppressive heat. (Seriously, I think I sweat more than anyone that I know and have ever seen. I have observed women looking their freshest and prettiest, with incredible Zen like expressions lining their faces in the midst of the Bombay heat while the sweat on my countenance glistens like hot oil sputtering on a frying fan.)
My head was stuck in my book. (I cherished my last few moments of literary gratification as I marched along the platform towards the exit, expertly avoiding all possible occurrences of a collision between myself and some unsuspecting stranger.)
“You shouldn’t do that you know.” I heard someone whisper really close to my ear.
I turned around some what startled, it was “A” one of the senior managers at work. Oh great, now I have to walk with him and make small talk along the way, I groaned a little within.
I am painfully shy when it comes to having a friendly chat with most people I work with. I mostly speak when I feel there is a purpose I need to interject. I suck at small talk, it gives me a headache.
A friendly, nonchalant chat about the weather and all things meaningless isn’t really my cup of tea. I really envy the people that do manage it, getting friendly and comfy with the senior members of an organization never really hurt anyone. I wish I can do it with the ease and grace that some people manage to pull it off with.
So yeah, “A” and I were walking to the office, luckily I didn’t really need to say much, God bless his talkative soul. I don’t exactly remember how it started; I think I wasn’t even really paying too much attention to what he was saying. Suddenly, somehow the conversation veered towards his family. “A” is not a young man by anybodies standards. For someone who is fairly middle-aged, his son is awfully little. Now I can understand that this is not all that exceptional in this day and age, but some 20 odd years ago, getting married or having children in your late 30’s was unheard of.
“We had an inter-caste marriage, my wife is Hindu, we ran away from home. It was utter chaos in the beginning. We lived in fear for a long time. There were death threats and police complaints. All we had was each other and the clothes on our back.”
“A” straightened his shirt cuff as he went on reminiscing.
“She use to live in my colony, back in the day, we had the scoop on all the girls that lived in the neighborhood. It was something we were utterly proud of, me and my friends. She was the only one that I didn’t know, although her family stayed there, she had mostly grown up at her grandmothers house. I was completely awestruck when I first saw her, who is that girl? I asked my friend.”
“A” said that it was love at first sight. He knew that their union would never be accepted by those around them. A country that has been plagued and tortured by the ugly shadow of religious hatred would never let a Muslim man and a Hindu woman come together.
In an essentially secular country, religion has been the point of contention that has divided people, generation after generation. The passion and fervor of religious fundamentalism has turned men and women against each other, making them forget all empathy that they might share amongst themselves.
In spite of these seemingly impossible circumstances, here they are some twenty years later sharing a life together.
“It was a while before we had our son, having absolutely nothing in our pockets made it difficult to have a child. No complains, we are very happy.”
By then we had reached the office entrance and went our separate ways. I was completely awed by “A’s” story, in this crazy eccentric world that we live in love might just conquer it all. Well at least for this one lucky couple anyways.

More to follow…