Wishing over bridges…

beautiful-bridges-wallpaper-free-bridge_2560x1600_93598

Travelling over bridges delights me.

It reminds me of the time when my dad would encourage me to take a coin, make a silent wish, kiss it, and throw it nice and far… so that it would reach the water.

And then, no matter how much I was dying to tell him what I asked for, he would never let tell him about it. “It’s bad luck, and your wish may not come true”, he would say.

————————-

We had just broken up, and we were in the “I’m not talking to you, yet I will stare creepily at you” zone. Coincidently, we were in the same volunteer group and were heading towards an old age home that day. Amidst the ‘ignoring’ and subtle glances, he did manage to see me struggle to get to the other side of the bus to throw my coin before the bridge ended. He extended his hand towards me and volunteered to throw the coin for me. I kissed it and passed it on to him.

This was the only time I hoped the coin didn’t make it to the waters.
But he made sure it did. He really wanted my wish to come true.

The guilt was killing me.
I’d wished for us to move on.

Advertisements

Literary Lapses ~ Tamarind Rice

Ok. It’s official. I love Tamarind Rice. The eating kind? Hell yeah! But no, this is the literary kind.
I still remember the first time I contemplated writing for Tamarind Rice. The name itself, and the quirky descriptions for Nirali, Harshika and Karishma were enough to draw me in. And since then, the love affair with this warm, affectionate bunch of people, stirring up awesome content for hungry readers, has been an awesome one.

10599125_889561487738810_4922942070708810603_n

Their meet-ups are always so genuine, so heartfelt. Their love for words is so refreshing, and it was only apt that this meet up (aptly titled Literary Lapses) was held at M-Cubed – a much cooler name for Maharashtra Mitra Mandal Library, one that I did not even know existed in Bandra! :)

My eyes travelled across the room, and took in as many book titles I could, before the introductions and activities began.

First up, they gave us the oddest pairings we’d ever come across and asked us to imagine how their ‘first meeting’ (Meet Cute) would be. I got Draupadi & Poonam Pandey, and here’s how they met!

Coalescing Quotes: where they asked us to guess the famous quotes, and then weave a story around the two quotes we picked.

Show-Off Moment: where they put the spotlight on their regular contributors, and had them share the best stories they had submitted.
I got to read my first ever attempt at horror writing: Midnight Wishes 

Blind Date with Books: where we were asked not to judge a book by its cover. And I did exactly that. And got exactly the opposite :P

10974_889561504405475_5473035785153356635_nIMG_5743

I made new friends, met some old ones, got friends to meet this mad gang, took a lot of selfies with them, and spent a beautiful afternoon surrounded by words (& wordsmiths).

Thank you Tamarind Rice, each interaction with you is even more flavourful than before.
xoxo

10600427_889561507738808_52994907897667067_n

The Other One!

I don’t usually use this word for people, but this one’s an exception.

I hate her.
There I said it.

Why do I hate her?
cos she’s so dumb.
Yet she thinks she’s so smart.

Psuedo-intellectual.
That’s what I’d like to call her.

I can’t hold a conversation with her before I start mentally making a note of my to-do list for work the next day.
Which I actually find the most boring thing in the whole wide world!

She’s opinionated, but they don’t sound like hers. They sound ‘textbook’.

She’s so petty. So fragile.
So clingy. So needy.
Such a damsel in distress.

The only distress I see is the one she puts him through.

But the thing is… he seems to enjoy being her rescuer.

Which is when the ‘her’ turns out to be me.

I hate her = I hate me.
That I was dumb enough to fall for someone dumb enough to fall for someone as dumb as her.

Goodbye Genie!

Death.
It has such a funny way of bringing out your real feelings.
Feelings that you didn’t even know existed.
Feelings for someone you don’t really know.
Feelings that make you appreciate the ones you do know a lot more.

For years, there was this unconscious love and respect I had for someone who taught me how to laugh.
Like really laugh. Unconditional, unbridled laughter.
His own smile and laughter was so contagious that you couldn’t help but join in as he laughed.

In college, there was a turning point on my life, when an otherwise boring literature class turned into an inspirational one, thanks to 2 precious words he uttered.
“Carpe Diem”
“Seize the day!”

It has taken me a week to write this post, dedicated to him, cos I haven’t been able to compose myself and find the right words… to express the role he played in my life.

Never before has a celeb’s death affected me so much, on such a personal level.
Like, I feel I have lost someone I’ve known for years. Someone from my family.

Growing up on his movies was such a blessing. I never imagined there being a day when we wouldn’t see that sweet Patch Adams smile. There’s no doubt about the fire he sparked in my heart. He stood on benches and inspired a classroom to go out there and claim the moment, the day… their lives. And those words spoke to ME. I ran with him through the adventures he faced in Jumanji. Sat entranced as he charmed me with a magical performance as the Genie. He donned the crazy hat again recently, as the eccentric head of an ad agency, a larger-than-life person with a restless, crazy mind and a heart of gold. And his characters were so believable only because he poured a lil bit of his soul into every role he essayed.

And when I got to know that he took away his own life, with his own bare hands, my heart sank. I felt a host of emotions. Tears streamed down my face. For someone I have never known, yet I felt like I always did. I was sad, that the world was short of one more loving, kind, warm- hearted soul. I was angry, that the sadness he drove away all his life finally got the better of him. That he finally decided to give in and bail out. That everything he kept telling us seemed so irrelevant now. I was miffed, that no one around could read his pain. Weren’t there moments when he just kept to himself… did no one see that? Or was he just really good at masking his emotions? There are times when I wonder if I’m doing that too… if the world really sees me, or what I want them to see of me?

I was broken-hearted to know that reel life is after all just that- make-believe!

There were many things said in the past week. Theories about his illness- depression/ parkinsons/ bipolar / drugs. About how his daughter was attacked by fans on Twitter. And the world keeps getting a little more dull with each passing day. All of it seems redundant now. So much could have been done when he had life in him. And boy, he did have some ‘awesome life’ packed in him. Each anecdote narrated by people close to him (and even those who weren’t) has so much soul, so much heart in it.

Thank you for the gift of laughter, Robin Williams, and for leaving behind a lesson of life in your death. I’m sorry it had to be this drastic a fall to teach us to rise above the life’s obstacles.

The curtains came down on the greatest show you ever put up- your life, and I only wish I could stop the end credits and say “picture abhi baki hai, mere dost!”

Thank you for the entertainment, and spread your charm wherever you may be!
xoxo

robin williams

A different time!

I’d just clocked in 30 working hours, back to back. Working overnight to meet another impossible Friday deadline. Advertising. That’s all I needed to say, and that sympathetic look would come my way, where people wonder what kind of a lunatic I am to indulge in self-torture of this kind. (I mean, aren’t there other reasons worth killing your sleep for?)

Anyway, I reached home… groggy, smelly, grouchy… mentally, physically and emotionally tired. I took a nice long scented bath, got into a comfortable pair of shorts and tees, and embraced my blankie as the sound of the raindrops outside my window soothed me to sleep!

I knew I was dreaming, I just couldn’t see anything. I heard someone calling my name and woke up with a start! It was my younger sis, all of 2 years, crawling all over my face. I opened my eyes to see her smiling at me. The 5 year old me. My dad was calling out to me. She loved our early morning sessions, where I would tell dad to wake me up at 6.30 am (that’s when TNT would magically transform into Cartoon Network once again!;)
And then, I’d watch all my favourite cartoons, back to back. The Jetsons. The Simpsons. Captain Planet. Tom and Jerry. The Road Runners. The Flintstones. Courage the Cowardly Dog. And slowly, she’d been getting up early with me too.

I smiled at her, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, uber happy that it was a non-school Saturday. My dad took both of us in his arms and placed us both on the sofa, and switched on the TV. The room was filled with giggles and gurgles, claps and laughs. Dad kept checking on us as he made breakfast. Our ‘cartoon marathon’ was soon over. Dad must’ve realised cos he hadn’t heard out voices for quite some time. He came to the hall and saw the TV on, but our eyes shut. I had rolled over and was resting on the bolster, while she was sleeping right next to me, with her hand over me. Dad smiled, clicked a photo of this moment, and carried us to our beds.

I could feel myself being lifted out of that sofa, and the warmth of my dad’s arms was the best feeling in the whole wide world.

I went back to my dream land. And after what felt like eternity, I heard my name being called out again. I woke up to my reality. My mom was waking me up for a good Saturday lunch. And after that, I sunk into my bean bag and watched an Emmy Marathon of Mad Men, season 7 with my elder sister!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
Topic: ‘Back in Time’. Imagine, one fine day, you wake up as a 5-year-old child and not as a grown up! What will you do then?

IMG_5636-0

If it were meant to be…

I grabbed a bunch of my besties and arrived at the most awaited event of the year- our annual college festival.

The crowd was massive.
The rule was simple.
If we get lost, we meet where we are right now: the basketball court.

The events were interesting, and scattered across the campus.
Getting lost was inevitable.

Young. Reckless. Carefree. Impulsive.
I let this side of me take over.

Self-defence. Dream Analysis. Salsa.
Workshops that caught my attention and drew me into those classrooms.

I decided to search for my friends later. I wanted to enjoy these moments all by myself.

A blue-eyed boy – shy, soft-spoken and fragile; was assigned to me in the self defence class.

I was eager to learn. Aggressive. Pushy. And kept asking for all the demos to be conducted on him… so that I could learn better. I laughed at his plight. He threw daggers my way- playful ones. He enjoyed the attention we were getting too.

Before we knew it, the workshop was over. We stood outside the class, wondering what to do next. He grabbed my hand and led me to another classroom.

Salsa.
I always wanted to learn salsa.

We were warming up for the session when he leaned in and whispered softly in my ears, “by the way, I have a black belt in Karate”

I turned red, unable to fathom how he played me.

It was his turn to lead.
With a wry smile, he coaxed me onto the floor, and I enjoyed the warmth of his arms for the next 45 minutes… amazed at this conniving yet charming blue-eyed boy.

The session concluded.
We walked out, silently.

My friends were so relieved to find me, they closed in on me, asking me a billion questions about my disappearance.

I saw him walking away.
He turned one last time, and smiled at me. That impish smile I’d grown to recognise.
There were so many things I wanted to say to him.
So many things I wanted to know about him.

Damn, how could we forget to exchange numbers?

BF: do we have to pick between best friend or boyfriend?

I didn’t think there was any truth in the belief that ‘a girl and a guy can never be JUST friends’.

We were inseparable.
We always had something to talk about.
The incessant chatter, the never ending gossip sessions… that zoned out the entire group.
Only we understood each other jokes, completed each other’s sentences.

We were happy in our little world.
Even though the world wanted to label this as something ‘special’

To me, and to his parents,
I was always like the daughter they yearned for.

We happily laughed at how the world was so petty and shallow.
How our friendship was special, because it didn’t follow the typical pattern.

Until one day, that nagging thought finally crept into his mind.
He wondered as to how the WHOLE world saw ‘something’, and we didn’t.
Were we closing our eyes to a possible romance that could be eternal?

He compelled me to think.
And I did, for his sake. For the sake of our friendship.
I was shattered, that he asked me to.
That it came down to this.

There was only one way to know.
I let my imagination come to my rescue.
I closed my eyes and imagined him closing in on my lips.
Just the thought of it repulsed me.
My lips expressed my disgust.

We decided to never talk about it again. And just be friends.
But that was the problem, we were just that. Could we now ever be friends?