Dear Anonymous Letter Writer - Birthday Chronicles

I make a big fuss of birthdays, each time. Especially if it is mine. Of course.

And you know what counts as luck? When you find others who make a bigger fuss of birthdays than you. And I'm the lucky one, who has not one, but about a dozen crazies around her, who've been investing time and mind into creating little gestures of warmth, leaving a wide, uncontrollable smile on my face.

A recent pretty phenomenon is a red coloured note, which I find stuck to my almirah with the help of magnets, each day when I get back home. These notes/letters contained words of love, which, as hard as I might try, I cannot identify the source of. I thought of cheating, because, it is easy to (all I need to do is steal my sister's phone - I already know the password). But then, I thought of living the experience through. I have analysed the handwriting, the tone, the language, the emotions - and honest admission - I have zero idea of who he or she is. I think the writer is a 'he'. Just, instinct.

So, while I have given up trying to establish the identity of my anonymous pen-friend, let me write him (assuming 'he') a letter of my own. I am doing this, because unresponsiveness is among the things which irks me most in life. Even though I do not know who I am responding to, I will still go ahead and do it, because words deserve words, love deserves love, emotions deserve emotions, and letters deserve letters.

Here goes, a short one, for the person counting down 26 days to my 26th birthday.

Dear anonymous letter writer

I want to thank you. Not for writing to me, but for writing in general. People have quite forgotten the genuineness and touch which ink and paper hold. People have also forgotten that at times, all it takes is one little gesture to completely light up someone's life. Like you are lighting up mine. I look forward to your notes each day. It is a habit I could fondly cultivate. 

Thanks for making me realise how old am I going to be. No sarcasm. I am happy to know how far I have come in life, and also to get a glimpse of how others have journeyed along with me. 

A little word of caution though. When I finally get to know who you are, we'll work a little on your handwriting. No offences, just, my way of saying I think I like you enough to want to work with you. 

Looking forward to note number six. 

Thanks. 

Love, 
Saumya. 

One Day At A Time

Many would argue, that the time for nostalgia is over. For me, it has just come alive. I am celebrating the New Year in the most spectacular way possible - sipping through memories in an absolutely quiet room, all to myself. In the distance, I can hear some crass party music buzzing on meaninglessly. I can also hear gentle snores from neighbouring rooms. Dreams are hastily in motion, living their final pleasant breathes for tomorrow will bring the rush of office life, the mayhem of odd-even logic. My sister has an exam. I hope her dreams are flooded with untidily scribbled notes.

PC - imgcell.com

As for me, I am going to sit this night out. I have a couple of things to ponder on, another couple to feel good about, and I am going to allow myself the privilege of embracing only the fatigue caused by contentment. 2015 was a special year, not because it was perfect, far from it actually, but because at the end of all of the chaos, I remember prettiness. In fact, I even remember the darker times with a hint of pretty. That is a good sign, no?

Dates, endings and beginning are all psychological constructs. Nothing really, materially or physically has changed between yesterday and today. Still, I have quite loved observing dates to which we attach significance. These are times to pause and reflect, before you decide to drone on and get accustomed to the usual pace of life after a moment's high. Here are some reflections and learnings from 2015 which I find worth sharing. A part of them you might relate with, a part of them might help you out in someway. Another part of them, perhaps, you could help me out with.

Books
There are these drunk screeches I can hear from cars blaring music as revellers inside them welcome 2016 in a manner I never can. I am casting loving glances on my Murakami lying a little away on the quilt, because once this post is over, I will be snuggling with it to sleep. (Whatsapp servers being down helps). I have always been an avid reader, but in 2015, I saw in me a compulsive need to read. Amid social media comments which called me a show-off to a liar, I persisted with my stubborn love for books, and ended up reading 58 of them! That, by any standards, is a huge number to accomplish in a year.

However, number is not all that I have accomplished. Books helped me discover knowledge, meaning and even balance. A  lot of time which I could have potentially spent over-thinking was spent guessing and obsessing over unfolding plotlines. My thoughts were often writing stories of their own, which were so powerful, that it impacted my actual writing styles, in a good way. I connected with people who connected with my reading list - and these, I can tell you, were the easiest people to match wavelength with. I ended up inspiring, quite happy to say this, a few to set their own personal targets and take up reading seriously in the coming year.

 No matter what was happening in life, I always had a book to come back to. It was comforting, and not in the least did it contribute towards making me reclusive. Rather, these books gave me so many conversation topics that I would be bursting with literary excitement everytime I was in human company. As much as I can remember, I only gifted books this year. Trying to find the perfect book for a friend was almost as exciting as trying to set him/her up with a perfect match! For those who have yet not discovered the magic of books, I am here to help. For those who want to sort out their reading list, I am here to help. For those who want membership in my personal library, duh, I am here to help.

Time
Not my greatest friend, honestly. But I got along fine with it.

A persistent question which friends/acquaintances/people I interact with on social media, asked me was - how do I have time to do all that I do! Honestly, I don't have an answer. I do find myself burdened, running delays, panicking with the load of work I have - but that is a rare occurrence. It happens when the general spirit in life is low. Else, I am quite happy observing the diffraction in my thoughts as they are forever trying to accomplish multi-hued objectives. I am quite chaotic in my head, but this is a very endearing chaos which keeps me goofy and occupied. Do you see what I mean?

PC - bookbook.com

There are a few things I have learnt in 2015, about my relationship with time, which I am going to carry forward next year. I spent hours curating experiences for myself. I took myself out of dates, learnt to make peace with solitude and understood that cacophony is disorienting if consumed too much. This might not sound feasible or wise, but wherever there was a choice between saving time or saving money, I literally squandered money to save myself some precious minutes. I've started sleeping adequately, and I think, I have begun loving my sleep-hours more than food. THAT is saying a lot.

Moving beyond the ticking aspect of clocks, I have learnt to trust and respect time. It will keep moving - no matter what. So, if you have a happy situation - live it, because it won't last. If you have a difficult situation - keep cool, because it won't last. Flow, if possible. Act in the best possible way, take your breaks, get back up again, and time, with its constant flow, will take care of the rest.

Poetry

PC - Tejinder Singh

I am not a great poet. Good is also a debatable adjective, but I have had the golden privilege of frolicking about in poetry most days of the past year. That, however, is not what I want to talk about. I actually want to mention Poets' Collective here, defining which is beyond the collective expressive capabilities of all the beautiful souls which inhabit it.

PC is a family which many of us have built together. Even while I try and observe a safe distance from most things, attachment towards PC comes naturally, without realization. Part of it, certainly, is about poetry. A greater part of it, however, is about life. In its most intimate manifestation, I have seen people show their craziest sides without a shred of fear about being judged or mocked at. I LOVE THAT. "Being" is more important than "being free". Think about it. And in this almost surreal state of being, I have seen some amazing poems brewing, even before they take the shape of words. There is no larger purpose here - we've got our jobs and ambitions and plans sorted for that. This is, perhaps, about saying - "Let's grow old in poetry, together."

This commitment, to growing together, learning together and cherishing all the good which comes along with poetry in our lives is what makes PC special. At least I believe so.

Mistakes
Oh many! So many!

Learning from mistakes aside, I learnt, that there are some mistakes I cannot help but commit repeatedly. In that scenario, what is important is to learn how to assuage situation soon enough, so as not to cause damage anywhere. Internal or external.

I believe people are sometimes too harsh on themselves when they realise their mistakes. It's okay. You will go on making them. Problem arises when you repeat your mishaps. Please find new mistakes to commit through life. Once done, ask yourself, 'What next?' And act. Action is sometimes the greatest way out of the gravest quandaries in life.

Shall I tell you something more? In retrospect, each of your silliest mistakes will beautifully fit together like puzzle pieces to complete the mosaic of your vibrant life. You'll have nothing to regret, unless you're hell-bent upon it. Hang in there. Most of these things are happening for a reason.

Important - when others make a mistake, and you think you are in a position to make them realize it, please to it with an aim to correct and not to condescend. There was this lovely day last year where there was an oversight on my part, and I was shamed in front of an alien public, in a verbose and unpleasant manner. I love rebukes. They are usually dazzling chances to learn. But not this time. Tough love does not include shaming - it includes a stretching of parochial perspectives.

People
Aah. My favourite part. This year was insane with respect to people. I offended a lot of people, sometimes knowingly so. I fell in love with a lot more. Some unfriended me, some took me out on marvellous dates. The pretty difference this year was, whenever it came to conflict between my peace and someone else's happiness, I first saved myself and then did whatever I could for the other. Rants aside, here are a few mentions.

Dr. Ashok Chakradhar - an inspiration and mentor, he gave me the privilege of calling him a teacher - a role in which he excels effortlessly. Literature, poetry, discourses and life - I gained a lot through my interactions with him.

Mujeeb - calling him a lifeline is still an understatement.

Niyati - if I have truly shared any phase of my life in painful detail with someone, it has been her. This relationship was due some years on me.

Akshat - we grew up, suddenly. We've had a history of most invigorating discussions, but the level and class and subjects suddenly became too grown-up. In a good way, I guess. (This person is my reality check in life.)

Mohit - he brought music and senseless smiles back in my life. Among few of the toughest days in 2015, it was just this guy, who could say precisely the words I had wanted desperately to hear.

Ekta - the way we connected, in an instant over that auto-ride, this is the stuff that great friendship stories are made of. Resolve to meet me more, okay?

Ambikesh, Prateek, Sharad - funnily enough, you guys played a similar role in my life at different points in time. Standing up for me, and facing my boiling temperature, you three have completed cycles of the relationships we're hopefully building for a long time to come.

Nimisha - daughter, decided? Chuck everything and come snuggle with me when times are tough. Also, there are always books and pizza.

Anurag - you came up bravely, but there is a long way to go. You know it. I know it.

Divyaksh - you are my goofy spoon of happiness and the best ever insight into mythology and philosophy.

Puneet and Atif - kaise? How are you guys such dazzling humans at heart? I have loved your poetry, your love and the pretty bonds of friendship which have formed between us.

Rashmi - no words in the world are capable of telling you how thankful, indebted and in awe of you am I. You are such a reflection of the life-force which I forever want to live with!

Mimansa - the genuineness of your heart tugs at mine. I hope to know you better next year.

Pooja - when you talk, it is like my conscience speaking to me. I could write poetry for you daily, you know, hoping that someday you'll scribble some verses for me.

Yaseen - you're a friend I have chosen to believe in.

Evita - how did we come to be so close? How did you come to be so fond of me?

Kamal - I think noone in my life understands the term 'unconditional love' better than you do. Darling son, okay?

Nishant - God gave me my full when he designated you as my friend. I'm blind and demanding when it comes to our love and friendship!

Netrik - for the unconditional faith you have posed in me and the world we've created.

Yasser - for being a charming new addition to life.

Atika - the liberty to be at peace with myself when I am with you is stupendous. You are a beautiful person, and there is nothing I will not do to add smiles to your life.

Vernita - I have ended up admiring you. So much! I want to meet you so much more and keep falling in love with you.

Saif bhaiya - you are the BEST gift that 2015 gave me. I have known you several years, but not like this, never like this. Your being there matters. A lot.


One Day at a Time
My biggest gift this year was the ability to live one day at a time. Yes. I gave each new day its respect. I seldom carried on emotions and intensities from previous nights to new dawns. There were many mornings I woke up and asked myself - so, what do you want to try out today? And whether it was as basic as making mashed potatoes for myself, or beginning work on a new book - I just went ahead and did it. Simple.

I wish you a great 2016. I have some great plans and some stupid tasks to accomplish gloriously. Absolutely kicked about it. You?

A Heady Brew - Of Poetry and Winters

Recently, Taneea Aggarwal (my could-be future student) interviewed me for an digital portal which seeks to publish stories of inspiring people and events. It is quite Icy-Tales - a rather wintry name itself! I am truly humbled by the kind consideration on the part of the interviewer and the Editor of the portal to have considered me worthy enough for featuring here.

In an conversation which lasted more than an hour, there were two responses which I particular enjoyed myself. Recalling just the two, but you can read the entire interview by hopping over to this link.

Why poetry? What attracts you most about this form of art?

I wasn’t very fond of poetry during school or college. I never think any teacher was able to make me own poetry the way I own it now. My love for it is not academic at all. Roughly two and a half years ago, I met a lot of self-asserted poets and started understanding the stories behind poems and it’s power to subtly reveal things you don’t want to express directly. I am attached to it now because I have seen it’s power as an empowering medium. There are so many things we want to say but so many times the correct way of putting them in words is through poetry. Poetry depicts little but leaves a lot to be interpreted and applied to one’s life. It’s ability to inspire and connect with the people reading it has always left me in awe. Poetry can take you over on a dark night when nobody’s around you, and give you peace when you’re in a throng. I love the musicality of it, maybe because I love singing. Poetry has opened me up to my roots and made me explore different languages. I believe some of the best poems are written in Urdu, Hindi, and Sanskrit. I like the simpler poets. I have my favorites in Faiz, Neruda, Harivansh Rai Bachchan and Wordsworth. But at its very basic, poetry gives me pleasure. It makes me happy.

Which is your favourite season? Which season gets your best work?

Winters. Firstly, because Delhi is the most beautiful at this time of the year, and it is the best time to be out on explorations. Secondly, there is something very charming and romantic about this season which makes my mind a lot calmer. It makes the romance of life, nature, existence, and relationships become apparent to me. On my blog, most of my writings have clustered around the winter months. It’s also a very nice time for nostalgia, maybe because the year is closing. This is the time to warm yourself up. The idea of sitting in a quilt, with a cup of coffee is very inviting and relaxing. My best thoughts visit me when I am in that zone. I believe that winters are necessary to feel warm. My imagination and creativity are at the peak during winters. 

Wisps of Winter

Today, I felt the first faint signs of chill around me. For one, I developed slight, welcome fever. 'Welcome fever' might be a difficult concept for many to understand. It is the kind of pleasant fatigue that makes you pop a pill, lie down, and willingly let go off he humongous weight of work you had been dragging along. It is the kind which tells you nothing is wrong, but this pause is good to recover strengths and smiles. It, at this point of time in the year, also informs you that the romance of winters is going to knock on your door soon, that the season is changing. So yes, as I lie tired on the couch and type it all out, I am actually quite pleased that the hum of the airconditioner is fast becoming a thing of the past.

Winters are special. They make my city beautiful, and my heart fond. They make coffee tastier, and books crispier. They bring along blankets, and consequently, warmth. They take away the irritating moisture, to replace it with a forced dalliance with cold creams. It may sound odd, but I quite like drawing on my arms when they turn parched, and a sheet of moisturiser is the eraser to this slate. A duller world, makes the self more pronounced. And I like, I like it immensely.

Here is my winter wishlist. All things basic, all things romantic. You're welcome to join me, for any, and all of these :)

1. Street shopping for winter clothes

Janpath, Sarojini and Paharganj are on my radar. Any better suggestions for budget and statement winter-wear? Drop me some advice in the comments section!

2. A book date in Rabindra Bhawan

Rabindra Bhawan houses one of the best libraries in Delhi - the Sahitya Akademi library. For a frugal fee, you get access to few of the most amazing titles from Indian, American and even Russian literature. Enough to keep you occupied. Their reading room is inspiring, and if you don't find space inside, the winter sun can give you company outside.

3. Poetry reading in Lodhi Gardens, Humayun's Tomb, Safdarjung Tomb et al

Delhi is a grand city. So many historical venues call out to you in winters to explore and inhabit them. I am eager to take Poets' Collective to all these wonderful places, and also discover some new ones where poetry can resonate and leave behind memories. Let's do poetry in excess for the next few months, shall we?

4. Early morning walk through Sanjay Van

The last time we went there, it was in scorching monsoons. Bad idea! Lal Kot and Sanjay Van seem like a winter destination for a walk along with some stories. A picnic with the close ones is on the cards, definitely.

5. Roadside Chai

It is not even winters, and we have already begun loitering about in N-Block, Connaught Place, searching for chaiwallas on the pavement. Samosas, kachoris and bina-cheeni-ki-chai are going to be my evening companions as days start getting dark sooner.

6. Statement neck-pieces and dark shades of Lipstick

I don't know much about this. But, these winters will be about understanding a bit more of fashion. Who is helping?

7. Conversations over coffee 

Do you have something interesting to discuss? If you can afford some coffee to go with it, you have my attention. Delhi has many roof-top and garden cafes. I am making a list of all the places I want to go to. May be you and I can go along together?

8. Long walks on random roads

Broke or rich, this is something I have been doing since the past few years. With or without company. Music in my ears. Thoughts swirling in my head. Greens becoming greener. Poems calling me out. I love taking walks in winters - an unparalleled fuel for the soul.

9. Reading and writing romances in my blanket 

Nothing comforts like the warmth of winters. I have my reading list fleshed out. I have my story-plots ideated. And I don't mind doing some cosy story-telling sessions at home - an exclusive all-girls, openly gender-biased gathering.

10. Letting my hair down

Well-styled or unkempt - I am letting my hair loose this winter. Winters ought to be a little wild, no?



You can see, clearly, how fascinated am I with the prospect of some chill arriving in Delhi. My winters, curiously enough, begin in the hills. I'll be heading out to Nainital to moderate a session at the prestigious Kumaon Literary Festival on Monday. I'll carry some wintry emotions back.

What are your winter plans? Would you want to join me for any of mine?

P.S. - I am also giving away a lot more free hugs in winters. Just saying.

From The Other Side

I have been a great fan of my teachers. For a child struggling with many tussles inside her heart, mind and the manner in which they related with the very judgemental world, it was my teachers who came to my rescue in ways which cannot be contained inside any text book. This weekend, I took out some time to relive the fantastic college and school times, where teachers formed the pivot around which my life revolved. They were more of my friends than any peer. And I am not exaggerating one bit.

This Teachers' Day, however, I was greeted with another pretty revelation. In a manner uniquely subtle and unconventional, I had stepped over to the other side. It's been a year I have been working with Shiv Nadar School (as a Content Strategist, and not as a teacher), but I have had the privilege of sharing my knowledge of literature and creative writing with the lovely kids there. These few interactions were enough for the students to deem me a teacher, and gift me some love in the form of fond hugs and heartfelt wishes. 

My moment of extreme pride came when I was informed by the Principal herself that students at the school had been wanting me to visit more often, to teach and interact with them. The way my heart swelled and my eyes welled-up is inexplicable in words. What greater joy can greet a person who has made it her life's aim to hear people out and share whatever shreds of knowledge she has managed to amass during her stay on this planet?

I have a special bond with everyone at Shiv Nadar School, right from the teachers, to students to the management, and probably the space of this blog is too scarce to express even a fraction of it. In a relationship spanning more than a year, I have enjoyed the trust of many, and appreciation of the kind that leaves me humbled. What is truly humbling, however, is the scope of learning that the school precincts provide me. I have a genuine belief that the teachers which Shiv Nadar School has chosen to carry its philosophies forward are a unique breed. The value system of the school, as well as the very innate desire to curate learning experiences brims over in a kind of infectious energy which greets me each time I visit. I rue not being able to visit them more often, but, ah, the perils of distances and a crumbling human body. 

The lady, who has left a profound impact on me in that jolly world of learning, as is public knowledge, is Ms. Monica Sagar. It is difficult for me to figure out completely why Monica ma'am appeals to me the way she does. It has probably got something to do with her absolutely down-to-earth and nonchalant demeanour, even on the most glamorous of days. And all this, when she is an exceptional leader. To my mind, she has somehow mastered the art of shepherding her herd while giving them a lead to locate their own paths. After being such a busy woman, she manages to be ready with a hug and smile to greet you at all times. She doesn't exactly teach me, but I end up learning much from her. Always. 

I have written glorious paeans for my school and college teachers, but this Teachers' Day post is an apt time to thank Vaibhav and Karan for being the guides in the professional world, where I still exist as a strong-headed, moment-inspired writer. They manage to keep me going, happy and proud of my work. 

To end, I think a good teacher rises out of exceptional students. Here are a few words from Drishti's blog, which she wrote for her favourite teachers. I am fortunate I fall in that category of favourites for her. 

Meet My Family

I spent the day at home. It is a rare occurrence, if you must know. What was special about the day was the fact that despite accomplishing truckloads of work, and putting off another truckload, I slept rather peacefully. That, again is a rare occurrence.

The reason why my closed eyes could breathe easy was the fact that I knew I will make time to finish this blogpost before the day ended. This one is important to me. And it has been pending sometime. I was scared that by the time I get down to writing it, I'll lose the feel of it all, that I will get over the sense of overwhelm that assails me 14 times a week, that I will forget the pieces of memory I am trying so hard to keep together. Today, I knew I will make time to put all these anxieties at rest, because, as of the present day, I have much to be happy, and peaceful about in life.

I have been away from this precious domain for quite sometime, not being able to record all the amazing things my life is blessed with at present. Like, this very moment, when I am sitting next to a window with a mug of tea, with crazy rains outside, and the faces of my beloved kids in my mind. Most of us experience this kind of peace with the memory of a lover, enhanced by the romance of rains and a cuppa with the aroma of shared moments. In my case, the whiff of romance is similar, just that, it is shared with an entire family which loves me more than anyone, anytime, anywhere in the world can. All of them together, all of them individually.

It all began with poetic soiree, almost a year back. A lot strange faces I met were soon going to become my family. The process of coming close has been epic, but more epic are these individuals I seek to write about. Let me talk of the family, I'll talk of the Collective in a later edition, someday. Or not, Poets' Collective is because all of them are. Meet these people who make my heart a mushy place :)

Sumedha
I don't know why I began with her name. It is probably because of a really sweet message she sent my way last night, which ended up making me feel like the luckiest being alive. She has been attending our meets for close to 8 months now, and she never spoke a word - just silently sat their observing the poets recite away to glory. Till the day she gifted me a lovely handmade pen stand, I could not have guessed her levels of affection. Gifts, sometimes, are important. And today, when she has started chattering in front of us, I can distinctly see oodles of love in her eyes for me, and for this little mad family we have all created together. White and pure, these are the words which come to my mind when I think of her. Her talent, I believe, is yet to blossom out in the open - but she is already my young one, literally and figuratively, and I have no doubts in my mind that she will do brilliantly well in life, yet stay humble about it.

Riya
Riya is a rare talent, one that is difficult to control or cage or even channelise. Her thoughts, revolutionary and provocative, will keep flowing over and also singe those who listen to her with an unwelcome ear. She holds in her heart ideas powerful enough to inspire not ours, but a generation of the future. She is someone who is elder for her years, and hence, who humbles me into listening. I have nothing to give her but all the encouragement in the world. She is her own guide, her own flame, and as travellers on a similar journey, I hope she keeps us close. And I miss her. And I think she knows it.

Sharad
I love getting photographed - and that is a world famous fact. What is little known, however, is the fact that I have been fortunate enough to chance upon some genuine behind camera talents, who make me look good, probably better than my own imaginations. Sharad is one such spark of brilliance who has just floored me with his insane levels of warmth and love. He calls me mummy whenever he feels cornered, and the alacrity it fills me with is more than visible on my face. I call him my minion - yellow, funny and happy. I've seen him cry in the middle of a monologue which remains among my most prized moments in life - when this kid admitted to having developed more respect for people around him after having joined the PC gang. In another bit of fond memory, he has learnt to give nice hugs now (and that is something, his girl - now or in future - has me to thank for!)

Divyaksh
He is the funniest brained person I know. His life is discontinuous fragment of satirical observations on the world around, each woven into a metaphor we now understand and associate with. He is a Jaya aunty fan. He has a hold on marketing and mythology logic with the same comfort. He sings bollywood numbers at inappropriate places and comments inadvisable nonsense much to the chagrin of fellow metro passengers. He talks non-stop. He is elder to me, yet gives me the respect of an elder sibling. He says he is a lost soul who feels like he's given direction when he is with us. He loves pink. And as far as I am concerned, he is the one person I feel the safest with.  He can keep me entertained for hours, he can contest my logic, and yet end on a very respectful note. Like everyone else, he is such an important part of my family, and my existence. I hope I can learn from his genius. Also, he is a dinosaur.

Nimisha
I have many sons, but she is the first daughter of my family. I consciously call her my beloved daughter, for she evokes in me a feeling akin to very motherly protectiveness. I feel like taking her in my arms and protecting her from all the ill-tendencies out there in the world. Not once, but many a times has it happened that she hugs me in a restaurant, and before you know it, she falls asleep then and there. And never have I had the heart to rouse her out of the very peaceful slumber reflected on her face. While she is talented and belligerent in her own ways, never has she stepped out of very humble and respectful mannerisms for me. It makes me feel blessed and responsible in equal measures. Till where I can push, I will do so for her. Oh, my only complaint to her - ladki phate kapde pehen ke baahar aa jaati hai. Needs a wardrobe overhaul asap. Rest, she can come to me with all her fears, and they'll be absorbed. Promise!

Anurag
We go back a long way, and I have seen this one go through many lows and highs and yet survive and come out strong. He is again one of those who is elder to me, but manages to give me the respect of didi. Legend has it that I scared him away when I met him the first time, but he managed to be brave enough to return to our kind of poetry, and has kept coming back since. A kind of syntactical distortion lends extreme levels of genius to his poetry, but these distortions exist because he has seen the anomalies and realities of life very closely. What I really want to tell him is that each time he has lived up to his own expectations, he has lived up to mine. And nothing will catch my attention more than his doing well in his own manner, on his own path. I do want to be a happy co-traveller, if possible?

Abhishek
I never call him Abhishek. Never. In public, or private, I love calling him Chintu. And I love it more when he resists this nickname from everyone else, except me. There is no end to how special I feel each time he lays bare his heart and soul in front of me, telling me all little details of things which have shaped him and his sensibilities. He is quite a sensitive and sensible soul, who is capable of taking care of himself, as well as those around him. In our close knit family, he fulfils many functions - a brother to one, a son to the other, a friend to another. The best thing about him? When I am not able to give him my full attention, he does not develop a grudge. He thanks and lauds me for absorbing so many stories of so many of them. I mean, the maturity strikes straight through my heart!

Neha
This girl stuns and surprises me each time. A pretty, sophisticated, ever-smiling girl - I could have never imagined a streak of activism in her, which I am being greeted with since past sometime. Neha is a completely paarivarik girl, who brings along the same values in my family. With her around, I can be sure that no malice and ill-will will enter our world. She expresses less, but when she does, I feel like floating above and beyond the moon. She holds me responsible for much, not realising that had she not been spreading energy around with her infectious smiles, our world would have been a lot less happier. She'll do well, with her smart mind and diligent heart, and she'll always remain a beautiful part of my life because of her almost selfless levels of trust and love for us.

Aniket
Aniket is not among the kids I have spent a lot of time with, but I know in my heart that whenever he finds a zone and opportunity, he comes running to us. For now, what I know is that I quite adore his kurta clad look, and his warm and respectful countenance. He seems to be someone I can trust with many responsibilities, and he will not disappoint me ever. I just want to see him around more, much more.

Shibani
Shibani is the latest entry in our madhouse. The fact that she is a poet-performer-par-excellence is known to all of Delhi. What is not known to all perhaps is that she is mad in equal measures to all of us, and that is why, probably, she feels at home with us. I did not expect to see her around so often, but I guess, she accepted us in her life before we accepted her in ours. With me, I remember feeling super-elated when she gave me a very warm hug post her performance at the last meet. Few things give me greater pleasure than being accepted in the lives of people with such faith. A few conversations later, I am cozy with the knowledge that she identifies with us, our cause, and is honest in her efforts to help us go places. In whatever little manners I can, I am there with her, for her :)

Shiva
She is a stunner. Again, I don't know much about her, but she has much depth and calm to her being. I have not heard many of her compositions, but the one poem I have heard, I keep hearing it daily. Because it calms me down. Because in the mad mayhem of technology, she is a pleasant pause, with old-world values and charm. Because her heart as pure as pure can be and that reflects in her words. Because I know I am not super-close to her, but she is going to be indispensable to our family, real soon.

Prateek
Umm. The caveat here is, anything I say will be saying too less. He began as a creep in my life, and has graduated to becoming an extremely creepy stalker now. I think very few people know me the way he does, because even when I am not letting out much, he is observing and absorbing. Prateek is an incredibly brave child, for he has chosen the difficult path of aspirations in life - but he is holding up. And so long as he is holding up, I am there with him to give the necessary push and guidance. Each time he thanks me for being around, my heart shrinks a little, because I feel I have not done enough for his genius to blossom. But he understands, I am sure he does. He is among the few who understands my affection as much as my irritations. Among my more mature sons, he is probably the one I will remember to call in my old age. To take care of me. Or just to give me a lot of grandchildren to while away my time with. (I will spoil them better than I spoilt you. And you cannot stop me.)

Ambikesh
Can I ever put in words the love we share? Can you do it? Can anyone else do it? You were the useless, pennyless  college student who made me suffer a loss of 500 bucks when you came in the first time. Those 500 rupees are the best investment I have made in life ever. You know Ambikesh, I often end up riling people when I feel they do not reciprocate or do enough for me after we've parted ways. In your case, you are always giving me 2x the love I can. I am already in your debt. I don't speak to anyone as much as I speak to you. I do not go to people to for advice or for sharing my lows as much as I do with you. And you manage to calm me down. Sometimes, you make me cry in confusion, because, when you tell me how much you and the others love me, my mind literally stops functioning because, I mean, how can this much happiness and love be possible. Being the cherophobe that I am, I shut out most of these positive feelings, lest they make me arrogant. But, you all do make me arrogant, you know. This is the best of a family I have experienced, and you're my elder son. It might all change tomorrow, but, you're the focus of my life for now. And even though you do not need it, I know, I'll be protecting you forever.

This is a good season of life. Among the best, but so precious, that I am scared to call it the best. Keep the family together, please?

Winter Notebook - December Arrives With A New Theme!

December is a reflection zone for me. This month brings with itself the smell of nostalgia. It does also, usually, carry along the wonder of winter, the comfort of blankets and the thrill of cosy moments with friends, but, well, that, I believe, is a burden of expectations which January will have to bear. I can say this, because I am writing this post sitting on the floor in the drawing room of my house, wearing half sleeves kurta with a thin, cotton salwar, killing mosquitoes as I type. December should not feel like this. I mean, by now, I should have been shivering inside a blanket wrapped around an oversized gharwali jacket. And by now, all mosquitoes should have died of merciless cold. But, aah, well, none of those has happened.

PC - Funnybox.com

The nostalgia is here, definitely. It has got a little to do with winters, which carry along the pleasant lull of thoughtfulness. It has got a little more to do with the timing. Another year is dying, only so it may live with its best and worst moments inside us. A new year starts looming in imagination, with its promises of great things and nervousness of new experiments and performances. Is the prospect of a new year always exciting? I don't know. However, for me, personally, I am glad 2014 is going to be gone.

It was a tough year for me; probably the toughest in my memory. The scratches of bitter moments are still red, and they itch now and then. It was a year in which I saw myself refusing to mature with experience. I found regression comforting. This was a year in which I challenged life, looking right in its eye. Then, I won some, I lost some. Good things happened, of course they did! But somehow, I am looking at December to serve as a grand compensation for all that went wrong. So far, it has behaved, umm, in a lukewarm manner. But it has only just started, and probably great things are in store. Or probably they are not. I don't know. I don't know how welcome is it to think of planting experiences and not allowing them to come on you naturally.

Good, or bad, one thing I am fervently hoping is that December leaves me with experiences I can translate into stories. Oh yes, I am high on writing stories these days.

I am also high on eliminating clutter from my life, a start of which has been made on this blog. I loved the rich red shades of the earlier theme, but I guess it was time I made things cleaner (and leaner?) here. What do you think of the new theme? Not that I am going to change it if you advise, but I would love to know your thoughts.

A wintry smile, from last year.

I'll introduce you to my memories this month. You don't really have to be on this journey with me, but I will be glad if you are.