And she lived...

It had often rained pink cotton candy. And perhaps tarts, sweets and chocolates. Who could forget the occasional pastries and cakes? And mom’s chocolate date pudding. And could she ever keep her hands off the raisin stained kheer?

Then the world turned around. Suddenly,  the buzz word was sugar-free, fat-free, cholesterol-free. The focus on ‘the body’ as if we were all turning into show-stoppers in fashion fiestas. The word fit had a completely transformed meaning.

I saw Meeta grow up. We were great buddies. She had always been chubby. But the cries of fat-baby and St Bernard never troubled her. I called her Chubs, and she hated me for that. And I secretly envied how pretty she was – almond eyes and silky brown hair. Her skin reflected everything around, and was glowing as ever. And the best part – she had an angelic aura on her face.

However hard she tried, she could never lose the fat! But from deep within, it never bothered her. When we went to college together, she ended up getting guys fall head-over-heels for her, while I just looked on. Nobody could escape the charm of her beauty, and above all, her angelic soul.

She always helped people, going out of her way sometimes. Once, she had travelled twenty kilometers in a bus ride, when it was raining cats and dogs, just to give notes to her classmate who had left them on the desk and had an exam the following day. She never cared for political correctness. But that was not expected out of her, as she was always warm and nice to people.

When I walked with her in the college corridors, I felt like I was with a celebrity. Everyone starting from the garden keeper, to students of all classes, to the Principal and lecturers greeted her with such affection. She was indeed the star.

I am sitting in the hospital today. Holding Meeta’s hand. As I hear the sound of the drip, I am reminded of her laughter. They say, she was very brave. They say, she saved many lives. I don’t know what they say, but my friend here in the hospital. Her mother stood nearby, her eyes full of tears, her sari covering her face, and a bowl of kheer in her hands.

When Meeta opened her eyes, I held her hand. She just smiled. She called her mother by her side and tried wiping her tears with her shaky fingers. Then she put her mother’s hand on her head and said “I am going Ma, bless me.” She looked at me and gave her mother’s hand in mine. I knew what she meant.

As the doctors pulled the sheet over her head, I was still in shock. Her mother was hysterical weeping out her woes. “She had seen blind children crossing the road. She had got out of her car and helped them. A drunk driver was racing, and she saved the children, but..” I could imagine how it would have been. How Meeta had been brave. How she did what she wanted to in life. She gave this for you and in my hand was placed a sheet of paper.

“My dearest friend, you have to take care of mummy now. And never disappoint her with your fad diet plans, just eat the kheer she makes for you. I was diagnosed with cancer last year and I don’t know how much time I have left. But I would not want to die sulking in bed. I have refused the medication. I have no regrets in life, I have seen smiling children, people and done my part. I have donated my inheritance to blind school. I never told mummy about this, but I am sure you can explain it to her.

And don’t ever undermine yourself, live life to the fullest. And you are very beautiful, inside out, and I know it. Have a happy and fulfilling life.”

She had never really lived for herself, she never cared much about how she looked or what she ate. But she cared about the people around her, every single being. She often told me, she owed a lot to this world. Her mission was to spread happiness around. Anyone would have laughed that away, not understanding what she meant. But there are some people who are ‘God’s own’ and she was perfectly just that!

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Celebrate....don't worry

Was I going to celebrate Valentine ’s Day? I had not yet decided. For me, love was never ‘out there’ for display. Nor did I ever advocate the PDAs (public displays of affection, if you might call them that). But that does not mean I will ever allow myself to suffocate in the premises of my own thoughts.

I liked seeing love around me, rather than the ill-fated hatred that bound the hearts of millions with undisputed agony. We do not realize what a disgrace we allow ourselves to do, when we agree with mass inhumane behavior. And even if we don’t oppose it, it is as good as succumbing to it.

Richa liked Richard. I always saw them as two lovebirds, who were ready to take a full flight to their new destination. I used to see them everyday, standing at the bus stop, holding hands. Many days I saw a bright yellow sunflower accompanying her books, or even a rose. But what was unmistakable was her smile, when she was with Richard.

I was rather late to office that day. It was raining heavily. As I stood at the bus stop with my umbrella, trying to escape the darned wetness, they both waved at me. They were both half wet, soaking from their shoulders but cuddling under a single umbrella. The umbrella could hardly keep up with the rain, but the warmth still kept their smiles. They both waved at me. I could not help but smile, and waved back at them.

With people like Richa and Richard, I am sure each day was a valentine’s day. They seemed so perfect together, they way their eyes locked up, the way he waited for the bus with her and waved her goodbye, or the way he walked her back home. You could clearly see that they were too happy together to be bothered by external circumstances.

“The political leaders are going frantic about 14th Feb.” “I don’t know when will they ever stop this ridicule and do some ‘real’ work”. “I do not understand, when there are riots and killings, then nobody comes forward to protect the people, and they are ready to fire swords for these minuscule things.” I could just about agree, but what could be done. We were too busy running our own lives to allocate some time for social well-being.

When the day arrived, there was love in the air. Not literally, but the smell of roses had not left any gaps unchecked. The rose petals on the walkway, the over-hyped meeting of lovers, it was all a fascination being celebrated. But whatever it was, it was lovely to look at!

I could barely get to the bus stop. There were long queues at the florist’s shop for roses, being sold for 50 bucks, when the usual price was just 8 bucks! But it still did not deter people from waiting for them. Candy wrappers, chocolate boxes were to be seen everywhere. It looked more like a dozen birthdays being celebrated together.

I was waiting for the bus to come and made sure I wasn’t wearing any shades of pink or red. Somehow, I could never stand clichés or hypes. If I loved someone, I would rather hold his hand than the rose. What wonderful thoughts, the valentine season was getting to me now.

I saw Richard and Richa. She had a beautiful bouquet of red roses in her hands. Richard must have planned way ahead for this. They held each other’s hands. I noticed, it wasn’t just me smiling, but others like Mrs Gale,  Mr Alok and all people of my neighbourhood who stood there.

Suddenly an auto-rickshaw came and stopped near the bus. It was too sudden to exclaim or understand. A few people jumped out with flags which read – “Condemn Valentine’s day. Save the culture.” They headed towards Richard and Richa. Richard moved her behind him and prepared himself for them. But there were too many of them.

I can never explain what got into me at that moment. I rushed to Richard’s side and shouted “Stop this nonsense. I have called the police. They will be here any minute.” “Don’t interfere lady, we aren’t concerned with you. We just want to teach a lesson to these lovers, who can’t respect their own culture.” Mr Alok was quicker in thinking, he actually dialed the police while Mrs Gale came up to me and confronted them. “Don’t you teach us about culture. Creating havoc isn’t our culture. Nor is this spread of violence.” “We cant let this happen.” As it happened, Mrs Gale came forward and slapped the speaker. It was so sudden that everyone stopped speaking. Staring open mouthed at Mrs Gale, who was way above her sixty years of age, the mob stopped abruptly.

We could hear the police sirens in a distance. They got into the auto-rickshaw and made a head-start, but the police caught onto them. Mrs Gale noticed the stares from strangers and she retorted “ My husband was in the army you know. A very brave man, I got it from him.” People roared in laughter at her statement.

Richard stepped out and said “Thank you Mrs Gale, and all of you.” “Oh, don’t worry about it” said Mrs Gale who was still basking in her fame and adulation. “I am planning to marry Richa. I proposed today and she said yes.” “Wow…congratulations.” “But again, I am a Christian and she is a hindu. Her parents will never agree.” “Oh Richard, let me talk to her parents.” And that statement from Mrs Gale made their day.
They say all is well that ends well. But does it ever end? In a world that advocates freedom of thought and expression, was love – the basic human expression, so gullible? But I could not argue it accurately, because this is life, and we have to keep fighting to get it ‘our way’. Who said it was going to be easy, but the least we could do is not burden other people’s problems! If each of us dealt with together, we were sure to succeed. Happy Valentine’s day to all!

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The meaning of joy...

Twenty four was not a milestone age, nor was it the joyous early twenties indicator. All it brought with it was the announcement of the mid twenties arriving! Did it really bother me? I wasn’t sure!

Our greatest anticipations and fears are actually a repercussion of public opinion or rather hype. To think of it, it was just another milestone. But to argue the same, it was a new chapter in life. No college, no bunking, getting serious with work! I mean come on…serious with work? I advocate dedication but never seriousness. I don’t know how people can consider both these as the same. For me, life was going to be fun, as it always had been!

Tomorrow was the D day. I had not made any plans and anticipated it to be yet another day. Of course, in the morning Ma called, then my sister. Then the usual…getting ready for work. And to tell you the obvious, I felt like bunking! Tell me one person who feels like working on their birthday!

I got dressed and reached office. My friends wished me, then my colleagues. Lots of phone calls and lots of emails. But it all seemed like such a routine. When I received Gautam’s call, he asked me the usual. “What plans for today? We all can meet tonight and celebrate with our group. Everyone is in town”. I smiled and said I have work to finish. I suggested meeting on a weekend when it’s more relaxed and we have time on us. As the call ended, these thoughts started circumferencing my mind.

“Happy Birthday! Hope you are having a good time” said my colleague. “Listen, I have a family function tonight, can you cover up for me in the meeting?” I didn’t know what to say! I wanted to tell him that it was the height of insensitivity, and why the superficial wishes when you don’t even care! Analyzing my silence and the ‘blank’ shocked look, he smiled his widest at me. “Thanks yaar, you are so dependable! Have a nice day”. I was wallowing in the significant brutality when it struck me.

What am I trying to do? Be a pillow for people to cry on? Ignore my friends and postpone meeting them? Not wanting to celebrate my birthday? I had become exactly what I detested most. I always told people to live lives as they wanted to, not be pushed and dragged in the crowd. Was all that just mere philosophy? Was I light years away from what I was advocating?

I dropped all work and went home. As I was unlocking the door, I heard someone. “Hello there, how are you. It has been months since I moved in, I have never seen you.” “Oh, I have long working hours I guess” I said unsurely. I wasn’t the kind to socialize with the neighbours. It came with a lot of contribution of time, and food delicacies, so I chose to stay away. Sundays had always been the lazy ones, or friend’s night out.

From where I could see her, she seemed very old and frail. “Come here, I made something special today!” “No, thank you I have something to finish.” “You people never pay heed to us oldies. Now come here at once.” I could not refuse the directive, and something within me struck a chord with her.
As I moved closer, and the rays of the sun touched her face, her wrinkles shone and smile widened. She put a delicate hand on my back and welcomed me into her house. I was amazed to see the colourful interiors. I could surely never invite her to my house, knowing how shabby it seemed now!

There were hand embroidered cushion covers with beautiful dancing folk on them. There was an old rosewood bookshelf with various classics. The dining area had been carefully arranged with beautiful small pots containing pickles; the aroma could be felt from a distance. The balcony had a neat arrangement of plants and vines, which slightly hung from her balcony. I had often looked at it from outside and praised it.

“What thoughts worry you now? Please sit down.” She sat down next to me and adjusted the spectacles on her nose. “I moved in last year, my grandson helped me. He is a darling boy, but his busy life keeps him away from me. His parents passed away years ago, and he lived with us. But that time I was young and he couldn’t move a finger without me around.” I could see her eyes moistening. I did not know what to say or do to comfort her.

“He lives in the other side of the city, you know. He is a fine theatre artist, very dedicated. I used to go regularly to see his performances. But then I had my knee problem and I can’t move around much.” I felt unhappy for her. I could never imagine myself being stuck at home all day. Here I was, trying to break free from my monotonous job, while this lady had to spend almost her entire life indoors.

“Today is his birthday. He promised he would come to see me, but I guess he has plans with friends. I made some kheer for him. Let me get it for you.” Was God just playing his usual games? I did not understand. I never had a grandmother who adored me and prepared delicacies just for me. “Here you go. I hope you like it.” And it was true; it was the most amazing kheer I had ever tasted!

“I have a special gift for you.” She took out a beautiful off white shawl. On it was embroidered the vines in her balcony, and the small bright flowers. It was very artistic to gaze at. “It is beautiful, thank you. But I can’t…” She did not let me finish my sentence and pressed it into my hands. “It is for you.”

We started talking about my family, my job and how I lived alone in the huge city. “You must be very brave for living alone. I used to be a mouse when someone even knocked at the door.” I couldn’t stop laughing at that comment. And suddenly I felt at ease with her.

We talked about books and food. She took me to the kitchen and started to teach me how to cook. In no time, we were giggling and eating lunch. Then we sat in the warmth of the sunlight in the balcony. Her transparent skin made her look angelic. I felt wonderful and blessed.

“Today is my birthday too. And tell you what, I couldn’t have had a better day than this.” She smiled and put the shawl around me. “This is what grandmas are for.” I hugged her and a tear tickled my eye. “Now don’t you start crying missie. Or I won’t give you anything else to eat!” And we both laughed at the statement. I couldn’t have asked for more on this day. The job and my life would anyway go on. They would be mundane sometimes, and fun at times. The essence was not to get carried away by life, but to carry life further. If I believed in soul mates, I was sure I had found one…as for other things, time could wait!