The Wait

10:50. 9 more minutes for the train to arrive. It was the middle of June and the cruel sun, like a project manager on the day before a big release, showed no mercy. There wasn't a lemonade stall or even a drinking tap in sight. She scrunched up her face and sat down in defeat. 8 more minutes to go.

On the other side of the tracks lay a vast emptiness of sand. You could just make out the remains of tiny shrubs which had dared to grow in the desert. Dry and shrivelled they were dead and about to become one with the sand any time now. 7 minutes more...

She looked around for any signs of another being. A dog. Patchy fur the color of burnt coal. He was most definitely wounded and diseased. Licking at a miraculous puddle next to the track it desperately reached for survival. 6...

She had always wondered about mirages. Do they always look like an oasis in the desert or do people see what they most desire? In case of a thirsty traveller in the desert the two would probably be the same thing. But what about the traveller with unlimited supply of water. Would they see a bathroom? Or a pair of Jimmy Choo's they would kill for? Or the BMW their neighbour just bought, but shinier, and faster. What would she see in a mirage? Her husband? Ex- husband ie. Nah, she would see his new wife. Young and pretty, wearing expensive jewellery bought with money that was saved by not paying alimony. But she wouldn’t see her like that. She would see her like the shrivelled up shrubs. Hmmm....that would be a happy sight. 5...

A middle aged man wearing a turban appeared in the distance. He seemed to feel very important indeed with his entourage of camels. Camels. Who on earth would have given them a chance if they hadn’t been able to store water for long durations of time in the desert. They were so funny looking with their odd humped backs. If camels had plastic surgeons, would they be paid to make the humps bigger or smaller? 4...

And then she saw her. A tiny tot she was, not more than 5. Skin dark for running around in the sun. My mother would surely have disowned me if I let myself become that shade, thought she. Sunscreen was one of the great things we bonded on. But then again, she did disown her anyway after the divorce. Might as well have run around in the sun when she wanted to. 3...

The little girl would playfully run around her father who in turn would get annoyed and tell her to walk straight. She was reminded of her own daughter. Of ring-a-round-the-roses. Of merry-go-rounds. Of big wheels. What is it with children and the fascination of going round and round in circles. Some kind of divine knowledge that in the end you’re just gonna end up where you started? Or just the unnatural feeling of dizziness that makes them excited. Probably the latter. She certainly wasn’t all that divinely knowledgeable when she was a kid. 2 …

Finally, the train appeared in the distance. She picked herself up and readied for its arrival. She looked around for any other people, but there were none. The camel man also seemed a good distance away now, he was walking with his back to her. She couldn’t wait to be rid of this damned heat. The sweat on her brow felt like it could create an oasis by itself now. 1 ...

She remembered the last time she had sweat this much. In the hospital. When the doctor told her. She saw her body just lying there. Her baby. It was all her fault. She let her go across the street alone to buy biscuits. Oh how she loved those biscuits. And then it hit her, like a truck, which it was. 0.5 …

She brushed the sand off her jeans, and stepped onto the tracks.

Vande Mataram

I recently fell in love with the MTV Unplugged version of our national song. Perhaps it was the different treatment, or maybe it was the slightly rough voice of the female lead singer, or maybe the folk singing that brought it an earthy touch. Or perhaps it was the fact that this was the first time I've been so far from both my family and my country at the same time.
Not that I'm a huge fan of living in India. For years I cribbed and cried how I wanted to get out of there. The dirt, the dust, the pollution, the poverty. And now that I am finally out, there are ofcourse times when I miss the wada pavs (which I never ate while I lived there for fear of food poisoning), the rickshaws (whose drivers' have at many a time demanded rates so high that I would have frequent dreams of committing a multitude of violent acts against them) and even the beggars (the one’s in the US are way scarier) .
But, in spite of all her flaws, she is at the end of the day, our motherland. And as with every mother, we find ourselves annoyed by her constant plea to help her clean up the house, or atleast clean our own room, to work hard and not while away our time playing games and to share our toys with those not as fortunate as us. But ofcourse, stubborn as we are, when we see the house in a mess we run out to avoid cleaning it, we would rather go and live in US or UK than deal with the hygiene issues that plague our country. Its so much easier to earn in Dollars than stay home and work hard for the economic development of India. Share our toys? Sure, we donate to charity, but its no point carrying our kid’s old toys all the way from US to India just to donate, we donate to the poor here in the US, surely they are just as needy right?
It is the sorrow that every mother bears. She raises her children with the hope that they will prosper and have the best that life has to offer, knowing that to truly achieve this they will have to fly away to whichever forest bears the most fruit.

Oh my, you're all grown up!

All throughout my childhood I used to find it terribly annoying whenever a relative or family friend used to see my and exclaim 'Oh my tum kitni badi ho gayi ho (you're all grown up)'.

I always thought..."ya, obviously, I'm not gonna stay a kid forever...are you like stupid or something?"

But now that time seems to be catching up with me and my friends and colleagues have kids... I have often found myself proclaiming the same thing.

It is indeed a magical thing when you see a tiny baby of a few month, unable to move away from her mother's arm, and a few months later, she is standing on her own two feet bravely facing the world with a multitude of expressions on her darling face.

"Oh my, how did you grow up so much.... so soon?"

The Light

Taaron ki aahat bhi shor machati he

Khamoshi me doobne ko aankhe taras jaati he

Band kar lu ya aankhe aur dekhu sirf tumhe

Teri roshni ke alava koi aur nahi bhaati he...

The New Breed

Somewhere around the 90s a new breed of men began to exist. I use the word exist and not evolve as I’m not entirely sure whether it is an improvement or a degradation or just a parallel strain. This new breed of men brought out how thin the line had become between the two genders. Even though women’s suffrage happened long ago and we started wearing pants as soon as they came into fashion, the male discovery of their feminine side took a little longer to show itself. But when it arrived it shook us like never before.

History holds tales of many women who took on roles which put their male counterparts to shame. But how many tales have we heard of men taking on the roles of women and beating them at it? Even time itself watched in bewilderment when the metrosexuals slowly but surely started creeping into society. They were prettier than us, more fashion conscious than us, and yes more high maintenance than us too.

They make weekly trips to the beauty salon where they get the essential facials, manicures and pedicures. A quick trip to the grocery store requires half an hour to pick something to wear and another hour to make sure their hair is just right. Their shoes sparkle just as much as their clothes and their bling. There are now entire ranges of beauty products just for men. Even fashion weeks have spring and summer lines exclusively for them.

As individuals I have as much respect for them as any other person in the world. But how drastic an impact does this phase shift have on the dynamics of relationships? I for one am at a complete loss as to what I’m supposed to do while my boyfriend stands in front of the mirror fixing his hair for hours. Slowly but surely dawns on me that I might be turning out to be the man in the relationship.

Is that what new age relationships will look like? Will the woman of the house be the first person you turn to when a pipe needs to be fixed? Will our boyfriends be standing pretty as we change the flat tyre? Will they take it for granted that when we go on a date the girl will pay and hence not even offer to? Is holding doors open and pulling up chairs a thing of the past? Can women no longer expect pretty gifts? Will we be the ones now buying jewellery for our significant other? Will we now be protecting our men from other girls who hit on them?

Having seen the dark side of the male ego for many years it is certainly a refreshing change to see this softer breed. However I hope they realise how soft is too soft before it’s too late. Come what may I am still charmed by the guy who holds the door open for me and brings me flowers. The idea of him defending and fighting for me will still sweep me away. Even though I know I am completely capable of taking care of myself, every girl dreams of being a princess whose every tantrum is cherished by her prince.

In spite of all the face packs and styling gels, I wish the men of the world should still be able to play a Knight in shining armour when their damsel is in distress. Under all the layers of make-up I hope they still know how to be a man in all the right senses of the word....