"I Know"

Some things, people and memories in life knock at your door when you are expecting them the least. When you are broken and discarded and living in despair someone just comes along from the most unusual places and changes everything. You don't have to look for that someone anywhere or find them in strangers, when you're destined to meet the right person everything in the world will make sense. Everything will fall in place. You will dress up just right and be at the right place at the right time, and everything shall happen just how it was meant to be and don't overthink, don't spend time thinking what could have happened differently that you thought was terribly wrong, sometimes such wrongs are better than most rights.

She was thinking about all this and making entries in her journal, the brown leather diary with handmade sheets that look ages old and have so much character that every word dropped on the surface of those pages becomes poetry. Every leaf drawn on the sheets becomes art and every moment shared, a memory. This morning she was smiling to herself about every little thing, called everyone she could, of course didn't tell the reason behind that inexplicable happiness and lightness of foot to all but surely talked to everyone who mattered. She wanted to stand on the balcony of her fourth floor apartment and shout it out loud to the world that she was happy. It was that kind of day when she wanted to watch the pigeons on the terrace across hers, wanted to sit by the glass window as it rained and read all the beautiful stories that she could find. She could not contain the abundance of emotions. She wanted to fly high or just touch the sky. It was finally that day.

He was tired from the day's work and exhausted by the travel that he had to make and by the idea that this travel would continue to persist for the next 6 months, to say the least. He was tired but not cranky, like the public transport usually makes him. He was happy in a strange way. He didn't know why is the work, the travel, the weather, not irritating him more. He wondered whether he has grown up or something else. Couldn't really figure out what it was until he reached home and saw the date and time flashing on the TV screen and then he smiled to himself. His body was rejuvenated by a strange sense of happiness. He was surprised that all this while subconsciously he knew . He ate his food and longed to go out to the phone booth to make the desired call. He began to miss her like never before. Began to write a letter but realised he wanted a swifter remedy to aid his urge, a point of contact. He decided to go for the phone call. He waited and waited till it was time. Time to unleash his happy soul and time to hear her voice. He made the call.

She was sitting beside the telephone since an hour waiting to hear him. She had never waited to hear the annoying ring tone of her telephone like she did now. She wanted to forget her self and the world as she waited for it to ring. And it did. She took less than a second to pick it up and said the words he was dying to hear, he reciprocated but that was followed by a satisfying silence. Their voices had reached each other, it had happened. Her voice had touched his soul, had purged the urge to feel her, be near her and this silence was worth everything they owned. She began talking like they would any other day, until suddenly while she was engrossed in narrating the millions of little stories that she had in store to tell him, he stopped and said, "It has been a year". She smiled, and said "I know"

.                  

The Unexpected

Today let me tell you all a story of a Hindu and a Muslim. Story telling, a dying occupation ? Let's revive it.

It was a bright summer afternoon in the Capital. They were somewhere in North Delhi. She, along with a few friends came near a small tea-stall on some road near some street in some place in North Delhi. (Names of people, places, spots, roads, etc. are not important!) She, in a long colourful Pakistani kurta, long enough to touch her calves, came and stood at the tea stall, her back faced him. He looked at the beautiful shape her back was forming right in front of his eyes, he looked passingly and then turned to look again. All he could see were dense, long curls covering one of the most shapely backs he had ever seen. He wanted to look more. His eyes followed her as she passed along and finally stood with a bunch of her friends laughing. He had not heard such a ringing laugh before. The voice of a laughter that stayed with him. He wished to look at the face of this beautiful body and his wish was granted. She was so animated, in a moment she is here and now there, meanwhile he stole a glance at that, much desired face.

He saw a forehead that deserved at least a hundred years of praise and then her eyes. Her's were the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever seen. They were a pair of round almonds pointed at the edges as if carved by a sculptor who had  beautifully clad them with black kohl and decorated the lids with a turquoise glitter. He thought he could look at them forever. Her lips, he thought were how heaven must look like. She wore turquoise earrings. Her hands and feet looked like the clouds. They could disappear the moment you try to touch them. There was something celestial in her beauty. He thought she was magic. She looked like a hyderabadi princess. He had noticed all this about her in a minute's time and now all he wanted was to get to talk to her. But, how ? It was somewhere in the 1980's. You couldn't just go and talk to a girl then. Talking was out of the question so he made the most of his time trying to make eternity pass while he gazed at her from the corner of his eye.

But, they say somethings are meant to be. So was this. She looked towards them and waved. He stood there numb questioning reality for a second on watching her wave in his direction until he realized she knew his friend. She went across to meet the friend who introduced them. They met. She saw him, there was something magnetic. At once she had an urge to talk to him. But didn't. She did not want to seem too forward, or too interested. He was just another guy after all. Just another boy, who had the deepest eyes and the naughtiest smile. He did not look like a good boy. He was one of those who break hearts, or so his appearance said. People who don't take life too seriously, she thought. Yet, there was an inexplicable magnetism in that mischievous smile. But, just another boy. She had noticed him looking at her and being blessed with the heavenly quality of being a woman, in a moment she realized his inclination. The friend urged them to sit for coffee and they all did just that.

On a square table they sat beside each other. She thought he was a Hindu Rajput and he couldn't dare to think of her as anything other than a Hyderabadi Muslim princess. They exchanged names only to find out that all this while they were thinking the exact opposite of each other. She was a Hindu girl and he a Muslim boy. It's funny how looks deceive, they laughed. He kept her engaged in his talks and poetry, somehow everything he said seemed like a sonnet to her. Everyone else disappeared from the palace of warmth they were creating with each passing moment. She began drowning in his eyes, her mind stopped her with the fear of letting her out too soon. Even then, she was drowning and he knew he couldn't ever let her go.She seemed to him as one of those finely groomed ladies that men eye but hardly get. She was a treasure. All he wanted was to continue talking to her. He asked her out on a date for the very next day. For a second, the invitation shocked her but going completely against what her mind and morals said, she agreed.

The very next day, they met again. She saw him sitting on the boundary of the first floor of her college building looking at her, while she talked to her friends, their eyes met and she was so drawn towards him that she dodged the conversation and immediately walked to meet him. They smiled. His smile had posed the question and her smile had given the answer. He asked, "shall we?" and she said "Yes". Since then, there hasn't been a looking back. They are together and in love. Love happened the moment they saw each other and there was a connection, like they had always known each other.


Where is the Hindu Muslim drama? Not all Hindu and Muslim stories have to be tragic. Sometimes love overpowers them all.
                                       
                                           

Attaining 'Nirvana'

Aren't there a gazillion times in one's life when each step weighs a dozen more kilos and thoughts in the mind's temple are stuck in a maze of the necessary and the unnecessary,when all one wants is to elope to an unexplored land to attain some stability, a partial "Nirvana" perhaps, times when actions are eclipsed by thinking and your thoughts pace up with the speed of light. If all of the above is true and the path of 'Overthinking' seems like a familiar territory, one should consider a SWOT remedy. (Don't confuse it with the evermore depressing SWOT analysis). SWOT here stands for the need to gaze at the limitlessness of the unpolluted Sky, experience the thrill of Waterfalls and the Winds, breathe in smoke free Oxygen and Travel to realize that there are larger things in life (literally!). In short, mountains are calling you !

I realized all of this when I applied it to myself and did not let the pettiness around take on the better, stronger side of me. I traveled to Mcleod Ganj, a suburb of Dharamsala in Kangra district of Himachal Pradesh, India. Although, the idea of travelling in itself is empowering but, I prefer the mountains because they heal and rejuvenate me like never before. On reaching the foot of a mountain you realize you have signed in for something you will never forget. Mountains liberate you, they make you conceive  how supernatural the sheer idea of nature can be. The indefinable shapes , the unruly growth of untamed plants and trees, the crooked man-made roads that lead to them and the possibility of being the habitat of unpredictable species of dangerous fauna, makes them wild and powerful. But, the dominating feature still remains the soothing effect that it causes to the eyes and the healing effect on the soul.

Mcleod Ganj was like a rain filled cloud over the barren land of my deserted heart and the dying vegetation of my unproductive mind tirelessly indulged in overthinking. The moment we entered the concentric roads of the Kangra region my heart sang with the winds as the droplets of rain kissed my face. I helplessly fall for places which aren't very crowded, where there is more nature and less people to look at and Mcleod Ganj was just that. Think about places where cameras fail and photography enthusiasts begin to feel that capturing images with their eyes and engraving them for a lifetime on the tablets of their hearts is more worth their while ! Standing on a natural rock in-front of the Bhagsu waterfall,I closed my eyes, faced the sky, opened my arms wide to embrace the scenery and wished with all my heart to terminate the flow of the ever-moving time and let eternity pass in that very moment. 

People often associate the idea of attaining 'Nirvana' in the heavenly 'stuff' available at the Shiva Cafe of Mcleod Ganj(very interesting place but for another time ;)) for varied infamous/famous reasons but my experience says otherwise. While in Mountains, the amount of 'grass' is not in question, what matters the most is the 'trip' you take in every moment. That leads to Nirvana. How does one determine whether they have successfully attained it or not ? It's simple, the moment your heart perceives, 'What are 'we' when compared to rocks and mountains?