The trust factor..

~ What makes you allowing strange electrician/ plumber/ carpenter into your house?
~ What makes you give your house keys to your maid you’ve known for months?
~ What makes you go to places in a strange cab, strange city?
~ How do you believe that stranger you’ve just asked direction from?
~ What makes you give yourself in the hands of a strange man who’ll rip open your body for that operation?
~ What makes you deposit all your money into a bank?
~ What gives to the strength to enter into matrimony with a strange man, with a few recommendations?
~ What give you the courage to cross the road during heavy traffic?

A thousand such questions run through my mind and the only answer I get from within myself is: TRUST, my trust in fellow humans, my trust in God, and somewhere in myself too.

And people tell me I don’t trust easily, crap!!

White noise

That’s what it is like, hazy, unclear, disturbing, making no sense at all. It just goes on and on and on, disturbs your senses, your ears, your eyes..

That screechy, crazy noise that makes you change the channel, switch off you television sets, before which every other sound ceases to exist and you hope that next time when you turn on your systems, the noise would vanish.. It makes you stop doing everything else, the noise is so powerful and disturbing, it bangs inside your head, turns everything upside down and if it doesn’t stop, makes you scream!!

Can you imagine yourself locked in a room, being forced to hear that blare again and again??

For me loneliness is like that “white noise”.. Call it quarter life crises when you don’t know which way to go, when all your friends are either married or dating and you find yourself all alone, no sound except the fan running or the tube light hizzing. You turn the T.V on and are greeted by that white noise and then suddenly you begin recognizing the pattern, the notes in that profound, insane noise and appreciating that crazy sound..

You’re in for trouble, you’re loosing your mind.. that white noise has begun creeping in your life!!

And how I'll miss her.

Sisters are the quintessential parts of life, a fact probably only those would acknowledge who have one. I have two sisters and although they are much older than me, they are my best friends.

However, the person I am going to write about here is though not me real sister but she’s nothing less. She’s about two years younger than me and we’ve virtually grown up together. My earliest memories of her is of us fighting over something where I hit her and she in turn bit my hand, the tiny scar of which still remains at the back of my hand as a testimony of those innocent and crazy times.

Growing up with her was having fun, playing pranks on servants, competing for attention, laughing, and yet maintain our love and friendship for each other. After standard XII both of us landed up at NIFT, different batches and centers but distance failed to damage the bond, infact we became even closer. I shared stuff with her that I probably wouldn’t with anybody else and she, though being younger showed enormous understanding and maturity for which I respect her. She made me realize how important family was and how if all of us wanted to be together, couldn’t take grudges against each other.

You must be wondering what made me write about her.. Well, she’s getting married this July and this time when I went to my Amma’s place, with her out of station, the gravity of what I’d be missing struck me. I realized how its not going to be the same henceforth, how her laughter will not fill the house, the absence of her vivacity during festivals and family occasions, the joy she brought to all of us, those mid night conversations about life, changes, dreams and boys and how Amma’s place will never be the same again for me.

I hope she continues spreading that love and happiness in the new jaundra of her life and this time too distance be only in spaces and not hearts..

When doing nothing seems the best idea..

Places make you nostalgic, things make you nostalgic, people make you nostalgic and so do memories..

This weekend I flew down home on a whim, I flew because I was scared to be alone, I flew because nostalgia had gripped me like never before and I knew that only my parents could give me that assurance, that security I was craving for.

I went home and did nothing and that nothing was so good to do that I prolonged my stay for further two days. My routine at home was like:
~ Get up in the morning around 11-11:30 am.
~ Go to my parents’ room where my dad would be working or watching TV, hug him and take that 10 minute nap.
~ My cook would come with my usual nimbu paani, tea and toast by then.
~ Wash, brush and hog.
~ Chat with Papa for an hour or two before he left for work.
~ Shower and help Mom in the kitchen or simply sit their and talk with her.
~ Wait for Papa for lunch and eat with him.
~ Laze, read, watch TV or call my neice and nephew over to my place and play with them.
~ By 7:00 in the evening I was out with my friends and came back by 10:00-10:30 pm.
~ Again sit with my parents.
~ Read till 2:00-3:00am and dose off.

Such peace and tranquility gripped me during this time that for a while I even considered quitting my job and staying on forever.. I’ve given myself a month to sit on the thought and come up with a conclusion, lets see!!