Arshi OS: Hum Aapke Hain Kaun

Hey devi maiyya there is so much work to do.. It is jiji's wedding after all. How many times while playing ghar-ghar I imagined myself as Madhuri from Hum Aapke Hain Kaun. Now why couldn't Aakash jeejaji have  a brother like Salman Khan ji. Jiji had to go fall in love with someone who has that laad governor as his brother. Koi aur achcha bhai bhi toh ho sakta tha..

How can I be Madhuri when that rakshas has the part of Salmanji? Imagine us dancing at the wedding! No need to blush khushi and why is it suddenly so hot in this kitchen? So what if we have already danced together. Khushi and laad governor on Teri meri. What was that? Sapna toh nai tha Khushi.. How did he know the steps? Could he have been spying on me.. One can never be too sure where he is concerned.. I better be careful. That could explain why he looks at me in the funny manner these days. As if..   Like he is concentrating. I wanted to ask him if he wanted to tell me something , but better not ask. Most probably he just wanted to scold me..uff buaji was right I really am sankadevi.. How can I  go and ask him.. and what would I say? Why do you look at me this way laad governor? Hehehe.. Chup kar Khushi.. Don't think such nonsense.

How crispy the pakora looks. I will make lots and feed lata mausi and taiji, specially. Golden brown and fried just right. yummy.. might as well taste a few to be on the safe side. Ummm.. That rakshas doesn't like fried food does he? Oh Devi maiyya why does everything make my mind think of him these days? All this pakora batter reminds me of that miracle. Did you also see how he smiled and then laughed? Arnavji looked so relaxed and happy and not at all scary, that day when he fainted. He should eat more. But when does he listen to anyone! Even Anjali ji gets scared of him sometimes. I stand no chance at all.

Should I make something for everyone to drink? It is a hot day and amma and Buaji must definitely be over exerting. Nimbu paani?  hmm. Something different.. I had noticed a whole basketful lying around . Now where was it? Oranges.. I will make fresh orange jooce. And nai, devi maiyya this does not have anything to do with Arnavji. He is not here and I am not thinking about him. Only just a little.. You remember when I burnt him with tea? And poured jooce in his shoes. He hadn't held my dupatta. Main pagal hun. He won't hurt me ever....  Accha?  Remember Khushi how he hurt your hand. There were  marks where he gripped me. Strong rakshas he was. But he was saying sorry Devi maiyya. He misses his amma.

I miss my amma. Are our mothers friends? Do you see them often Devi maiyya? Take care of Arnavji's amma too for my sake. He loves her. Are you angry with him because he does not believe in you? He is not really bad. He..umm.. Helps me you know.. To get jiji to get to say yes. And the dance.  And long back when babuji..  I don't know why but I feel like he is always there somewhere close by if I get into any trouble.

Oh parmeshwari! why should I care if you are angry with him? Do you maybe like him just a little bit? See he may be rude, but Anjali di is nice. He loves di too. So much. That is why I can't tell him about Shyam Ji. Shayad mujhe sach bol dena chahiye tha as soon as I saw Arnavji that day. He would have taught that evil man a lesson. But how can I break Arnavji's heart? he will be devastated just like Anjali ji. His di is everything for him. And all of us nothing. Nothing..

I will lay out these sweets. oh all these sweets came from Shantivan. It's from the same shop yesterday's havan's prasad was from.  All of us mean nothing? But he bought me those bangles Devi maiyya. Why? Us sab ka matlab kya tha ? Haiye Khushi  he must have only wanted to say sorry now that our families are becoming one. I am crazy. Don't pay any attention to anything I say. I don't know what I want to read into this. But he found me buying channa and kept saying he was worried something had happened to me.  Where is that box of channa ? I need to munch on something. All this worrying makes me hungry. He looked so worried Devi maiyya. And angry. I don't understand. Was it because I went with Nanheji? I will tell you a secret and then promise me you will forget about it.. I was hoping I would get to go with Arnavji to get the ghee. I waited, but that didn't happen.. Magarmach.. He could have said he will take me.. Aise toh sab ko darate hai but when needed he will keep quiet.. Aise toh apne samne kisi ko baat karne ka mauka hi nai dete but when I want him to complete his sentences he will never complete them..

Koi baat nai it is good. Nanheji let me sing songs the whole way here. Imagine if I sang with laad governor next to me.. Haha. Khushi stop thinking of all this. Oh somebody left these golgappas here. I can eat a few. They look so good. And no he isn't here. I won't even turn to look. Why should he be here in this kitchen?

I will think of nice things. Salmanji. How he fights...10 people at a time. Yeh hui na baat.. that is a true hero.. But.. Arnavji also fights. In Nanital. I was so worried that he would kill the man and go to jail and I would not know how to go back home. But much much later after babuji came back from hospital.. My cheeks are burning.. I need to splash some water on my face. Kitchen sink here I come.. Nice and cool and refreshing. The golgappas must have been too teekha. And I was just sad so I ran and .. Hugged.. Him. Umm

What was I thinking..  How distracting and irritating is this man even in my thoughts. Oh yes. He fought all those men like a hero. Hehee.. For me..  There I go dreaming again. Devi maiyya couldn't you make me just a little more sensible?

There all done!  Everything is ready in the kitchen. Do I have time to make some jilebis? There is always time for jilebis, isn't it? Let me tie my hair in a bun so I don't mess it. His fingers had grazed my back and he had reached out and opened my clip. He liked me with open hair. What shape are my jilebis taking. My hand is shivering. And this deafening thrumming of my heart.. Dhak dhak… stop.. Why did this acidity have to return? There is so much nice food to eat. I cannot fall sick abhi.

Chal khushi buri baatein sochna band kar. Sahi se jilebi bana..

"Aa..rnavji aap? Ye aap kya kar re hai ? choriye humein.. Leave me.. What do you think you are doing?"

Why did he have to stand so close.. And hold my hand .. My hand in his.. my skin so white next to his brown.. Yashomati maiyya se bole NandLala radha kyu gori main kyu kaala.. Krishna bhagwan was dark and Radha fair.. Focus Khushi.. hmmp as if I can't make jilebis myself. Samajhte kya hai khud ko? I won't look at that smiling face..

"Khushi first tumhe meri help chahiye thi dance competition win Karne ek liye, phir you needed me churiyaan lane ke liye aur ab tumse jalebi bhi nai ban rahi. Khushi Kumari Gupta you need me. Tumhe meri zarurat hai."

Hey Devi maiyya raksha karna.. If Madhuriji can ask it of salmanji then khushi can ask Arnavji. Time to turn and smile my most disarming brilliant smile at him.

"Kyu? Aapne meri madad sangeet mein kyu ki? Why did you dance with me on teri meri? When Nanheji  brought me choodiyan of the wrong size why did you bother buying me the correct one? aapne sahi churiyaan kyu kharidi? Aapko isse kya Arnavji?  Aur mujhe kuch ho Jaye toh aapko kya farak parta hai Arnavji? Why does it matter to you if something happened to me?"

"Khushi Baat tuumhari hai is liye farak parta hai.. It is you that is why it matters.. Samajhi tum.."

What is his smile trying to tell me devi maiyya.. I stare into his eyes and forget everything.. But not today..

"Nai samajhi..aap samjhayiye.. Batayiye humein Arnavji.. Tell me.. Humein jaanana hai.. I want to know.. Hum aapke Hain Kaun?"

Devi maiiya.. He is smiling.. Why do I know for certain my question will be answered today? His lingering twinkling eyes tell me all I need to know. I am no longer scared.. No longer hungry.. I know what I want to hear.. I know what he will tell me.. Humein vishwas hai.. Khud par.. Un par.. Aur Aap par meri pyari devi maiyya..

Twilight

Am back home. 2 people whose comments matter a lot have said they like what I write here. I met a real live actual CIA agent yesterday who without breaking into a smile continued seriously talking while uttering the words 'Covert Operation'. 
LazyWiz got to try out google glasses. Three plants or rather the only three flowering plants in my garden have flowers blooming. A week away from Seattle I have realized whatever everyone may say I love the cloudy weather of this town. All this definitely calls for a happy post. 

A while back when I was in a phase where I had almost given up reading, a school friend of mine (yes that is 1 out of the 2 school friends I still have and want to keep) told me she was reading Twilight. I vaguely recollected seeing a black covered book with a crimson colored object on the front cover whichever bookstore my husband and I would step into. Considering my general aversion to anything that other people recommend or go crazy over, I immediately ignored the statement and conveniently forgot all about it.

My mother and my sister-in-law were visiting at the same time while we lived in Bangalore. My husband brought 2 dvds for us to watch. Really bad print , but he thought I would like the movie. It had vampires in it, you see. Within minutes the other two females in the house were fast asleep. I couldn't sleep I had mehendi on my hands. So we continued to watch, as slowly and surely I got mesmerized with everything on screen. 


**Twilight series spoilers Ahead**

Stephanie Meyer, the author, mentioned in an interview that the characters came to her in a dream as they sat talking to each other in a meadow. She had to start writing a story about them. It turned out to be a series of 4 books. Made into 5 movies.

Isabella, or simply Bella. She spent her life with a vague feeling she did not belong. Acted mature and responsible for her mother. Loves to read. Fell and hurt herself all the time. Hated blood. Saw him for the first time. His face had a snarl. Those black eyes were lethal. 

Edward. He spent endless years existing. A vegetarian. Knew what everyone was thinking. He had no idea what she thought. He had no idea why her blood sang to him like nothing ever had before. He had no idea why she looked delectable, in a totally different way than expected, in blue. And he had no idea why he could not stay away.

He thought he was not the good guy. She did not really care. He tells her to stay away. there was no way she was going to be able to stay away. The word irrevocably got added to my vocabulary as I fell in love with this love story of the sick masochistic lion and the stupid lamb. One of the main reasons I loved the idea of moving to Seattle. Forks is close by. 

Men are sometimes strange when they get protective. And so he decided to walk away. She was exactly how rare women are most of the time. Dead, lifeless without her man. An unexpected friend became a lifeline. The friend was not to be a major character, but Stephanie mentioned he sort of forced himself to become who he ended up being. Surprising that Indi di says the exact same think about her Arnav and Khushi when writing her fanfiction about them. And so the friend was the bright warm sun in her cold listless life. Still she longed for the one missing. A young high school girl, whose life was at a standstill. It happens. You go crazy in love. That is the very nature of love.

If she dies, he dies. Love did not let either die. A tough choice she had to be make. You learn the most important lessons of life in the silliest of places. Someone told me they had uttered the words I love you to two different people. And still wanted to spend their life with one of them. I understood and joked about 'imprinting' all thanks to this book about shiny sparkly vampires.

A most beautiful wedding and the promise of forever. A giggly honeymoon in the most exotic location. A bed broke here too just like in my favourite show (IPK, and if you don't know that name yet, you haven't been paying attention to my blog). A child. Someone who never thought of being a mother was ready to die for the life growing within her. The life killing her from within. 

Another important lesson. Maybe if we prepare enough we can withstand anything. She could control her hunger. The only kind of hunger she had no control over stemmed from the most primitive purest of desire. She remained who she was. Grew more powerful. Love does that to you. The friend got his happy ending too.

I got a bday cake with a twilight scene on it. And at the very same time every day I get a message on my phone. "Just remembered. I love you. You are my favourite brand of heroin".  People make fun of the books, movies. They miss out on a most beautiful love story.  If they can see two people in this scene and remain unaffected, sometimes I wonder if vampires are the only cold blooded ones.

My very first VM

First I don't know what VM stands for.. leaving space for a blushing smiley face..

Second again thanks to my inspiring blaster friends I even thought of doing this.. what fun.. but so time consuming..

Third just as music soared high she smiled delightedly, he smiled tenderly. Both were bathed in a warm honeyed glow of a single firefly. I covertly watched sideways and saw you break into an awestruck smile.. Do you even know what your one smile does to encourage me?

"Kehne de taaro ko kahaani ankahi..

                     Na ja abhi..

 Pyaar ki ye raat hai..

                   Ab na jaa..

Choti si ye baat hai..

                   Ab na jaa..

Pal do pal ka sath hai..

                   Ab na jaa..

Jaadu si ye raat hai..

                  Ab na jaa.."

I love the original video as well.. I wanted to sit silently staring at the sky this way with my feet lightly dipped in the water below.. wanted to look this simple and lovely in a flowy skirt.. and of course wanted to twirl under the cover of those tall green trees in reckless abandon..

Books, Technology, Confusion, Smiles, among other things

Aarwen sat across the table from Lazywiz's bhaiya. They were having lunch in a restaurant. Not his bhaiya actually , more like his IIT prep teacher, mentor, guide, friend. Bhaiya asked her multiplication tables. 7*4, 12*6, 8*9. The questions are hazy , but her answers were definitely correct. She was proud of herself.

Aarwen was packing her mother-in-law's suitcase. Her mother-in-law is a Hindi professor. Suddenly Aarwen was asked , "Can you recite the Hindi alphabets?" "क ख ग  घ.... " Aarwen recited the entire Hindi varnamala.. She was so proud of herself..

Aarwen was logged in on gmail. She got a message from Lazywiz's ex colleague. He wanted help with Android development. "How do you fix the service to interact with the receiver? And what about the layout? Can you add a button and a scroll bar? Have you worked with Google APIs?" She had an answer for all questions. She really was thankful this time that she knew enough..

I met the same colleague yesterday. And just when I have been thinking I am ready to give up being a software developer I realize this is part of my identity. I loved being able to talk tech stuff. I feel thrilled when my code runs, when I solve a problem. That I like sitting at my desk and doing work, staring out of the office window savouring the amazing view and refreshing IF a few times even on the most insanely busy days. That me and my husband work for the same company and it is so much fun. Very very interesting reminder...

Aarwen, Lazywiz, his uncle and aunt sat together. Lazywiz boasted.. "Ask her about any classic book. She has read it. I can bet on it." The uncle mentioned Kahlil Gibran. She had not read him. He looked a little evilly (or so I exaggerate) delighted and mentioned Albert Camus. She shook her head full of poise (or atleast I hope she was poised). As they walked out Lazywiz said, "Am willing to pay the bet money this time and whenever next as well, because I still think she is the most well read person I have met. You should hear her talk about the books and the discussions we have."

I watched you as you said that today. I was sad I hadn't been able to meet up to your expectation. But I was happy and really touched you feel this way about me. Also I was laughing at life. We get complacent and luckily it does not last for long. I wasn't as upset about not being able to say "Yes I have read that and that too. And by the way have you read this?". In my defence (and since this is my space I have the freedom of presenting my defence) we were betting more about fiction and younger adult classics. Still I think I will go read these two books. Instead am feeling quite grown up that my ego isn't hurt too much as I guess it would have been some time back. 

And this post would have been perhaps more broody if it wasn't for a lovely surprise from my ex-roomate. We have danced and twirled on a Barbie song in our shared hostel room.. "you are just like me , I am just like you..". As a surprise she made me an edit of my favourite Arnav and Khushi.. The smile hasn't left my face.. Am sitting next to the same uncle watching a horror movie happily (or as happy as you can be when being forced to endure the torture of a horror movie) and typing away on my blog..  The actual surprise is you get the nicest of experiences in the most surprising of times. All you need to do is observe the moments..

"Life isn't measured by the number of breadths you take..
                 but the moments that take your breadth away.."

I actually had three today.. I stood in the Stanford campus.. One special person in this big wide world is ready to bet on me.. and a friend gave me a surprise gift I absolutely love.. What a lovely day..

Happy Third Anniversary IPK

My post on BFTP Third anniversary thread..

Its been an insanely crazy two weeks.. Have not watched the show in these 2 weeks.. have a mind full of others things, still IPK lingers in it.. 

http://www.india-forums.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=4043799&PID=107897496&#p107897496

She put on those running shoes underneath her shimmering lehenga, kick started her isskooter and took us right alongside her on a ride of a lifetime. She looked up at the flying helicopter overhead and we stared right with her. Unknown to her and us, in flew our rajkumar.

He took off those black shades and stared right into our hearts. Those long strides on Sheesh Mahal's fabled grounds had him entering our souls. Laying a claim on it. What happened to him mattered. Why those eyes had those haunting shadows mattered.

She landed in his arms and a love story like we had never seen before started. His inert face came alive. She quivered in those strong arms and we shivered with her. Anger got a new name, Arnav Singh Raizada. Style got a new name Arnav Singh Raizada. The word Hero got a new name, Arnav Singh Raizada. And soon I was shopping for dresses with pearl doris on them. Ready to have them ripped in anger. Ready to open my straight long black hair and have it swish unrestrained across my back in reply.

It is really not long. Not three years but more like 8 moths that I know this show. It feels enough.

Before I knew it on my ha..ha.. happy days I was singing a new song.. Aaj mausam hai suhana.. When I looked at a tray full of mithai earlier I thought of my dadaji who loved mithai. Now I think of Khushi Kumari Gupta.

When I walk across a deserted parking lot I look around to see if a thin young girl drenched in rain has been saved by a man who thinks he hates her. When I wear red I sigh in frustration because I can never look as amazing as the girl who took his breath away.

My phone ringtone sings rabba ve. I refuse to put it in silent even in office. My husband knows the song and hums it with me when he wants to make me happy. My friends know it means something. I meet random people and tell them I like a show which has this song rabba ve. The person sitting behind me in office knows she will see colorful pictures on my screen most days.

When I see a person with a bluetooth he is no longer a show off. He is another reason to remember the one I need no reason to remember. Tycoons are from harvard who write contracts for marriages. And damaadji's study from haridvar.

My favourite quotes are no longer from books, they are from 2 lovers who redefined love for me. My favourite heros' would be from English classics now it is one character from an Indian television show. My favourite movie actor is Shahrukh khan, but am waiting to call someone else my favourite actor. He perhaps already is. And did I hear he has a three film deal?

I look at elder ladies in my family and try to find a nani. Look for a glimpse of a hello hi bye bye. Long to hear a voice say Hai re nand kisore. When I smile, and sometimes even when my husband smiles we scrunch up our eyes like a certain religious elder sister does when she is happy.

Words end with wa.. Snakewa, bitwa.. And I try hard to speak broken english..

Orange juice, Pakori, golgappa, channa and even 'dumb aaloos' have all become part of my diet. Sanka is a precise art I have learned to identify. Its strength apparent to me in how a girl handled anger, problems, life.

I like crooked plaits. I like flying dupattas. I like jaipuri chappal. I love silver payals.

A picture of a boyish charming laughter never fails to bring a smile on my face. And a girl playing blind man's buff with a servant makes the smile turn to a wide grin. Of course servants are not servants if their names don't end with a Prakash.

Ajeeb, tum thik ho, farak parna have become copyrighted words. No one can say it without my mind racing to some other significant event between the man and woman. Soon the memory turns to how he holds, how she reacts. How he steps forward, how she moves back. I become daring as I think of the unthinkable. As I want a girl to act on the attraction. Want a man to be able to show the attraction.

I always loved looking at stars. But now when I gaze up all I do is say thank you for the happiness that I have got in my life. For letting my belief in love strengthen. For introducing me to something out of this world. When I look at stars now all I can think of is two lovely ajeeb people madly in the most beautiful ever love.

Teri meri, ek do teen, oo la la, hawa hawai , namak ishq ka, mujhse shaadi karogi are all no longer related to different movies. They all bring the same stunning face before me.

Holi, diwali will never just be festivals. Heartbeats are all dhakane now.. Confessing love.. being near the one you love should always involve a rapid increase in the very same dhakarne.. And also an increase in acidity..

I love mehendi. But now when I apply it the smile is because a certain someone also always had 'A' in her name. And a kiss is as nice as an 'almost' kiss.

If am sad I no longer blame life. If am upset I no longer blame the world. It is all the fault of AD when I would be better off in SKD.

Lakshmiji is not a godess anymore. And 'mere bhagwanji', as I would say, is quite often replaced by devi maiyya as I hit my head with my palm. With it I tend to use words like parmeshwari and sankadevi. Add in a healthy dose of titliya as well.

When someone is holding on to someone I think its not the correct pose if not holding on to a little of the shirt. Am better at dealing with sadness, better at dealing with anger. It needn't always be sweet in fact the jhagda adds in the much needed spice. I now know better when to be quiet, and I know when to be chirpy when my man is upset. My husband's name has the perfect letters. And all you need to do is replace a 'v' with a 'b' to make me a fan from a wife. My marriage anniversary is not just my own but shared with the very same person am a fan of.

What the, dammit definitely a part of my vocabulary. And I would have it no other way. Who says I love you anymore. Its not love till it has a bit of dammit in it.

India Forum open on all browsers.. on my phone, laptop, ipad. Blasters my friends. My friends know their msgs may get delayed replies because I am busy replying to my forum friends. My friends no longer bother to call me mad, they know am completely irrevocably mad. My family when visitng know I may randomly get stuck looking at the screen typing furiously. My mornings start even before my eyes are open with me refreshing my posts. My nights end as my eyes are drooping still desperately refreshing my posts.

I no longer just read, I write as well. Fan fiction reading as important as story book reading. I now take screen shots. I am no longer at a loss at what to ask for gifts. The best gift I got was HD episodes of IPK. I am no longer ever bored. There is always an episode to watch. A discussion to be part of.

If Iss Pyaar Ko Kyaa Naam Doon brought happiness, brightness, excitement in my life, blasters have brought in inspiration. Can't thank you both enough for making such a big difference in my life.

Happy anniversary everyone! I am very very extremely lucky to get a chance to enjoy the show and it is an absolute privilege that I get to enjoy it with you all.

Thank you ...

Separate

"Le chal waha jo mulk tera hai..
             Jaahil zamaana dushman mera hai.."

Does everyone spend their life feeling this way? Restrained by what one thought was the expected. Self imposed shackles. 

Would I sound egotistical if I said I felt like Dominique of Fountainhead? Does it even matter? And if I care that it sounds this way, am I really like her? It took me a long time to figure her out. Took me longer to understand what Howard Roark wanted her to figure out for herself. Dagny Taggart from Atlas Shrugged is an easier character to relate to. Perhaps even to emulate. Do your work. Excel at it. Be impervious of the world. Know you don't fit in. Know you don't want to fit in. Find people whom you respect. Find places where you belong. If you don't find them, you make them. Your heaven.

In both these female protagonists of Ayn Rand the best part is how untouched they remain from the world. Their rules. Their thoughts. Their battles. Their fight. Their love. their life.

And not just the females but Howard Roark, John Galt, Hank Rearden, Francisco D Anconia. Even a character like Ragnar Danneskjöld. They may be a whole league apart. Their trials and tribulations much more serious, more vital, but who gets to decide what is more serious? Why the norm? Why is my choice less important than theirs? Why is my fight any less? 

They force me to live in this world , but what if I don't want to? What if I want to shrug away the burden, shrug away the conventions, shrug away reality. What if I want to make my own reality? What if I don't want to listen , but only question? What if I get bored with the normal. What if I long for the extraordinary? 

What if this thought of mine isn't something special at all? Just what everyone else wants too... what everyone else dreams about. Not melodramatic. But what everyone feels. Not separate, but what everyone experiences. 

My post has a lot of questions today. What if the questions are the answers and in the statements lie the questions? What if I like talking this way? Thinking such things.. Does this post make me a pseudo intellectual? Does that bother me?

Who says you can't learn from a Disney movie?

As long as you understand or atleast let me be, I don't need anything else..

"Jab yaar kare parwah meri..

                    mujhe kya parwah is duniya ki..

Jag mujhpe lagaye pabandi..

                  main hun hi nahi is duniya ki.."

Grandparents

I haven't been able to write for 2 days. Is it just two days? And not spend hours on the BFTP thread. Feels like forever. Like Kareena expertly puts it in Jab We Met. "aisa lag raha hai jaisi meri train chutne wali hai".. It feels like something is amiss.. am missing something.. an uncomfortable feeling.. So here I am writing.. I want to write about Arnav and Khushi, but can't find any words yet so something else for tonight...

Dadaji, my father's father. I lived in a house with my grandparents. Coincidently my mother also lived there and my father, or atleast that is what it feels like in retrospect. We would have power cuts and I would sit on the sofa's armchair and listen to his stories. He taught me Maths and, I think, Hindi for a few years. He liked Madhubala and loved the dhak dhak karne laga girl. He had visited Europe when he was young. Always used a fork and spoon and even a knife if he found one. He would take out each seed from the guava meticulously before he ate it. My dadaji loved mithai. Maybe even more than Khushi, if that is even possible. He would loiter around all day fixing some broken stuff or the other.

Not that I have not had my fair share of anger directed towards him. He would always insist am better than everyone around. When all I wanted was to merge in with the crowd. He caught me in a hug with the boy I loved. Later when the same boy held dadaji's hand and supported him up a flight of stairs I silently stood and watched. Its been more than a year that I haven't seen him or heard his voice. I wish he had made it to my house before it was too late. When we were cleaning up his papers from one old diary fell out a paper cutting of a news paper article about a company where I got my campus placement. I did not even join that company but he had kept that square pice of paper safe for me. He is not coming back. And sometimes I miss him so much.

Dadiji, my father's mother. Loves gardening. Loves staying up late watching movies. We would sit in the aangan and look at stars. I know she likes the movie Prem Rog. She likes gardening. Everytime she plants peas she still tells me on the phone to come down and pluck some from the plant. Eat it the way I did as a kid. At 75 she can still do much more work than I can at 26. Cheese is the most difficult word to pronounce. so 'cheej' it is. Holi, Diwali is incomplete without her food.

She is weaker and I feel protective. How many times has she taken care of me, but now I feel like caring for her. Making sure nothing happens to her. With dadaji gone she is no longer the same. A shadow of herself. She finally visited me in my house. Her grown up grand daughter's own house after marriage. She sat watching tv all evening long and just one day I put my head on her lap and felt young and carefree again. 

Dadu, my mother's father. Every summer, winter and durga puja vacation I would spend in his house. He plays golf. Still loves to drive around alone. He once called the cable operator and insisted they show the popular movie "Dil to Deewana Hai" for his grand daughter. That 'deewana' was actually 'pagal' is too subtle a difference for my Bengali dadu. I would sit with him in the puja pandal and hear him talk of politics while I read my book. Peaceful. Safe. And the fights we had over the remote. He still watches the news, but most often snores rather than hear.

Didu, my mother's mother. Aah for she is quite the drama queen herself. Her favourite line "bhuk chire dekhiye debo". She will tear open her heart to show us the love she has. Can quote Worsdworth and sometimes even make impromptu poems herself. Slips and falls and hurts herself often, exactly like me. Not too handy in the kitchen ,but I love her aaloo bhaja. 

When I visit they order food, buy food and then make some more food. Atter marriage I haven't stayed a single night at their place. I plan to the next visit. They came to my house. And saw their grand daughter who had never cooked anything make samosa. Dadu was amazed that I got the samosa to actually look triangular. And didu had the sweetest comment, "choto natnir choto notun shonshar".. her small granddaughter's own small little world.

Nani, my husband's mother's mother. Quite strict in the kitchen. Its her way and that is the only way. Someday's when she is alone she calls me and just talks to me. Usually we have awkward silences in the phone call, but I know I am being blessed because she chose to call me. One wife of one of her 12 grand children.

Yes its my world and am so very happy in it (touch wood), but I feel sad I will have to say good bye to them some day. I feel sad that my children will never know my dadaji. My children will have their dadaji. and some day what kind of a grandmother will I be? Will I witty, will I be wise? Will I be strict, will I be nice? Que sara sara.. whatever will be, will be...