Of Places in Between

I have to admit that I used this title for this post in order to spark off interest. If a certain Lazywiz read the name he would surely remark that it is a forced title for this post. Still today is a nice day. I was asked by my India Forum IPK crazy friends to join their whatsapp group and beacuse of this unexpected welcome into their group am feeling all warm and happy, so indulging myself with this slightly whimsical title. But before starting to write I did spend some minutes bragging about this interesting developement to my other whats app group which consists of 3 of my 5 college friends.

A place where journeys begin. A place where stories end. A place where sabbaticals start and the same place where life resumes. Railway stations, bus stands, airports.. then don't they qualify as 'places in between'?

A few weeks back while standing in an airport I was looking around. I remembered those exam topics - "Draw a scene of a railway station". If the kid was intelligent he would draw a book stand, few beggars, a Punjabi Sardarji family with twin kids. And my imagination was already running wild. What else could he draw. A group of excited school kids with a harassed pair of teachers.  A few college boys sitting on bag packs, off to give another entrance exam. A man in a baggy black coat, supposedly the ticket collector. Coolies in red. Some old, some too lean. Lost tired faces of people lying on pieces of cloth spread on the floor. People bustling about in a hurry.  Irritated grumpy mothers. Fathers trying to slide away to smoke a cigarette. Kids busy in their own world. A big party off to attend a wedding. If you were lucky you would be able to identify the bride thanks to her mehendi adorned hands.


On one such railway station as Aarwen stood dazed, the train whistled and moved past her. She looked at Lazywiz and found everything almost spinning, losing focus. All she knew was she didn't want to board a train that would take her away from him. Maybe some passerby looked at her and cooked some story in their mind just as I do when looking at others.

Simran ran as she was about to miss her train..her ticket to a month of freedom with her friends.. and Raj held out his hand and pulled her on a journey of a lifetime.. Later Simran again ran as her father gave her away to Raj who was again ready, holding out his hand. Dilwale dulhaniya le jayenge stills plays in some Cinemas.




In Jaane Tu Jaane Na, a surprisingly cute movie, the shy hero serenades his best friend by breaking all police rules and running into an airport.. tera mujhse hai pehle ka naata koi.. yuhi nahi dil lubhata koi.. jaane tuuuu... yaaa jaane naa.. In fact the whole story is recounted by their friends to a new member of their group in the form of flashbacks while they sat on the very same airport.

Dil hai ki maanta nahin, another sweet movie had a bus stand. A lazy, over smart journalist met the hot headed runaway daughter of a tycoon  in a crowded bus stand. In another bus stand Veer asked Zaara for a few days of her life before she went back to become someone else's wife.

I thought of movies, but then as I looked around I saw real life stories play out in front of my very eyes. 

An old Indian woman in a saree had baloons in her hand. Were her grandchildren coming for a visit? A Japanese diplomat received a grand welcome which was video recorded by a man in formal attire. Were they about to sign the next big deal in business? An Indian father ran and hugged his daughter and smiled at his wife. Had he missed his wife while she was away? Their back facing towards me stood an extremely handsome looking couple. Is it okay to admit I kept trying to peer and take a look at the girls face?

My reverie was broken by the shrieks of two young couple as they welcomed another young couple (friends?) with bouquet of flowers and loud yells. A lot of selfies were clicked, a few pictures taken from cameras. Some video recordings also happened as different people met their friends, families, strangers. A quiet pretty looking young girl was accompanied by an Airline official and handed over to a decent looking lady. Both seemed unsure of how to react around each other. The lady could not decide if she was allowed to place her hand on the girl's shoulders. I romanticized thinking maybe she was the mother meeting her grown up daughter for the very first time.

When I was small my father would go often on tours. My mother and me would drive down to the station to receive him. My mother would enjoy looking at everyone arriving, at the dresses the ladies wore. She would guess where the families were going. She would make frequent trips to check the status of the train. I on the other hand do not like moving about once I am seated in the car. So I would roll down my window and enjoy reading my Nancy Drew book.

If we went on trips I would visit the bookstalls. I would marvel at the young boy managing the stall who knew the name and location of every book. Archies, Agatha Christie my favourite picks for travel. My mother would want to get down at each station, get excited about the food, tea stalls and any other even slightly interesting thing. I mostly never even moved. Only when the train would start and there would be no sight of her would I cautiously peep out and confirm if she did get onboard the train. In a train I like to sleep to the rocking motion. But during the day time I love looking out of the window. In the plane I just sleep.  


When I stand at the bus stand the few days I take the bus I think the same thing. These are places in between. You plan your evening or you plan your day. You move away from office and reach home. Sometimes you leave your city and enter a vacation destination. You come back tired. You could leave in anxiety or full of excitement. while you wait at these places it forces people to read, relax while waiting or simply learn to be patient, listen to music, spend time with each other. In your thoughts as you get ready to travel you make decisions, sometimes resolutions. Start and end of a journey always has the opportunity to get to try out something new. Or atleast that is the impression that I get.

Newsroom

I am so clueless of the news that it gets quite funny. Alia Bhatt , quite charming I think, could not tell the name of the CM of her state. Luckily am not a celebrity since I would have fared no better. One time in school in an extempore competition my topic was Politics. Haha the one topic that I had nothing to say about.

The other day I was talking to my office colleagues that India is so much more than what is shown in Slumdog Millionaire. And my manager remarked about the hero.. that boy.. he asked,"what was he called?".. and then answered himself.."chaiwala". And then he said, "isn't Modi exactly like that? The story is the same with a lot more of political intrigue in it." 

That got me thinking about the news and what gets covered in the news. Anyway I cannot dare write about the news or reporters since I have no idea about all that. What I have been wanting to write about is a delightful TV show. Newsroom.

** HBO TV show Newsroom spoilers ahead**

Its about idealistic journalism. how journalists should try and do the right thing as they have a moral obligation to society who depend on them for the facts. But the fun, witty , charming way this is portrayed makes the show such an interesting watch. Another reason for this show being one of my favourites is that almost all characters have something worth rooting for. Every story, the acting, specially the dialogues (and there is such a large amount of it in very high speed) are great. The title soundtrack somehow reminds me of Vande Matram.

The biggest tussle for my favourite spot is between two facets of the show. The characters who are flawed still so amazingly inspiring. Honorable, good at their job, witty, fun, real, alive. And the dialogues. There are times when three or four people are delivering their dialgues at braek nek speed (The spelling mistake because I am typing at the same speed). All the political terms fly over my head, but the wit... I laugh so much that it hurts. And am amazed at how noone takes umbrage at anything their colleagues say. No acting good, be normal.

The show starts with a confusing sequence. A man slightly dazed sits on a podium and answers questions trying to be smart and funny. There is no real answer in anything he says. Till a girl from the audience stands up to ask him, "What makes America a great nation?". He tries to weasle his way out of answering till in the far end of the auditorium he notices someone with a placard that says.. "It isn't yet, but it can be."

Will McAvoy - You could call him the central protagonist on whom the story revolves. It is he who was not doing a great job as a reporter of a daily news show. The TRP game played here as well, till he starts doing his job sincerely and well. He is great at what he does. Only negative I can think of is he isn't that good looking. A middle aged, smart man. 

 MacKenzie McHale - She is so absolutely charming I dare you to not fall hopelessly in love with her. An idealist to the core. Not preachy at all. So much fun to hear her sincere speeches, see her mess up, be completely human, helplessly in love, heartbroken, excited, actually super excited. I do believe you need positive people around you. I would love to have such a person around me. Inspiring. Compulsive obsessive lovely.

Jim - He came into Will's office with Mac. Very sincere. Hardly ever makes mistakes. Loyal and still never afraid to speak up. Makes perfect judgement calls. Can't handle this thing called love, but all that craziness makes the frenzy of getting the night's show ready even more interesting.

Maggie - Completely scatterbrain. When we start off she is new, but she fits right in. quite competent. Wanting to prove herself. Makes bad choices and makes a lot of good choices. Whatever the chaos all around she will give her all to get the news flowing.

Neal - He is played by the original chaiwala, Dev Patel. Handles the online side of the Newsroom. People didn't even know they had a blog. Follows leads on twitter. geeky, hacker talk. How can I not be ensnared.

Don - When we talk about character development in a show we could look at a person like Don. At the onset I was sure he will be the bad guy. He is not. It does help that he looks nice and has a set of piercing eyes (I should use this phrase again someother places. I like the imagery it conjures..) . He may be curt, more wordly than the rest, but again is genuinely nice. Good at his job as the rest.

Sloan - She is all brains. Howard MBA grad if I am not wrong. Social misfit, but who cares. She is extremely endearing because she cannot be normal. She is intelligent and an outsider. Slightly different from the crowd and I like her the way she is.

Charlie - If my husband ever starts a company, and I plan to visit him frequently there, I wish that both of us are bosses like Charlie. He looks frail and sometimes i feel sorry for him. Actually I needn't be sorry at all. He fiery. And it is his convictions that let this mad lot do what they have set out to do. Screen them from the fire, encourages them to dare to dream. A very nice character.

Phew.. if you stuck through this long list and reached here.. thank you. They are all that memorable that I could not pick a few and leave the rest. Had to mention them all.

Before I end..I found something I had hastily typed after the season 1 premier of the show .. on the type writer my husband has gifted me. I plan to use some of these lines for IPK because I think it fits there too.

Why do simple things make such a difference? That one moment which inspires you? Makes you believe so strongly in love..in happiness that it almost physically makes you breathless.. Everything clenches in your gut with anticipation. Pure joy of watching, listening, feeling, living..

Simple scenes, lovely background score.. hard to follow easy to lose track of the fast paced dialogues.. Yet thrills you.. excites you.. You wish to reach out and stretch your wings and soar into the blue sky..

Newroom. Completely practical premise. A show about a tv news channel. And it manages to evoke a response in me much beyond what would be practically possible for such a show.

Worship

Again that feeling of missing a train.. Something not right with the world when I can't write because of interruptions.. sometimes tangible are these interruptions, sometimes in my head..

And as I sat tired, quite depressed something miraculous happened. My husband's grandmother, nani, started telling me stories about our gods and goddesses. There was that twinkle in her eye and a catching smile. She was enjoying herself and surprisingly so was I. Some of these stories I have heard before and some I haven't.

Do you know the story behind Tulsi vivaah? She was actually a goddess and one of  Vishnu's many wives. Till Radha decided she was the only main wife and Tulsi could not have him in heaven, had to descend to earth. She cursed Tulsi. Nani was confused with the names, but they are just names of the same form so I am sticking with the names she used. 

So Tulsi came to earth where she got tricked into believing a demon was her husband. But she was a loyal and true wife to the demon, Jalandhar. The demon became so powerful thanks to Tulsi's devotion that he could not be defeated by Shiv as well. And to kill Jalandhar Vishnu came to earth and took his form. Since Tulsi was tricked into believing Vishnu was her husband Jalandhar's powers were lost. Vishnu succeeded to kill him. Tulsi, whom we know was actually Vishnu's wife from a lifetime ago, cursed Vishnu and told him he would he would turn black and be separated from his wife. 

So for his next lifetime he transformed into a black stone and she into the sacred tulsi plant as we know it. The black stone is called Shaligram. And we have a puja where tulsi gets married to Shaligram.  

Sure you could say she had to endure lots. But still I was almost teary eyed to think how after so many lifetimes it finally all worked out for that woman in love. God does have everything neatly planned out for us. Yes apparently am a little crazy about love.

Maybe I should have a disclaimer stating, "who am I to say anything about a man and his relationship with God." Intensely personal. If someone believes that he needs to follow all rituals, everything his elders grilled into him as right and wrong, shubh ashubh, to feel closer to divinity then that is his truth. If someone cares to reject him completely that is his belief. ASR (from my show IPK) is shown an atheist who respects the wishes of everyone around him who are strong believers in puja and god. He will not of his own wishes step into a temple or join his hands in prayer or put a tika. Yet I do think he is one of those who is the closest to god.

And that brings me to a simple story I love. I forget where I read it. I am tempted to think it could possibly be in an English exam in the reading comprehension section.

One day Naarad muni asked Vishnu who was his favourite bhakt..Is the translation, follower? Naarad muni in each breath he takes chants the gods name.. naarayan naarayan.. he felt certain Vishnu would name him his foremost bhakt. But Vishnu surprised him by naming a non descript name. Who was this man, why hadn't naarad muni heard of him? Was a learned sage? Was he a wise maharishi? Vishnu bhagwan told naarad to go see for himself.

So naarad muni went to the man's hut. Yes, he lived in a small hut. He was a farmer. As naarad muni spied on the hut, the sun rose. The farmer got up. Came out of his hut and chanted Vishnu's name once. Took a bath, ate breakfast, went to his fields and toiled all day long. He came back home and as the sun was about to set he took Vishnu bhagwan's name again. Ate dinner and slept.

Naarad munni was astounded and indignant. He came to Vishnu and questioned him. This man only took your name twice and in no way else remembered you or prayed to you all day long, performed no puja, said no prayers and he is your biggest bhakt! How can that be? Vishnu bhagwan calmly replied that naarad should do him a favour and after that he would explain why. 

He told naarad muni that it was of vital importance that the task be completed successfully and so he was being entrusted with it. A small vessel filled to the brim with oil. Naarad had to traverse all the 7 worlds with it held in his hands ensuring that not one drop was filled.

Naarad with all the pride at being chosen for this important task went on his trip. Not one drop was spilt. Not one second was he distracted. Silently and extremely cautiously he held on to the filled vessel. He successfully completed his journey and came to Vishnu. Almost smug with himself he showed Vishnu how perfectly he had completed the work.

Vishnu complimented him and then asked him. How many times did you take my name on the trip? naarad muni was baffled. He had to concentrate, so he had not chanted his usual.. naarayan naarayan. Vishnu bhagwan smiled.

He explained. The farmer completes all his work. karma. he does all that he is supposed to with utmost devotion. And while he does all that no matter how good or bad the day, he still finds one moment of peace to remember me. thank me. be with me. I need nothing more.

Recipe for Pickles

If someone told me I would make homemade pickles one day I would not have believed him. Turns out that is exactly what I did today. 

We can never be just one thing right? When I think I want to not go to office I realize I like the freedom of office. I like my work. When I want to only sit on my laptop I realize it was a fun day because I made pickles.. haha amusing life..

1. Hari Mirch ka achaar (Green chilli pickle)

Saunf (first roasted then ground) , Red chilli powder, Rai (ground), Khatai (Aamchur), Salt to taste (never thought I would say this..hehehe), Mustard Oil.

Slit the chilli along its length and fill in the spice. Leave in a glass jar  (preferably) for a few days.

Tadaaa.. it really is easy..

2. Nimbu ka achaar (Lime pickle)

Saunf ( first roasted then ground, but less in quantity than used for the mirchi achaar above), Red chilli powder, Salt to taste (saying this is still thrilling me)

Cut the green limes (preferably thin skinned and juicy) into a flower shape with 8 petals all attached to the base and fill in the spice.  Leave in a glass jar  (preferably) for around 10 days.

3. Meetha Aam ka achaar (Sweet mango pickle)

Saunf ( first roasted then ground), Red chilli powder, Sugar (or gur), Mangrael (Onion seeds),  Salt to taste (the novelty just doesn't wear out)

Skin a greenish yellow mango and cut into pieces. Wrap in the spices and leave for a day. When the sugar turns watery you can cook the mixture on slow flame and place into a glass jar for a few days. Also tasted pretty good when eaten immediately after applying the spices.

4.  Mango pickle

Saunf ( first roasted then ground), Red chilli powder, Mangrael (Onion seeds), Rai (ground), Turmeric (pinch of it),  Mustard Oil, Salt to taste (after all these days amazingly this still thrills)

Skin a green mango and cut into pieces. If the mango is yellowish it may not be tangy enough for this recipe. Wrap in the spices. Leave in a glass jar (preferably) for around 3-5 days in the sun. Shake the jar a couple of times a day to coat the mango pieces with the spice mix. 

Phoenix

Note to self -

Aarwen had been good at things she tried out in her life. She had a mother brainwashing her that she was in fact much better than the rest. But Aarwen liked to think she was smart. She knew she was like the frog in the pond (I may be confusing a few proverbs here). The ocean had much bigger fish.

Till she reached college. As she stood on stage for her very first debate, she looked at the seemingly male dominated setup. She stood no chance.  Turns out they stood no chance. How the compliments flowed in.

A friend of Aarwen, someone who could talk about books for hours, just the kind of person Aarwen got along with fabulously, would compare her to Melanie. That gentle selfless soul from Gone With The Wind. Aarwen would delude herself she was that. Aarwen liked to do things for others too. But Melanie would not care if she got compliments. Melanie was unwordly like Bella in Beauty and the Beast. Aarwen wanted to be that. In fact popular, competent, Belle of the ball like Sacrlett with the golden heart of Melanie. uff what a combination she thought she was. But she really was no where close. And she did have her nose in books like the Belle from the Disney movie, but unlike Belle who wasn't aware of the people singing around her, Aarwen knew when people sang around her and even wished they would sing when the didn't.

Now wise Aarwen knows that being Melanie would be quite boring. Yes a nice inspiration to have but a bit of bad is good. No wonder Aarwen likes saying what the and dammit these days. And everytime she says it in her mind (still has not gathered courage to say it out loud) she feels thrilled with herself.

The first year she had the Midas's touch. Wherever she spoke , wherever she went she left a mark or atleast thought she did. Wish that was enough. The next year she had an added burden as she stood on stage. The big bloated head and a big self image. Narcissism finishes off unsuspecting victims. She could not meet her own self image.

She came back to her hostel room worried, embarrassed, ashamed. Atleast she had the sense to know she was messing things up. So whom did she talk to? Her roommate who was quite sensible and a friend? Or her mother.. that would have been the worst decision ever. (shuddering even thinking of it).. the boy the thought she was in love with.. Instead she called up a boy whom she had barely spoken a few words too in the last one year. A boy whom she met the first day of college. A boy who had after one year chatted with her on google talk unexpectedly one day, and that was it. She called up lazyWiz.

No idea why she thought of calling him up. Thank god she did call him up. What did he have to say? You are sad because you think you are the best and now your image is ruined. Harsh words that brought tears to the already miserable Aarwen. You aren't afraid of loosing the competition as of loosing face in front of people you think are your fans. He was being mean, but she listened to him hypnotized. Would she have listened with this reverence if it was someone else, we will never know. Would she dare take this helping hand and come out of the pit she was gradually sinking deeper and deeper in? leave her comfort zone and try and become what she could be, longed to be? Could she perhaps become things she still was not, but what she may like to be?

Almost a decade (and when I say it this way it does seem like a really long time) later .. a decade of lying low.. a decade of not really letting anything get to her head she is starting something new.. getting compliments again.. Indi di was telling me about the joy of writing for oneself..not letting others define what and how you write.. and also Aarwen herself feels the gradual change.. the wish to be her own person.. not please everyone all the time.. not be perfect.. just be herself..

And so it felt like the perfect time for a little reminder of a vital lesson learnt with some time ago with quite a bit of difficulty. A lesson that with itself brought a most wonderful teacher, friend. In fact the teacher was so sincere that he decided to stay with the student for life. A lesson that has the most fulfilling result ever and Aarwen hopes she continues to remember the lesson. Haha how I laughed when I saw Arnav tell Khushi one day in IPK that she was an egoist too. I knew there had to be reasons why I like the character so much. Ego.. A really scary word.

Unlike her namesake, who is an elf from the Lord Of The Rings world, who gave up immortality to live one lifetime as a human, the Aarwen you know is a phoenix. She is pretty as she goes through life till she becomes flawed, a skeletal of her former self, grotesque. Finally bursts into flames in agony. All that remains is ashes. From it  the phoenix is majestically reborn to regain her former beauty, untainted unblemished perfection. The cycle of destruction and regeneration goes on for a phoneix. Thankfully this phoenix is not alone in this journey. This phoenix has a mate.

Dad's are the hardest people to buy gifts for

For the first time while writing a post am still wondering if I will have enough to write. So why am I writing? While my husband and I drove to our office today morning we heard this on the radio. I smiled with my teeth showing and wriggled on my seat trying out a dance step to match the song the whole drive to office.

I never knew you could hear the radio programs on the internet later on as well. Its like three pens in one (To understand the reference you would need to watch a very cute movie IQ starring Meg Ryan, Tim Robbins and an extremely lovable Albert Einstein) . What a magical world we live in these days.
http://www.movin925.com/2014/06/13/podcast-young-jeffreys-song-week-daddy-can/

Apparently Sunday is Father's Day. I tried to remember, but I don't think I have ever wished my father on this day. I usually end up wishing him a day late on his birthday too. He isn't the kind to mind it or even expect it. Perhaps that is why even I don't mind if people don't wish me. In any case it gives me an excuse to conveniently forget other people's birthday's as well. Will I call him this year? Most probably not, but does that keep me from writing about him? Absolutely not. 

Happy father's day dada ..

I have heard stories of how when I was a baby he would put pillows on all sides and completely smother me in the pretext of tucking me in. When I was a kid he would start to tell me funny stories at bedtime.. I still remember the heroes.. harbargam, garbargam and milkha singh. The stories were fun till he managed to bring himself in. He would always be almost a super hero. I would not be impressed though the stories would have me laughing anyway. Worse were his college day stories.

He hates travelling. Loves his mother's, my dadiji's, cooking. But for many years he stayed alone, since he worked in baroda then China while we lived in Ranchi. It was by choice. I wonder if he got bored with no one to talk to in a flat all by himself. I wonder if he got tired of cooking himself and ordered from outside. Till one day he got tired of that too and would go to sleep hungry. Some time during the Kyunki saas bhi kabhi bahu thi TV serial era he decided he liked all Star Plus serials. How I would try and get the remote when mamma and me visited Baroda during our holidays.

All night and day long he can spend playing online Poker. Wins lots until he looses everything in casinos. Headstrong not wanting to please anyone. Likes gardening. Snores so loudly I wonder how my mother bears it. I kept telling him, but he still hasn't quit smoking. When he comes to my house he gets my husband to share a cigarette with him. Well he always joked that he wanted a son-in-law who would smoke, so that turned out well for both of them.

My favourite memory of him. Something so completely unlike him. After my vidai from my grandparents house in Jamshedpur I stayed for around 24 hrs in my husband's house. The next day with my husband and his uncle's (Yes that same uncle from a few posts before!) family we took the early morning train to Kolkata. It was too early and all this new bahuness (taking the liberty of coining a term) was quite disorienting. I think I stood quietly to the side smiling politely at any comments made to me. Mostly was too dazed to even answer. Later when I spoke to dada on the phone he said he had come alone (my mother didn't know) to the station and stood and silently watched me go. I asked him why didn't he come say bye. He said he just saw me happily starting this new life and did not want to interrupt. I never want to forget that. I never want to forget how I felt when I heard him say that.

He came and stayed with me last November. He was with us for a month in which 2 weeks it was only the two of us together. I spent all my time watching Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon on my ipad. He did most of the cooking and if he found time watched Jodha Akhbar on my husband's ipad.

The one father I really look up to is Atticus Finch from To Kill A Mocking Bird. Respected, wise, insightful, inspiring, calm, mostly always right. I would want to be a parent just like him. 2 sequences that are etched in my memory.

First is when his 7 year old daughter (atleast I think Scout was 7) sat on his lap and asked him, "What is Rape?" . Without skipping a heart beat he replied, "Forced carnal knowledge (or something similar)" . When I read this I had to go check the meaning of Carnal. The bigger thing was he didn't hide anything. Didn't preach. Let her make her own inference. Kids can be very smart if parents just give them a chance to think for themselves.

Second was when a mad dog had to be killed or he would attack. Atticus was a quiet, reserved , slightly boring (or so his 9 yr old son , Jem, thought) lawyer. Apparently he was the best shot in town. His glasses broke and he couldn't see clearly. Yet without blinking an eyelid he stood in the path of the mad dog and shot straight. His son never forgot that. When his son asked him why he never told them about this talent of his, Atticus replied that he didn't really want to have to use it.

I don't want the world's best father, I just want you dada. Maybe I will call you this year. But you do talk for almost an hour when I call you and I hate talking on the phone. Well either way a very happy father's day to you.

I love you

I wrote this for the I love you Blast from the Past thread .. Such lovely writeups and edits all up there. How do they manage to write so much? Something different har baar.. Something new har baar.. I guess that is what is true creativity..

http://www.india-forums.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=4056429

When did my heart know it had fallen for you? Was it when I first met you and you were nasty to me? Was it when I met you again and you dismissed god and everything that I believed in? Was it when I saw you again when I least expected it? You hurt me, mocked me. Did my heart know at that moment?

When did my heart know it had fallen for you? Was it when you first stood gorgeous in front of my eyes? Was it when you drove me mad in anger with your words? You handed me a key but I had long closed all doors. Did my heart know right then it would soon open up for you?

Through all our fights, through my tears, through those fears did my heart just smile? When you saved me that night and saved me again another stormy night did my heart cheer?

Through all the times I tried to ignore you, through all the days and those nights I fought not to adore you, did my heart just smile? When I saw you in red and held you in my arms like a porcelain breakable treasure did my heart in delight roar?

I entered your house when I thought I would go away. I saw you with another and never knew why the tear escaped my eye. You looked at me and one day my heart dreamt of sparkling stars and colorful flowers that you brought just for me. Was the dhak dhak my heart's way of telling me something?

You entered my house when I thought I would never see you again. I was safe with another then why did you start to matter more? Those times I saw you sad, those times when your dupatta beckoned to me what was my heart really telling me?

That time when I ran to you. That time when I know not why I needed you. That time when I held you and cried. You were the strength that kept my heart going.

That time when I stood unable to move. That time when I knew not how to make things better for you. That time when I wanted to stop your tears. Wish I could be the reason your heart kept joyously beating.

That night when you looked at me across the room. That night when my heart raced, and my eyes sought you repeatedly. That night when you returned my ma's payal to me. That night I wanted to know what your heart was saying about me?

That night when I could not take my eyes away from you. That night when your hypnotic gaze held me prisoner. That night when I wanted to touch you and could not walk away . What would your heart have said if I asked you?

I knew I could not be bound to another. I knew you hurt me , but were hurting more yourself. I wanted to reach out to you. My heart wept for you as it did for me.

I didn't know why I wanted you to belong to no other. I did not know why I felt this claim on you like no other. I wanted you to be mine , but you would belong to another. How my heart wept at losing you before you could be mine forever.

My heart danced when you danced with me. All those times you came close. All those times you smiled. All those gifts you gave me that told me you were longing to be mine.

My heart was feeling adventurous, boisterous, young. How beautiful you looked. How my hand felt on your waist. How it was an addicting taste. How your blush told me you too longed to be with me.

Then what went wrong? Why did my heart have to break? Why did you say all there was between us was hate?
Then why did it have to go so wrong? Why did my heart have to break? And even the why could I still not only hate?

You are gone. My heart is a lonely crying curled up ball somewhere in my chest. It needs to breathe. It needs to beat. It still hopes you will somehow magically stop it to bleed.

I am stuck. My heart can only worry about you. It is frantic. It knows what it wants. It knows to who it belongs. Is it strong enough to make everything all right?

I cry. I sob. I hear your voice and I come apart.

Don't cry darling. Don't sob my beloved. I feel your tears and come apart.

If this is what you need to hear, this is also what I need to say, my dear.. Khushi I love you..