Well, I am one of those who wear their hearts on their sleeves. And when one does that, there are plenty of interesting incidents to narrate. And mishaps too. And crushes. And the crashes that follow. Most of you might know about my first crush that crashed. This blog is about one other crush. This can’t be described as something that crashed because I knew it was a crush from day one. My understanding is that a crush crashes only when you don’t know it’s a crush and believe its love and then it crashes and then you know it’s a crush. But when you know it’s a crush right from the beginning…well, it can’t crash.  Makes sense? No? Never mind. Not important.

Now, where was I? Ahh…yeah, was flaunting my sleeve. Er…the heart on the sleeve.

It was the day I was supposed to be introduced to my mentor, 3 months after I joined work and had completed my induction programme and various other trainings. The mentor was supposed to…well…mentor me until I ramped up to a stage where I could handle things on my own at work. I had butterflies in my tummy because it was my first project, in my first job after college.

I walked to the conference room where the meeting was supposed to be held and knocked. My manager gestured through the glass opening and I walked in and took a chair. The introductions began and I was introduced to the other 3 people in the room. One of them was the mentor – Varun. I liked the name instantly. I looked across the table and I liked the owner of the name too! He was cute, I declared(to myself). They all talked about scripts, libraries, switches and SNMP. I heard bits and pieces of what was being said and spent more time watching my mentor speak.

 He was of medium height, moderately built, had a thick mop of neatly combed curly hair which formed a neat frame around his rather small but chisselled face He was  fair and had that freshly scrubbed look which makes you want to smell him…er…I mean, you know, just smell the air around him. He looked at me once in a while and smiled occasionally and I noticed the dimple on his cheek. I smiled back displaying my own(as if he would notice!)

The meeting lasted 80 mins and by the end of it I was convinced I had a crush on him. Well, this was nothing new to me. It was that phase of my life where I had a crush a week. Make that 2. Infact there was once a time when I had 8 crushes simultaneously. I had to choose whom to dream about in the night. And it can get pretty annoying after a hard day’s work when you just want to crash into bed and dream of someone and you  are presented with the task of having to choose!

I still remember all my crushes and am “loyal” to all of them! My heart still flutters at the thought and in case of Varun, it flutters a few flaps more because he has those “first”s associated with him – my first mentor at my work place.

But then, I wonder…

I wonder if he knows that I spent half my time watching him while he mentored me.

I wonder if he knows that I spent most of my lunch hour discussing him with my friends

I wonder if he knows that I hacked into his home directory and dug out his resume to find out his birthday, to figure out how old he was!

I wonder if he knows that I had fished out those tiny spinz perfumes and sprayed it on, when I knew he would come to my cube to explain a piece of code.

I wonder if he knows that my heart skipped a beat when he said I was looking very pretty at a friend’s wedding.

I wonder if he knows how disappointed I was when he didn’t answer the doorbell for 5 full mins when I visited his house for the first(and the last) time, to give him my wedding card. (yes, I was engaged when I met him. But when the solidarity of a marriage and motherhood hasn’t stopped me from having crushes, still, could we have expected a fragile engagement to?)

I wonder if he knows how ecstatic I was when he finally DID answer the door, looking groggy, unkept and incredibly cute!

I wonder if he knows how much I treasure those few moments that I spent with him in that huge apartment of his…when he made me a cup of tea, when I stepped into his room and glanced through the books that he owned, when we just sat across a table  and spoke…with me being very aware of the fact that we were alone, and he being totally oblivious to my feelings! It was strange, and now that I look back, kinda funny! J

I wonder if he knows that I went green with envy when he said he adored Sonali Bendre!

I wonder if he knows that I read every word of Jiddu Krishnamurthi’s book, though I didn’t understand a word of it, just because he liked it!

I wonder…if he knows that I am grown up enough to make these confessions. Maybe it’s the age. Maybe its life…or maybe its just the fact that I wanted him to know..

I wonder…if I’ll ever get him to read this!

I come to you when there's no one around
but I can haunt you even when there's everyone around
If you are happy, I can't touch you
If you are sad, I can break you

You shun me, you curse me
you break away from me
go to the movies or get friends together
or go out on a hike and say I don't bother

But I would come back
when there's no one around
and I can even haunt
when there;s everyone around

A friend or a foe
Tell me where i belong
i bring in tears
and memories of days bygone

When someone comes along
from you I move away
Stay at a distance
and wait to get in the way

For i come only
when there's no one around
but I can haunt you
when there's everyone around

unless you stay with someone
you can't stay away from me
unless you like your own company
you can't hide from me

Who am I?

“How much did you pay for the coriander?”, squinted acchi, as she peered into the coins that Guru, my cousin, had handed over to her.

“Let me give you the full account. You will never let me rest in peace, otherwise”, frowned Guru.

“You better do that”, retorted Acchi.

Guru drew a deep breath. He knew he had no escape. I smiled behind the newspaper.

“Ok, here goes – Okra – 12 rupees, tomatoes – 6.50, spinach – 10, peas – 20, chillies – 2, coriander – 2.50, ginger – 3 rupees…so I guess that makes it 57.50”, he read out from a little piece of paper which was apparently given to him by the vegetable vendor

“How? That makes it Rs. 56”, answered Achhi calmly and Guru blinked at her.

I was stumped too! That was mighty quick and she didn’t even have the list with her. Nor a calculator, for that matter.

“And you have given me 12.50 here. I thought I gave you Rs70. Where is the rest 1.50?”, achhi peered into Guru’s face still frowning. She was dangerously close to his face and Guru backed away, “Er…then I think the chillies are for Rs 3 ”, he blurted

“So its still 50 paise short”, said achhi.

“Acchi, come on, now…are you going to hold me on ransom for 50 paise??”

“Its not a question of 50 paise young man. Do you know how tough it is to earn that?”, acchi admonished and Guru squirmed uncomfortably trying to work out the best possible way to avoid a discourse on how much 50 paise was worth.

I realized he was knocking on my newspaper a second later and peered over it.

“Do you have a 50 paise coin?? This smart lady is not going to let me go otherwise. I will need to take that vendor to task for cheating me of my 1.50  later on”, he said between clenched teeth.

“He he…so you realize the worth of 50 paise now, eh, young man?”, I replied smilingly and handed him a coin.

“you are an angel!”, he said and rushed to Achhi to hand it over to her before she had a chance to make him whine with guilt.

Achhi was still muttering under her breath for she apparently had not taken too lightly the possibility that Guru would have “cheated” her if she hadn’t been “on her guard”.

That was achhi for you…85 years old and she had a memory that would force any elephant to shameful tears. She knew the multiplication table of 19 backwards…a feat which I was never able to achieve even after a professional degree. I don’t think any of my friends or cousins did either! And to think she had studied upto her 4^th standard!

If only…I wonder if she has ever wondered what her life would have been if only it was not what it was now…

I watched her as I put my newspaper away…she was bent in half and always walked around that way, standing up only when she needed something from the top shelves. She was so thin, it looked as though her skin was wrapped around her bones without a layer of flesh in between. Her skin was so wrinkled it looked like the ripples caused on a calm lake disturbed by several pieces of stones. She didn’t need glasses even while she read out of a book with letters of the font size 6 and she still had most of her teeth intact.

I wondered what she looked like when she was younger…it was hard to imagine. It was even harder to imagine the life she had led and I shuddered to think about it. She was my grandmother’s elder sister and granny had told me her story… I can’t even call it heart wrenching because its even beyond that…a life heartlessly left to rot, to say the least. A brilliant student, she was forced to drop out of school to get married when she was 8. She lost her husband an year later, even before she had had a chance to have a decent talk with him, considering she wasn’t allowed to stay at her in-laws’ until she “came of age”. I still wonder what the point was of getting her married then! Widowed at an age when she didn’t even know what it meant, she led a life of rejection, suffering and placid acceptance. She lived with her brother, who is also my uncle.

“Do you want some coffee, Deepu?”, I shook out of my reverie and found her peering into my face with a little cup of steaming hot coffee.

I looked into her eyes which looked almost dead in wide, dark, wrinkled, hollow sockets…how many dreams had they held and how did she manage to kill them all? How many tears had they held? How many hopes had they nurtured before they were rudely, forcefully shut off from having any more hopes? How many sleepless, lonely  nights had they seen? Had they lit up once upon a time when she had seen the colours of life? Was there any light at all in those little blinking eyes which were reduced to a set of white and grey devices now? They always remained ex-pressionless now except for the time when they filled with affection when she held and rocked little babies in her arms. She had been a part of many child births in the family, considering my aunt had 4 children and my grandma had had 8. She would be the first to offer help whenever there was any childbirth in the family and she would take to any child instantly, as if they were her very own, rejoice in their successes and be a part of their every grief.. It was as though she was trying to make up for the fact that she would never mother a child herself.

“Acchi”, I said, accepting the cup of coffee which smelled heavenly as always, “why didn’t you get married after your husband died?”

“What??” her eyes opened so wide I feared they might drop out of their sockets. I was glad in a way that they were still capable of evoking ex-pressions.

I smiled and her ex-pression softened and she laughed it away, as though it was a big joke. “I am serious acchi…you were just about 9 when you were widowed! I mean, you hadn’t even slept with your husband…(she clapped her hand on her mouth and looked even more shocked)…er, I mean, it wasn’t even a marriage if you ask me”

“Oh god…the things that you girls speak these days!! I would have been hanged if I had so much as imagined such things in my days!”, she kept shaking her head as though shaking away the thought lest it malign her self. She seemed too shocked to be able to say anything else.

“hmmm..ok…but you could have atleast gone to school, continued your studies…I am sure you would have made a very good student, achhi”.

This softened her a bit, as she sat down to grate the coconut for chutney. She was quiet for a bit, as if recovering from her previous shock. I thought she hadn’t heard me or maybe chose not to answer because of the anger I had just evoked, before she sighed and said, waving her hand in dismissal, “I wish that too…I wish I were lucky as you all and was allowed to go to school…I even wanted to pursue my singing… my own father was a music teacher(Granny had told me that acchi was an excellent singer, though she couldn’t sing anymore because of her asthma), but well…”, she sighed again and began grating the coconuts with more vigour and left me to imagine how she had crumpled each of her little and big dreams and watched them being crushed under the large feet of destiny. That was probably as far as acchi had gotten in complaining about life. How had she felt when her sister- my grandma - had gotten married and moved to her husband’s place? How had she felt when her brothers got married too and brought their brides home? How had she felt when she had lost her parents and wondered who would take care of her? How had she felt when her brothers and sisters had babies and graduated from being spouses to parents, while all that was left to her was the tag of a “widow”? Whom did she complain to? How helpless had she felt?

My eyes filled with tears as I watched her go about her chores as if the conversation hadn’t happened at all. She had even lost the capability of remembering her childhood dreams. They were probably like distant flashes of memories which vanished even before she could replay them in her mind.

 I walked towards her and hugged her and she looked at me blankly for a second and then her eyes filled with affection…the same eyes that I had seen when she would cuddle me when I was a little kid. The same eyes that I had seen which had filled with joy when she saw me draw my first rangoli…and when I had told her that I had topped my class and when I had held up my appointment letter…

She hugged me back for a brief moment and then gently pushed me away, as if she didn’t want her passive life to be disturbed with an extra dose of affection.

Its been 5 years today since she breathed her last, but I still remember her warmth and the eyes that had seen everything, yet…not the things that she probably would have liked to see.

I was amazed at the amount of mails and comments I received asking me when my next blog was due! And here I was...thinking no one visited my iLand these days! :-) Thanks people, for all the lovely messages...

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Have you lived your life?

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You haven't lived life yet if you haven't

 - Had a day which you wished never ended

- Fallen in love

- Lost love

- Lost a loved one

- Found love - in someone who can't be yours and whom you can't belong to

- Made a fool of yourself in a crowd

- had your moments of fame

- Gotten drenched in the rain, out of choice

- Laughed till you had tears in your eyes

- Kissed till you went breathless

- Been in a helpless, hopeless situation with no one to help you, but yourself

- Travelled alone

- Held a new born baby

- Held a wrinkled hand

- Cried for someone you didn't know

- Been happy for someone you didn't know

- Brought a smile on the face of someone you didn't know

- Felt envious

- Felt regret

- Felt hatred

- Been selfish, even if it means something as simple as keeping the creamiest part of the cake for yourself

- Danced in abandon

- Gotten drunk

- Watched a sunrise on a beach

- Watched a sunset on a beach

- Watched a full moon and thought of someone you love

- Been scared out of your wits

- WISHED YOU WERE DEAD

Well, I haven't lived my life yet...have you?

I reached home with a splitting headache after an enormously busy day at work. I threw the bag on the settee and slumped down on the couch and closed my eyes. He didn't seem to have noticed my arrival even and continued to munch on the bowlful of grapes, glued to the TV. An empty coffee cup lay on the table with crumbs of biscuits next to it. I watched him with eyes half open, but he refused to be distracted from the TV which blared away the news of Karnataka based terrorists.

If it were you, you would've walked up to me, put my head on your lap and given me a much needed massage. I sighed. I rose to make myself a hot mug of soup. The thought cheered me a little and I also made up my mind to carry some fruits to work from the next day to munch on the way back and to avoid an empty tummy

I kneaded the dough and the gentle pitter patter of the rain drops against the window panes, the gentle, chilled breeze and the smell of freshly wet earth soothed my senses. He entered the kitchen. I waited. He picked up a glass, filled it with water, gulped it down and left without as much as a word. I sighed again.

If it were you…you would sit on the kitchen platform, munching whatever you could lay your hands on, watching me till I blushed, pull me towards you, dance and whirl me around and sing with your hoarse voice while I giggled like a school girl!

I shrugged off the thought and switched on the radio. "…karne lagi hoon…main boondon se baatein…", I sang along and soon found myself tapping my feet and even did a little jiggle!

A lovely, sunny Sunday morning. I sat on the balcony, sipping hot coffee. I could watch my neighbour bring in a steaming cup for her husband. He received it with a smile and she blushed.

"Kiran, I am leaving. Will be late tonight and will be eating out", he called out. I didn't bother to answer and I heard the door slam shut.

If it were you, I couldn't have imagined a weekend alone. Weekends would be fun, friends, go karting, bowling and resorts!

I finished my cuppa and made up my mind.

 I tickled my daughter out of bed and whispered, "Mummy is going to take you out go-karting and then pizzas! you and I are going to have fuuuunnnn!!". She squealed with delight and hugged me!

It was 5:30 am and the alarm buzzed. I sleepily set it to snooze and reached out to hug my daughter. I suddenly sat up! She was burning with fever. He rose from his side of the bed and got into the bathroom. I rose and checked her temperature and was alarmed…it read 103! I checked the medicine cabinet to find an empty bottle of Crocin. I cursed myself for having forgotten to replenish my stock.  I knocked at the bathroom door and he peeped out, brushing.

"Adi, Hima is running a high temperature. Would you…"

"Kiran, you know I have to catch the 7:00 bus and I have a client …!"he began impatiently, even before I could finish.

"Never mind!", I interrupted. I picked up the car keys and stomped out. My eyes filled with tears and my vision blurred as I drove through the deserted streets that dawn.

If it were you, would you have let me do it? I pulled aside and parked beneath a tree in front of a park and cried my heart out, before picking up the medicines.

Life would've been a lot different if it were you…

But maybe, I would never have learnt how to take care of myself.

Maybe I would never have learnt how to enjoy my own company

Maybe I would never have learnt to find my own happiness

Maybe I would never have discovered the strength I had within me.

Maybe life is all about lessons…maybe that's the reason my life doesn't have you in it.

Hey wait! Don't go away with that "its-all-in-the-mind" optimistic grin on your face. Read on…

"Maybe life is all about lessons…maybe that's the reason my life doesn't have you in it."

That made me feel a lot better and the sun rose over the horizon as I parked my car with a gentle smile playing on my face. There was a spring in my step and a bounce in my gait.

"Life is all about lessons" was the mantra for the day and I chanted it all the way to office.

I passed my colleague’s cubicle on the way to my own and a quote on his white board caught my eye –

"Why does life teach me lessons? I have no interest to learn!"

The smile on my face disappeared, the bouncy gait was replaced with a hunch and I dragged my feet to my desk…to face another lousy day…without you L

Sighhhh…!

Well, not a very nice thought to start the New Year with, but still thought we'd go through this -  If you were given just a day to live, what is it that you would want to do, or finish?

I thought of what  some  of my  iLand  friends might do, if they were given a day to live! This is a humble, humourous attempt to capture my understanding of my friends(no offence meant!)   -

 Alphabetical listing

Amit - would write an optimistic poem named - "jashn-e-maut" - celebrating his last day!

Ash - would write a blog for a cause, would read all the palms she could lay her hands on, would gather all her friends and hop off for a party for the rest of the day!

Monu - Would hook the cell phone on to his ears and speak as much as he can, alternately to Rajesh, Kalpana, Anjini and me. (Note : wouldn't put the phone down even while munching his breakfast, lunch or dinner)

Nischal - would invest all his money on game boxes(was that PS4? or PS3? or is there a PS5 now?) and die while saving some skimpily clad virtual babe

Rajesh - Would send an SMS on "10 things you could do if you had just a day to live"(his own inventions) to all the friends on his phone book

Vishal - Would watch the old telecasts of all football matches

Warm Sunshine - would go hunting for a cow, to have the last fight!

Wise Donkey - Would kill his boss and spend the rest of the day celebrating

Following is a similar list for my friends at work(who insisted I include this just so that they can see their names "online", when they google themselves!)

Chetan - Hmmm...he would call me up to have a last fight with a faint hope that he might win...or maybe with the hope that I would be kind enough to lose, considering its his last day.

Last, but not the least, Yours Truly - Hey wait! What do YOU think I'd do if I had just a day to live? (and don't say, I'd write a blog on what to do if I had just a day to live. That would be a cliched answer!)

I apologise to all other friends that I haven't covered in this blog since I haven't had a chance to know them personally, yet!

Wish you all a very Happy, peaceful, prosperous and a satisfying New Year, friends! And remember - live each day, as if it were your last - that's probably when you would get to do all that you always wanted to do! (but don't go by what I have listed above, though!)

If I were the breeze

I would waft past you

And ruffle your hair

If I were the rain

I would shimmer down you

And tickle your skin

If I were a flower

I would bloom in your garden

And await your caress

If I were the sunshine

I would shine down upon you

And lighten up your days

If I were a dream

I would don a colorful attire

And brighten your nights

But I am just me

And all I know how to do

Is to truly, dearly…love you…like crazy!

Disclaimer – Bears no resemblance to anyone living or dead. Purely fictitious narration and no offence meant to anyone. Hope this is taken in the right spirit.

Angle 1 : His eyes searched the crowd through the window for her familiar slim figure and his face broke into a smile when he spotted her. A whole bunch of people got into the bus and she was the last to board it. His heart beat faster as she walked towards the empty seat next to his'. Would she...won't she...would she...won't she...would...she did!! His heart skipped a beat when she perched herself on the seat next to his. He took a while to reach a state of normalcy. He could smell the shampoo from her still wet hair. Her deo made him reach dizzy heights of fantasies. Her soft fair hands were just inches away from his...yet so far. Two stops later the handsome hunk boarded the bus and he could sense that her eyes followed him. To make matters worse, the hunk walked down to where they were sitting and leaned on the railing next to her! Shucks! Every love story has to have a villian! He cast himself, in his imaginary love story, as the hero and the girl next to him, his heroine. The handsome hunk was the villian who would be subjected to blows of the hero's prowess. He powed down the hunk repeatedly against the very railing(in his mind of course), until it was time for all of them to get down. He cursed himself for having indulged  in senseless fantasies when he could have talked to the girl instead...

Angle 2 : There was more than the usual crowd today. She walked to the only empty seat in the bus and plonked herself down next to the guy who couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. 'Why the hell is he staring at me that way? Am I looking alright?' She adjusted her dupatta and smoothed her still wet hair. 'Two more stops before he boards the bus...poor sweetheart...he would have to stand today...ahhh..there he comes! '. The handsome hunk boarded the bus and it was her heart that skipped a beat when he chose the railing next to her seat to lean onto. 'Would he smell my new deo? Does he notice that I exist? Wish he was sitting next to me instead of this ogling idiot...every love story has to have a hitch!' She dreamt the handsome hunk would rescue her from the ogling idiot who sat next to her.

The twisted 3rd angle : He managed to board the bus just on time. His eyes searched for his usual seat - next to the cute boy he loved so dearly. Damn! It was taken...a girl had taken his favourite place. He longed to sit next to the cute boy, to smell his after shave, to feel the warmth of his body next to his'. He had even rehearsed how he would introduce himself that day and start a friendship, but this horrible girl had occupied the place that was rightfully his! He went and stood next to the seat where the cute boy sat. Every love story has to have a vamp. He dreamt the cute boy would read his mind and get rid of that girl!

He sighed...would this conservative society ever accept him for what he was...or rather...wasnt?

Well...like they say...the most handsome ones are either taken or …are gay!(with due apologies to all handsome guys...who aren't gay).