I just want to say 'I love you'

It was a Friday and I was eagerly waiting for the clock to strike six. I was going to meet a friend for dinner and then head home to get some much needed sleep. I was in virtual bliss and my reverie was cut short by a call from my mother. Assuming that she was calling to have a simple chat, I cut the call. She texted me back requesting me to call immediately. My paternal grandfather had passed on, and my mom wanted to inform me over a call, rather than by text.

That moment, was the longest in my life. I was dazed beyond words and could not cry. It took me a few seconds for reality to hit hard. All of a sudden, like a tonne of bricks crashing on me, I could not hold it any longer. Tears streamed as I booked my tickets to my hometown to see him one last time. That night was long and never ending. My friend (God bless him) gave me company and reassured me for a dozen hours. 

My grandfather was an amazing man. Anyone who turned to him for help, would never return empty handed. He was the epitome of hospitality, who invited every person he met for a meal. He exemplified the phrase 'Strangers are friends we have not met'. He took me around on bicycle ride, bought me an aquarium, taught me a bit of science and engineering. He preserved his notes for over five decades. His grasp of Tamil, English and Sanskrit was impeccable. He was a Gentleman in every aspect and was definitely a 'Grand' Father to me, my brother and cousins.

Twenty five years if memories ambushed my brain. I wish I had told him how much I had appreciated him and loved him. My interaction with him over the last four years had been limited to meeting him during vacations and singing to him. I knew that despite my schedule, I could have made a little more time to tell him that I loved him. It was too late to feel bad.

Now, I try to tell those who mean something to me that I love them. I sometimes tell them a few times a day. Though I know that it might be an over kill, I no longer mind. Its better to be swathed in an overdose of love than not giving any love at all and regretting it later.

To my mother, my father, my brother, my grand parents, other relatives, room mates and my dear friends........

I just want to say 'I Love You',

I just want to show that I care, 

I want you to see my love for you,

I mean it from the bottom of my heart.

Tank Full of Memories

Narrow steps lead to my realm,
Jade green water reflects light,
Ducks or swans, they saunter,
My Grandmom holds me tight,
I wish to touch the water,
But permitted I am not,
'Goodbye Mylapore Tank'.

The shops that dot the mini lake,
Are abuzz with the sound of life,
Glass Bangles tinkle off my hand,
The task to buy a board and knife.
I wish to touch the water,
My mind is there not,
'Goodbye Mylapore Tank'.

The bus is late, I'm in a haste,
The trees between us dance,
Lotus leaves and buzzing bees,
The sight throws me in a trance.
I wish to touch the water,
But time I have not,
'Goodbye Mylapore Tank'.

The engines soar, flight ascends,
My tank is but a green square,
The train runs along the the side,
A view to behold up in the air,
I wish to touch the water,
But reach it I cannot,
'Goodbye Mylapore Tank'.

Sit Beside Me

A white food box lay on the table we now shared. I looked at her in the eye and she opened it to give me a idly coated in garlic chutney. The aroma of garlic wafted through the class and I wolfed down the idly and smiled.

She had been my bench mate and best friend for the last six months. Her eyes sparked and a little dimple appeared on her cheek as she smiled. She was my sounding board and I wondered how class would be once we parted ways. I was going to be the only girl in my new course and wondered if I could survive it.

My Premonitions were sadly right!

 Seven dozen men sat in a room, discussing the days lesson. No one gave a second glance to me as I entered the class. Tiptoeing to my lonely front bench that could seat five, I sat down. Placing my rucksack beside me, I pulled out a Teddy bear. It had been a year since I joined this class and my only bench mate was the teddy bear attired in a fading blue shirt. I felt like an untouchable and wondered why the a mere absence of a 'y' chromosome made me despicable.

The Lecturer had not arrived and despite being surrounded by so many people, I felt alone. I had not spoken to anyone but family in months. My attempts to make conversation with the others in her class had been shot down by cold glares and silence. I had given up and resigned myself. 

I sighed as I felt that day would be no different. I turned to the window and stared out into space, counting the trees to keep myself occupied. I knew the number of trees visible and where they stood. I could even notice if one of them had been cut. One hundred and eight, I told myself for the fifth time that week. The lecturer had still not arrived. I placed my head on the desk for her five minute nap.

The buzz of the class silenced down and I woke up with a start. The lecturer had arrived and I stood up as a mark of respect despite not wanting to. Fifteen minutes into the class I realised that my teddy bear was gone, and where it sat was a person attired in a black shirt. I could not help but look at his face as he turned and shot me a smile. His eyes sparkled and a little dimple appeared on his cheek as he smiled.

A small step from him marked a major change in my life. I was not alone in the battle. I was neither an untouchable not a foe. I was human and was finally being accepted as one by those around me. The invisible glass walls that enslaved me had fallen. 

A bit my lip to stop a tear from escaping. Just like her, he had accepted me into his fold. He turned and pulled out a hamper from his bag.

A white food box lay on the table we now shared. I looked at him in the eye and he opened it to give me a idly coated in garlic chutney. The aroma of garlic wasted through the class and I wolfed down the idly and smiled.

Dedicated to my favourite twins Aarthy and Arjun.

Two Angels sent together from above.
Twice the Smiles, Twice the happiness and Twice the Love

Note : The post has been slightly exaggerated from what actually happened.

Educate and Encourage

The clock struck six and my fingers began to tremble. I had five hours left for my flight to Singapore. My mom squeezed my fingers and reassured me that everything would be alright. This was the big moment I had been waiting for for years. She packed my belongings into two suitcases. She packed clothes and several bottles of pickles and other long shelf food items.

Amma had been preparing for my shift to Singapore way longer than I had. She and my grandmothers had painstakingly prepared Sambhar Podi, Rasam Podi and Puli Kaichal. I had requested my Paati to make my favourite Carrot Halwa, this was packed into a tin along with the other goodies. I had requested Amma and Appa to buy me a pair of Gold Jhumkas to wear on a daily basis in Singapore. I loved the way they dangled every time I shook my head. 

While the society appreciated my parents for everything they gave me, the same society put down girls who asked for 'Seedhanam' or a token of love by calling it 'Varadakshinai' or dowry. This was evident in a talk show named Neeya Naana. 

I am a hardcore feminist, who is against the practise of Dowry. Yet, I could not help but empathise with some of the requests made by some of the girls. One of the girls on the show, requested household goods and furniture and was criticised and I completely empathised with the girl. She did not ask for jewelry or any luxuries but mere necessities and comforts. While the sambar podi and puli kaichal were essential for my survival in a new home, the appliances she requested were essential for her survival. The only difference being, I was going for education and she was going for marriage,

While I would not ask my parents to give me anything for my wedding, I do not see anything wrong in the requests made by these girls. This is because my parents have given me something that most of the other girls in the show did not have. My parents gave me education and the strength to stand on my own feet. The education provided to me, gave me the sense of security that most of the girls on the show lacked. The girls on the show, felt inferior to their male counterparts, namely their husbands and brothers as these males were better educated. This translates into an inferiority complex among the women, who want wealth as a means of elevating their status amongst their counterparts.

Another sentiment echoed on the show was that 'Marriage' was the most important event in the life of a woman. Several girls had been taught to believe that marriage was the Single most important life changing event in the life of a woman and this is a wrong notion. Personally, I would look forward to my wedding for the companionship it brings rather than enjoying it as a show of luxury and wealth. Till date, the day I left home and moved to Singapore has been the most important day in my life. I tasted Independence and freedom shrouded in responsibility for the first time and it was a bitter sweet yet memorable experience. In all likelihood, this day may be more memorable than my wedding and I have absolutely no regrets about it.

A common observation that I have made amongst my friends is that, while parents treat their daughters in an acceptable manner, the sons are treated infinitely better. In several cases, I have observed parents telling their daughter that they may not go on vacation with their friends, but have allowed their sons to go abroad, taste independence and stand on their own feet. When their daughters ask for permission to go on a vacation, they tell them to get married and go on vacation with their husbands while allowing their son to do as he pleases. This results in a situation where the daughter views marriage as a liberation and hence hurries up and looks forward to marriage as light in the end of the tunnel.

I am merely a twenty something year old, who has seen only one perspective of this issue, yet I believe that many have not seen the side I have seen and wrote this post with the hope that someone somewhere may see my side of things.

A man was once bored and took a printout of the world map on a piece of paper. He sat down and cut it into pieces and tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. He struggled to piece the world together, but after a while noticed that there was a picture on the back side of the picture, by putting that picture together, he was able to place the world map. His wife on returning home asked him how he put the world together, he sheepishly turned the map and on the other side was a picture of his daughter. By putting his child in perspective, he had placed the world together. If each person gives their child, irrespective of gender the ability to stand on their own feet, the entire practise of dowry and looking forward to marriage as a means of attaining freedom would end.

Chappal Buddies

I wanted to buy her a dress. I went into every shop on the street and could not seem to find the perfect one for her. If the dress was nice, I was unsure if it would fit her. I finally settled for a shoe instead of a dress. I came up with several reasons as to why I was giving her a pair of shoes instead of a pretty looking dress.

The blue sneakers looked cute. It wasn't an exquisite gift but it looked sturdy. She could use them for at least a year or two. It was more functional than a ballerina shoe.

On my way back home, I came up with a million excuses. I told myself that her shoes did not seem to be in good condition (her shoes are in good shape). Google came in handy with shoe statistics. While an average shoe is worn about 300 times, dresses are worn only 20-30 times. 

I reached home and gifted her the pair of shoes. She tried them and thanked my profusely. I noticed that she was wearing a new dress gifted by another friend. Without her even asking I told her the actual reason I bought her a shoe.

We both had the same foot size. By buying her a dress, I was unsure if the dress would fit her well. On the other hand, If I tried the shoe on myself, it would be a perfect fit for her. This would save either her or me an additional visit to the shop.to exchange the shoe for a new one. On hearing my explanation, she burst out laughing and said that it was indeed a good idea. 

That is my room mate for you. She is crazy, intelligent, humorous and artistic all at the same time. While some people have Chaddi Buddies, I have a Chappal Buddy, I never need to worry about a torn shoe as hers will always fit mine.

One of my favorite memories of our friendship is when we had gone to visit a few friends. I was wearing a beige dress with black slippers and she was wearing a black dress with beige slippers. While travelling on the MRT, we suddenly noticed the mix and match and exchanged slippers much to the amusement of those around us.

As our glorious stint as a room-mates comes to an end, I know that I will miss her, but will remember her often, especially when I see or buy a brand new pair of shoes. I have always wondered the confusion that would have happened had either of us been Cinderella.

A family that eats together, stays together....

Friends who share shoes, remain friends forever.....

When the Tides Change

It was a pristine white apartment. The hall led to a little corridor with rooms on either sides. The two inhabitants on the left side of the corridor were my friends. I wanted to scream out in my excitement to meet them, but did not as the inhabitants on the right side of the corridor were strangers I scarcely knew.

I knocked at their door and was greeted with a hug from one and a fist bump from another. We chatted for a while and then proceeded to go out for a meal. We had a lovely time pulling each others legs. As I returned to their apartment that evening to collect my belongings, I said a 'Hello' to the inhabitants on the right side of the corridor. They smiled and we exchanged pleasantries.

Friendship is a funny thing, you meet someone and strike off a conversation. You spend more time and get used to their company. You think of some as close enough to be your brides man (Bride's maid isn't a good term to use on male friends). When you just begin to have some hope out of the friendship, something happens and you start to question your judgement (or lack of it).

As for my two friends, my friendship with them came to an abrupt halt. One had other priorities and replaced all the people in his life in a sudden swift move over a weekend. He did it with such sharpness and efficiency. I had gone home for the weekend and came back to find a lost friend. The other stayed friends for six more months before he drifted off and cut me off his life.

They aren't enemies nor are they friends. They are strangers with memories. The difference between a stranger you haven't encountered and a stranger with memories is that the latter makes your heart strings tug at each other when you brush past them. You are unsure if you should say hello (They aren't enemies) or whether your should brush past them with an air of unawareness (they aren't friends either).

It is said that if people know each other for seven years, it signifies that the friendship will last a lifetime. While I initially believed that time is not a parameter to last the strength of a friendship, I have come to believe that it is a parameter. Friends from school whom I have known for almost two decades continue to remain friends though I seldom meet them. They might be distant but they are still friends.

Despite my initial reluctance to get out of my comfort zone and make friends again, I have found the process of knowing a person and sharing your time with them enjoyable. I have made new friends. The invisible scar of being cut off abruptly has healed and I have come to terms with the fact that not all friendships are meant to last several years, let alone a lifetime.

Today, at the same white apartment (no longer very pristine), I stand at the corridor. The hall leads to a little corridor with rooms on either sides. The inhabitants are the same. The two inhabitants on the right side of the corridor are my friends. I wanted to scream out in my excitement to meet them, but did not as the inhabitants on the left side of the corridor were strangers I knew. They were Strangers with Memories.

Note : While the story remains largely true, some facts have been mildly exaggerated or removed for the sake of putting across the point.

The Social Butterfly

I looked at the watch on my wrist and realized that I still had 45 minutes to be at the next appointment. It was 11.30 AM and the restaurant was crowded. The famed MTR Bise Bhele Bhaat was taking its own sweet time to arrive and I was getting late. Ten minutes to wolf down the Bise Bhele Bhaat; five minutes to say my goodbyes and dash to the Train station and half an hour to reach my destination. The plan seemed perfect.

A few minutes later I glanced at my watch and it still said 11.30. Noticing that something was amiss I opened my phone and realised that the watch had stopped working. I had thirty minutes to finish my lunch and make it to the next appointment. I could not leave without eating as my companion for lunch had waited for my food to arrive.

At that very moment the food arrived. Without thanking the waiter I quickly ate and went to the train station to catch the train for my next appointment. I was meeting a long lost friend after half a decade and didn't want to be late.

I managed to reach my destination three minutes late. I had rehearsed my apologies and my  friend was no where to be seen. I had two and a half hours for the next appointment and figured out that I had ample time to finish this appointment before running for the next.

I am a weekend social butterfly. It make up for the isolation during the week, I fix multiple appointments during the weekend. I meet a friend for breakfast, another for lunch and yet another for tea. By the time it is dinner, I am full and tired but calling off social engagements is against my ethic and I end up meeting four people a day. I do not complain as I love meeting new people and being a social butterfly is something I brought upon myself.

People who have known me for decades are surprised at the metamorphosis I have undergone into becoming this butterfly. Some of my friends have known me almost all my life and believe that I place more emphasis on making friends rather than exploring the depth of friendship. Sometimes even I believe that flying from gathering to gathering has made me superficial. This in some cases has prevented me from forming meaningful friendships and relationships, which was something I did during my caterpillar and cocoon stages of life (i.e. School and College).

Despite being social and having multiple appointments in a day, I have managed to build some friendships while the vast majority of them have been superficial. Being a social butterfly has its share of perks and pitfalls. Meeting many people is a definite plus. Being able to meet people and choose whom you want to hang out with in the long run is another.

Lastly, the advantages of being a social butterfly outweigh the negatives that this possesses. It gives you the opportunity to get to know people. Good things begin small. The best of friendships and relationships begin with a humble smile and acknowledgement.