"SHE"...... The Dream Along....

The phrase “Driving me crazy” always came across to me as a ‘negative connotation’, something that we guys are very comfortable with. However, it’s only recently that I realized that there was a positive angle to it as well, a rather surprising discovery. So did a lot of other phrases such as “Butterflies in my stomach”and “Going Pink”. Does this deep thinking make me a literary fanatic, or a divine enthusiast? I’d rather not say so. After all, these thoughts were driven into me, a poetry hating mortal, courtesy a SHE

“SHE”, another overhyped, overrated, complex word (that’s what I thought previously) that normal guys like to avoid found its way into my world, my humble abode. Since then, life’s seems to have taken a U-TURN. My guidelines, “CASUAL”, “EASY-GOING”,”DON’T CARE”, my rules till sometime back have been replaced by “THOUGHTFUL”, “WISHFUL”, “DREAMY” characteristics. Should I be worried, hell ya. After all, I find myself doing the same things I “PROTECTED” (at least I tell myself so) my friends from indulging in.

How has this entire thing affected me?
• Well, for starters, my dream-world seemed to have expanded its boundaries. After all, I find myself lost in it thinking of all the sweet gooey emotional moments that I would like to spend my “SHE” time in. What follows is the yearning that “SHE” also thinks of me the same way. Next comes the never-ending saga of questions: does she – does she not?
• Secondly, my “SET-IN-STONE” resolve of not making a girlfriend or getting emotionally attached for fear of hurting the other or getting hurt seems to have melted. That bastard who stood, unfaltering and fearlessly, beside me all these years traded places just to accommodate that “SHE” into it.
• Last but not least, comes the self-confidence; this quality, my best friend for life, vanishes the moment “SHE” appears in my vicinity. All I’m left is mumbling like an idiot thinking of vanishing into the dark whilst secretly wishing more time on my hands

Finally, where does that leave me? Well, on one side, stands the Rohit that I always was, denying all such things outright, obviously my preferred destination. But the more I come to think of it, the more I think of the “THOUGHTFUL”, “WISHFUL”, “DREAMY” me, all the thoughts that have been following along. Then there is the prized possession, “SHE”, that I might stand to know at the end of this all.

Inspired and cautioned by Frost, I set on the road never travelled by, to know “SHE” and see if things could work. That way, I won’t be telling with a sigh that the road I did not take made all the difference. Have decided not to mind a few bumps along the way. After all, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride !!!!!!!!

The Women who Lived……… The Women who Loved

People get all the prizes in the world for 10-15 years of 8 hour/day services. I wonder if there could exist anything for people who have served for 23 years: 24 hours/day, especially if all they’ve done is love you with all their heart, and expect nothing in return. I had the privilege of having such a special person in my life, at least until recently, till I lost her to the 23rd hour of 11th September 2011. Having only heard of such losses until I feel it as I walk down that familiar path without that person to welcome me, hug me, cuddle me up, and listen to my endless crap, that pinch seems like it’s always been there forever now……….

I was told I met this guardian angel when I was 3 months old, and cuddled in her arms immediately, as if those arms were born to carry me. Since then, there has been no looking back. Those memory flashes I so very frequently have now remind me of how, as a kid, I kept her working all night to get me to close my eyes for a few moments, or how I got her to roam around the city to get me a cereal of my choice, or how I took her for those endless walks, or how she sat mending my toys every other day so that I could get 1 more shot to break it into pieces. Her recollection of every bruise, scrape that I ever had told me of how much it hurt her mentally, even though most of them hurt me a few seconds. I still remember how much she cried when she learnt that i jumped off the 1st floor and got a few stitches, and how she almost fainted when I jumped off the same floor in less than 24 hours after that. The fact that she fondly told her grandchildren/me every memory associated with me/them or that she went hungry on occasions to ensure that we had the spoils of our choice says everything about this godmother whose world began and ended around her family.

Nostalgia surrounds me as I stand outside her lair, looking inside hoping to see my damsel run out to greet me and yell to her daughter-in-laws to start making delicacies of my choice, delicacies which could always feed a battalion. Instead, what greets me is her flower crossed picture and her family (my family) kneeling at it, longing to see the wife/the mother/the grandmother jump out of it, hoping all of it is just a dream. After half a day of running around hoping to catch her in a corner, the kick of reality finally sinks in as tears start pouring out of my eyes to honor the women who changed my life, my world. Recollections of occasions where she talked of me to family/friends, of how proud she was of me, of how she was waiting to come down to Bangalore to see me, of how much she wished she could spend time with me make me wish I had the opportunity to tell her what she meant to me too.

A few people stop outside, stare to the endless wails and babbles of people talking of how she influenced them and ultimately walk away. To the world outside, it might have been just another passing away. To them she might have left this world. To us, she was a legend, a guide and a believer in faith and the power of love. She will always remain embedded in the qualities she imbibed in us, in the values that she inculcated in us. She will be missed, but she will never be forgotten.

Rest in Peace Dear Mother