I remember our time together

I remember our time together

Do not say I ditched

I was the one who always compromised

You were harsh, rude, and aloof a lot of times

But remember? I talked to you, wanted to cheer you and see you smile

I might not have said much – but you know my actions might have told you I cared

Much more than your hollow ‘I love you’s that didn’t match up to the actions!!

Now, don’t blame me for your choices

You were never serious; emotions didn’t mean much to you anyways

Otherwise why would you go after other girls, knowing fully well how loyal I was!

It was you who didn’t mind breaking my trust and heart

You gave impassive replies when I was opening my heart to you

Anyways what’s the point in talking to you about feelings? You cared less!

Ok, you may ask me why I loved you

In spite of knowing all along that you didn’t love me?

Well, the truth is I wanted to love you even if you didn’t love me back

Wanted to just be there for you, around you…

With a hope that one day you will love me back!

The day you left me crying and turned your back to me – a part of me that yearned for you died!!

I couldn’t stoop any lower than that!!

So, decided to move on.

Needed to set right a lot of things ignored – people who really cared. Things that mattered.

I didn’t do any wrong.

Now, do not say I ditched.


Being Out of Place

”Yes, I will definitely be there in 20 min”, I said when you called me again to attend your birthday party. Put through a lot of strain to feel cool and casual in your presence, that too in case you had noticed me! You will never know that I had tried every dress in my wardrobe, before I remembered that once you had told me that your favorite color was pink and that girls looked cool in pink. But my pink anarkali dress had a stain at the bottom, and I couldn’t take the risk of letting it show. Well, not that it was the first time that I was meeting you, but off late I started to feel very nervous and weird in your presence, as if I really do not match up. But I try, nonetheless!

After spraying the perfume, I realize that I might have been late already. I walk hurriedly the distance towards your house. A lot of things go in my mind – how do I greet you, what do I talk about, will you notice me, comment that I looked good (even if you didn’t mean it)..

I hear the sounds of a lot of guests and activity as I reach your home. The sandals outside the door oozed wealth and height of fashion, the first hint I got as to what the party was going to be!!

And then I saw you!! How astonishing you looked in that maroon sherwani! ‘Hello Preeti, I am happy that you could make it’, you said. Your voice sounded very hollow and devoid of emotion to me.

Then I saw your mother and said ‘”Hello aunty!”

”Hi Preeti”, her face remaining impassive. It was as if she could penetrate my heart and guess what I felt for her son, and didn’t approve of it!

“Go and join Sanjay’s friends there”, your mother said. I slowly make my way towards a group of girls – your friends obviously. How elegant, beautiful, and rich they all looked. I felt as if even the house maid was better dressed than I was. As soon as I sat among them, they all were staring at me, or rather I felt so. I started feeling nervous. Until then, I couldn’t recall one friendly gaze or word-not even yours! I spotted your friend, Aarti among the group and said, ”Hi Aarti, I didn’t know that you were coming”. Immediately a few of the girls started laughing. Aarti, laughed too, along with others, rolled her kohl-made eyes and said, ‘”How can Sanjay have his birthday party without me?”

That kind of sent a chill down my spine. I didn’t speak to anybody else after that nor did anybody bother about me. You seemed to be too occupied with all your other guests, talking and joking. And when you joined us, you immediately sat beside Aarti-you guys looked way too close for ‘just friends’ that you told me about. You forgot me as if I didn’t exist!  What happened to the Sanjay that I knew, full of humor, natural, and who liked me?

Although I had been in your house for many times, I felt as if I was in a new place! Inside I was just dying with a thousand thoughts, each wanting my attention at once! Why did Aarti slap your hand in response to what you said? Did you say something romantic? Is Aarti just your friend or more than a friend? Do you still like me, or did you even like me before or said things just casually? And most importantly, why is your behavior to me so forced, cold, and emotionless today? Why isn’t anybody else talking to me today?

The lump inside my throat was forcing outside..

More than liking you, the worst thing would have been to make it obvious to everybody. I didn’t want that to happen.

Then suddenly, out of the blue a thought stuck me, the truth of the situation..


I excused myself before I could show my tears and make a complete fool of myself, and left the party.

Memoirs of a brief journey

Good, bad, happy, unhappy, embarrassed, cool, easy – those were my post-graduation days!!Today, after many years, I still remember the moments as if it was yesterday!


I joined a good-enough college for my post-graduation. On the very first day, we the new joiners were seated in the big conference hall for one of those boring lectures, where every professor/lecturer would talk about the rules, the protocol, their standing, and about how lucky we all were. On the joining day, I was not interested in the prestige of the college, or stuff like that. I just wanted to scan the faces around and see if I could make friends with anybody. I scanned the faces around me. Some of them were talking, laughing, and were having a good time. While some, like me were looking at everybody else with whom they had to spend the next two years. I was seated among a group of girls, who didn’t find it too difficult to introduce, talk, and giggle to each other. I tried to do some talking, but nobody paid any attention, or so it appeared to me. The second day was no better either. I talked to one girl, and was expecting to be seated beside her, but she had changed her place on the third day.

In a few days, it looked as if the entire class had arranged itself, and found somebody to talk to, or make friends with, except me! When you are a college girl, having friends takes a priority over everything else. Being a wallflower is the last thing any college girl would want! Worse than being the last in the class is being left out!

Thus continued my days..me going, sitting alone in an isolated place, just doing nothing, and going home dot on time, when the rest of the class stayed back and had fun. I hardly had a girl friend to talk to. Crushes or infatuations were totally out of question!! I was miserable!!

It was then I guess I made my first friend in months…another loner like me, Selvam. Selvam hailed from a small town in Tamil Nadu. It was easy to see how he remained a loner…he was too loud, too obvious, cracked silly jokes, which all of us were done with by the school level. And worst of all, he tried really hard to impress girls!! Maybe he too knew that the others didn’t like him much, but never showed it. But there was one thing about Selvam that wasn’t so obvious at the start – he had a great brain and a great heart too!! Although initially I kind of was not comfortable with Selvam around (I much preferred one of the other cool guys), I guess I kind of got used to him eventually. Slowly, two others joined our little group – a guy, Subramaniam (Subbu), and another girl Lakshmi (who again hailed from another little town in Andhra).

Slowly, I learnt that Selvam’s knowledge on various matters, current affairs, business, and companies was immense. Not just that – he was able to analyse the market and the business strategies that companies followed. We, the new little group – Subbu, Selvam, Lakshmi, and me used to hold little discussions. Selvam had a way of contesting everything you say, he could argue ‘for’ and ‘against’ something with equal logic. Easily, if you ignore the English-speaking skills, Selvam was the most intelligent guy in the class.

We used to walk the 1 km distance from college to the main road, and talk, laugh, or debate on the way. It was a beautiful stretch with trees on either side. I could feel it – we guys were developing a very deep friendship.

In an effort to impress girls, Selvam would talk too much, and make a spectacle of himself. Girls would laugh very directly at him, some would roll their eyes as he tried very desperately to talk something, and some would even pass rude remarks at him.  But Selvam neither understood, nor changed! Not just the girls, guys didn’t like him either. He was not included in any of the committees, or there were even instances when guys said ‘I will quit the committee if Selvam joins’..and so he had to back out. In those instances, I found tears in his eyes.

Here was an honest guy who had a heart of gold..so what if he didn’t know the niceties of life? Why doesn’t the world accept him as he is? That’s the way the world functions I guess!!

The days went on. I no longer was embarrassed of Selvam. In fact I was proud of him.

Campus placements!! Tension everywhere. For a big MNC, all the guys were filtered, until it was Selvam and one more guy. As Selvam was attending the interview, I kept my fingers crossed and prayed that he should get through! It was a huge opportunity. Not just me, the other guys in the class who didn’t like Selvam until then were also hoping that both of them should get through. The big news came to me – both the guys got through!!

Selvam came running to college (as was his habit when he was too excited), found me, and was all smiles. Our little gang celebrated Selvam’s job opportunity in our small way – samosas and chai.

A few days later, I too got placed in a reputed MNC. Selvam was even more excited than me, and was telling everybody he could find and who could lend an ear about how tough the interview was, and how I had managed to crack it. He was definitely exaggerating, but I didn’t mind a bit :-). Even Lakshmi and Subbu were super-excited, although they didn’t get placed by then!!

With friends like that, I honestly didn’t mind being a wallflower.


Finding myself

I feel butterflies in my stomach. I try to take very long breaths, but they do not seem to slow down the intensity of a sadness that I feel at this moment. I try my best to gulp and swallow the orange that seems to be forming without control in my throat. I make my best efforts to push back the salty water that’s trying to gush down my eyes. Very soon, it’ll stain my face and start running down my cheeks. People would ask ‘What’s wrong?’ For which I have no answer or do not wish to answer. No, that should not happen. With one last effort, I sip a little water, use a tissue to wipe my eyes, and compose my face to something impassive, if not a smile…because that’s the best I can manage. I am surrounded by a lot of people, but never have I felt so lonely. I do not want to talk or be talked to, if that can be managed.

I look at the people around me..they seem to be happy and content. If not, they aren’t atleast experiencing this turmoil that I am going through.

‘Why can’t I be just like them?’

‘Why do I have to feel the way I feel’?

Is this a feeling the world calls ‘depression’?

Now, why am I depressed? Is it that my sweetheart doesn’t love me back the way I love him? Or the vacant feeling in my life? Or am I in a place where I don’t belong? Or a close friend betrayed me?

Or for no reason at all, but yet I feel terribly low?

If I even make an attempt to talk about it, I am afraid of people judging me and saying,

‘No, you should not be thinking this way’

‘You should be happy that you are blessed with so much. Not many people in this world are so lucky.’

‘You must be kidding! I cannot believe it. Are you depressed for such a silly reason’?

‘Heyyy, this is soo wrong! You are a very bad person’

I try to turn on the logical part of my brain and analyse: ‘Maybe I am blessed better than many others. Maybe it’s wrong and unethical to think this way at all. Maybe the reason is very very silly. Maybe I am really a bad bad person after all.’

As I am thinking these thoughts, this one thought finds pushes its way through full force and strikes me as a blow…’EVEN IF ALL THESE REASONS HAPPEN TO BE TRUE, STUPID, YOU STILL CANNOT STOP FEELING THE WAY YOU DO’ Probably because I feel these emotions at my soul-level, and not my intellect-level?

I feel a surge of tears again, but this time, I excuse myself and just go from that place. I keep walking fast, faster, and running with tears blocking my vision. But this time, I make no effort to stop or control them. They must just flow. They seem to have a mind of their own. The sun is setting now, a sight I would have loved before, but not today. Not now. I lean against a tree that I find. And I weep, weep like I have never wept before. I am not embarrassed to cry now. I am hitting the tree with my fists, crying, swearing, talking to the trees and rocks that surround me. After what seemed to me like an eternity, I feel better than what I had felt in days. I look around and realize that it is dark. But am not afraid. I feel as if something soothing and heavenly is wrapping me, working on my insides. I immediately feel a kinship with the tree that I have been hitting for some time now. The rocks, the wind, the grass – they seem to talking to me..trying to say something to me..

Am I being made aware of the omnipresence of GOD?

I walk back home, feeling better, peaceful with that graceful feeling that seems to wrap me 🙂

The Rain

The rain was just pouring on to me

The umbrella was hardly doing its job

With one hand occupied, I vaguely tried adjusting my dupatta

Wait…there were my handbag and lunch bag too

And that’s not all, my sandles were wet, and slippery

And then..I had to cross this street to find an auto

I wiped my eyes with the hand that held the lunch box and my hand bag

To make sense of the vehicle lights

And find the right moment to cross

I finally managed it to find a share auto

And reached home – a complete mess –  drenched and dirty


Well, that was an year ago

Today, it’s raining again

But not a drop of rain is touching me

My new dress is as new as I wore it that morning

My perfume still lingers on

I am comfortably seated in the driver’s seat

With my hand bag and my lunch bag in the back seat

I watch the people in the rain from the glass window

I had been among those people an year ago

Did anything change?

I neither feel happy nor sad

I am confused, a bit lost

Was I happier outside?

I do not know

Life just moves on..I guess

No matter what!!

My Journey with books Cont’d

When in college, I got my hands on ‘Gone with the wind’. Although a voracious reader, just looking at the size of the novel, I felt it was an over whelming task to read it. But not for long. I was attracted to the first sentence in the book Scarlet O’ Hara was not beautiful. And completed the 1000 odd pages novel in about a week..

I just loved the horses, carriages, bonnets, muslin dresses, slaves and owners, land; the luxuries and comfort of life before war and the fall in the living conditions after the war.

Moral or amoral, I could not help liking Scarlett. If I liked Scarlet, I was gaga over Rhett Butler. I wept like crazy (it’s kind of embarrassing admitting this J) at the end of the novel when Rhett walks out of the house leaving Scarlett. I just did not want the book to end. Finishing the book left me with a very heavy heart. One novel that would always remain close to my heart..

Since we have entered the world of feelings and emotions with Gone with the wind, let me talk about Thomas Hardy’s stories. I read the novel tess of the d’urbervilles at office. And for the next few days after finishing it, I was just not myself. Glooomy. Sad. Melancholy. A novel, a work of fiction, could move me so much??…that’s Thomas Hardy I guess. Even if you consider yourself a person aloof to emotions, Thomas Hardy is one author who can identify those buried emotions in you and drag them to the surface. His novels touch some very deep cord within you even if you choose to bury it.

And continued with Far from the madding crowd and the woodlanders…and I was moved by these novels as much as I was for tess. Wodehouse – I read the first PG Wodehouse novel on Jeeves and Wooster also in office. And I was not just smiling or giggling while reading the story…I was kind of laughing aloud like crazy and trying hard to control myself..people in office might think I have lost my mind. These stories made me laugh and more than that..they made me happy. PG Wodehouse’s greatness lies in weaving stories over very small and insignificant things which we do not even bother to notice.

And thus continued my saga with reading – Sidney Sheldon, Robin Cook, John Grisham, Fredrick Forsyth, Agatha Christie, Charles Dickens – geniuses in their own way. As I kept reading, something in me started changing too. I felt that I was being drifted through various characters, experiences, plots, styles…until I came across something that I haven’t known before, a part of me that I didn’t know existed. I was thoroughly surprised looking at my other self – a part that could write, or rather felt it could write J

My journey with books

I remember one of the first books I kind of read..as much reading as is possible for a 5 year old. It was the story of king Bhoja who had a set of toys in his shelf. In the night all the toys would come to life, dance, and have fun. More than the story, I was fascinated by the images in the book.

I started asking for books, more for the images in them than for the book itself.  My real reading started with the tinkles and champaks. There was a small shop at the next street where I used to borrow these at about 25 paise per day. Even when Chamataka was plotting against Doob-Doob, I used to read with the anticipation that nothing evil could happen to an innocent creature like Doob-Doob, and so it used to turn out to be. The very good Kalia always helped the right and deserving at the right moment. Then there was Chandamama, which I used to read in both English and telugu-most of them when I went to Chennai, my grandparent’s place. The bhetal, who always told Vikram that his head would burst to a thousand pieces if he didn’t answer his question. And needless to say, Vikram, the wise guy always got the answer right. Even ghosts could talk and pose very intelligent questions those days.

One day, when I was about 14 or so, my aunt gave me a Mills and Boons book. Wow! What a present it had been! A kind of turning point in my reading, you can say. I was a part of a family where even if there was a love scene or anything slightly crude in the TV, my mom would switch the channel and put something like Discovery or National Geographic, inspite of the fact that I was 14 and I was not as innocent as she thought I was. So you understand what it was to be reading a Mills and Boon. I simply fell in love with the first book I read. LOVE, ROMANCE and bit of you know what :-). I wanted to read more of Mills and Boon. But I really couldn’t get them home, I mean with the kind of exotic covers they have. So, I would give a newspaper cover to the book, and read it. Very soon, I was bored of this stuff. And to add to this, one day my dad caught me reading Mills and Boon (I forgot to give a newspaper cover that time :-(). He told me,‘You are too young to read Mills and Boon’. Those days, we 14 year olds just knew a computer, and internet was not so prominent, unlike these days where some 14 year olds bunk schools and watch porn in net centers. So I left Mills and Boon, more out of boredom than my dad’s reprimand.

It was in my 15th year that I was introduced to my favorite character – SHERLOCK HOLMES. We had ‘The hound of the baskervilles’ –an abridged version of course as part of our academics. And that was the beginning of my Sherlock Holmes mania. At school, about 2 or 3 friends used to read the other stories, and we would discuss the various methods he used in the stories.  At one time, when somebody was writing and drawing crazy stuff on the school walls, we the little detectives wore a Sherlock Holmes hat and started our search on who it could be – the approximate height, an apt position, who stays after school hours, and other such things. We almost got the guy too, but didn’t want to expose him. And thus continued my saga.

Those days I used to believe that Sherlock Holmes was indeed real, and lived in Baker Street in London. I was a bit disappointed, ONLY A BIT when I came to know that Sherlock Holmes was just a fictitious character – a work of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. After that, I read every story of Sherlock Holmes that I could lay my hands on. And after I finished reading the stories, I re-read them. My way of reading a Sherlock Holmes story includes – finding a quiet place where I am less likely to be disturbed, pause in between, create a mental image of London in the 19th century, horse-driven carriages, and how Sherlock Holmes would have looked like. I was so engrossed in those stories that I kind of even forgot the fact that it was fiction. Fiction appeared more real than reality itself.


Sherlock Holmes played by Jeremy Brett (in my opinion, the best character who played Sherlock Holmes)

conan doyle

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the MASTER who created the Master.

(to be continued)