Just one of those times...

You know the time when your mind totally agrees with your heart? It doesn't happen to often. It doesn't stay so for too long. (My) Mind and Heart come up with a plan. The plan is simple: Be fearless.
I read it on a friends's blog a while ago. And now, it doesn't seem like a bad idea.

I'm done with thinking about consequences. I mean, when is the last time consequences have thought about me? (Okay, bad one.) But really, now is the time to suck it in. Take a chance and trust myself. I realize fear is what has kept me back and this is a situation that is no longer acceptable to me anymore. Things need some adjustment around me and the time is now.

For a change Mind & Heart are on the same side... Mine! And i feel like someone reassuringly sitting on my shoulder saying, it's alright bud... you tried! And y'know what? It feels good.
Papon playing in the background... saying "Iss dil ka kyaa karun...(Trans: What should I do with this heart of mine)" (Barfi, 2012). Mind is blissfully calm.

I'm at 25 years and 10 days. Damn, I'm getting old!

P.S: My friends blog is called 'Musing's of an Art Student'  http://musingsofanartsstudent.com 
Do say Hi, if you drop by, she'll love it :)

Peace Out!

Letters

I am weird in more ways than one.

Its surprising how at times I cannot hold conversations. I cannot indulge in small talk. If you happen to ask me about my opinion on something- say, curtains or wallpaper or if the orange kurta matches your pink chappals, my answer would most probably be: Smile, nod, and say "Hmmmm...Nice!". In my head I'll be in a panic, looking for the nearest exit.

But its strange how I manage to express myself through letters and writing.
I love writing and receiving letters. Even if they're absolute trash, I love receiving stamped enveloped addressed for me. It's something that's exclusively mine, I don't have to share it with anyone.

The art of letter writing may be dying. 96.4% of the mail you receive are either bank statements, credit card bills, phone bills, magazine subscriptions etc. (Statistics courtesy the National Institute of Postal & Telegraphic Studies) If you're lucky, you may get a legal notice or two. So mail isn't something people look forward to. They look at it with dread and indifference.

I think letters are beautiful. They say things you  cannot verbally express. Nothing can be more personal than a letter for you. When I moved from Ahmedabad to Mumbai I wrote a dozen letters to Anu and Debo, even though we had cellphones and would talk to each other every other week. And they wrote back. When I am at fault but I cannot verbally apologize, I write a letter.  I've been consistently writing letters (since the 4th grade) every year for Raksha Bandhan. I have 11 brothers (all cousins and some extended family) and each brother, gets their own addressed letter.

The Rakhi letters I send have the same format :
1. Pleasantries
2. Hoping the recipient is fine
3. Stating the main purpose of the letter: "On the occasion of Rakshabandhan, Rati and I are sending you Rakhis...."
4. Recent personal developments in the letter writer's life
5. Recent Rati-isms that are letter worthy
6. Short discussion of any news about the recipient that you've recently heard of.
7. Giving the writer's love and regards to the receiver's family
8. Sending love and regards from the writer's family's to the recipient family
9. Hoping to see / hear from the recipient soon
10. Lots of love

Whew. That's a lot of work. And structuring the entire letter to different people, according to their ages and also keeping in mind their sense of humor is what makes each letter different. And of course adding a personal touch to every letter- a smiley or a cartoon (if there is space left on the page, that is!)
I usually don't realize its Rakhi till i see the rakhi stalls on the road and ads in the newspapers, so often my Rakhi letters get delayed by a day or two. What does not help is keeping track that which brother is in which part of the world doing what; Which makes finding their addresses a very last moment-ish thing.

But its okay. Getting a Rakhi on the VERY day of rakhsha bandhan is not as important and letting the recipient know,that the author of the letter thinks about them, cares for them and loves them, even if they haven't met for years.

So dear brothers. I don't need you to write back to me. (Trust me,The last thing I need are pity letters). Think of the letters as handwritten annual reports of a Singh's life. If you string together all the letters I've ever written, you each own your own personalized, handwritten copy of 'Devyani's Autobiography' :P
I'm in a zen like state when I write letters. It's a way I share the happenings of my life with you. That for me is Raksha Bandhan in the truest sense.

Just tell me when you get your letters. If you don't I can sue the Post Office people for 500 bucks per letter. (At least I'll earn something.)
Happy Rakhi! :)

Pride Vs Prejudice

We walked into the room.

With my parents on either side, we entered a dull looking air conditioned room. Quite like the physician’s office, except with lots of cabinets & trophies and shields adorning the walls. She was a grim faced woman and it clearly looked like it wasn't a good time to be seeing her. But this meeting couldn't be postponed, we'd been preparing since weeks.

My parents had been shooting questions at me and my 5 year old self answering- colors, days of the week, months of the year, Hindi, English, spelling and what not. There'll be people asking me all these things and I needed to show them I was smart and good enough to study in their school.  

“Be nice to her, smile and answer her questions”, mum said. So I smiled at the woman- the smile was not returned. Strike One.

I took a seat next to the woman and my parents sat opposite to her. She was going through my papers, drawing and the extensive files Australian Schools make. Certificates- including my Guest of Honor Certificates that I won for music. Twice.

Still no smile she started talking to my parents. I don't remember what exactly they were talking about, just that she was doing most of the talking (quite loudly) while my parents listened, not looking very happy.                     

Strike Two.

 I zoned out of their conversation and started looking at the things on her desk- the colorful paper-weights, the stack of files, the magnetic pin cushion and started thinking about going to school here. Would I like it? It was an uncomfortable thought. I was lurched out of my dream with a stern question. “Fine, Spell ‘Tree’”.  

My parents were looking at me and so was the woman. Suddenly, I was in the spotlight. Mrs. Grim Face had a deadpan expression on her face. “Spell ‘Tree’ ”, she said again. It didn't feel right. Why should I answer to her? She wasn't even being nice. But my Grandma told me to be respectful to others, especially elders, even if they're being mean to you.

So I started. “T….R….E…” And stopped there.

The room was tense. My parents' eyes were as wide as golf balls. I could actually hear my mom shouting in her head “THERE’S ANOTHER ‘E’!!! T…R…E…E!! YOU KNOW THE SPELLING!  SAY IT…. SAYYYY ITTTT!”.

“Again”, commanded the woman.

I just knew. I did not want to go to this school. I didn't see myself in this atmosphere with a person who didn't like me very much. If I get through this interview, I would have no choice. 

I looked in her eyes and with a firm voice said, “T…R...E.”  

My parents were miserable. I felt bad for them, I almost did say out the ‘E’. Of course I knew the spelling. I didn't want her to know.

“She can’t spell. Not even a simple word”, concluded the woman. “I’m sorry”. There was more talking. It didn't matter. The woman was rude to me and my parents. A five year old understood that. I was done. 

As we left the room, I was dreaming of the ice cream that I was promised. My parents were in shock and were wondering where they went wrong in my upbringing .

I didn't care. Strike Three. She was out. 

P.S. : It worked out for me pretty well. I got into a better school- where the Principal was really nice. And an even better school after that. #DipsiteForLife
 So trust your instincts... you may be right afterall :)