That Lady In The Mirror

 

I WISH….

I wish… I wish…

That I could fly-

Over mountains, rivers and

Skies so high.

Where love knew no bounds

And none would cry,

Where none would cheat

Or even try…

Where sorrows are lost

            Impossible to find,

Where friends would love

            And foes be kind.

I wish… I wish…

That I could fly

To a land of dreams where

            hopes unwind…

Where the feel of love could

            Hold back time.

Where the one I loved -

            Would be mine.

I wish… I wish…

That I could fly-

Over mountains, rivers and

Skies so high.

A New Lease Of Life

Spring steps in

And with it come the flowers.

The barren land does brighten up,

To see the fresh green grass.

Trees bereaved of their yellow leaves

And stripped of their foliage thick.

Their barks do tear, and does-

Emerge through it, a fan of tender twigs.

I was shattered

And broken, when we did part.

Lengthy days and endless nights

I spent nursing my broken heart.

Like autumn wind - blown tender leaf

I await eternal peace.

I wish this spring brings joy to me

And grants my life - a lease.

Love That I Deny

(To two friends who belong with each other but do not believe it… yet!!)

When you look me in the eye…

That broken… Uneven sigh!

How do I hold my ground?

Why should I even try??

Every minute together is a memory

A Coffee, A chat, an eyebrow in the air

Every word and action makes our story

Every laugh goes down in history

Wasted it was to keep you at bay

Hopeless attempts to stay away…

Endless love or fear of loss

Don’t know what holds me back today?

To deny something so true…

Lose those moments- precious few?

Give up this urge to hold you close…

But how do I deny this love for you?



I Don’t Remember Me…

With each passing day

I don’t remember me…

The sound of my laugh

Careless and free...

The console in my yawn

The comfort of sleep…

The song on my lips

Stirred from the deep…

The tale in my eyes

Secrets they keep…

All those little things

That make me – me…

Slip away with time

Like they’re meant to be.

This blur I call life

It makes faking easy

The truth of my life

Is my lost identity…

No time to think

Of what I’ve become

To ponder over

What’s to come…

Moments to cherish

Are drops in dark seas..

With each passing day

I don’t remember me…

This shell that you see

Is not the real - ME

My Book Review - Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts

It is not every day that you read a book and it leaves you with a feeling of waking up at a dawn when the whole world is fast asleep.. A feeling defined by each word in the nine hundred and thirty six pages that you have read but yet cannot fathom in words. I am generally the last person to pick up a book which reeks of philosophy in a single page and yet for me to Shantaram and why... Appreciate it is a farfetched thought- now imagine being bowled over by it. Before I tell you about this soul-wrenching, heart-hauling and regeneration experience called Shantaram I have to tell you about how I laid my hands on this book. As I was walking down M G Road in search of Ludlum’s Bourne Trilogy (fiction fanatic that I am…) a friend of mine notices this book, old, worn-out and deglamorised by the cover and thicker than my pillow in size I was repelled by the book at the first sight. My friend now mentions that Mira Nair is making her next movie on this book with Johnny Depp and Amitabh Bachchan in the cast- this was the sole motivation for me to pick this book and flip to the first page which read

“It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realized, somehow, through the screaming of my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn’t sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it’s all you’ve got, that freedom is an universe of possibility. And the choice you make between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.”

When the first page stares at you with such words, it becomes hard to put down that book. How do I term Shantaram? Part travelogue, part love letter, part autobiography, Shantaram is a vivid, entertaining but slightly grandiose autobiography of Gregory David Roberts. It is a spiritual and thrilling journey from the streets of Mumbai in the 1980’s to the riot thawed Afghanistan. It is the story of undying faith and living humanity unbeaten by will and immovable with time. What makes this book special however is that it is (mostly) biographical. I would assume fiction has been used to a good extent but still most of the story really took place with the person. But going through a tough life is one thing, and putting it down as a book for the disposal and ridicule of the reader is another.

As the story unfolds Lin, a fugitive from Australia having jumped from the towers of his Australian prison, where he was serving a 19-year sentence for armed robbery escapes and lands on Indian soil in Bombay and within minutes falls in love with the chaotic, mess of the city. Here he befriends taxi driver Prabakar a comically affable, young cab-driver, who, in the course of a day, helps him escape from a scene of mob violence, finds him a cheap hotel, and sets him up with a little dope to smoke and eventually finds him a place to live in a slum away from the eyes of the law. This slum is to be the home of Linbaba, as Lindsay is called, for the next few years. While he runs a makeshift first-aid center in the slum, he also engages in criminal activities like smuggling and counterfeiting, and eventually starts gun-running to Afghanistan. Lin’s experiences in Bombay range from falling in love with the beautiful Karla, who introduces him to the world of prostitutes, to meeting the motherly Rukhmabai of Sundargaon, who christens him “Shantaram”, or man of peace. Little do they realize the turmoil in the Heart of this man of peace. Interspersed amid a plethora of characters like Rukhmabai, Prabakar, Karla, and Kader are the panic and grime, squalor and debris, disease and fire and extreme poverty - all narrated with genuine affection, passion and generosity. This love and openheartedness towards the characters and circumstances is what sets Robert’s work apart. What could have been a mere narrative of poor people’s lives is transformed into an extraordinary piece of fiction.

This brick of a book does that to what years of teaching or preaching can possibly not do- It mesmerizes you, enthralls you and still keeps your mind ticking. Shantaram is based on simple truths lost in the complicated mesh of life, It is an eye opener par excellence.

Now I am one of those people who buy and preserve books with the same respect and reverence of a shrine but one look at my copy of Shantaram would shock any reader. With every alternate page dog-eared for easy reference and underlined for its innumerable unforgettable one-liners this book is undoubtedly one of the best this genre that I have come across. Before I conclude let me share with you my favorites line from the book.

I was a revolutionary who lost his ideals in heroin, a philosopher who lost his integrity in crime, and a poet who lost his soul in a maximum security prison. When I escaped from that prison, over the front wall, between two gun towers, I became my country’s most wanted man. Luck ran with me and flew with me to India, where I joined the Bombay mafia. I worked as a gunrunner, a smuggler, and a counterfeiter. I was chained on three continents, beaten, stabbed and starved. I went to war. I ran into the enemy guns. And I survived, while other men around me died. They were better men than I am, most of them; better men whose lives were crunched up in mistakes, and thrown away by the wrong second of someone else’s hate, or love, or indifference. And I buried them, too many of those men, and grieved their stories and their lives into my own.

The Hand That Rock The Cradle Rules The World

My speech at the Toast Master's Club-

When I was asked to speak for the ICE BREAKER session I spent the first 3 days just looking for a topic to speak on… Something that was interesting yet thought provoking, informative but not boring and most importantly something that I was passionate about.And what better to speak on than Who I am? Who we Are? And what we have become? Today I speak about WOMEN – The transition from the homemaker of yesterday to the multi-tasking bread-winner of Today. 

I believe that any discussion about women is incomplete without and insight into history. Hindu Mythology bears testimony to the fact that Lord Shiva gave up half of his body to his wife Parvathi to attain the name of Ardha- Narishwara. Shakti, the power and energy with which the Universe is created, preserved and destroyed is a FEMININE power craved by gods and demons alike. The Khorana mentions that the heaven on earth is in your mother’s feet.  Christianity believes that Mother Mary as the nurturer of creation. Why even the controversial Mary Magdalene is either the only person to have witnessed Christ’s crucifiction, burial and resurrection OR his companion and wife whichever you choose to believe. The point is that women who have played such pivotal roles in our epics suddenly they were disintegrated to mere entities of lust in the middle ages.

Homer's Iliad and Odyssey describe the beauty of one woman Helen-of Troy which changed the history of the world and brought about the greatest battle witnessed by human kind. Why go far… the Middle Ages for the Indian women was marred with scars of Sati, Child Marriage and female feticide. A woman is the mother of mankind. Despite holding such an important and unquestionable position, role of women has been defined by men over millennia and ages. They are treated as second class citizens. How did this ‘battle of sexes’ begin? How did the men get an upper hand? I personally believe that economics had a role to play in the scheme of things. When man took on the role of a bread earner, and woman took the natural role of a nurturer, these roles suited their intended role by the Creator. Man was physically strong, while the woman was inherently strong. Over a period of time the man started believing that his role was superior to that of the woman as without him there would be no food at the table. Woman’s role was taken as for granted.

Someone as respected as Socrates said that the only reason he put up with his wife, Xanthippe, was that she bore him sons. He said it was like putting up with the noise of geese because they produce eggs and chicks. Amazing Anology- don’t u think?

Today at the dawn of the 21^st century the women across the world are placed at a position of advantage. They are literally on the move. They are paying heed to their inner voice. As we successfully juggle the responsibilities of work and home with ease and comfort it actually makes our Y chromosomed counterparts wonder- How does she manage to do it?

Now I am one of those women who feel that God created man before woman. After all you always make a rough draft before the final masterpiece. No offences meant… 

Now before you guys push me off as a staunch feminist lemme tell you that I do have certain complaints with my kind….I believe that women  by and large maintain double standards…MYSELF INCLUDED

·         We believe that we are expert multi taskers but we crib and cry to do just that – MULTI TASKING

·         We demand equality yet walk into a bus and make men vacate the ladies seat.

·         We say our emotional quotient is higher than men and yet we have no control over them.

·         We do not want to be seen as WOMEN but as HUMANS but if we get certain benefits for being women… Bring It On…

·         I don’t see women complaining about the 33% reservation  or tax rebates.

·         We say we like men who treat us like equals but we still feel nice when a man holds a door open for us to walk in….

I could go on and on and on… but the point is- This is what we are focused, hardworking, determined, strong-weak, emotional... I could go on and on but the fact remains that mu words would never do justice to to what I am. Thus to all my male counterparts my only advice is -

To her virtues be very kind,

To her faults be a little blind.