Sid.

Next time I come back from Mumbai, it will be bit difficult for me to accept this flat as 'house'! No, not because you will not be there, but there will not be any stuff lying around on sofa, bed, chairs, no fan running at full speed, no shoes scattered everywhere on floor. And surprisingly, somehow, to me, it will look like no one stays here! Without the dry daaru bottles and drying utensils, the kitchen too will look empty. I will not have to remember to close the gas knob before I go to sleep, neither will I have to think whether to keep the outer metal door open so that you can come in anytime at late night (rather morning). It will be like, I will have nothing to do in this place still called house! (oops little too senti!)

It's not that I have never stayed alone in this house before, but then I always knew that you will be back sometime, may be we will even see and talk to each other once in 3-4 days at least. Even when you had gone for your long jaundice holiday, I still didn't feel like I feel today (not for you, for myself). Sadly, I also feel that it's not because you are leaving, but because I will be alone, that I am sad. But I guess that's the case with everyone in this selfish world.

When we were classmates in NID, I never imagined I will spend so much time with you after NID! At the end of these 4 years (f...o....u...r.... years!) of sharing a house (and few other things, like your laptop charger and my laptop), I still find it surprising that we actually did! And if someone asks me what made you two stay together for this long, I have no answer! I wonder how come we even never had any fight or argument!
As if this feeling was not surprising enough, as I am writing, I receive an SMS from a very distant friend,"Some reasons definitely make relationships strong, but the fact is, only strong relations will remain forever without any reason!"
aamen
take care
bhavin

Epilogue: This reminds me that I will have to buy a new laptop charger now! :( This post would have been a much better read, had someone paid me to write it. I might have even taken little effort to find and photoshop a good picture of yours then, and name this post as 'an open letter to my house-mate' etc. Jokes apart, there were so many things coming to my mind as I thought of writing this Sid, but somehow its not possible and even required. To some extent this whole blog itself is somehow related to all the time we spent together, all the things we did, from chatting on our own blog comments, to bike rides, photography, to window shopping, movies (and writing the reviews on blog!)..... I have to stop writing now as the dictionary meaning of epilogue uses the word 'short' write-up. I also have to spend some time talking to my next room-mate, a much better one! ;)

बड़ा आदमी

मै: भैया यहाँ रूम बुकिंग का कौन देखता है?
चौकीदार: मै ही देखता हूँ, क्या हुआ?

मै: तो मै एक घंटे से आपको ढूंढ रहा हूँ,यहाँ कोई नहीं था

चौकीदार: कहाँ से आये हो?
मै: अहमदाबाद
चौकीदार: मै घूमने के लिए गया था
मै: रात में ४ बजे?
चौकीदार: हाँ, आप एक घंटे से यहाँ इंतज़ार कर रहे हो?
मै: हाँ
चौकीदार: आपने किसीको नींद से जगाया तो नहीं यहाँ?
मै: हाँ, वो जो पहली रूम में अंकल है उनको पूछा, लेकिन उनको कुछ पता नहीं
चौकीदार: उनको पूछा? उनको कुछ नहीं पूछने का
मै: क्यूँ? (typical me!)
चौकीदार: वो बहूत बड़ा आदमी है! जज साब है!

Once upon a time in TIME.

Once upon a time, there was a second hand, running inside a wall clock. Always fresh and energetic, he kept running, faster than the minute hand and much faster than the slow lazy hour hand. He was very proud of himself, his speed, his precision, his energy, his successful life! Meeting the 12 numbers every minute, he felt he was popular too! Untill one day, he decided to think about his successful life, or rather the life.

He couldnt afford to stop and think, actually the first thing he realised was that stopping was not in his hands, neither was running! disturbed and disappointed he kept running, round and round and round, reaching nowhere.

He wanted to ask those 12 numbers and the other two hands, what all this meant? And he realised, while trying to keep up with the time, he could never spend enough time with any of them! He realised, he had no control over his speed, motion, perfection, his successful life! He was bound to the pivot. The pivot which gave him the drive to keep running, all his life, in the same manner, in the same boundaries of the wall clock, round and round and round. He really wanted to see what was there, beyond the boundaries of clock, if not time. He wanted to know how it feels to once stop and think, he wanted to know how it is to be not bound to something.

Once upon a time, there was a second hand inside a wall clock, who decided to stop running for life, round and round and round.

Stories and Trees

This was a long due post and now I don't even remember how I thought about the link between type of stories and type of trees. I still haven't thought about this in depth though. With my limited reading statistics, I can provide only 1 or 2 examples of each type! :)

Palm Stories: These are generally plain looking and not so interesting stories at first look. The story teller takes enough time to build the base for the story. It requires you to go on reading till you reach the top point (high-point as it is called), to really enjoy and understand the story. Examples can be some good humour stories (jokes?) or even some travelogues etc.

e.g. Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Bush Stories:

The story teller is an ordinary person and so is the topic of his story. The story can be woven around any routine experience or common personalities existing around. Whether the story is interesting or not depends hugely upon the creativity of story teller. There is not much firm basework and main attraction is the surface ornamentation of story (or bush!). Many blog posts fall in this category.

e.g. this post. and this too

Creeper Stories: There exists a huge variety in this little complicated and equally interesting category of stories. They can range from real life experiences to fantacy stories and love stories to murder mysteries. The interesting part is, the branches or supporting parts are almost as strong (or weak) and as important as the main stem. So even if it looks like there is not strong enough base for the story, the strength lies in the complex network of all the characters and their own lives! There are lot many twists and turns and many 'high-points' worth enjoying throughout the length and width of the story, just like flower creepers. You can actually enjoy any part of the story and will be pulled in to trace the start and end, eventually realising its the journey that is more enjoyable than the end points.

e.g. the recent good example is this story by Janaki (part 1 to 10).

Pine Stories: The composition, form, structure, details.... this is what makes these stories worth reading. They are very predictable, like love stories, but the way they are told/narrated, in a very soft romantic poem like manner, makes them enjoyable.

e.g. 2 states by Chetan Bhagat, 50 first dates , bollywood movies like DDLJ etc

Mango Stories: Biographies or even some novels based on real life. A very strong base, strong enough branches,very closely linked to each other and to the environment, very much like mango tree! The concept is very deep rooted and demands your proper involvement and interest in it. This is not just for enjoying the story, it will stay with you for a long time even changing the way you think sometimes. Very inspirational!

e.g. Closest from what I have read till now is Totto Chan, better example can be stories of raja Harishchandra.

Banyan Stories: Epics! I do not have enough words and wisdom to write about them 'in short'! Unlike mango stories, they go beyond the individual reader, to inspire, affect and nurture the whole societies, cultures. They can be interpreted at various levels of literature as well as social evolution. And they are still not boring but very beautiful examples of art!

e.g. Ramayana, Mahabharata, Odyssey etc.

Bonsai Stories:

I would really not like to call them stories! They look like they were made as per marketing demand and requirements. They have everything, but still lack something very important like the scale, gravity, rendering them more of decorative item on the shelf in living room. They simply don't feel original. It's like Bhavin writing his interpretation of Ramayana/King Lear on his blog in one post! Show off!

Ok What is This?

:)

एक होती प्रजा

आटपाट नगर होतं
नगराचा एक राजा होता
राजाला तीन राण्या
तिघिना एक एक राजपुत्र
राजा नपुंसक होता
बाकि सगळं व्यवस्थीत चालल होतं

राजवाडयामागे खोल विहीर होती
बारा महीने भरलेली असायची
सर्वात मोठ्या राणीने तिच्यात
जीव दिला होता असं म्हणायचे
नगरातल्या शेतकरयाशी तिचे
संबंध होते असही म्हणायचे
पण आता असं कुणी म्हणत नाही
दर अमावशेला सगळी प्रजा
एक एक हंडा पाणी विहिरीत ओतते
जुनी गोष्ट आहे इतकच म्हणतात
बाकि सगळं व्यवस्थीत चाललय

दरबारात एक प्रधान होता
राजवाड्याशी त्याचे घरचे संबंध
दरबारात तो फारसा नसायचा
पण राजवाड्यातल कमी जास्त
सगळ तोच बघायचा
प्रधानाची बायको हुशार
प्रधानाचा संसार राजेशाही ठेवायची
तीन वेळा का होइना
पण प्रधान राजा बनला होता ना!
प्रधानाचा संसार ही व्यवस्थित चालला होता

दरबारात एक सेनापतिही होते
राजाची कुणाशी दुश्मनीच नव्हती
राज्यातला सगळा कर
सेनापति गोळा करायचे
राज्यातली सारी न्याय-व्यवस्था
सेनापतीच बघायचे
न्याय-व्यवस्था न माननारी लोकं
सेनेत भरती व्हायची
बाकि सगळं व्यवस्थीत चालल होतं

आणि उरले राज-ज्योतिषी
त्यांच्या परवानगी शिवाय तर
नगराच पानही नाही हलायच!
प्रजेच उज्जवल भविष्य
तेच तर ठरवायचे!
नवीन रस्ते, नवीन राजवाडा
कधी कुठे बांधायचे, हे
सेनापती त्यानाच 'विचारायचे'
त्यांच्या आशीर्वादानेच तर
नगराची भरभराट होत होती

ते आटपाट नगर होत
नगराचा एक राजा होता
'राजा नपुंसक होता
हे फ़क्त राजालाच माहिती होतं'
असंच सगळे म्हणायचे!
-भावीन

The girl who will never get the chance

I looked at the tree where I had asked my brother to wait for me, but he wasn't there. I knew it actually. I have been doing that every morning since it happened. Then I looked at the tall and seemingly new building, again as usual. Every morning I wake up to find myself sitting on this rock in front of this building which housed my family once, I think so!

*

Ours was a small and normal upper middle class family, mom, dad, my little brother and myself. We had recently shifted in our new flat somewhere in this huge building. Every morning all of us used to leave home together, mom and dad for their offices and brother and I for our school. As an elder sister I was not only protective and possessive about my brother, but also used to bully him quite often, hurting him little too much sometimes, like I did that day. I don't know if it was because I was too protective about him or for some other reason, but I was quite harsh with him and was quite clear about what he can do and what he must not. But I really cared for him.

On that afternoon, when we both came home from school, I felt he was quite happy for something. May be he had learnt some new trick in school today. He entered the kitchen with his dirty uniform and shoes on, and obviously I didn't like it. In absence of mom and dad, I was the self proclaimed incharge of the house and my little brother. I shouted at him and asked him to change and go to bathroom first. But he was not in the mood or may be, now I feel, he was too hungry to do all that. So before he touched anything there, I held his hand and dragged him to the bathroom and pushed him inside. As usual he didn't react and I went to the kitchen to see what mom had cooked for lunch. We ate without talking much and after making sure he was only watching TV peacefully, I went to the study room and opened my school bag to plan my homework.

After some time, just to check whether he fell asleep while watching TV, I went to the living room to find he wasn't there. Surprised I went to the kitchen. There he was, with an empty ball pen refill in his mouth, bent on the gas burner trying to blow a balloon from that melting refill! Shouting as loud as I could, I pulled him down from kitchen platform and gave a tight slap. I put the burner off, snatched the refill form his hand and threw it on floor. While doing that, I accidentally ended up throwing some molten plastic on his arm too! I quickly removed that hot plastic from his skin and took him to wash-basin to pour some water on his arm. By now both of us had tears in our eyes, for different reasons. I thought he must be hating his sister, without knowing how much she cares for him.

I kept staring at the burn mark on his arm while he was sleeping, thinking why do I always end up hurting him, while trying to protect him. I didn't know what was right and what was wrong. Suddenly I felt the bed shaking vigorously. Realising it was an earthquake, I woke him up and pulled him to the door, rushed to the staircase and then to ground floor. Everyone was running and trying to reach the playground in front of our building. Both of us were very frightened and he hugged me tight with fear, completely unaware of what was happening. All of us were looking at our tall building and we saw it happening slowly. With lot of cracks running all over the walls, we saw it leaning slowly to one side. It didn't fell though. It was too hot outside and we weren't wearing any footware. My little brother was still in shock and was unable to stand on that hot playground soil. I looked at the burn mark on his arm and decided something. I asked him to stand under that tree till I came back and ran to our building. I heard someone shouting at me asking me not to go there, but I wanted to get him some water to drink and his chappals, I badly wanted to do something for him, something which didn't hurt him and showed him I really care for him. I had no fear then, till I saw our old neighbour granny sitting on the staircase shouting for help. May be she was alone at home and couldn't make it to the groundfloor with her paining knees. I told her I will be back in a second and will take her out of building. As I climbed one more floor, the building started shivering again, this time even more vigorously. I kept running to reach to our flat, with plaster and bricks falling everywhere. I kept climbing steps.

*

I was standing in the door which opened to the terrace, and I realised somehow I couldn't find my house till I reached terrace! How is it possible? Even if we had shifted to this new house only a month ago, I cannot fail to locate my own house in the building! I started running down to search for my house, and felt these are not the same steps I used to climb up. I reached ground floor, ran to the tree across the road where my little bro was waiting for me. But he wasn't there. I was very tired and frightened, I badly wanted to find him before my parents returned, and tell him that I loved him. But he was not there. After gathering some breath I ran to the bulding again. I couldn't understand what was happening. I climbed all the floors and reached the terrace again without finding my home! No, its impossible, I must find my house. I kept running from one door to the other, on every floor in that seemingly new building. Everytime I felt 'this must be my house', I found strangers living there or huge padlocks on the door. But I could not find my house. I sat on the steps, tired, on the verge of crying. I realised I even didn't see our old granny while I was climbing up and down all the steps. The next moment I felt she was standing behind me. I looked at her and started crying. She pulled me in her arms. I asked her why am I not able to find my house, my brother and if she can call my parents from their office. She kept patting my forehead and I don't remember exactly but I fell asleep on the steps soon, while I was telling her how I ended up hurting my brother today with the molten refill.

*

I woke up in the morning to find myself sitting on this rock in front of the seemingly new building which once housed my family..... I looked at the tree where I had asked my brother to wait for me. He wasn't there and I knew it actually! I have been searching for my house in that building for so many days. The building which is surprisingly looking new if not the same!
I have asked every single person in this building, about my house, my brother, my parents, but no one paid any attention to me, except for the granny who sometimes sits beside me on the staircase. I have been doing this for I don't know how many days, but I cannot leave this place, this building, this tree. My brother might have gone to drink some water, he will be back anytime and I will tell him how much I love him. But I still don't know how it is possible that I can't identify my own house and why people don't even look at me when I call them! They ignore me as if I don't exist! as if......I don't exist....

"END"
(for those innocent mortals who didn't get it, this is (again an imaginary) story of a little girl (rather her ghost), who died in an earthquake while trying to fetch water for her brother, the brother whom she cared for but could never share a kind word with. She died before she could tell him how much she loved him. Lucky you, now that you are reading this, don't you think you still have a chance?)
(ohh and by the way, her ghost couldn't find her house because the building was completely destroyed in earthquake, and a new building was constructed there later!)

She

In spite of her unnecessarily serious face sometimes, she had really pleasant smile. Her eyes looked confident and captivating at the same time. I really had no idea, what kind of a person hid behind this beautiful wheatish face. Yes I had already started finding her beautiful! She had little curly dark hair left open and the way they moved with the wind on the terrace was almost hypnotising.
"So what do you enjoy the most?", she asked. May be she noticed I was too busy observing the beauty around me, and just to bring me back to the conversation, asked me this question.
Her parents had arranged for this privacy on the terrace so that we could talk to each other comfortably. Privacy on the terrace! Smart!
Though I had instructed myself not to start the never ending topic about my bike obsession, I somehow ended up saying,"Bikes! I love the experience of floating one feet above the ground and moving anywhere at will!" I ended my line with a smile, and why not? I had managed to finish this topic in one sentence!
"Do you like bikes?", ohh GOD, I should have asked 'What do you like?' instead!
"Yes, we used to go for road trips sometimes... in college days.", she said.
"hmmm...", I was searching for some other topic, which she did and asked,"Where do you plan to settle?"

I was under this foolish impression that boys ask questions and girls answer, in such 'arranged marriage' meets! But this girl seemed to have done her homework well. She didn't give me enough time to think what to ask and went on asking the 'most important questions'.
Now I really don't believe so much in this concept of settling somewhere, but for the 'most important questions' you have to give 'most expected answers'!
So I said,"There is enough scope for our profession in pune and mumbai. And I will be closer to my parents also then." My parents will be so happy for this answer! Somehow even she looked happy. Truth does not possess this quality of making someone happy. Pune is good place for bikers though! But I avoided this topic successfully again.

"You don't like wearing saree?", my first self initiated question! Though it sounded little useless to me also.
"I do, but I thought it will be better to meet you the way usually I am."
Hmmm... this girl was something and her next question just confirmed it.
She asked, "Do you know cooking?"
This was supposed to be my question traditionally! "ummmm.... not really. I mean I can manage to make something edible with eggs & I make good tea, but nothing much beyond that. You also don't cook?" The last question came very naturally and from the bottom of my heart or may be stomach.
She said, "I do, almost everything, but don't get time to cook everyday. You know this work-till-late-culture in offices na? So mom cooks most of the time."
I don't know if I was supposed to suggest any solution, but I said,"hmm I know. Thats why most of the working couples end up employing cook. It's quite convenient."
"Ya but I don't find that idea so interesting. I mean you still have to depend on some third person and their time na? Do you like non-veg? I am vegetarian."
She was really good at asking questions, or atleast making simple questions tricky. I had to think a bit to formulate my answer. " ummm.. I like non-veg, but it's not something I can't live without." 'Like bikes' I wanted to say.

Like an experienced recruiting officer, she went on asking 'the most important questions' and after a while it didn't really matter who asked the question! Behind this straight forward sharp-shooter, I could see a very honest, true-to-herself girl with an urge to plan for nice simple clutter-free life. She was not so much interested in knowing which car I would prefer buying and when, whether an apartment on 10th floor or 15th, whether my dream of owning a design business is little risky or not. May be because this just needs money which even she had her own! What she was more concerned about was, making it clear the way she was and will be, that she takes her work as seriously as I do, that she thinks things like cooking are equal responsibility of both the partners, that she has her own choices no matter how small or big. And most important, that she conveys this clearly to me! Simple!

END.
I had started writing this IMAGINARY story some time back, and what made me finish it today was the new fountain pen Pogo gifted me and this very nice article on 'neeru's corner. Must read for all the boys or rather eligible bachelors.

world's shortest love story..

Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl ‘Will you marry me?
The girl said, ‘NO’
The guy lived happily ever after…. rode motorcycles, stayed out late, played video games a lot, drank beer, slept at the sofa, left the toilet seat up and farted whenever he wanted.
The End
;)
(original post here)