Need- Love and Prayer, Pride and Humility!

This conversation started here.
This is the response from H:-
I was busy mobilizing friends for the Candle Light Vigil last evening hence couldn't reply earlier. We had a turnover of around 300 people in the bone chilling winter of England. Yes I include myself when you say Indians and that is obvious and comes automatically..... so answering that question seems absurd to me.My grudge against us Indians is that despite being educated, landing into posh jobs and making a decent living, we are not concerned for India as a country. While I was mobilizing friends one of my Indian colleague refused to join us as it would meant canceling a dinner invite for her.... now when I look at that I wonder, what is the magnitude of tragedy that will move her to join a cause like this.Even at the vigil there were some notorious elements who kept commenting on us organizers as "Pseudo secularist", and other things...... I agree the desis in UK are called Paki and that is seen as abusive and you can take a person to court if it hurts anyone's sentiments.Yes, it is tolerance and respect that makes heterogeneity (read multi cultural/ethnicity/religion/region) beautiful else it leads to confusion and complexity...
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And my reply to H is the following:
Totally Love your reply. You are a gem.
When ppl use abusive languages towards you/each other remember its always their own inferiority and weaknesses they are refering to. Uska koi dharm nahi hota.
When ppl avoid/abuse me I have always seen its for the same thing.
Reason- inferiority, and that has no religion.I am very proud of you.
oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The other friend of mine, who is Muslim by religion and an Indian national, seems so hurt that it seems she is unable to comprehend that both of us (she and I) are saying the same thing albeit in different languages perhaps.
For me the petty squabble ends here because there are much more important and bigger things to accomplish. But before I cremate this raw tide of emotions and make better use of my strong sentiments for our beloved nation. I have to state a few facts.
This childhood friend of mine, who thought it was important to defend herself as a Muslim has a very dear Military link. S’s brother is a Naval Officer serving our nation.
So this private friction is demeaning to our being. I am trying to put my energy into something constructive.
Please send me your suggestions and guide individuals like me how we can serve our nation even though we live half a world away. I do not want to just keep write about it but much more. Just cant afford to be a passive writer/reader anymore. I have to be proactive.

I bow at H’s inspiring words- it is tolerance and respect that makes heterogeneity (read multi cultural/ethnicity/religion/region) beautiful ........
.... the Core.

Facebook, Friends and Faith (in ourselves)

Every Indian has a strong feeling of nationality which is very complex namely because it is entiwined with our religion, regionalism, language, castes, social standings (for some its pure economics). Wednesday night attack on Mumbai(India) brought many of us together for a larger cause. Twitter was abuzz and still is (a bit). Facebook/Gmail statuses of friends were charges with emotions with their individual ideas and thoughts. Being away from India, our Motherland, makes many of us feel helpless and this was one way we could make our voices heard.
So when Pandora's status read the following; there were many emotions running high.
My friend Pandora’s facebook wall read - P believes these terrible terrorists are making things difficult for her good Muslim friends! 1:06pm
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S said at 1:20pm November 28
Thanks for your empathy P...these are one of the times when one is lost for words!
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Spontaneous Mini at 3:39pm November 28
Right now my sympathies are only with India and the victims. did u watch CNN and Pak medias anger?
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S at 6:14am November 29
India also has a good number of Muslims who are just as tolerable and shocked as the rest of India...it's not wise to confuse them with Pakistanis!!!
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H at 11:14am November 29
I agree with Sahar.......
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S at 11:31am November 29
oops.........tolerant!
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Spontaneous Mini at 2:30pm November 29
Hi S and H, Have not heard from you guys in ages. Plz do not defend yourselves my friends. I adore and love both of you like my sisters. You both are a part of my childhood that is ever so dear to me. Both of you know my best friend and sister is Zaheera, whom I love like I love my brother and parents.
Pakistani civilians are not to be blamed here nor are Muslims. This war/attack is not about religion.Terror and terrorism has no religion. Plz do not drag any religion or religious belief here.
India is secular. We are Indians first even if we speak different languages, pray to Allah, God and Bhagwan, live in various parts of the world; we strive and live for India as Indians. No blame game is needed. We just need to be educated and vigilant citizens. Jai Hind!
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Since this is my blog I will explain myself. I maybe incorrect but I have a viewpoint that must be voiced and needs to be heard.
1. Why do we have to be patronizing towards anyone? Who has (has not) suffered meanness or bias in their lives. Ask the person you patronize have they never rebuked anyone? Have you never witnesssed prejudice?
2. What are you trying to defend here? After 9/11, Sikhs were and still are often mistaken for arabs they have still stuck to their attire and customs. So have faith in yourselves and educated people.
3. When I say,"My heart goes to all Indians." I am sure I mean everyone who believes that he/she is and India. Religion has nothing to do with that. Please understand people Hindus are not the only ones who are affected by the terrorist attacks in India.
Have confidence in yourselves and in others. You may think that the other persons actions are meant to insult you. But have you ever thought that it is just your thinking in someway that makes you just as biased?
4. What is the definition of tolerance? How do we say that we are tolerant while the other is not? How and when can we decide that stretch of tolerance that is all inclusive? If we say the other is not tolerant, are you still able to tolerate them and how? Are you able to hug them. Have you even spoken to them?
5. My family hails from Lucknow (now), Gonda, Gorakhpur- My family speaks bengali, often mistaken to be a Muslim because of my surname and my Hindi diction. I am proud to be an Indian! A multilingual.
In US I have often been mistaken for a Hispanic, as must be true for many other Indian girls. I feel proud of this fact. Yes, I am an international citizen.
My identity is as an Indian. Not as a UPites or Mumbaikar, Kasmiri or Assamese, Bengaluru or Manipuri..
I am an INDIAN!

Why do we lack such confidence in ourselves, then so ready to blame the other person for our own wrongful thoughts? Have we ever sat and made an analysis ourselves before we get upset with others actions and severe the ties of friendship and walk into the pit of enemies. We need to stick together people and remain friends forever.

Unity and sticking close together, is one of the laws of nature. Even wild animals live in herds, fleets, schools to keep the enemies at Bay (slight pun!).
This is atleast one lesson to learn.

Wonderful Day Means being a Kid (again)!

The colorful festoons especially made for the last summer class. Moon, my friend of almost 2 decades (17 yrsto be precise) and I had been planning to get together and have a girl’s day out. But for some reason or the other things were not happening the way we would like it. Last week we promised to have lunch together and that very evening she called to inform that her husband has had an accident. Thankfully, he was not hurt but the car was totaled. I was eager to help but she said her other friends would take care of everything and so I need not worry.

She had told me that her 2 yr old had his last summer class the following week. I wondered what she planned to do but then stopped thinking about it since she never asked me for any help. But, this time luck seemed on my side. I am the only known friend of hers who drives and owns a car. So Moon asked if I could take her to the community center for Aarush’s last summer class. Thats how, my wonderful day began to take shape. I got up early, robust and in high spirits, although I had no idea what to expect from the day’s experience (but I was sure I was going to build some happy memories and I did).

The community center is near the DMV so I knew the area pretty well. It’s on a green patch with a big play ground for young adults and adolescents and a separate play ground for toddlers. They also have a green patch with barbecue oits for families to share picnics. That gave me a nice impression of the whole community center. We reached as the rest of the toddlers arrived and started with the class. The tutor had made colorful festoons with a floral pendant with the name of each kid in the class.
On the last day of the class the toddlers were suppose to make pizzas, story reading time, painting session, craft time, snack time and then sing a song time: All in an hour’s time. If that is not fast and fun what is?

I became a kid along with Aarush. He did not even understand what he was required to do, but I did and was sure excited. I was eagar to help Aarush decorate his Pizza. which was followed by story reading time about five Monkeys getting ready for bed and being naughty, reminding me of my (in) famous childhood, if my relatives should be believed. There was painting time which Aarush enjoyed while I did his photograph session. Then there was craft time which I enjoyed just as much as the kiddo himself. It was such fun crafting with stars, glitter, and play doh. I made myself quite proud and took some pictures of my creative works. Aarush showed his expertise with the scissors cutting every bit of my creative arts and being looked upon with envy by the other kids who could not even hold the scissors properly.

There was a musical- song and dance by the class. One about fishes- thats how the kids become familiar with fish types like Tuna, Sharks, salmon and dolphins. I was almost an adolescent before I knew tuna and salmon, while seeing one was few more years away.

Then there was a song about Pizza which was followed by food recess when the kids were given the baked pizza and apple juice. It was such a happy and carefree time, that left me feeling exhilarated and content. After taking some pictures we happily trotted back to Moon's house to feed the pair of hungry adults and after the kiddo went to sleep continue with what we do best, one of my best ever gossip session that I had in a long long time.

Here are some of the pictures from the day's activity.
The tiny Pizzas made by the kids- with cheese, olives and pine apple toppings.

My creation with the Play Doh and stamps-

This was made together by Moon and me. The face by me and the body by Moon. And named by Aarush. Of coz no points for guessinf the name now.

Story Time and the class from far corner.

God, please lets replay this day again. Atleast some version of it.

The Wonderful Day when I become a kid again!

Tathastu.

Did you arrive here? Why not share that with all!

I have written before about my constant broken attempts at keeping a journal. My paternal grandmother kept a journal throughout her life. Sometimes she would read to us from her diary. When she lost her husband to cancer, and after a couple of decades when she lost her young and very vibrant second born son to the same epidemic. She took refuge in her diary.

My grandmother had studied in an English medium hostel run by a group of nuns in Calcutta for a year because her father thought that his adolescent motherless daughter needed some good female role models in her life. But after a couple of semesters of staying away from home she was taken back home because my Great grandfather found life difficult without his youngest child and only daughter. But those few days living in the residential school were enough for her to understand that personal journals are ones best friend and will always be patient with you.
She inspired me.

Like my grand mother, I went to a hostel since I was seven years of age but unlike her, my tears did not affect my parents sensitivity and I lived through ten years of precious moments that were lovingly named “Golden Years” by my class (The teachers called our class the most intelligent batch and the terrible nightmare that came true in the same breath, but those stories some other time). But as disorganized as I was (am) I always jotted my innermost sprites on the first scraps of loose paper sheets on sight, mostly my father’s official register sheets and lose them just as easily. That’s how my parents got to know how much of a shock and jarring case I was. Of coz I was mortified and promised not to write from the next time.

But, my love for books and adolescence brought me to new authors and role models. I read “Daddy Long Legs” by Jean Webster and soon after I read “The Diary of Anne Frank” by Anne Frank. This really hit at a spot; we were approximately the same age. And this was the first serious introduction to the holocaust, the way it affected countless children’s (actually the world) lives and death. Our whole class read the book around the same time and it affected each of us equally and inspired many of us to start our journals(some wrote stories and novels). But, I had one trouble. I could only write when I felt something intensely. At that young age the only thing one truly feels is rage(me thinks!). And so that is what it was and still is (now I have intense feeling of love as well :-)).

So last year when I started reading blogs of strangers and more than once felt a familiarity with some of them I felt connected to a level; a part of that imaginary community and felt the camaraderie that I lack in my present state. But commenting on posts just did not seem enough. I have so much more to share. And, thus here I was again, this time not afraid to share what I truly believe in, feel inside- in my heart and in my mind. I am confident this time that my writings will not be destroyed anymore- good or bad- read or unread. Reflected upon by fellow companions or not. I am here this time.

The only thing I still have trouble understanding is the widget craze. I fail to understand why people put certain widgets to count how many people are reading their blog, which country they are logging in from and so on. Why do you care? When those people are not making the effort to acknowledge your feelings by leaving you a thought, what makes you want to acknowledge them and build your hopes on them? These thoughts came to my mind because after a long time I finally received a couple of comments. Thank you Goofy Mumma. It made me very happy.

For some time I did not tell many people about my blog. But, gradually I told a few friends about it- trying to test their reactions. Most of them emailed me back in spite of my constantly urging them to leave a comment they felt more comfortable emailing and now after these many months even the emails have become less frequent. I don’t blame them. They are still just as precious. Some never referred to my journal and some just never contacted me after I told them about it (ohh.. they are alive, I assure you!).

Thus, my serious disinterest to count who has read my blog reflections. I have my moderation option which for now seems safe enough to keep me away from hooliganism. But, still the comments make me happy.
So, if you are reading me and feel anything that has anything common with me and my feelings, why not share it with me? I want to know, I have friendly company :-))

I love my private space in the public eye....

... since it helps me reflect on myself.

After a long long time I got the time to sit and read some of my favorite blogs. And after some ages and ages I went to Mad Momma's blog. And read her angst on the popularity her blog has gained in the process restricted her freedom to express her inner desires as well as expansion of the free invitations to pathetic sadists who find it their birthright to keep going back to her blog time again, only to be their usual selves ie pathetic sadists. I mean when I don't like someone I prefer to avoid them, not keep knocking my face under their nose.
I feel all that, I mean I know a couple who are friends of some friends of MM, telling me that MM is mad. I mean really?? How do you know? Are you telling some other person, that I am mad too?? Let the answer be bygones but can you believe people discussing people whom they have not met?
I guess popularity makes you infamous. Like public opinion, saying, I hate Aishwarya (read- she is so successful while I am a failure), But I like Sushmita (read- because she was beaten by Aishwarya, and I know how that feels, because I know many who are happier and more successful than me). Well, I adore both since they are just awesome successful beauties. Can you imagine what a tragic scene it could be if you have people around you who have the chronic bad habit of mad mouthing?

My earliest experience of this was at college. I was new and when our hostel list was declared I agreed to share the room with the first girl I met. Her name was Jennifer and she was from Ranchi. I was happy. She was from St. Stephen's, History, here for a Masters in Internationals Studies. Quite impressive! I agreed. I have to confess I was very messy. I mean I had lived in a hostel but never shared rooms. In my residential school, we never really had to make beds, wash or iron clothes. There we had people who did that for us. So this was new and just a week old in my new room I was so freaky and messy. But when I would come back from my outing with my classmates or class. I would see my clothes all neatly piled and arranged for me. When I told this to my friends, they asked me to be careful. But, I did not worry. I was happy, I loved been taken care of, with someone who took care of all the tedious jobs and I had more time to sit and sip my chai, share plates full pakoras and spend late nights with friends under the starry nights.
A week after I got my room, my father came to visit me. He had brought 2 suitcases full of my clothes and other requirements. And my mother had sent me few thousand rupees, hidden in the suitcase which my father did not know. She had put it along with a pillowcase, in a jewelry pouch. My father had come directly from the station to meet me so I did not sit to check the stuff, left the suitcases under the bed and the keys in my drawer and went out with my father to the Guest House.
In the evening, when I came back the money was nowhere to be found. My clothes, that I had left to dry outside were folded neatly on my bed. There was also a note from Jennifer, informing me that she will not be back for the weekend. (she did not come back till Wednesday)
I called my mother, who has a strong intuition said that its my roommate. I could not point a finger on anyone But my gut kept telling me to talk to Jennifer. I did not want to spoil our relations, I liked her but still I had to do this, just to be sure? I confronted her. I thought maybe she would be angry with me and accuse me of being careless. But instead this girl gets on her knees and pleads me that she has not stolen the money and is not a thief. I was so taken aback by her reaction I could not say anything more to her. I went to the senior girls, for help. But this girl, cried and cried in front of everyone and asked me to spare her because she was not the culprit. I asked her to leave the room, instead, she said that since I was such a good roomie she does not want to go anywhere. But I tried with all my might, talked with the hostel proctor, the other officials and made her leave the room(I am very proud and stubborn). In the process I made a silly promise that I unbelievably kept(I am very silly). I would not tell people the real story. We agreed to say that we had differences therefore in mutual agreement she moved down the hall.
After a week, I had a new roommate. I instantly liked this girl. But she preferred to stay aloof and not talk to me at all. We lived like strangers for two months, not talking to each other. I did not care so much since I was always with my friends, the only time I was found in my room was to sleep. I did not even stay in my room to study since my new roomie was so disturbingly aloof.
But since we came back from holidays, we began to talk. God's plans are so beautiful. She turned out to be from Lucknow and we found that we had common friends. Now, she knew something about my background and past. She had heard some nice things about me this time. This time it was someone she knew and not a stranger, with no validity. The interaction grew, we found pleasant commonalities in our differences. And after quite a considerable time she told me that she had heard some bad rumors about me and dreaded to be my roommates.
The afternoon she came looking for the only room empty on our floor had she met Jennifer, the so called nice girl, from Ranchi, whose mother is a christian teacher and father a Bank Officer told my now room mate that I was a "bad girl" who went out with boys late at night for money. There are many terms to define and explain that. So I will not waste much space on my blog to explain those. Although, I can declare publicly, that this girl now works for some international NGO (and now we know why we have scams, with more than one people like this around). I know all this due to all the social websites like, Facebook and orkut, and common tags still trailing on.
Once my beloved roomie and I spoke openly about everything and by now she knew all my friends, girls and boys!! We became closer. We would always take our meals together and I really came to depend on her. We went shopping together, long walks but the best were the long, very long discussions we had always taking opposing sides. It was so much fun.

But this particular incident has taught me one lesson- Never to trust people at their face value. Just because they seem cool and with educational degrees, does not mean they are good human beings and trusting friends. In fact, I am not close to anyone who called themselves my friend but sympathised with that thief's, crocodile tears. Those I count as fair weather friends. Just because I don't cry does not mean that I am not hurt. I rarely cry when I am hurt. Guess, I am too shocked to cry.

So the lessons learnt-
1. Never be friends with people who enjoy bad mouthing others.
2. Avoid people who are too sweet on the face.
3. Always shoot your words straight even if it hurts the other person. If they do not understand your good intentions then its their lose.
4. Always keep your friends close to your heart.

The empty jewelery pouch was later put in my drawer. who would do that??

Congratulations Kalyan

Early morning I open my inbox and there is this beautiful mail from my friend Kalyan announcing the Birth of his daughter. I was stunned for a few seconds. I knew it that he was going to become a dad and I know as does everyone who knows Kalyan that he can easily grab the best Dad award in near future but still when these beautiful moments come they always come with such unexpected emotions. I am so happy and excited for him. And I so much wish that I could be nearer to his family to be a part of it, share it and hold it in my memory for eternity.

He is one of my best friends. I love and respect him so much. He made my stay in Delhi so much pleasant and easy. Every problem and difficulty I had I would run to him and he would with his calm assurance would help me hurdle it away. He is this most adorable IITian that I have ever met who does not try to rub it in the fact that he is an IITian. He is Fun-loving, helpful and the most generous person that I have every met. I remember how one of his cousins was so jealous that Kalyan and me could be such good friends and tried to play the ladka-ladki bogus card but it did not affect our relationship. I knew that the he was a person who could be trusted at any hour and he never failed me. He was my math teacher when I took my GRE exams and I can vouch for his patience. We used to have booze parties at his place when Soumen another of my cool friends and Kalyan's cousin whom I thank all times to have introduced me to Kalyan. And some friends of Soumen, all of us would eat, drink and sing together. We once had a bonfire on the terrace of Kalyan's apartment my first and last terrace bonfire.
God must really love me to let me have a friend like him.

In between I was a little upset with him because he did not attend my marriage because of some prior engagements. But that's a thing I can not hold against a friend who has been nothing but the best to me and to everyone who meets him.

And now my loving friend and his very, very beautiful wife Sweta are blessed with a sweet daughter. I can't wait for my trip to India so that I can meet him and his most adorable family.

I miss you a lot and I constantly talk about you, my friend. Everyone must have a friend like you who makes us a better person.
All the very best to you and my heartiest congratulations.