The post that lots of bloggers post. But each in our own unique style.:)

Well, here we are again: at the threshold of a new year. Why do we make such a big deal about a mere change in date? After all, tomorrow is going to be just another day, with the same morning slowly growing into an afternoon and dulling into the same kind of night that we experience every day. It will be a bank/public holiday, sure, but we will have to return to school/work soon after and continue living the same old life we have grown used to. What’s so great and happy about the beginning of 2010, then?



Well, I guess the answer lies in the fact that a new year poses as a chance to make a fresh beginning, to let bygones be bygones, to cultivate a fresh attitude towards life and try to live it better and make it more fulfilling, for ourselves and others around us. It gives us the chance to reflect a bit and evaluate what we are doing and what we want to do and to implement some positive changes that can make us happier, more peaceful, more successful.
Tomorrow may be just another day with me waking up in the same bed in the same room in the same house in the same neighborhood in the same city of the same country that I have grown accustomed to, but in my heart and mind, the first day of the first month of a brand new year will hold the promise of doing something differently, of once again trying to be the best I can be, of forgetting the past and making the most of the fresh chance at life. Inside me, the New Year will be a chance to refresh and rejuvenate myself, to try to change and to work towards my dreams with renewed zest.
I am not one to make new year ‘resolutions’ as such, but I would like to reflect a bit on the year that has finally yet all too soon drawn to a close, and I would like to anticipate what the next twelve months beginning tomorrow may hold for me.

January
Last January was a good month, a wonderfully cold month, a month filled with friends and cherished moments and lots of fun. The coming January will be a month of hard work, tight deadlines, a hectic schedule. I look forward to it, but I look more towards the end of it, because my work contract will expire and I’ll be free to do some more personal writing then.

February
Last February was also a good month. I very distinctly remember feeling happy on the 20th of February 2009 for reasons that are best not mentioned now. The coming February will be different. Very different. I most certainly will not be feeling happy about the same thing that I was last year. Hopefully, I will find something else to be happy about. Hopefully.

March
March was the month of the college farewell. It was a happy month because I received my first and only prize in my college tenure. It was also a sad month because it meant the end of college; it meant goodbyes and studying for finals. The coming march will stand for writing, lots of it.

April
Exams. That is all I can recall of April. They did not go particularly as well as I had wanted them to. The coming April (and the months that will follow) I do not know what they will bring, except more writing.

May and June
This meant holidays and the start of ‘life after college’. It was intolerably hot, like it always is. Results came out. I wasn’t too pleased with mine but accepted them because I was just too happy to be done with the ordeal of obtaining a degree from Gujarat University (which, by the way, I still do not have in hand since they haven’t sent it yet. Where is my degree certificate????????!!!)

July and August
It did not rain much last year. These two months were when I got more serious about my writing, had plenty of articles published, got a monthly column in one mag! (which apparently seems to be fizzling out unfortunately….)

September
September was a month of change. It meant moving apart from friends, saying some very difficult goodbyes. On the bright side, I landed my first job with the Princeton Review, India!

October
I entered the world of work and have been experiencing its rigors and realizing how I am so totally not made for a monotonous day job.

November
I can’t believe this was just a while back but it was a pretty tumultuous month. I was very upset, even on my twenty second birthday. However, the 26th and 27th brought back the smile on my face.

December
The smile kept slipping on and off and I did some heavy duty reflection about my life and what I was doing with it. I finally came to terms with how I myself have been putting me through hurt that I don’t deserve. I have resolved to put an end to that vicious cycle now. At long last. It is my only New Year resolution – to be happy, with who I am and how I am.

Well, as usual, this post has stretched too long than should be allowed or is fair to expect anyone to read. So if you’ve stuck till the end, thank you! I have some interesting posts lined up for the coming weeks. I hope to make 2010 a big year for Sempiternal Scribbles, and for my writing in general. I aim to be disciplined and dedicated to this art that I love and that has become my life, and I hope to move a step closer towards penning that bestselling novel. :P And making that blockbuster movie too :P

Happy New Year all! May the fresh start bring you happiness, health, and love. Keep reading. :)

"Aal is Well!"

Yesterday was my blog's second birthday. I had planned to write a special post, which is currently sitting incomplete in my computer - or rather, my brother's computer - because my computer has once again decided to give me trouble. (This is synonymous to acute tension and stress and worry for writers because we can honestly and very literally not live without constant computer access. My only new year's wish this year is a new computer. That will solve all my problems, totally.) Anyways, even if I had completed the 'special' post on time, I wouldn't have been able to publish it because yesterday was a Sunday and my Sundays seem to have become jam packed with miscellaneous things to do since I don't get ANY free time during the week because of work. Yesterday was spent with my cousin M and we went to watch 3 Idiots and so, instead of the special landmark post I had intended to publish, I'll review the movie instead.
In one word, 3 idiots is 'exceptional'. It's a notch above most Bollywood movies to be in line with super hits like Dil Chahta Hai and Wake Up Sid. It offers a cinematic journey that will be enjoyed equally by a ten-year-old, a twenty year old, a fifty year old. For different reasons, of course, but enjoyed thoroughly.



The principal premise reinforces what I have been ranting and whining about for the past fouryears, ever since I landed in the mess that is known as the Indian education system. It brings out the fundamental flaws of the age-old curricula followed at even the topmost and foremost institutions of learning in my country. It screams out loud and clear how, if ever there was a time for change, it is NOW or never. Stop the cramming, scrap the 'rules', be innovative, move away from tradition and foray into exciting new arenas. Let students be who God intended them to be rather than what is most profitable/beneficial to be. Focus on talent and understanding, rather than subjects and marks. In short, grow up (with the times).
It's a film that draws attention to the widespread, well-known but silently ignored phenomenon of young people ending their lives just because of failure or fear thereof. It highlights how teachers and parents are often the very people who push their children and students into a trap where the only option left is to accept defeat and quit from life itself.
Despite the important message(s) that the movie conveys, it is wonderfully light-hearted and strikes those emotional chords just right. It makes you smile, and it makes you shed a tear, but mostly, it makes you smile while simultaneously shedding a tear. It is about relationships: with parents, with teachers, with peers, and most importantly, with friends. It is about how some people simply change our lives without us even realising it. And how our affection towards them lasts through the tests of time, survives all the changes life throws our way.
Parts of the movie do get exaggerated; there are slight directorial flaws here and there, but the sheer power of the screenplay and the script make us all too willing to overlook the insignificant details. It's a fun story, it keeps you hooked for the entire duration of almost 3 hours, the music makes you hum along, it has dialogs you'll remember and repeat for a long time to come. All in all, it's a movie that works. And works well: to inspire, to touch, to cheer up, and to make you THINK.
Being a psychology graduate, I wasn't too happy with the title 3 'idiots' because I found it kind of degrading and insulting, but in a way it draws attention to how we toss about that word with no regard for the actual meaning, so I guess it's okay that they named it that.
My advice: go and watch it, even if you totally hate Bollywood movies and can't stand them. This is one you'll surely like, I promise. :)

p.s. For those who have heard that it is based on Chetan Bhagat's novel, Five Point Someone, it is only very very loosely related to that. Most of it is completely different.

A lost prayer. . .found.

The most amazing thing just happened. I had nothing to blog about and was about to get some work done, when the most soulful voice suddenly filled the air with a beautiful rendition of a song - or rather, a prayer - that I have known for ages but had not heard in years. I'm guessing the recitation took place at the nearby mosque but I'm not entirely sure because I have never heard anything like it before in over three years of living in this neighbourhood. It made me abruptly stop everything I was doing, and close my eyes, and listen...as the words washed over me, seeped into me, filled every atom of my being. It barely lasted two or three minutes, but it was definitely one of the most miraculous moments ever, because I was kind of feeling in need of some peace/inspiration/solace/comfort, and the prayer, recited in that beautiful, spellbinding voice, gave me all of this and more.

Here are the lyrics of the prayer...

Lab pe aatii hai duaa banake tamannaa merii
zindagii shammaa kii surat ho Khudaayaa merii

ho mere dam se yuun hii mere watan kii ziinat
jis tarah phuul se hotii hai chaman kii ziinat

zindagii ho merii parawaane kii surat yaa rab
ilm kii shammaa se ho mujhako mohabbat yaa rab

ho meraa kaam gariibon kii himaayat karanaa
dardmandon se zaiifon se mohabbat karanaa

mere allaah buraaii se bachaanaa mujhako
nek jo raah ho us raah pe chalaanaa mujhako

The title of the song in English is Cry for Cry, and the translation of the lyrics is as follows:

My heart's desire comes to my lips as a prayer
God, make my life as one of a candle, a guiding light,

My presence would destroy the darkness of this world,
And my burning light would illuminate all space

My actions would be for my country, beautiful and admired
Just as a flower adds to the beauty of a garden

My life would be like that of a moth that loves light and flies into it, O Lord!
Such would be my love for Knowledge, O Lord!

I would work not but to help the poor
And to fill the lives of the lost and old with love

O God, save me from the evil and wrong
And keep me on the path that is straight and righteous.

I can't quite recall when and where I first heard this song, but it was most probably in some movie. From a google search, I believe that it was written by a freedom fighter by the name of Dr. Allama Muhammad Iqbal.

Here is a youtube video of the song. Do have a look, it's absolutely beautiful.



On a parting note, wishing you all a Merry Christmas! :)

Confessions....

The title of this post clearly says what the content is going to be about: A confession. An admittance of certain things I have done which I shouldn't have, which ended up causing a lot of unnecessary and avoidable problems in my life and, at some level, perhaps put someone else in a very uncomfortable situation.
I find writing therapeutic and therefore, before this year ends, I want to get certain things out of my system so that the coming year can be better, less stressful, less disconcerting than the past few months have been.
So the story goes that for a long time now, I haven't really been myself, but only towards someone in particular. This person most certainly did not deserve all the wrath I showered upon them but yet I couldn't seem to stop myself.
This post is in a way a heartfelt apology to this person. (I know I already apologised personally and that you forgave my mistakes, but I felt I had to do this more openly too. In fact, I've been trying to write this post for a long time but didn't know what to say or how.)
For the remainder of the post I'll use the word 'they' rather than specify with 'he' or 'she'.
There was a reason why I was being difficult, but it is not a logical reason, and hence doesn't qualify as a valid excuse. I often realised what I was doing and I felt terrible about it and kept trying to make amends but then, in a while, I would yet again do something completely uncalled for. Most people, if they had had to experience what this person did, would have gotten fed up and bid me adieu a long, long time ago. But my friend did not. They always understood, no matter what. They fought back, sure, but in the end, they always gave me a chance to be better, to deal with whatever it was that was bothering me so much. Innumerable times, our relation came close to the point of snapping; innumerable times, it was saved in the nick of time, just because of how patient and tolerant and wonderful this person was being. I am so thankful you did not just ditch me even when I gave you more than enough reason to.
However, soon a point came when all limits were crossed and things went completely haywire, completely downhill. Again, it was almost entirely my fault. I felt worse than I ever have about anything, but I couldn't turn back time and make things better. Yet, this person, who I now expected to have completely lost faith in me, did not leave my side. Not for good at least. Things very recently became 'normal' again, comfort levels were restored, friendship was reinstated.
Yet, whatever happened cannot be forgotten. It can be ignored, sure, dismissed perhaps, but not forgotten. It needs to serve as a constant reminder to me about how someone has been a great friend to me and how it's about time I return the favor in the truest sense rather than keep blabbering on and on about what went wrong where and why.
I should have gotten a grip on myself a long time ago, I know that very well, but I didn't and, like I said, I can't change what happened. All I can do is make the most of the chance you have given me yet again.
This new year's, I wish that the past stops haunting us. I wish that I can be 'sane' enough, 'normal' enough, to lead our friendship out of the shadows that continue to loom over it and into the bright sunshine of moments that can nurture it, maintain it, strengthen it.
I remember saying once that ours is a 'different kind of friendship'. I don't want it to be that way anymore, because somewhere along the way, 'different' translates to 'unhealthy'. From now on, it is going to be a very 'normal kind of friendship'. Your response to this will most defintiely be a skeptical 'we'll see...', but I nonetheless promise you that it indeed will. And promise you publicly, at that. :P

THE song, MY song.

I have never had a favorite song. There have been lots and lots of tracks that I have absolutely loved, that I have listened to over and over agan and still listen to, songs that have made me happy and have made me cry, lyrics that have really struck an emotional chord, tunes that have stayed with me over the years and I can recognise instantaneously anywhere, anytime, but never one single favorite. I have always been at a total loss when faced with the task of picking one ULTIMATE song from the hundreds that I like.
But now, I think I have found precisely this 'ultimate'. Tu Jaane Na from Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani, composed by Pritam Chakraborty (I sincerely hope he hasn't lifted this one from anywhere - he's quite infamously guilty for theft of creativity), sung by Atif Aslam, penned by Irshad Kamil.
I initially heard the remix version and quite liked that, but after I heard the original Sufi version, the remix doesn't even come close.
I have been listening to it routinely, every single day. Whenever I take a break from work, it is the only track I play. I simply put it on repeat and relax as Atif's magical voice transports me to another world and the tabla beats fall in synch with my heart. I relate to simply EVERYTHING in the song. Right from the very well put words about unrequitted love, to the emotion in Atif's voice and the trance that the tabla beats induce. I even relate to the song's placement in the movie, at the juncture when Prem has had just about enough of keeping his love a secret. I know that feeling all too well. And of course, I love how Ranbir looks in the video! (drooooool..)
I don't think I am ever going to grow out of my obsession for Tu Jaane Naa. The very fact that I have been listening to it so much yet am not even close to being bored goes to show how this song is simply something else; my ultimate, irreplacably favorite song. I think I'll still love it just as much even ten years on, and twenty, and fifty, and 'jaane na' till when. It is so totally 'my' song.

Kaise batayein
Kyun tujhko chahe
Yaara batha na paayein
Baatein dil o ki
Dekho jo baki
Aankhein tujhe samjhaein
Tu jaane na aaaa..
Tu jaane na
Tu jaane na aaaa..
Tu jaane na

Hmm milke bhi, hum na mile
Tumse na jaane kyun, milo ke,
Hai phasle tumse na jaane kyun
Anjaane, hai silsile
Tum se na jaane kyun, sapne hai
Palko tale tum se na jaane kyunnnnnn…

Kaise batayein
Kyun tujhko chahe
Yaara batha na paayein
(aaa…aaa…(indicine.com))
Baatein dil o ki
Dekho jo baki
Aakhein tujhe samjhaein
Tu jaane na aaaa..
Tu jaane na
Tu jaane na aaaa..
Tu jaane na

Aaaa aaaaa aaa
Nigahon mein dehko
Meri jo hai bas gaya aa
Woh hai milta tumse hubahoo
Ooohhooo..
Jaane teri aankhein
Kiya baatein ki vajah…
Huye tum jo dil ki aarzoo
Tum paas ho ke bhi
Tum aas ho ke bhi
Ehsaas ho ke bhi
Apne nahin aise hai
Hum ko gile
Tumse na jaane kyun, milo ke
Hai phasle tumse na jaane kyun ooonnn….
Tu jaane na aaaa..
Tu jaane na
Tu jaane na aaaa..
Tu jaane na

Ooo jaane na jaane na jaane na
Aaaaaaa aaa… tu jaane na
Khayalon mein lakhon baatein,
Yun toh keh gayaaaa..
Bola kuch na tere saamne
Oooo… huye na begaane bhi
Tum hoke aur ke
Dekho tum na mere hi bane
Aafsos hota hai, dil bhi yeh rotha hai
Sapne (indicine.com) sanjotha hai, pagla hua soche ye
Hum the mile tum se na jaane kyun
Milo ke, hai phasle tumse na jaane kyun
Anjaane, hai silsile
Tum se na jaane kyun, sapne hai
Palko tale tum se na jaane kyunnnnnn…
Hooooohh…

Kaise batayein
Kyun tujhko chahe
Yaara batha na paayein
Baatein dil o ki
Dekho jo baki
Aankhein tujhe samjhaein
Tu jaane na aaaa..
Tu jaane na
Tu jaane na aaaa..
Tu jaane na

Tu jaane naaaa… tu jaane naa

Of Weddings and Children...(Well, no, not quite...Of Sisters, mostly)

So I recently attended this friend's sister's wedding and, for the first time in my life, actually enjoyed matrimonial festivity. :) That's probably because:
a) there was a complete absence of irritating distant aunties popping up all over the place to fuss over how I've 'grown up so fast' and expressing their hopes and desires to attend my own wedding in the near future.
b) there was no need to hide from old grannies on the lookout for a suitable girl for their supposedly 'very eligible, unbelievably handsome, highly educated' grandson(s).
c) I had not been forced to put on hideously garish clothes/jewellery and was completely comfortable in my simple churidaar and hair left loose (the way I like it best).
d) I was not being introduced to a countless people I had never met before and had no interest in meeting in the first place.
e) something that had happened the day before was making me feel happy and relaxed
f) I was with cool people my age rather than with boring older people or annoying younger people.
And
g) it was really quite an awesome wedding at this great hotel with absolutely delicious food!

Right, so at this nice function, while I was tucking into dinner, a couple of little kids came and sat at the same table as my friends and I. Usually, I can't quite tolerate children because they have a way of getting on my nerves (yes, yes, I know that's an unfair generalization and not a very nice thing to say but I’m just being honest), but this time, one of them just totally captured my attention. He was about four or five years old, I guess, and all dressed up in a little black suit. Needless to say, he looked absolutely adorable, with floppy hair falling over his forehead and eyes alight with mischievous twinkles that revealed how he knew perfectly well that he could get away with almost anything as long as he was cute and charming enough (in the ways kids so effortlessly are). He strikingly reminded me of my own little cousin who I kind of lost touch with a couple years ago. Obviously, my cousin is no longer little but a senior in high school, yet in my mind, he is still the six or seven year old with the never-ending questions and uncontrollable laughter and a tendency to hate losing at any game whatsoever.
I often think about him, this brother of mine, as well as his other siblings, and I wonder whether they too remember the old days when our lives seemed like one long stretch of fun and games. Do they remember the sound of my voice, like I remember each of one theirs? Do they remember playing with Lego blocks? Do they remember the bowls full of ice-cream and the constant chatter? Do they remember the stupid fights that would end as mysteriously as they began? Or have I faded into a distant memory, vague and hazy?
It’s a difficult question to answer.
I have a lot of other younger cousins too, whom I’ve seen growing from babyhood to teenage, but I’ve never been particularly attached or ‘close’ to any as I see other people being with their cousins. That could be because of the age difference but it’s mostly because I’m very reserved, especially with family.
There is only one little sister of mine, who despite being a whole NINE years younger to me, is just like a friend. And since I so often write posts about people who perhaps don’t deserve the honor (ok, maybe it’s not exactly an ‘honor’, but it will be once I’m famous, right? :P) I thought I’d write about her today, since she’s so very special.
She’s my confidante, my companion, my soul sister. We share secrets, exchange gossip, talk nonstop, argue, fall out, patch up. I don’t have such a relaxed relationship with any other relative except my real brother.
M was just three or four years old when I first met her. My earliest memory of her is that of a skinny little girl sitting quietly in a corner of the dining hall at my nani’s house, eyes full of early-morning sleepiness yet wide open and intent, cropped hair rumpled. I had just arrived from the airport for a month long holiday, and I smiled as my gaze met hers for the first time ever. Neither of us had any idea of the strong bond that was going to emerge and blossom in the years to come.
I soon came to learn that the little M was not half as angelic as she first appeared. She was a right little devil who never tired of mischief, be it day or night, constantly resorted to tantrums and basically gave everyone a really hard time. She was stubborn and noisy and hyperactive and wouldn’t sleep at night till my nani had to devise innovative ways of posing as a ‘ghost’ to spook her into finally turning in past midnight. That summer, those four weeks in her company were definitely trying, what with her constant demands to play silly kiddie games and her tendency to continually follow me around, but they had also been quite a bit of fun. M had devised a game of her own wherein she would call me ‘mummy’ and I would have to take care of her. Though I was not amused at first, I soon found her ways quite endearing. I remember how she would come and wake me up every morning, way before my usual time, and how she would find her way into my blanket and try to tickle me just so that I would get irritated enough to wake up and play with her. I remember how she would want me to dance with her to her favorite songs and how she just would not sit still while watching television or doing anything at all.
She threw another tantrum when I had to leave, and swore she would never talk to me again. And I felt quite sad – and touched - that she was crying just because I was leaving. I had never felt so loved before.
From then on, I saw M every two years or so, whenever I would return to holiday in India, and of course, she did speak to me after all, and we grew closer and closer. She would still sulk every time I left though, get really cranky and cry over small things, and sometimes she would refuse to wake up to say goodbye the morning I was leaving. I have a strong instinct that her innocent prayers have something to do with how I ended up moving to her city permanently.
M is thirteen now, approaching fourteen fast. And it’s wonderful to see her as a teenager. There is something so totally amazing about having seen her grow up and change the way I have. In a strange way, it kind of makes me see why people have children. There is something truly magical about watching another life shape up, witnessing a unique personality form right before your eyes.
We have a lot in common, M and I. For one, we have shared the pain of bereavement when our grandma (my nani, her dadi) passed away almost four years ago. I think there is an inexplicable, invincible bond that somehow forms between two people who lose someone they both love equally.
M and I are also huge Harry Potter fans, obsessively in love with Shahid and Ranbir Kapur, and die-hard romantics at heart.
She reminds me so much of my own teenage. I listen to her talk a mile a minute about what she likes to wear and what she doesn’t, and the new hairstyle her friend taught her, and the boy she finds so cute but who doesn’t pay any attention to her, and how her mom just doesn’t understand certain things, and I shake my head, incredulous. Was I like this too? I wonder again and again. And as my lips break into a sheepish smile, I know that yes, indeed I was. I can’t believe I’m already grown up enough to feel all wistful and nostalgic about my teenage years.
The big sister instinct inside me makes me worry about M, makes me want to protect her from the world that is undoubtedly going to hurt her sooner or later. Sometimes I wish I could shield her from all the not-so-nice stuff that is a part and parcel of life: The helplessness of accepting certain circumstances and having to give in, the pain of having your heart broken, the discomfort of breaking someone else’s, the frustration that comes from societal and/or family restrictions, the desperation of wanting to break free, of yearning to take charge of life and make something of yourself; the bittersweet feeling of growing apart from childhood friends, of moving apart from family; the uncertainty about one’s identity, beliefs, goals, future. I want to shelter her from it all into a blissful little cocoon where she can keep her innocence and her joie de vivre completely intact.
But then I realize that that would be equivalent to shielding her from life itself, which is of course, impossible. And unfair too.
I know that all I can do is be there for her, to look out for her no matter what. She will grow up fast into a good-looking, self-assured young woman, and she will get her share of love and heartbreak, of success and failure, of good times and bad, of joy and sorrow. She will hesitate, get lost, make mistakes, fall down, but she will also pick herself up, make choices, learn, and grow.
And I will be by her side to provide support and advice whenever she needs it, but most of all, to give her unconditional love. I will be the big sister to her that I never had myself; and I will try to be the best one I possibly can.