It was an evening quite like today. The scent of the wet earth still lingered in the air. Yesterday, rain was the devil. It had in it's power to destroy what was going to be the most memorable day in the life of this bride But today, the rain humbly withdrew from the limelight. Today's star was going to be this girl, sitting pretty with her hand in his', still counting her heartbeats. In those heart beats she was counting time till when she would finally becomes his', when she can  would finally drop carelessly into his arms.

That night, was her night. I was lost somewhere in the grand crowd of eager faces, each of whom smiled for her happiness and comfort. I did too. It was an evening like today. The musty breeze seemed to be my only companion. I had come wishing for her happiness, but in that crowd, I had found myself to be terribly lonely. It was only the bride's face which was familiar. Rest were unpleasantly strange. My imaginations were running amok. Someday, in near, yet distant future, I shall also adorn a pedestal much like her's. To a sprawling acreage of lush greens, I shall also be the shimmering queen.

But for that day, I was lonely. In the unending multitude of heartbreakingly unfamiliar faces, I only had the naughty breeze for company, which also devoted attention to tickling the ribs of small bright lanterns suspended from each tree in the magically illuminated garden. That naughty, musty breeze might have remained my only companion had fate not been in a playful and yielding mood.

Tired searching for a soul warming cup of coffee from the mad array of exotic delicacies competing for attention, I could finally locate a near empty table which seemed friendly enough to accommodate me. I did notice a lone male figure occupying the seat across my own, but that his features would be breathtakingly gorgeous, I had not expected. Had I even meekly expected, I would have stayed away. A dreamy romantic and a hapless single are a lethal combination for a girl who suddenly finds herself in such a titillating zone. Boredom also plays its role in necessitating a leap of heart in thinking "now begin the bright times".

Was I crazy when I shared the first smile? I promise, I did not do it knowingly. His beaming, spotless face evoked a smile in my heart, which promptly ran to my lips. He smiled back. Effortlessly. No, eagerly. This, because, as I later realized, he was my male counterpart at feeling lonely in the deluge of people. Like me, he knew no one else. Like me, he had no company. Like me, may be he too needed someone like me. Yes!

The conversation began with pleasantries. It moved onto polite inquiries.  Name. Occupation. Weather. Food. Ambiance. The bride. The groom. The match. Back to occupation. And then, inevitably, life. Why I said inevitably? Because a part of me told me it would. He had small eyes, hidden behind rimless glasses, which became smaller when he smiled. He never stopped smiling. Consequently, my once sombre face too, did not stop smiling. Worries about reaching home early dissipated into the cold air as I concentrated on how dapper his black suit over a black shirt looked. Did I say dapper? Casually graceful would be more like it.

I am not a shy talker. I must've been talking a lot. I might have said something which made him remark- "You know, sometimes, its just fair that we count our blessings. Those lines of worry which crease your face will disappear in a nano second then." I did not know why he said this, but that is when I kind of came back to senses. What seemed titillating till now was seeming genuinely nice and warm. There was something about his happy countenance; he made me want to smile. It sounds mad, but it also made me want to show my sadness, for he seemed like someone who could still make me smile. There was an enormous amount of positivity radiating from him. What most soothed a nervous girl's heart most was that he was not being kind to me. He prized my chance company as much as I did his'. And this I know, because he was not interested to even look up when bride and groom readied themselves to command attention from each pair of eyes as they exchange the garlands of sacred flowers. He would have much rather continued the conversation, but I did not want to miss one of my favorite rituals from a traditional Hindu wedding.

I stood there, watching them lovingly garland each other. I loved the clandestine glances stolen. I loved the delirious applause filling my ears. I loved seeing her turn red as he claimed her hand back into his. I loved all this, and yet, I wanted to get back to that one conversation which I knew would ease me through the dreariness awaiting with open arms at home. Somewhere, in the middle of that celebratory commotion, I was commanded to head to the gate. My car awaited me. It was late. And I am a girl. A nervous tingle on my spine saw me running to the gate after saying a quick and polite bye. Nervous. I did not think of it earlier, but how many people had seen me laugh and joke and talk with this virtually strange guy in this crowded, yet lonesome place?

On my way back home, I felt silly for feeling all that I did. Sweet silly. I felt grossly silly for not knowing why I did not exchange numbers with him. We had clicked decently well, it would not even have been awkward. No regrets, facebook is the great savior of today. All I need to know about anyone to permanently invite him into my life is his name. I knew his'.

At night, a night like today, with chill pricking at my bare arms, as I sat with facebook friend finder open in front of me, I decided against 'finding' him. He was the perfect stranger. Straight out of books and poems I had read and fantasized about. He will only remain the perfect stranger if I abandon my pursuit. Meeting new people, good people, people who survive only as fond memory, is a dreamy concept in retrospect. I like the dreaminess of it  I closed that chapter there. Now I only revisit the pages when the blur in my memory turns inviting.

PS-Few days back, he 'added' me. I cursed facebook for interfering with my dreams from the past. Did I add him too? Well, I still am a nervous romantic and a hapless single. Should I?

Now this is quality stuff. Genuinely. I do not know how many times did I find myself touched and connected and affected by the short stories compiled in this yet another brilliant anthology under the Urban Shots series. I do know, however, that this is one book I will strongly recommend to all book lovers out there, for the 30 stories told by 26 odd authors in this book are fresh, and textured interestingly. And as I stated earlier, this book is a quality affair. A pleasant, yet intense journey.

A glimpse through the foreword written by Rohini Kejriwal reveals to you what this book potentially would be about. As professed in the prologue, this book turns out to be a collection of tales on some very interesting and diverse characters, and mostly pivoted around a centrally important or watershed incident in their life. The simply yet elegantly told stories go beyond just that one incident and often make you stop and think. Each story here is a world of its own. Each character revels in a distinctness of his own.

What is truly commendable here is the selection of stories, due credit for which goes to the Editor Ahmed Faiyaz. This is perhaps the fifth book associated with him which I am reading, and I can now safely proclaim- he is one author who simply does not know how to disappoint his readers. Through this compendium, interestingly titled "Crossroads", Ahmed strings together some intense stories, each uniquely drawing you into the lull of its narrative. These are stories which find their roots in the urbane locales of India; each inspired by a different facet, human or physical, of the carelessly burgeoning and increasingly complicated urban existence of new age Indians. Some characters here pace too far ahead, much too quickly; yet others tell their tales about coming to terms with the world whizzing past them. There are stories here of complicated love, compromised relationships, pulverized identities, pressurized psyches, crushed innocence, thankless altruism, and unrewarded commitments. So many thoughts and emotions have been depicted in these 30 urban stories with such finesse that a constant eagerness to move onto and investigate the contents of the next story keeps you gripped throughout. An added beauty to all these tales is the fact that most, if not all of them are not easily predictable stories even though they build on situations one hears of or faces in real life.

Having been thoroughly satisfied by this outstanding collection, I was reflecting happily on a lot of them to pick my quintet. I have to admit, that selecting only five from a potential 30, each one of which stood as a strong contender to be included in my favorite five, was a task ridden with fond anxiety. After much thought, here are the five stories I found best..

1. Mindgames by Manisha Dhingra
A tale about psychological setbacks, one which turns ripe only at the very end. This was my absolute favorite from the lot.
2. Gautam Gargoyle by Shailaditya Chakraborty
Brilliantly written, beautiful wordplay and extremely intriguing plot. A complex take on what you might be tempted to dismiss as a rather mundane phenomenon. Understandably, this one was the Editor's pick.
3. Songs Of The Summer Bird by Anita Satyajit
I loved this story for its simplicity and  poignant portrayal of a misunderstood but well meaning library watchman. Simple sometimes is richly beautiful.
4. Jump, Didi by Sharath Komarraju
Dark, complex, intense. This story reveals itself to you in layers;. each new layer a whole new dimension. This story is about the innocent baby sitter next door and her forbidden sercrets.
5. Footsteps In The Dark by Mini Menon
A girl, penury, needs and exploitation. A sensitively told story of an aspect of our corporate society we need to feel ashamed off.

Also, Crossroads by Ahmed Faiyaz, the story which lends its title to the book is easily one of the best you will come across. Depicting love, lust, desires and commitments in a seamless manner, this story essentially themes around the concept of infidelity in urban relationships.

As a last thought, this book is one of those which makes me believe that contemporary Indian fiction has come of age. That said, there still are a lot more avenues to explore and experiment with. Crossroads is one book which has something to connect with everyone of you. 3.5 stars on 5 is what I will award it with.

And yes, the cover is totally gorgeous too. Quite prophetic of the gorgeous content waiting to be unveiled.

When I entered the festooned gates of JMC on the morning of 23rd February, I found the atmosphere inside ridden with confusion, with some palpable heat and anxiety flowing around. Reason? The Women Studies and Development Center, my alter ego while I was still in college, was waiting to launch one of their most prideworthy initiatives of the year in the august presence of the Mayor of Delhi, Ms. Rajni Abbi. Quite obviously, my juniors, who now hold the reigns of WSDC, were facing essential bouts of pre-event jitters.It is not everyday that the Mayor of Delhi herself agrees to walk in through the gates of your college to give to your endeavours her blessings and encouragement. However, that is precisely what Ms. Abbi consented to do- to be with a bunch of enthusiastic young scribes wanting to make their quill their sword of revolution- and the kind of person she is, we were easily stunned and mesmerized by her.

"Still I Rise"- this is the name of  a recently launched monthly newsletter by WSDC, JMC, which seeks to address bold topics relating to gender issues- the concerns and the celebration. It is a unique and unprecedented initiative, at least as far as the history of JMC is concerned. If the first issue of this journal is anything to go by, I am more than sure that the forthcoming issues will only get better and more interesting, and will carry lots of informative and entertaining content which will definitely appeal to the sensibilities of the young, the concerned and the daring. You can know more about this newsletter by clicking here. This link directs you to the blog of this still nascent product of young imaginations, trying hard to mark its presence among people who take interest in issues relating to women empowerment, gender parity, inter alia. 

A simple half hour rendezvous with Rajni ma'am ensured us that their could not have been a better icon of female strength and achievement whom WSDC could have invited to launch the first issue of Still I Rise. The fact that they invited me, their ex-President alongside her is something that makes me swell with pride. Tantamount to pride also lingers the humbling feeling of gratitude. Rajni ma'am had a personality that makes one instantly like her. She is a teacher by profession, a teacher at heart, and somehow, I always believed that teachers make for excellent leaders. They already know how to shape futures, mold young minds into mature ideals, and be inspirations without having to try too hard. 

Professor Rajni Abbi heads one of the three municipal corporations of Delhi, namely the MCD. The designation of a Mayor has a lot of pomp associated with it. So while we were expecting a VIP to enter our college at 11:30, Prof. Abbi nonchalantly walked into our campus at 11:25, not as a VIP, but like a humble leader who belongs to the masses. Her punctuality and humility were immediately noticeable, but what was even better was her keen understanding of a student's life and an urge to cooperate with us. She was friendly, and gave us helpful sermons which we ought to remember for our own benefit. No moment spent with her lacked the dynamism she effortlessly exuded. It was the first time I met her, and though I have no idea of what her accomplishments are, I still felt like sharing the first impression she left on me. Political ideologies, I have none. But an addiction to recording the best of experiences in life I certainly do. This was one of them.

My best wishes to the WSDC team. Make sure each step you all now take only takes your forward. What you have began should not end with college. Your passions should accompany you everywhere you go. You all make me proud, for all the right reasons.

PS- Sometimes, its just a smile you need. A smile that you carry, a smile that you can lend. I think some of you reading this will understand what I am referring to :)

With Ms. Rajni Abbi and a copy of Still I Rise in my hand

Here, I am attempting to review a classic historical treatise, which has won acclaim for itself from diverse corners of the world. I feel inadequate. To exacerbate my feeling of inadequacy, the fact that it has been more than a month since I finished this 700 page long book looms large over my head. Still, I have now been infected by this incurable urge of expressing my view about any and every book I read, here, on Nascent Emissions. So this post, essentially, is my 'view', not a 'review' of Freedom At Midnight.

History is not a hailed discipline in our education system. It is pursued by those whom science rejects and commerce repels. Even still, those who brag about their knowledge of historical occurrences do so on the basis of extensive reading of world history- the wars, the revolutions, the socio-economic evolution. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with it, but how many of us are actually aware of the history of India, and I here mean that part of Indian history which has perhaps been pivotal in shaping the landscape of India as we know it today? All of us have a decent idea about the Indian National Movement, the struggle for freedom, the Gandhis, the Nehrus, the Patels, the Partition; but are we really aware of what was it that went into making India one of the world's most successful secular democracies?

Lapierre and Collins, through their characteristic exhaustive research, attempt to answer the above question, and a lot many more. Their research was conducted precisely to recreate the drama and the hysteria surrounding just one event, perhaps the most important in the history of Modern India- that of Independence, concomitant to which was the Partition. The idea that I would be reading about 700 pages delineating just one event, however mammoth its significance, was both, intriguing and putting off. I am glad that intrigue prevailed. This book is not a mere collection of words, or recollection of incidents. This book is a magnum opus. And had it not contained its own set of controversial detailing, it might as well have been an indispensable reading for all students of history in India. For me, it still serves much as an authoritative text. When you go through page after page of tireless details, a certain amount of credibility and an acceptance of the veracity of facts builds up inside you along with respect for the authors for their painful investigation of even the minutest of events surrounding India's independence.

For those not used to Lapierre and Collins' writings- and they do have to their credit other historical works of unquestionable repute, viz, Paris Is Burning and O Jerusalem- the opening chapters of the book can baffle the reader with both, their verbosity and a little over-the-top detailing. However, that is how the authors set the scene. When you revisit events from Indian history via the narration of these authors, you will be certain to feel a thrill and gush of personal emotions even though everything they've written about is a veritable anachronism in the 21st century. Their book is layered with interesting trivia, the most interesting perhaps being the chapter dealing with the lifestyle, the essentially eccentric and amusing lifestyle of Indian Maharajas. Their role in consolidated Indian politics becomes relevant when the independence plan grants them an autonomy to decide which side of the border to join, or to remain independent. More trivia about the division of state property when India was being partitioned can leave you astonished, with anecdotes you would perhaps want to sit over with a coffee and share with your friends.

The book begins with the appointment of Lord Mountbatten as the last Viceroy of India, and goes onto scan in detail many incidents gone unnoticed by famed historians. Particularly interesting are chapters dealing with Cyril Radcliffe's predicament. He was the cartiographer deployed to undertake the surgical division of Indian mainland, the irony being he had never ever visited India prior to this assignment. The bloodbath which preceded and followed partition has been narrated in a manner to leave you shocked and stirred. Marvelous are the portions dealing in an elaborate manner with the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi.

What I personally loved about the book was the theatrics. Many events, including the riots, were not just described, but narrated as a story from the perspective of that one person who could be easily lost in a crowd, but who as an individual was profoundly affected by the same. The story builds up on you, in a way that you understand the magnitude and consequences of events you read as dull parts of draggy history text. The book dithers a bit too much upon the role of Lord Mountbatten, gloriously described, in the pre and post independence times, so much so that you are forced to feel if the authors had a predilection towards him. However, the latter half of the book more than redeems itself with the kind of aura it builds around the person who inhabits the very soul of India- Mahatma Gandhi. Many a book, including his autobiography, have I read about him, but none has made me fall in love and awe of him as much as Freedom At Midnight. The book also paints interesting portraits of Nehru, Jinnah and Patel- the other big players at the fore of the political battleground. And, most importantly, trust me, you really want to read this book to delve into the chilling details of the fanatical plan which was put in place to end Gandhi's haloed sojourn among us mortals.

On a scale of 5, not less than 4and 1/2 stars for me. This is one book we all should read, with a warning, it might just bore you in parts, but at the end of it, you will feel immense satisfaction for having dared to undertake this journey. The following are the protagonists of the saga of independence, and any story which builds on them, along with numerous other faceless characters, can be nothing less than outstandingly thrilling.

Lord Mountbatten

  

Mahatma Gandhi

Jawahar Lal Nehru

 

Mohammad Ali Jinnah

"Death is caused by swallowing small amounts of saliva over a long period of time".

Don't read much into it. I just wanted to start with something catchy. And this line more than fitted the bill. Two days of lecturing an unfortunate score of eager debaters on filibustering, and here I am, doing precisely that. However, this filibustering conveys what I dedicatedly follow in life. Each moment we grow, each step we take ahead, we are inevitably heading towards a dead end. Where we arrive, when we arrive, is irrelevant. How we travel is what is important. I like to travel savoring each experience as unique, and not having too many of one kind so as to keep them special. One recent experience which has raced to the top of my favorite moments from college life transpired on 11th and 12th February this year. To relate a little about that is why I hold the quill in my hand today. (Yes yes, I am tapping away on the keyboard, but, you know, this is called setting the mood)

Just so you know, I am not late in writing about an event that occurred almost 10 days ago. Yes, blogs are a lot about prompt display of thoughts, but I intended only to write when the memories in my mind had crystallized. Now, they have.

The Delhi Technological University, on 11th and 12th February, as reported earlier on Nascent Emissions, hosted a two day, multicommittee MUN, called the Deltech MUN'12. As a first, they simulated a double delegation, non MUN committee under the same event, namely, the G20 Summit. Amid an Executive Board with tonnes of experience, and participating delegates with mad and enviable MUN resumes, I felt a little lost. The amazing hospitality of the organizers did put me at ease, but it was not till I met Sakshi Aggarwal, the hastily deputed, charming Director of G20 that I could finally locate my comfort zone. In her, I rightly saw an amazing support for the two days I was supposed to spend at DTU.

The first few moments were spent in anxiety. 'Will we have a good participation' was the only persistent thought on our minds- mine, Sakshi's and Vrinda's, Vrinda being our sweet rapporteur. Little by little, beginning with a warm up session, things get into motion. Rest is indescribable in words. I am not a regular MUN person, only about attending one or two in a year. I resolved last year to never attend- participate or chair- a similar conference ever in life. And I am only glad that that turned out to be a hollow resolve.

We, as a committee, debated two very contemporary, dynamic, sensitive, pertinent, but dry topics over the two day session. Thanks to my well read committee member, the debate was anything but dry. I can safely mention now that Canada, China, UK and USA were my favorites to be the winners at the end of two days. A demure but determined Indian delegation made a strong case for itself by the end of second day, and ensured a High Commendation for itself. As countries, I might forget them, but as individuals, I promise, if you are reading this, I will always remember and recognize you if at all we meet again in future.

Amrita and Anmol- They were my favorites. Clean favorites. Charming and composed, both of them formed an effective pair to keep up with the pace of debating in the committee. (The Laurel and Hardy)
Priyakanksha and Hisham- They were the smartest and most confident speakers in my committee, whose confidence dripped from their faces. They were clearly more experienced than myself, but the respect with which they treated me was overwhelming and precious. (Rangeen Jodi- Runner's Up)
Kirithiga and Pranav- An adorable duo, where Pranav dominated with his eloquent speeches but Kirithiga matched up with her grace and composure, and a very amiable personality. (Rangeen Jodi- Winners)
Bhavya and Akshay- As I said, demure, composed and focused. Whenever my committee went crazy shouting and being uselessly animated, they were the only sources of solace I resigned my attention to. (Hope of Diplomacy)
Anup and Prashant- The youngest bravehearts of my committee, willing to take over those whom I was scared of debating with. These were two precocious school students who effortlessly contested, paralleled and even dominated the other committee members at times. Got into trouble, but got out of it soon enough. (The U-Turners)
Saumya and Siddharth- They were the next best on our list, just missing out on the awards. A little late to pick up, but their NSIT connect ensured they get enough attention from me!

The exemplary deliberations, debating and negotiations were accompanied by a lot of fun moments in the council. Discovering an unnamed rose under my placard was one of them. Breaking into long lectures about reading habits, concept of diplomacy, nuances of public speaking, and a little gyan on life in general was another. I had my tiffs only with the IP, but they too, were so fantastic at what they did that retrospectively, I remember them with a lot of respect. Exhausted after chasing consensus on two lengthy Declarations, a little photo session, preceded by a melodious rendition of Maeri by Pradit was only what was needed as the perfectly sumptuous icing on an already delicious cake.

I could never end this post without mentioning some more names.
Saad and Akhil- Prior to meeting them, I never realized that conference staff could be so diligent, endearing and eager to help. They displayed hospitality at its best. Water, coffee, projector, charger, chits, pens, stationary- I think we harassed them in every possible way. The only thing they gave us in return was a heart warming smile at the end of it all.
Soham- He is a school junior I am proud of. Had it not been for him, I would have suffered because of my over punctual self. Thanking him in few words is simply not possible. I can only say that the warmth, concern and respect  he loaded me with I shall never forget.
Shobhit- The sheer awesomeness he displayed at handling an event of this scale is something I could write essays upon. For now, I'd just mention that there could not have been a more perfect Sec Gen for Deltech MUN. Being invited by him was humbling and pleasing at the same time.

The best frames from then.

 

 

 

Log kehte hain Jagjit na raha. Ghazal ro rahi rahi mera manmeet na raha. -Manoj Kumar on Jagjit Singh's demise on 10th October, last year.

Ghazal kehna bahut zimmedaari ka kaam hai. In other words, conveying the pathos of a poet with musical embellishments is a job of immense responsibility. Jagjit Ji, without fail, discharged this responsibility with enviable perfection. Ghulam Ali Sahab was true when he remarked on Jagjit Ji's demise that "With the going of Jagjit, a pillar of mausiqi has been lost." However, more touched was I on reading as a eulogy Manoj Kumar's above quoted expression. Jagjit ji's loss cannot be captured more lucidly in words. In his going away, ghazals have been left bereft of their most beloved humraahi. Humsafar. The face of ghazals as catches the popular imagination today had been chiseled by the dexterous of doyen of contemporary Indian light classical music. On 10th October last year, he decided that it was time now he serenaded the heavens with his silken voice. If he had not been so hasty in his departure, today we would have been celebrating his 71st birthday.

Jagjit Ji's voice is a magic potion. Much about him shall always be said in present tense, for he has immortalized himself via some priceless jewels. Rare gems like him never recede to the past. Their worth and glory enhances as time progresses. Jagjit Ji's soulful renditions of some great poetry can make reality hit you hard, or transport you to a surreal world. They may intensify your gloom by echoing with surprising precision a personal sorrow. The same ghazals could exude a salubrious air- an air capable of setting right the ills concomitant to deeply, passionately felt love.

Besides being a prolific singer, Jagjit ji was a great storyteller. Ask me what sung by him is my favorite ballad and I won't spare a nano second in pointing towards these lines. These lines are a chain of thoughts. Lyrically beautiful. Rendered sublime in Jagjit Ji's soulful voice.

Baat niklegi toh phir door talak jaaegi

Log bewajah udaasi ka sabab poochhenge

Yeh bhi poochhenge ki tum itni pareshaan kyun ho

Ungliyan uthengi sookhe hue baalon ki taraf 

Ik nazar dekhenge guzre hue saalon ki taraf

Choodiyon par bhi kai tanz kiye jaayenge

Kaanpte haathon pe bhi fiqre kase jayenge

Log zaalim hain har ik baat ka tana denge

Baaton baaton mein mera zikr bhi le aayenge

Unki baaton ka zara sa bhi asar mat lena

Warna chehre ke taasur se samajh jayenge

Chaahe kuchh bhi ho sawalaat na karna unse

Mere baare mein koi baat na karna unse

Now, doesn't this story sound all too familiar? If you have not, I implore you with all my heart to lend an ear to this just once. For this composition, veteran lyricist Javed Akhtar is said to have remarked - Baat nikal bhi gayi, aur door talak jayegi bhi. These were Jagjit Ji's early days. Javed Akhtar's words proved prophetic for the heights extraordinaire which Jagjit Ji was destined to climb.

He shimmered like the brightest star in the sky of Indian music. A sitara, however, has not been lost. He is, in fact, shining ever more brightly, firmly, coruscating in the hearts of millions who loved him and will continue to do so till eternity.

Today is his 71st birthday. I wish it were in my capacity to reach out to him and wish him just once.

Achchha sa koi mausam, tanha sa koi aalam

Har waqt ka rona toh, bekaar ka rona hai.

I have just been initiated into the world of blog awards, primarily due to the kindness of a blogger who writes under the curious guise of The Serious Butterfly. Her name is Sanchari, and this colorful butterfly flaps her wings over numerous ideas and issues and employs some beautiful words to provide contours to hitherto formless thoughts. She is an artist too- the hues of creativity splashed on her blog will make you realize her caliber.

And the reason for my current obsession with her and her blog is that she has conferred on me my first ever blog award! Honestly, the concept of Blog Awards has still to appeal to me in full glory, but accepting it as a gesture of appreciation does wonders to nourish the writer inside me. It makes me happy for the fact that while I am but a miniscule speck floating amid the current of millions of upcoming writers of brilliant potential, some people out there are  noticing my words and encouraging me to keep them flowing.

I am following Sanchari's lead. As I have learnt a few hours back, there are rules to acceptance of this award. They are flexible, but the ones adopted by Sanchari are fun, hence I'll make use of her research, with some special words of gratitude being sent her way.

Rules to this award:
1. Thank the person who gave it to you.
2. Share 7 unusual things about yourself.
3. Share 7 of your worthy posts under the following heads- Most Beautiful Piece, Most Helpful, Most Popular, Most Controversial, Most Surprisingly Successful, Most Underrated, and Most Pride Worthy.
4. Nominate seven other bloggers and notify them.

#1 Gratitude

Dear Sanchari, I formally thank you for making me feel awesome at the dead of the night. My first blog award will always be remembered. It might so happen that it will be the only one to be remembered, since I do not foresee more coming my way, but that dismal picture shall be painted some other day.

 #2 Seven Unusual Things About Myself

One- I am a very clumsy eater, and I try to hide this fact, resulting into a clumsier eater in the attempt. This is the reason I never eat my subs in company; they are always packed and eaten in the solitude of home.
Two- I love silver jewellery, and often think that on the progressive path, I will skip gold and graduate to diamonds and platinum straightaway. For the time being, I am saving to buy some silver pieces I have been eyeing for a long period.
Three- I have a habit of hugging special words and sleeping. How? By clutching to my bosom my journal, a nice novel, some rare letters or even my phone if it pings with a touching SMS.
Four- No matter where I go, I always carry a pen and my journal along.
Five- Agrasen Ki Baoli and Nizam-ud-din Auliya's Dargah are my favorite places in Delhi, at least for the time being.
Six- I am a listener and observer- I think that in each element around me hides a story waiting for me to discover it.
Seven- I hate being answerable for any of my actions. I work hard towards avoiding any situation where I am answerable, but often ruin things by trying too hard.

#3 Seven Posts

Most Beautiful -  An Engagement Mills & Boon Style!
Descriptively the most beautiful, this post takes inspiration from a real live love story to paint some fictional scenes. Among my own writings, it has a sacrosanct status.
Most Helpful - At The Edge Of Sunshine
In this post I record some musings which I want to remember forever. Written based on a chance meeting with a relative stranger, this article talks of the importance of been shaken out of our comfort zones to realize our true potential in life and the perils of stereotyping our own selves. Helps me, has helped a few others too.
Most Popular- Valentine Art Affection
Sitting on top since the very day it got posted, this post based on the magic of Leonid Afremov's brush strokes beats all the other in number of individual page views by miles. It is a visual delight, and a welcome break from my customary lethargically long posts.
Most Controversial- Revelation
It is a nice post, once again extremely close to my heart, but it is the only one on which a critical debate has arisen right here, on my blog itself. While the content was appreciated, the controversy hinged around my proclivity for grandiloquent words, my untamed verbosity of expression..err...and I think I did it again!
Most Surprisingly Successful- Understanding Them/ Beauty Lies In Distortions
This was my first guest post with which I ventured into an area I seldom explored- psychological vestiges of experiences during adolescence. More than comments, it fetched me numerous words of gratitude sent via personal mediums. When we are brave enough to share thoughts we feel tormented with, we might actually inadvertently end up helping someone else- this I learnt from this guest post experience.
Most Underrated- Winter Reminiscences- That Story
If the comments are anything to go by, then I feel this post did not get the attention it deserved. I tried to figure out, but could not find reasons as to why. Motherhood is not a topic I touch upon often in my post, and when here I did, I thought I did a decent job of it.
Most Prideworthy- That Walk Down My College
I know I did a good job with this piece of writing. Besides getting me noticed among some people of reckoning, it narrated with devoted honesty a simple incident which left a profound impact on me.

#4 New Set Of 7X7 Link Award Recipients

Yarn of Words by Aakrity Malik
The25thHour by Archika Poria
Monumental Crankiness by Rahul Biswas
A Portrait Of Emotion by Priyanka Tampi
Nirvana by Aavika Dhanda
Words by Saru Singhal
Hausle Buland by Kunal

With the Masterchef India Season 2 drawing towards a finale, I was fearing that my weekends will now acquire a dull hue. Not to be. At the perfect moment was launched the third installment of Dance India Dance, indubitably India's finest and most loved dance reality show. Whether the simplistic original, the cute children's special or the recent doubles- I have followed each episode of all these three variations with frenzied devotion, much to the chagrin of my not-so-enthusiastic-about-dance family members.

Geeta 'Ma'

I carry a little spirit of a dancer in myself. I am not trained, neither very nimble on my feet, yet I can pull off Odissi and Bharatnatyam performances with deceptive ease if I stick to the basics. Learning ballet was a childhood dream, lost sight of in childhood itself. Folk was masti embodied in music, spilling over easily to flamboyant yet graceful dance movements. Dancing for me was like talking to the flowing wind, smiling at almost nothing, and a medium for expressing angst and resentment for things not fine in life. During school time, dancing was perhaps my only workout, the absence of which is my college years was visible in the pounds piling on around my tummy. Eschewing my attachment to each single distinctly remembered performance, I can safely claim that I was happiest when I performed a musical drama as a protagonist beleaguered by the conflict between inner and superficial beauty. My mentor combined elements of puppet dance, jazz and contemporary to create a performance which was lauded and remembered for days to come.

Remo D'Souza- "Gabbar"

Anyway. So today concluded the Mega Auditions of the show ruling my mind, DID Season 3, with the selection of top 18. These have been divided into teams of six to be mentored by three choreographers who are now cult figures- Geeta Kapoor, Terence Lewis and Remo D'Souza. While Geeta Kapoor, more famous as the often jested about sobriquet of Geeta 'Ma', claims all my predilection, it is Remo Ke Rangeele who seem poised to become the favorites once the Gala Round kickstarts on next weekend.

Terence 'stylish' Lewis

For those of us who ridicule dance as a long term career option or write it off as at best a hobby, the auditions of DID Seasons 3 provided some nice background stories to convince us towards a fresher perspective on dance. True, melodramatic flashes into the personal plights of contestants may be a put off when the competition is in full swing and the vote count critical. But during the audition stage, it is these documentaries shot about the personal lives of the contestants which add just enough zing to keep me glued to the television set even during repeat telecasts of the show.

The top five stories which I will try and remember from the auditions of DID Season 3.

1. Furkan- This is a story from the neighbourhood. Uttam Nagar's Furkan is an auto driver's son who earns a daily stipend of Rs. 70 by volunteering for trafiic management of haywire West Delhi roads. Since financial situations at home are bleak, it is from this stipend that Furkan manages to fulfill his needs, primary among which are videos he procures to learn dance. And when this boy comes on stage looking lost, nervous, unsure, but pulls of an astounding Robotics performance wittily choreographed to "Teri tirchhi nazar ne..", you are forced to sit up and take notice.

2. Raj- He comes from Ranchi, has no formal training, but different to most like him who lack a Guru, he does not even have the privilege of watching videos and aping them to train himself. He just has music, an enthusiastic heart which gives him a sense of rhythm, and a talented mind from which originate smart and hilariously entertaining choreography. He couldn't survive the tough DID competition, but upon being eliminated, all he sought was a chance to see his huge portrait decorating the background once to his heart's content. Him, I hope to see again in the next season.

3. Mohina- Or I should say Princess Mohina Singh of the Kingdom of Riva, Madhya Pradesh. One of the few happy stories from the auditions. My reading on royal women informs me of the added restrictions on their movement (and flight) for they carry on themselves the burden of royalty, with izzat and maryada as the ruling keywords. But this princess broke free, and with what charm! Besides her talent, what was heartwarming was to see her father in the background, informing the audience of their traditions, yet standing behind his daughter as she set out to pursue her passion.

4. Pradeep Gurung- When this lad from Guwahati performed an air cartwheel with stylish ease, I stared at the television set in disbelief. He runs a successful dance school back home, but his insistence on making a career out of dance won him disfavor with his mother. He had to move out, has not met his mother in years, misses her, but knows in his heart that if he is able to attain success while following his passion, it is his mother who would be the happiest and proudest of him. His audition performance was dedicated to his mother. Touching. Amazing.

5. Neerav- He was Terence Lewis' assistant in the first two seasons of DID. He participated in this year's auditions without informing his mentor to whom apparently he is really attached. He had wanted to participate earlier, but being the bread winner for his family, continuing with a stable income had been an unspoken mandate on him. This season he felt he was at ease, but some awkward, surprise filled glimpses from his stunned mentor were enough to lead to copious tear showers on the set. His dance was just about okay, but his story, quite compelling.

Pradeep and Mohina are the only ones who have made it to the final leg of the show. I have picked my favorites, but am waiting for the curtain raiser of the gala round to be sure of people I will be rooting for. Until then, I'll keep irritating my folks with this revived penchant for dancing.
:)

The quote I have used as the title to this post I came across in one of the episodes of the musical travelogue- The Dewarists. It intrigued me, and stayed somewhere at the back of my mind. A day back, I used the same as the opening line for a Guest Post I had been invited to write by a blogger friend, Gopan. Guest Post- I had not quite known of this concept, till I came across a few blogs which encourage different writers to come together and air their views on a common portal. On my part, I felt ecstatic at the knowledge that a person who knew me only via my writings wanted a splash of my thoughts on his blog. I was given an absolute free hand to choose the subject of my article, only with the appendage that something on social issues would be slightly more appreciated.

I did not exactly pick a social issue, but something close enough. Like most of us, I too have had a tumultuous adolescence. Growing up had its beauties, but it also gifted me an alternate set of experiences which could baffle, obfuscate, frustrate, anger, depress, irritate, and cause a deluge of many more not-so-positive emotions to infect my brain. Transitioning into adulthood, looking back at the period which has left the most pronounced effects on my current and lifelong personality, I could discover a lot of thoughts inside me which I wanted to put to paper. I have always been a worshiper and admirer of the beauties which lie within subjectivities- and it has always beat me how people care not to appreciate or understand the innate subjectivity each human carries in his demeanour, emotions, psyche,  and (needless to say) in a combination of those three.

My reflections on adolescence as I had experienced it, primarily hinging on the lack of understanding which as adolescents we faced in our times, the impacts of it on our individual and collective psyche- combined with the pathos of the subjectivity which remains most consist in the Universe, waiting to be included, appreciated and not ridiculed, form the broad basis of my article, titled Understanding Them.

The wonderful blogger who invited me to contribute to his portal, quite aptly named My Open Voice, was gracious enough to post my article without any editing on his blog. His name is Gopan. A Kerala resident, soon to be flying to UK to pursue further studies, Gopan, as I found out later is, academically at least, a bright psychologist. I was initially skeptical to attempt a piece of writing which naively touches upon psycho-social contents for the perusal of a psychologist, but his balanced appreciation of the same has left me glad for having done it. I would be happy if my readers would visit the link specified below and give me their feedback, even if it contradicts my beliefs as projected in the article.

Understanding Them 

@

My Open Voice

Coupled with the happiness of having written my first guest post, was the mirth of having completed 100 followers on Nascent Emissions. Thanking each single one of you for all the support you gave, I would specially like to thank Nishant Jain, who, a little after midnight on 3rd January 2012 officially became my 100th follower. For information's sake, Nishant is a dear buddy from school, and had insisted that he be informed as soon as my blog completes 99 followers, so that with a little promptness, he could have the distinction (insignificant, I know) of being the 100th name to be associated with my Nascent Emissions. Graduating to triple figure followers base does feel amazing, and a cup of coffee is what I shall be treating myself with.