In advance, of course

Its my birthday in about two hours from now. In a very usual, nonsensical fashion, I await this day with a lot of excitement. Its not that my birthdays are massive celebrations which the whole city comes to know about. Its not that my birthdays are those unique occasions when all my acquaintances converge at one place and profess how special I am to them. They are just average days; but they are average only on the outside. Inside me, a whole feeling of rather justified but inexplicable happiness is galloping. I find it so fantastic to be existing, even more fantastic that it was 'this' particular day I saw the world, and the world saw me. It is easily one of those amazing days I can call my own, my exclusive, and keep flashing those wide silly smiles which I just like to flaunt forever, most of the times without reasons.

No one paints the town red for me, but yes, everyone does go one extra mile ahead to make me feel loved, to lend me that extra smile. Teasing and taunting does, for once, take a back seat- my birthday is a day none can find faults with me, none can mock at me. Contrary to tradition, I don't treat friends, they treat me; as if in their own subtle way communicating that they would unburden me whenever life becomes to cumbersome. There are people sitting in distant corners of India, who effortlessly, and remarkably make me feel intimate to them merely through power of their enchanting words. It happens just once a year, on my birthday, that everything that everyone speaks seems to be trimmed to perfection for me. My usually restrained friends do not stop my from uttering lame (but meaningful) 'I love yous' to them. Rather, despite my day being totally non alcoholic, the most amazing mushy and cheesy, and all of my most coveted words are thrown in profusion at me. Yes, this is perhaps the sole day I am not ridiculed for being ultra cheesy. My cheesiness is, ah well, if not appreciated, is at least tolerated with grace. 

All this, and much more. If I try the grand perspective, my birthdays are just ordinary. If I try the humble perspectives, birthdays cannot get grander than this. As a little child, I was starved for the attention which my other friends got while they celebrated their special days in school. They distributed toffees to my classmates, we sang an ill chorused 'Happy birthday to you', and the teachers blessed them, often gave them little chocolates out of their purse, leaving me enormously jealous. My birthday, falling at the height of summer, never entitled me to such pleasures. Summer break. However, my parents adequately made up for it. My mother prepared the most sumptuous delicacies, all my favorites, all made with the culinary dexterity uniquely attributable to my mother. My day has been always blessed with those characteristic power cuts which nearly everyone in Delhi starts dreading at the very onset of summer. If there is one thing that has not altered all these years, it is the consistency with which power cuts try their mighty best to hinder our routines. But nothing would dampen my birthday. Now in stead of candles just on my birthday cake, there would be candles all around in the house. Candlelight birthdays during the cruelest of summers are not exactly a romantic prospect. But they were what I got, and I made sure I enjoyed them

Yes, I did not have a lot of friends to share my day with, as most of them were away on vacations by now; but what I did have on my birthday was the company of my cousin brother, the only definition of a friend I had known for fairly long in life. Summers would mean his annual visits to Delhi from Mumbai. My birthday would mean an excuse be treated as I wanted to from him. 

A delicious nostalgia climbs its way right into my eyes now as I remember those days of carefree childhood. I, then, did not associate much with my birthday, except for the once a year opportunity to be with him, be with my best friend. Funny how we drifted apart, but such things are inevitable and uncontrollable. Now the world, and its dimensions are altered, enlarged. My birthday brings a hundred different expectations, excitements, and a lingering smile. But perhaps, that time was more special when my birthday brought nothing but him to me. 

(Back from nostalgia. First call for my birthday. It has to be my Mausi, one blessing in my life. She is habituated to wishing people a day in advance for their birthdays, and she does not forget to wish anyone, ANYONE. Ever.)

Below- few frozen frames from my childhood. 

Me and Ayush. He looks incredibly cute.
The banana just spoils it for me.

Ayush-solo.
He was the first love of my life.

Finally, me.
Trust me, I have much better pics.

A majestic smile, and some fond tears in my eyes.

We do it often, don't we? We all have our favorites, we swear life long fealty to them, we promise to keep them forever close to our hearts; and then, as we encounter newer things on the path of life, we leave them behind, without so much as a glance back. Actually, we never realize we've left these things behind. Things we can call our ultimate favorites are perennially present in our hearts and minds, but are locked away in some obscure corner of our being. Books, pictures, songs, scenes, quotes, dresses, dialogues, silly childhood memories, and even people- all capable of becoming our favorites, all capable of being lost.

Anyway. This post is not to become philosophical. This post is to express my mirth at discovering one such long lost favorite. Its a song, one that I would hum all day long, no matter how much it irritated the hapless listeners. The first time I heard it, I did not just like it, I knew I wanted to listen to it over and over again. A contestant of Indian Idol sang this mellifluous track originally sung by Ustad Sultan Khan (as I later learned), the Sarangi maestro whose charisma in singing is as good as his uncontested dexterity in playing the Sarangi. While she (Indian Idol contestant, season one, Aditi Paul I guess) managed to serenade the audience with her rendition of this song, she left me restless. I wanted this song. Technology which makes things accessible at a mere click was elusive to me at that time. This automatically led me to harry my friends continuously till one of them, equally fond the same song gave it to me on a CD. Some years back, I lost the CD. And with it, the song.

Today, I found this song back while surfing some random videos on YouTube. It felt like meeting some old friend again. Understandably, I was beyond happiness. Kate nahi raat mori....piya tore kaaran. Some memories of school days were rekindled. I remembered loathing my best friend for choosing to sing this song in the Annual Talent Hunt conducted in our school. I wanted to sing this song myself, but had to compromise and sing some ludicrous bollywood number. I won the talent hunt, but winning by singing this song would have been more special. I made a silly resolution that day- when my would be in-laws ask me to sing, as my naive brain thought that was customary, I would sing the same song. And, the song is so awesome, copious accolades would be the only natural thing to follow.

Am listening to this track still, and then as now, my eyes are a little moist. They always become when I hear the second and last stanza of this song
Bheega bheega mausam aaya,
Piya ka sandesa laya,
Manwa ko chain na aawe,
Tarse hai mori raina


These lines are a perfect example of how a fantastic song can lift you above your present surroundings, and transport you to some ethereal world, infinitely more pleasant and pleasurable than the place you are in. Preceded by an interlude which breaks to accommodate sounds premonishing rains and thunderstorms, these lines, set to a heart warming tone, in the rustic voice and accent of the Ustad Sultan Khan, always make my heart grow a little fonder. I can feel the rains. I can feel the pain, the bereavement. Beauty, I can confidently say, lies in the simplest of things. This song is a simple composition, very easy to hum, but it will refuse to leave your mind for quite sometime after it enters.

The song definitely stirs up some sad emotions within me. The perplexing thing is, those sad emotions are always accompanied by a warm and comforting smile on my face. The song makes me want to miss someone, miss him without any acrimony, miss him with love.

Wonder where I had lost this beauty all this while. Now that I have it back, I am searching for another song which holds almost the same significance for me. It is by the same singer, who sang and composed it in his debut vocal album, Sabras. The problem is, I do not remember the lyrics, but I can distinctly remember the music, the notes of Sarangi are playing in my head even now....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SAWvlqsUzNM&feature=related
(Link to the YouTube video of this song. Not much of a video, but a lovely melody indeed.)

"The more I think about it, the more I realize that there is nothing more truly artistic than loving someone."


I had used this line somewhere last year, on a birthday note of a very special friend. As he tells me, this thought left a profound impact on him. Earlier, he used to be a little dry in terms of dealing with people, which is just to say, that the kind of principles he followed prevented him from getting attached to people, or reciprocating their attachments. This would often result in a quandary. Attachments hold people back. So, although, he has immeasurable respect for all people around him, he likes to lead a reclusive life- him, his books, his ideals and his dreams. It was his life, and I had no business meddling into it, till one day, we randomly discussed about his sister-- and that was when I realized that this social pariah, whom I thought very nearly incapable of exhibiting and feeling human emotions, was crazily in love with his sister. And obviously, she with him.


The problem was that while her life remained centered around her brother, he had wider horizons to chase. She made little efforts to make him feel her love, and even though he valued her efforts, he failed to acknowledge them in front of her. This would lead to a mini shattering of her heart. She knew her brother well, and she knew precisely what not to expect from him. Still, the human heart would nurture its fond, unreasonable expectations...the kind which came with a bubble reputation- the time of their creation would portend an inevitable and unfortunate burst. His inexpressiveness would often hurt her, but she knew she could not change her brother- and why should she? She loved him for being so focussed, so admirable and always available as an elder to advice and comfort her.


Things were going great till this day I met him, and he was visibly upset. Apparently, he had shouted on his sister about an hour ago, and he could not forgive himself for it. The silly girl's fault- she had stepped much outside her comfort zone to send to her brother a gift, an arbitrary gift, sans any occasion; and what this doting brother did was only to locate futility in her action and accordingly scold her for it. The girl, predictably was heart broken. And, she ended up apologizing for her act of infinite sweetness. Now, let us not misunderstand the brother at this point. He was enraged at the fact that the girl had taken so much trouble just to make him feel special. However, this undercurrent of extreme care did not prevent me from shouting on him, taunting him and giving him a good piece of my mind. I did not care if passers-by actually stopped, and smirked and speculated if we were a couple indulging in one of those routine altercations. I gave him a lengthy monologue, replete with sharp, hurtful words, and stopped only at the point I saw genuine repentance in his eyes. He had, unknowingly hurt his sister; but he was not the sort of person who would know how to make up for it, rather, he did not know even if he had to make up for it. He told me later, it was the sentence quoted right in the beginning, which is scribbled in a pretty handwriting on his exquisite birthday card, which made him feel immensely guilty in the first place.


That night, when he finally apologized to his sister, expressed his deep love to her and felt immensely better, he gave me a call to thank. He thanked me for the hand made card I gave him, and confessed that the numerous things wrote in that lethargically long birthday note end up guiding him in his most perplexing moments. In good humor, I scolded him a little more, and then, smugly, slept off.


Last night, I was recollecting to my diary this incident, after a unexpected call from the same friend. He had an issue to resolve, and upon its resolution, he thanked by reminding me the same quote with which I began this post. It kept me thinking for a long time. I still am. Loving someone is an abstract concept. It is unique to each. People have their distinct ways of making their special someones feel loved. It does not require a great amount of care, instead, requires a fair amount of instinct. If you do truly love someone, you will know instinctively what the person wants from you, expects from you and what makes him/her infinitely happy. Throw in a little bit of unconditionality from your side to accessorize your love, and that will make your object of love feel not just special, but blessed. Try and be there, be available, and your love will experience a sense of security which will erase all his/her fears. Your object of love does not have to be your partner/spouse/companion, but any and everyone who has added some amount of beauty to your life. Making others feel special is simple, and one should keep it that way. Complications arise when we think to much. Honestly, if we close our eyes, and imagine the most awesome smile on the face of our loved ones, will we not also be able to ascertain what could possibly cause that smile. And in that little smile lies perhaps one of the most triumphant moments life can give us.


Think about it.

PS- If I may add, only as a jest, you do not have to think hard, but try and be unique. Gifts are a good way of expressing you care, but they are not the only way, definitely not the unique way. Ask me. People know that I have a fondness for writing, and hence, since the beginning of the year, I have been gifted THIRTEEN diaries, each more beautiful than the other, but please, thirteen diaries?!? Also, I love coffee, and hence coffee mugs just do the trick for my amazing, loving and caring friends. Christmas, New Year and now even my birthday presents are raining coffee mugs, my collection at seven so far. Last I heard someone told me coffee is injurious to health. Sorry folks! Will not be able to use them all in the near future. 

"Gori sove sej par, mukh par daare khes,
Chal Khusrau ghar aapno, saanjh bhai chanhu des"
(One of my most favorite couplets, composed by Amir Khusrau at the time of Nizam-ud-din Auliya's death)

Finally, I'll plagiarise. Yes, I know there is no word like that, but it comes from the root word 'plagiarism'. That much was guessable, I guess. Of about the five blogs I religiously follow, one draws me towards it on a daily basis. It is called An Indian Muslim's Blog: News, Views & Urdu Poetry Website; and in particular, it is the poetry bit which charms me the most. Every night,  I end up reading some really beautiful Urdu couplets from his blog, which invariably make me reflective and happy as my eye lids get heavy, and I drift into a peaceful slumber.

I have stolen some exquisite pieces of shayari from various sources over the years- blogs like the one mentioned above, newspaper columns (especially the ones penned by Khushwant Singh), random books, even public hoardings at times. All of these have been lovingly preserved on the pages of my journal. Today, I feel taking a whiff of their mustiness, smile, and pour the best of them here, on my blog. I reckon I kind of really love my blog. I end up recording the best things here. These poetries are also one of them.

Meherbaan hoke bulaa lo mujhe chaaho jis waqt
Main gayaa waqt nahiiN huuN ki phir aa bhii na sakoon.

(Ghalib)

Is saadgii pe kaun na mar jaaye aye Khudaa
Ladte haiN aur haath mein talwaar bhii nahi

(Ghalib again)

Kab thahregaa dard-e-dil kab raat basar hogi
Sunte the voh aayenge, sunte the sahar hogi

(Faiz Ahmed Faiz)

Jo chaahti duniya hai, voh mujhse nahi hoga
Samjhautaa koi khwaab ke badle nahi hoga
(Shaharyar)

Khamoshi chhupaati hai aib aur hunar dono
Shakhsiyat ka andaaza guftguu se hota hai
(Shams Ramzi)

Achchhi cheezein lagengi aur achchhi
Darmiyaan kuchh kharaab rakh diyaa karo
(Balraj Komal)

Na jaane tumne subah ka qasiida kaise likh liyaa
Yahaan to kal bhii raat thii, yahaan toh ab bhi raat hai
(Iqbal Ash'har)

Main us se door bhi jaaun toh kis tarah jaaun
Voh itr ban kar mere pairahan mein rehta hai
(Waseem Rashid)

Talvaar to kyaa merii nazar tak nahi uthi
Us shakhs ke bachchon ki taraf dekh liya tha

(Munawwar Rana)

Maine mana ki ye shab guzregi, magar kab guzregi
Maine mana ki sahar hogi, magar kab hogi

(Abdullah Kamal)

Our logo, designed by Priyanka Tampi

an artist blessed by the Almighty

A few moments back, I signed for the last time as the President of the Women Studies and Development Cell, Jesus and Mary College. Nostalgia. I was drafting the Annual Report of WSDC, to be published in the the JMC Annual Magazine (and I cannot remember its name). For those who do not know, WSDC has been my alter ego for the past two years in JMC. It has been that aspect of JMC, which I have been most intimately attached to. My friends call me a 
workaholic, and I reckon that is because I enjoy working like nothing else. And, its been WSDC, which has given ample of avenues to work in, to take initiatives in precisely the direction I have desired and which has not constrained me in any manner whatsoever. I have had a mad, at times even a rough time working, but on not less than thirty times in the past year, I have had a smug smile on my somnolent face, reflecting the satisfaction in my heart at having done something constructive during the day.


With a member strength of more than 180, the year ahead did seem an uphill journey, but the cooperation of each one of them (with, of course, few disappointing exceptions) made my tenure as the President a smooth, delightful and memorable experience. We functioned as a single, cohesive, well functioning, and a well intentioned unit, and managed to succeed at endeavours that did not seem viable at the time of their inception. We've had our little failures, but they have only served at making us understand and learn a bit more, and improve as we go ahead. Personally, as the President, I received a lot of love, affection, and respect from my juniors, but the most gratifying was when I received a note from one of my batchmates, Ancy Thomas, congratulating me for my work and calling WSDC my 'baby'- something I have nurtured in the past two years to make it reach to the level it is at present. Of course, I could not have done it alone; many names are responsible for it having journeyed successfully this year.The most important among them, I feel, is the preceding President of WSDC, Rashneet Kaur- the most dynamic leader I have known, and a woman who essayed her role with a poise and perfection which was very nearly inspirational.

A satisfied Core Team after successfully concluding the
Declamation Competition
From left- Riya (my most trusted), Namita(the silent worker),
Sharon (her creativity on the board at the back), myself, Ishani (my magazine head),
Priyanka (whom I cannot work without, simply)

I can go on and on about my society, my WSDC, almost my doppelganger, but I feel its not required. Enclosed below is the report I wrote, and although its painfully concise (enlisting only about six of our twenty endeavours), I guess it reflects enough let readers know that we are a society with purpose. And dedication. And sincerity. I wish I could write more, but for that, I will wait for my own annual report- a ten page document that talks exclusively about WSDC


The Women Studies and Development Cell is one of the six compulsory societies of Jesus and Mary College. Until last year, our society enrolled members only from the second and the third year, but from the academic year 2010-11, we enlarged our membership to include girls from the first year also in our society. With a vision that aims at creating more awareness and sensitivity among the youth on gender related issues, and a desire in our hearts at contributing our bit in improving the adverse and prejudiced conditions for the fairer sex, WSDC does not aim for the stars; in stead, it looks to promote simplistic, and realistic ideas and thoughts, all of which point in the direction of general welfare of womanhood. In each of our member, we look forward to a sincerity and an incorrigible urge towards doing something constructive for the society.  WSDC has always made its presence felt on the campus, our last year being exceptionally successful with a plethora of diverse events being organized by us, viz., talks, seminars, workshops, cultural programmes, debates, etc. We, at WSDC, have a reputation of putting a lot of heart in what we do, and being in a progressive girls' college only aids us in all our endeavors.

Launch of the Annual Report 2009-10 during the Orientation Ceremony,
held on 18th August, 2010

The year began for us with the ritualistic Orientation Ceremony, where all the members are inducted into the society, and the year ahead is planned. At the same event, we also launched our facebook page, to keep our members better apprised of all our activities and to promote discussions on matters of concern. The Orientation Ceremony was followed by many more events, aimed at sensitizing the college students about different issues like Honor Killings, Female Genital Mutilations, Cervical Cancer, Human Trafficking, Healthy Food Habits, Girl Child and about a dozen more topics which directly or indirectly affect our existence as a society. One of the first proud moments for us was when Mr. Shiv Khera, a renowned motivational speaker and author visited our campus to address a full capacity audience in the MPH. He spoke about the Value System in the Indian Society, and the meaningful role played by womenfolk in preserving and upholding our values. WSDC, to emphasize its dedication at fighting the most pernicious of evils prevailing in our society, invited Smt. Sreerupa Mitra Chaudhury, President, International Congress of Woman and the Chairperson, Committee for Review of National Policy on Women, Government of India, as the keynote speaker for a National Level Symposium on Contemporary Social Evils on 12th November 2010. The Symposium was a resounding success and the topics discussed, viz, Honor Killings, Human Trafficking and Prostitution were further taken up by our member students as the theme for the Annual WSDC project, prepared and printed under the guidance of Dr. Nivedita Giri, with Namita Joseph as the student head. The President of WSDC, Saumya Kulshreshtha, who also serves as the Campus Ambassador of Teach for India, conducted a placement talk for JMC students along with the recruitment officer of TFI.


Our Annual Cultural Festival, Jagriti '11, only into its second year, attracted massive participation from many colleges across Delhi University. Besides holding events like Folk Dance Competition, Painting Exhibition, Creative Writing etc, WSDC also launched its official logo, designed by Priyanka Tampi, head of the WSDC Creativity Team.  The logo, a simple yet attractive illustration, reads 'Being Me'- a tag line inspired from our Annual Magazine- "Being A Woman, Being Me!". Our magazine was very well received and lauded by staff and students alike in its first issue last year. It is now ready as a new and improved magazine for its second print to be released soon. To cater to the very contemporary concerns of keeping fit, WSDC organized a Wellness Check Up Camp where many girls received valuable tips on a healthy lifestyle and diet. We also conducted a talk of the upcoming concept of Stem Cell Research and a Registration Drive for stem cell donors as a follow up of the same. One of the novel steps in the past year was to invite a counselor, Ms. Shifa Haq, on biweekly visits to our college, with whom, girls can share their problems and seek appropriate advice. Besides this, we conducted a declamation competition, a field trip to Ma Dham- a widow ashram, workshops by NGOs including Smile Foundation, and GDs to promote dialogue on several issues.

The banner for Women's Day

 The year for us culminated with a huge celebration of womanhood on 8th March, 2011- the International Women's Day. Many eminent speakers, including Ms. Barkha Singh, Chairperson, Delhi Commission for Women, Ms. Meenakshi Lekhi, a dynamic lawyer, Ms. Rama Vaidyanathan, a prolific Bharatnatyam exponent, graced the occasion. The event started by a captivating dance performance by Radhika Kathal, member of WSDC and a disciple of Ms. Geeta Chandran, and, it ended with a soul stirring Odissi performance by Ms. Kavita Dwibedi, Director of Odissi Academy, New Delhi.

Ready to host the Women's Day-
In style!

WSDC has always received a lot of encouragement and motivation from the Principal of Jesus and Mary College, Sister Marina John who takes keen interest in all our activities and guides us for improving at each step we take. WSDC is blessed to have as its Convenors Dr. Alka Marwaha and Dr. Amita Tiwari, who have never said no to any initiative we wanted to undertake. They have been wholly encouraging, and since the very beginning of the year, they had high expectations from us, expectations which we have hopefully been able to fulfill. A big, heartfelt thank you to all the member of WSDC core team- Rosemary Lobo and Nikita Sailesh in particular, for tirelessly working behind the scenes to make every single event a huge success.It would be appropriate also to thank Rashneet Kaur, who served as the WSDC President last year, for doing wonderful work during her tenure and laying a foundation for us to build upon. And, lastly, none of our events in WSDC can be made possible without the support of the non teaching staff, who aid us in all conceivable manners and work very hard to make every event of every department and society possible and successful.


-Saumya Kulshreshtha
President,
Women Studies and Development Cell,
Jesus and Mary College

Core Team of 2009-10
Seated to my left is the graceful and dynamic ex-President, Rashneet Kaur,
 whom I succeeded as the President this year

I know it is a protracted response. By now, much of the ecstasy-laden-disbelief would have subsided. By now, most of us would have accepted that we are world champions. The dancing, singing and shouting would have been over. The inebriation after gulping down bottles after bottles of alcohol would have become history. The SMS chains would have broken. The tears would have dried. The demands of a National Holiday ended. Yes, many of us are still congratulating each other, but the instant laughter has metamorphosed into a more smug smile, which will linger on with a firm cognizance of the fact that we are number one! Our greatest national passion, Cricket, has triumphed! Our team has won, and made us all proud.

Yes, I am a little late, but I have to express my absolutely crazy delight at the Indian victory.

It was a perfect catharsis. The moment we won, my apartment building reverberated with a collective roar of jubilation. Everyone ran out. Gathered in the society park, and broke into impromptu jigs, even before a Dholi was summoned to make our celebrations more rhythmic. Even as everyone was shouting for me to come out, I remained firmly glued to my television set. We had won, but my favorite part was yet to come. No, not the Presentation Ceremony, but the celebrations on field. Players were crying on field, and I was crying with them. I had still not registered what had happened, but I knew it was a major event, and I knew about millions of us were happy. I was happy to be happy with them. My neighbourhood aunty remarked- 'This is the third Diwali I am witnessing!" She was so true. Crackers, and fireworks coruscating the sky. It was a national festival, only this time not bound to some religion. It was bigger. Much bigger.

It is for him that they claimed they did it- for the legend, the phenomenon, the God of Cricket- Tendulkar

It was sheer pleasure being treated to this site (gratitude to HT photo gallery for preserving such amazing moments). I was left pondering for a long time as to what would be crossing the mind of this great man. So much adulation, so much love, so much respect- a living, breathing idol. 

And even as I was thinking all of this, my eyes were searching for that face which has made me sit in front of the television set for hours to catch a single glimpse of his while India fielded. He is that cricketer, who made my teen years more cherishable. I had a mad crush, and it was, of course, him! So while my two best friends, in an innocent eighth standard classroom, somewhere around the 2003 world cup declared a war between Rahul Dravid and Sourav Ganguly, I would proclaim in all snobbishness that they both did not stand up anywhere in front of Zaheer Khan- my one and only love from the world of cricket. Even before I completed my sentence, the whole class would be staring at me incredulously. In fact, contemptuously. While in my heart I would feel a little sheepish, I would never allow the sheepishness to reflect on my face. With an air of conceit still accessorizing my face, I would then go on to defend my choice. I would offer 'expert' opinions of his bowling in that naive tongue of mine (most of it a repetition of what the commentators would have said extolling Zak). More than the bowling, I would rant on about his looks- his athletic physique, his intense eyes, his boy-next-door appeal. I has a pathetic teenage crush on him, something I in no way will ever regret. 

At that time, Zaheer was an upcoming talent, and understudy of the much revered Javagal Srinath. I was smitten by him the first match I saw in World Cup 2003- India versus Holland, which India, conveniently won. I had no understanding of the sport, so I could never understand why experts criticized him, whenever they did. For me, every ball of his was a wicket taking delivery. It was a celebration for him when he would be declared the Man of the Match (I remember two such occasions, one from WC 2003 itself). On his birthday, I would be silly happy. My fondness for him was so well known, that once, one of my friends gifted me a print out of his bio data, just because she wanted to make me happy. And happy I was. Very very happy! 

The naivity had gone now. The fondness has not. I still watch cricket matches to catch as many glimpses of his as I can. And I still have that eight year old copy of the bio data. It is torn along all folds, but, it is still very cherishable. 

So, as Kumar Sangakkara put India in to field first, I was obviously waiting for our bowling spearhead to give our team an awesome start in the Final. Honestly, I was scared. The memories of WC '03 Final were still ripe. Zaheer had to bury some very ugly ghosts from the past. He did it! And in style! He gave India the best start possible, made the Lankans starve for runs, and got the first breakthrough by taking Tharanga's wicket. He bowled three straight maidens in the Final, a feat, I believe, is unparalleled in any records. His last two overs did yield some 30 odd runs for the opposition, but for me, it is insignificant. From being plagued by persistent injuries, to losing his place in the team to upcoming stalwarts like Irfan Pathan, Zaheer has bounced back as India's pace spearhead, has been touted as second Wasim Akram, and regarded as a bowler with tact and adroitness to make India stand tall in front of the most intimidating batting oppositions. For me, this World Cup was about seeing him shine. Even when he has performed bad, I have never felt let down. But this time, what was special was, he did not let the country down. Every one sang his praises. Those praises were honey to my ears. Kudos Zaheer! You made us proud!

(A little photomontage of his best time frozen moments I could find on Google images)

"As dead dreams fall heavy on her  

she staggers out in tatters 

bruised breasts smell of raw flesh 

the soul weeps in the ashes 

of burnt apparels of dignity"

           -Dr. Rita Malhotra, Poet-Mathematician 

Life is laced with irony. Isn't it? What I till yesterday was touting as perhaps the best day of my life in JMC turned out the be the tragic last day of life of Radhika Tanwar, the now-much-hyped Ram Lal Anand student, killed by her own college mate. It was the International Women's Day yesterday, and being the flag bearer of as society which pledges to work for the rights and dignity of women in the college and society at large, I was celebrating it in gay abandon in the grandest auditorium one can come across in the University, isolated from the world. As the show moved on, I received a request on the stage to make an announcement cautioning the girls against moving to Satya Niketan, for some sort of a murder had taken place there. Having admonished the audience, I moved ahead with the programme, hell bent upon making it the best Women's Day Celebration JMC had seen ever. And so it became. And then, I got to know what a heinous crime had been committed less than a kilometer away from my college.

Let me get it straight here. I am NOT blogging because I feel threatened living in a city as 'unsafe' as Delhi. I have lived through my fair share of eve teasing incidents. Honestly put, they were gross, disturbing. I remember this rain washed day, I was walking down a road, short of money, walking in stead of taking a riskshaw, drenched head to toe. A black Santro stopped near me, and some veritably ruffian faces invited me to be seated with them in the car lest I fall ill because of the downpour. I was scared, but I reacted quick. Sought help from the nearest human I could spot, and fled in no time. Till date I wonder, if not for that man who helped me escape the place, what would have happened to me.

So, I started observing caution. Basic safety rules acquired paramount importance. Buses preferred to autos when during dusky hours, no opulent clothing when in bare view of public, moving with the crowd as much as possible, avoiding lonely spots, learning to trust no one. In simple language, I stopped trusting the public machinery for my safety, and this I say despite the fact that in the contemporary scenario of venom being spit on the government from all conceivable directions, I remain a believer in the state machinery. It is a convenient way of living. I hold trust in the state for protecting me, and I put in place all precautionary measures to protect myself.

Another, very clear and succinct reason behind this attitude of mine is a realization of the fact that if we really, truly want to bring about a change, any type of change, small or big, momentous or otherwise, we can do it much better by infiltrating the system, rather than standing up in arms against it. Our nationalist leaders recognized it during the freedom struggle. They called it 'wreck from within', I call it 'resurrect from within'. It is not idealistic, trust me. It is perhaps as pragmatic as it can get. Hurdles galore, I know and realize that, but historically, a path unto greatness has never been found which has not been laced with obstacles mammoth in size. Make a resolve today, and chase it unto the horizon, chase it till you win. If protests are your way of dealing with it, I support you with my wishes, not so much by my actions; but if protests are really your way of doing it, make sure you turn it into a Jessica Lall success(with a slightly twisted objective), and not one of those numerous Jantar Mantar protests which die down even before they are heard.

Am I allowed to give a very idealistic solution to this whole security mess that has been created? The practicability if this solution is nearly zero, but it's my blog, I am allowed even to be insane if it is my calling. There is a certain DCP Chhaya Sharma (refer article pasted below), who has turned one of the most crime prone zones in Delhi into a very safe and secure area, especially for females. I have had the good fortune of having shared a room with this firebrand woman IPS, the vanguard of the very successful models of safety employed in Delhi- the metropolis with the most shameful reputation with respect to civilian security. She looks purposeful, almost invariably, almost always. If possible, however bleak or miniscule this possibility, please get her to the South Delhi Campus, and give her a chance to set up a model for our campus, which is home to five of the best girls' colleges, and yet, has a very justified ignominious reputation as far as law and order is concerned.

I don't know how this sounds, but losing hope, is not my way. India is a country of great paradoxes. While we rant on about how the rural poor live in conditions of abject destitution, there is model I always like to keep in mind as I advance ahead with my bureaucratic ambitions. It is the model of a village called Hivre Bazar, which was almost on the brink of a collapse, with massive penury and resource scarcity leading to an exodus of locals into nearby villages. Today, that same village is home to 54 millionaires, with an infrastructure which can put even towns to shame, and all this change is the result of the efforts of a few enterprising young individuals, who sought the Constitutional path to revolutionize a society for which 'hope' was too far fetched a word. They were visionaries, the question is, how many of us can pursue a cause with as much dedication as they did. They took advantage of only two amendments to the Constitution, the 73rd and 74th, but more than anything else, it was their conscientiousness, pragmatic dynamism, and their WILL which caused the change. How many of us have that fire within us?

Our country is a great country, but it is in dire need of able, empowered and, as earlier stated, conscientious young people to cultivate an irrevocable feeling of belonging towards it. Doing something for the country should not be an onerous duty, but a sweet responsibility. I cannot live without hope. Yesterday, a candle was extinguished. Tomorrow we'll light a million more. And yes, while I do insinuate towards the candle light vigil organized tomorrow at Satya Niketan at one thirty, to which all of you are, of course, invited, what I actually mean is that if we actually, genuinely feel disturbed by the hideous crime committed, the flame should be lit within us, so that darker anti social elements, who come from among us are banished forever. Demanding security is a primary right, but try and do this without allowing Radhika Tanwar, a beloved daughter to now grieving parents, to be come a media doll used for lambasting aimlessly at the state mechanisms. As I said earlier, try and not wreck, but resurrect.

Woh afsaana jise anjaam tak laana na ho mumkin, usse ek khoobsurat mod dekar chhodna hi achchha ..

I read this in the paper a few days back. It was quoted by the Chief Metropolitan Magistrate Vinod Yadav, when he closed a major chapter in the Bofors scam saga by discharging Italian businessmen, Ottavio Quattrocchi. I read it again today, as the facebook status of one of my friends. In a eerie coincidence, it now perfectly applies to me. 


In the last two days, I have undergone a major transformation. My selfless attributes were my greatest pride. Now, a very selfish face stares at me each time I look into the mirror. Not more than a week ago, my very close friend from college was giving my a didactic lecture about how selfishness, in the contemporary context, had altered from being a vice to a virtue. I had hated her then and there for saying such a foolish thing. Today, I feel like a buffoon, for having been enraged at her. I have embraced those very selfish ideals. I gave up on a very, very essential part of my existence. I abandoned love, and along with it, I abandoned faith. 


My life, my smile, my tears, my love--all of this had stemmed from a person. The bond I shared with him was beautiful. Not perfect, but beautiful. But every beautiful thing does not have to be eternal. In fact, most beautiful things, especially if we add a dimension of perfection to them, are more ephemeral than something unpleasant. So today, the bond stands broken. Broken, not shattered. 


The bond has not shattered, but I have. It is today that I understand what a poet tried to convey when he spoke of silent shattering in some poem of my school English text books. I can totally feel it, understand it. I can today understand what it means to have your emotions burnt to smithereens. Understanding-it is not a gift I have received from many. Like many other good things in life, I have stopped hoping for it. The height of irony in terms of what just transpired as perhaps the most epochal happening of my life is that what went against me was my sanity. Heart in shreds. Feelings down to ashes. 


One good thing, however, remains. He remains. He lives. He breathes. As long as that happens, the miracle of my life stays alive. Faithless existence is senseless existence. The most crucial battle in my life is waiting to be won. Sans faith, it seems illogical to even start treading the path. I hope this time I receive cooperation. I hope to death that I don't fail this time. I know from where I'll draw strength. He knows from where I will draw strength. 


And while I try hard to keep my faith breathing, I will have my off days. There will be days I will look to hold someone culpable. There will be days I would not want to exonerate anyone for the wrong that happened with me, assuming these are days I am bent upon proving that wrong did happen to me. There will be days I would want to shout and cry loud and call out for comfort. There will be days I will crouch in one corner of my room, shedding tears, waiting for the coveted perfection to return to my life. I will try to be brave, but I cannot be brave enough to rule out the possibility of any of the above happening.


My best expressions are written. When I feel a need to reconnect, I will do it via writing. I always wanted to write something special for him. I wanted to document for him, more than my love, my fears associated with our bond. I began doing it yesterday. To Have, To Hold, To Love is a new blog I started to exclusively stay connected to him. It shall be my new address, whenever I am in distress. 


http://anirrevocablelove.blogspot.com/