Relationships

Relationships are scary. They change us; sometimes for good and sometimes not. Slowly they take over everything; our existence, our way of looking at the world, and even our own identity. From being strong and independent, we slowly transform into a needy, insecure human beings. From being confident and making our own plans, we look for assistance and acceptance. We try to build a “Happy Bubble” for ourselves where happiness depends on the other person and not us. We suffocate ourselves with the constant efforts of doing things right, of mending our ways to fit in the Bubble. We start to live in the constant fear that the Bubble pops one day and in turn blame ourselves for every simple thing that could go wrong.  We sit down thinking for hours about what we have said and what we could have said instead. We put so much effort in it that we stop looking beyond it. All the other things which were once a priority have now taken a backstage. We stop thinking about career, we stop making new friends, we stop even being curious. We transform slowly into completely different personalities sometimes.

Are we mentally prepared for the “What-if”s? 10 years down the line will we be able to recognize ourselves? Will we like the changed us? Will we accept us or hate us for our mistakes?  Will we learn from our mistakes or continue doing the same?

Why were the fairy tales only about the lucky few who lived happily ever after?

My first take at street photography

a city that is home for the homeless

anxious

Caution Drive slow! but one cannot move in this dense traffic

one of the various means of transport

Papa, can I have one!

friendly advice

waiting

Book Review: Adultery by Paulo Coelho

The story is about a woman Linda, who has everything what people need to be ‘happy’ but one fine day she starts thinking beyond the materialistic happiness and starts questioning the emptiness of her soul. And in the quest of filling her void, she discovers her adulterous self and is it her journey how she deals with it. This book touches those corners of ones heart, which we do not dare to accept. The part that is depressed, adventurous and adulterous. Don’t be judgemental when Linda starts cheating her husband, and decides to put her happy family and job at risk. Just travel along with her in her journey and experience her triumph over her Adultery in the end.

I do not know what made me buy this book in spite of all the negative feedback. And I also do not know how does Paulo Coelho has all the answers for my questions. This man definitely has the power to touch the souls of the readers. There were a lot of times when I felt that the lines were written just for me and this is not the first time that I have felt the same while reading his book. All the books I have read before of him gave me the same goose bumps as this one. It cannot be a mere co incidence but I felt a lot of times, how on earth did he know I was thinking about the same thing. I did not turn to him for my answers but he has answered them all.

This book is not a usual page-turner. This book demands time. You need to read every page slowly and reflect on the words. It can take hours and sometimes even a day. And when you find it lying the next day exactly the same place as you had left by the night lamp, you are not the same person.

The story of Food

The story of food is very old. It dates back to the evolution of mankind and was influenced by all the stages of history. Food is not merely what we eat to feed our hungry selves but it is much more than that. Food is an integral part of every culture. It is associated with the family bonding times, celebrations and cultural festivities. Food is also associated with a lot of nostalgic sentiments like “Maa- er hater  eelish”, or “Ghar ka khana” etc. It also tells us the story about the history of a particular place. For eg.  Beryani of the middle-east is popular under a name Biriyani in India and is now the favorite dish of most of the people living in Kolkata.

But as we always find the slightest pretext of satisfying our taste buds and indulge in the culinary art as we call it, are we equally aware of where does the food we consume come from. The rice which we Bengalis swear by to make our meals complete, where to they come from. From the shelves in super markets? From the paddy fields we see from the glass windows of the AC compartments of the trains we travel? Unlike the developed nations, in India we still buy vegetables from the local vendors. But do we know  if he produces the vegetables himself or is it imported from the other part of the country? Did we ever try to have a slightest conversation with him to know it. Are we too busy for it or the thought didn’t come to our mind ever? Do we know which crops are grown in which parts of India? Yes, we all have read them in geography and passed the exams with flying colors.

When we plan our vacations and look for places to see, we plan for the mountains or seas or the historical places. But do we ever think of visiting a place to see the where the food we eat is grown? Do we ever fill our minds with gratitude for the people who work so hard to feed this country bursting with population? Set aside the thought of their living conditions.

Yes we donot live in a desert or places like the African sub continent where the food is scarce, and we the so called middle class always have enough to eat. India is a developing nation where IT has become a serious business, sending satellites to the space is applauded nationally,  the new highroads are constructed to cater to the ever increasing cars in the roads, youngsters flaunt the latest technology smartphones and very little effort and attention is given to agriculture. There is no motivation for youngsters to pursue agriculture as their profession.  The poor to poorer condition of the farmers have led their children to look for other means for a better life. There is minimum or no technology developments in agriculture. The same bullock carts are used to plough the fields for ages is acceptable to us but not a phone which is older than a year. These facts made me realize whether or not have we taken our food for granted?

Is this ignorance or the lack of attention sustainable and a healthy sign for our next generation. We all are protesting for a safe society for us but can we guarantee sufficient food for the generation to come?

It was not my Home

Being Aware and compassionate

You were right. The people here are poor and majority of them live a life which is poorer than the lower middle class. The living conditions of the people living in a small slum nearby the Airport are worse than what we saw in the Ghetto in Terezin. What we saw in OpenLucht Museum the conditions when the people in earlier times lived in the same place with the animals is luxury when compared to the people living in the slums.

I see things differently now. I realized that earlier I just closed my eyes assuming that certain things don't exist. The people here are as ignorant as I was before. The privileged continue to enjoy the privileges without a single thought about how better we can do things to help those who are less privileged.
I do not blame them. In this  society, survival is the only aim for one and all. People seem to run a race and they are so busy running that they often do not look around to see whats happening.

People are not compassionate towards each other and treat each other with mistrust. For example , standing in a crowded bus, I feel something touching my bag, my instant thought was the person behind me was up to some mischief of pick pocket. I looked around and saw a very skinny old man with big glasses and wrinkles all over his dark face struggling to stand straight. the very moment I was filled with shame and guilt of my thoughts. I know we cannot change everything around us, but at least we can be compassionate to one other around us. Be polite and make them feel good for that moment is what I learned from you.

Many people say we cannot survive being honest and polite. I used to but I do not believe in it anymore. I was standing in a queue for the auto rickshaw for long in the scorching sun along with 5 others. The moment the only Auto came, the people broke the queue and got in it before me. I could see that the people who did it were ashamed of their act and they choose to look away from me to hide their self guilt. It understand it is difficult to stand in the sun for more than 5 minutes and we were standing for about 15. May be they were in a hurry and they had more important appointments. I was not angry . But I am sure I would be very angry if it was one year ago.

Whenever I look around me now, I always think of you and try to imagine how you would do things differently. Living with you has changed me in a big way . I feel very lucky that I got the chance.
Parents pass their Legacy to children and I hope I have the strength to retain it.

PS: Biologisch food is not available. I really do not know how to bring awareness about it.

Jab....

Jab koi paraya des apna des lagne lagta hai...

Jab kahin paraye log apne log lagne lagte hain..

Jab kahin koi anjaan bhaasha samajhme aani lagti hai..

Jab kahin anjaan chehro ko dekhke aur darr nahin lagta...

Jab kahin ghar jane ka mann nahi karta...

Jab darwaza kholte ki wahi mitthi khushboo swagat karti hai..

Jab kabhi ghar ke samne wala ped mano tumse baat karne lagta hai...

Jab kabhi khidki pe chhoti si nili chiriya aake  shor machati hai..

Jab dosti ki paribhasha badalne lagti hai..

Jab sach bolne se aur darr nahi lagta...

Jab galtiyon ko maaf kiya jata hai...

Jab annkhein bhar aati hain ye sochke ki ye sab chhorke ekdin kahin aur jana padega....

Jab yahin meri zindagi ka wo na bhulane wala panna ban jayega....

Jab....

Holland Dairies - part 3 : Louis

Louis passed away just 2 weeks before his 54th birthday. He was one of the friends I made since I started living here, far from my friends and family. And though it was just the first meeting we sat in his garden, chatting for hours loosing the track of time and realised that it was late and almost 12'O clock at night only when we felt really cold. He was a free siul and a avid traveller. Every inch of his living room reflected his personality and the souvenirs placed all over proudly telling us the story of his travels. The book case filled with travel books and the small musical instruments kept on the rack above the piano

Holland Diaries- Part 2: Perceptions about Kolkata

I am very amazed by the instant reactions of people when I say I come from Kolkata. Kolkata has a global recognition which I never thought it had before I came here for the first time in 2011.

Grannie and most people here pronounce it as “kol-cuu-tta” which sounds very funny, to me atleast.

“Oh yes! Kol-cuu-tta! Lots of poor people!”

“Grannie, do you know Kolkata? Wow!”

“Yes I do my dear, Sister Teressa? She gave food to the poor”

 

Next is Louis, a man of about 50 and an avid traveller. He has been to India twice for holiday and has visited Ladakh, Rajasthan and Mumbai.

“Oh yes Kaul-ka-ttaa, a very old and big city isn’t it? Very crowded?”

“Yes it is, very crowded indeed when compared to Arnhem”

“I read a book called The city of Joy, are there still people living in Slums? The book mentioned about the honking of the public transport of the howrah bridge and had some beautiful descriptions but the author was moved by seeing the poverty around”

Now, I am really set back by this perception of my city of joy to the outside world. I think for a moment. Slums? Very poor people? Yes there are some slums near Sealdah, but not so significant that it could be used to describe the city.

“Well, I have been living in the city for the last 6years, but I don't think there are significant number of people who live in slums. And, I think as it is the largest city in the eastern part of the country, it has a constant inflow of migrants from Bihar and other neighbouring states in search for job, and sometimes they don't have a place to live yet.”

“Yes true, but for us especially, when we see, the poor people lying in the streets, our heart goes out”

I stumble for an answer. Why the hell did the author name the book as city of joy if he had only to write and exaggerate about the poor people. C’mon, I haven’t heard of anyone die of poverty in Kolkata.

 

On one Saturday while walking into the town with Helga, I happened to meet a group of her friends in a cafe. One of the women looked strange. She wore a orange cotton loose fitted kurta an orange skirt. Her grey hair parted in the middle and supposedly a thin braid till the waist. The moment they heard I was from Kolkata, the strange woman’s eyes gleamed. She said she was in Kolkata twice, her last visit being 14 years ago. She is a practicing Hindu and she had a Guru somewhere near Lake Gardens in Kolkata.

“ohh nice! Which places did u visit in Kolkata?”

“Very less, most of my stay I was either meditating or working for the NGO. Are there still so poor people in Kaul-cu-ttaa?”

I try my level best to defend my city of joy. And all through the Dutch conversations over the coffee I sit back and ponder over my thoughts. What caused these perceptions? Pffff…

 

Marco, a colleague, a man in his early thirties and he and his wife is expecting his first child in a couple of months.

“Oh Kol-katta..wow! a very big and old city.. As big as Holland I think?”

“Umm.. I think half of Holland?”

“Amazing, how many people live there?”

“Ohh.. I never thought of the count before but let me check……hmmm… interesting..wikipedia says 14 million!”

“wow!! Amazing!”

A positive reaction at last made me happy.

 

The next one is from Harold, my next door neighbor. May be late twenties, lives with his wife, has a very cute baby and a not so cute cat.

“Which place in India are you from?”

“errr..umm.. Kolkata?”

“oh yes! A big city! I had been to India in 2008 and travelled all through New Delhi, Varanasi, Shimla. But my friend said that there were some riots in Kolkata due to a woman who wrote some book.”

 

I have tried my level best to change the perception of the people I meet about Kolkata by my view of the rich culture, the history, the architecture and the people.

Surely Kolkata will receive a lot of guests in the coming years and it Kolkata will surely will not be called a big crowded city with poor people by them at least.

 

 

 

Holland Diaries- Part 1: Weather

You know you are in Holland when you hear people talking about the weather all the time. At first it may sound weird, and people may seem to be obsessed with weather checking the hourly forecast in the mobile apps every single day. But my perception changed right after the day when I started for work on a day which looked sunny, without an umbrella and was drenched while returning back. And on a cloudy day when you think it is really cold (according to Indians) and put on your warm clothes, you may sweat while walking on your way to work.

Weather literally changes every hour. I love my seat at work where I can look through large open windows from my seat. And the view is never the same. Just today at the clouded sky at 9AM turned into a sunny morning by 10 and had heavy showers by 12 and by 12:30 it’s sunny again! If it were not for the droplets of rain the glass window panels, you cannot tell it had rained 30minutes back by looking at the sparse clouds in the blue sky.

The reason is the geographical location of Holland. It’s near to the sea and the Arctic Circle with no Mountains barring the wind. The wind is real fast.

The clouds change patterns almost in the blink of the eye. They say that the Dutch skies have inspired a lot of painters in the past. The view of the summer sky is similar to the Autumn sky in Kolkata, with bright white clouds and clouds in different shades of grey in beautiful patterns making lovely contrast with the blue background. The only difference being that here in Holland, it changes a way too fast. And if you are in a lovely countryside, the lush green fields, make the frame really picturesque.

It took me almost a month to get to the habit of checking the hourly forecast of the weather each morning before starting for work or going out on weekends making a note of the velocity of wind each day. And as Grannie says, “never go out without your umbrella.”

The proverb : The Morning shows the Day is never true in Holland.

 

The Stupid Box...err...Screen....!!

Recently my father had watched a show in the Discovery Channel which showed how in Korea (north or south I do not remember) kids especially teens, addicted to mobile phones and the video games are becoming mentally ill. A guy in his twenties died after playing non-stop video game for about 50 hours.

And they too have a Rehab center where the parents send their kids to help them return to normal life.

Now, does that ring a bell on your head? No? Yes, it didn’t mine either while I sat in the couch checking my Facebook updates on my phone beside him watching the show. But the same was not the case with him. After that day he has been intimidating any kid/teenager, usually my nephews and cousins by offering them some piece of advice or the other on the disadvantages of the mobile addiction. Previously I used to get away easily on the long hours on my laptop as my parents thought I was  working from home but not now. My father checks on me every 30 mins asking me to rest my eyes. And the arguments like “I am reading the news headlines on the mobile” doesn’t work anymore.

“You know in Korea….”, he would start while I had to cut him short by saying “Yes yes Dad, I watched it too but I am no kid anymore.”

Just like my parents kept an eye on me to check me from watching too much of TV, I think it’s  high time now to put a check on the excessive television and the content  they are watching. I think it would also be a good Idea to show a senior citizen disclaimer before some shows.

Few weeks ago  all of us were going out on a dinner and we were late. We were in a hurry and my father was locking the front door when he saw that the main door of the neighbor was half open and also the elevator collapsible gate was not closed properly. He stood there staring at the half open door and putting on his deducing hat while I kept reminding him the time. We had a new family moved into a vacant flat a day before and we had not had our introduction yet.

“Don’t you watch Crime Patrol”, he hissed, “they tell us to be alert at the end of each show!”. 

“Daddy, they must have just forgot to close the door!”,I sounded Irritated.

“Hushh..” And he started peeking into their flat!

My mother had unlocked our door by now and is searching something from the Diary kept beside the telephone. I was literally embarrassed and watch the whole thing jaws dropped.

My father knocks on the neighbors door and the Son of the family (who may b in his early twenties) comes out after taking longer time than usual wiping the beads of water droplets in from his face in a hand towel. I could sense his confusion looking into may fathers panicked expression by then.

“Ummm… Errrr.. I … Actually I saw your door half open.. And you know its better to be alert…and also we have not had our introduction So..”, my father is surely searching for words. My boy smiled re-assuringly and told that everything was OK and agreed that it had been careless of him as he returned from his class in a hurry. I was very embarrassed and rolled my eyes on my father and went inside our flat to see what my mother was up to.

"What are you doing Mom?”

“I had noted down the number and m not getting it now.”

“Whose number?”

“The Crime Patrol people…it was...”

“What!! ”

Just then my father entered after having our formal introduction with our neighbors and said “Its all fine….the kid…. He left the door open in a hurry…. Nice boy…”

“Shall we go now.. we are already late..”, I interrupted.

All through the dinner the topic of discussion was the crimes happening all around even in places we think that are very safe while I ate my food silently.

P.S.: I love them anyway.... :) :)

Rains and Me

She became very arrogant and demanding all of a sudden. I almost felt the hard gust of wind with water and dust slap me hard in my face asking me to stay indoors. But then I am not the obedient child of hers anymore.

 I jumped in to the cab shocking the driver. “Cholun Dada”, read lets go, I told him only to realize that nothing was visible from the driver’s seat except the often lightnings in the sky hazed by the storm and heavy rains. The street lights gone out and the traffic moved very very slow. Lucky me not to be at Bantala right now, I thought.

The cab driver regained himself from the shock, thinking as if he couldn't believe me daring to come out of the office building in such weather. “madam, berolen kano ekhon?”, read why did u come out now.

The storm resided 30 minutes later and we started moving. People have come out of the Shed now and are waiting impatiently for the public transport to be home as early as possible. Most of them drenched, with tensed expression in their faces.

The thundering continued with mild shower. It was a very usual rainy evening, the darkness and the rains didn’t seem to sadden me anymore. I enjoyed it. We are becoming friends now , aren't we?

A week by Myself..

The husky voice of Adele fills the room, "never mind I'll find someone like you". I pause and look around. The sky looks lovely with clouds creating beautiful patterns reflecting the light of  the sun setting in the  west. A gentle gust of wind enters in. The apartment is not in its perfect shape since past few days as my mom and dad are out in the southern part of the country handing over the sole responsibility of  Flat #5B, Block B to me. And I have left no stones unturned personalizing it. The line of empty water bottle on the dresser, the used cups of coffee on the table.. The glasses, books, pillows, laptop, tangled cables of adapters, the empty packet of munchies all in perfect harmony on my bed. I ignore the disturbing vision of the pile of clothes on the chair , as if frowning at me, asking to be picked up.

 I get up to light the incense sticks. My mother has been reminding me everyday during her calls not to forget watering the Tulsi plant and light the incense sticks at the dawn and dusk(if I am at home). Well dawn for me has been postponed to around 11:30AM in the morning. Recently she had frowned at me seeing a bunch of coriander plants growing  from her priced Tulsi pot! Yes, I was curious to know whether the coriander seeds we get from the market do actually turn up into a herb.

But I was able to convince her with  "It must be the birds, maa!!", and she had replied "Oh, don't pluck them off then, it must be a sign". She often tells this dialogue, and as a child I used to believe it , wondering what these signs ever meant.

The incense sticks fills the rooms with its soothing scent which reminded me of her even more. I think whenever I will start a family of my own, wherever it may be,  I shall always light incense sticks to remind me of my roots.

 I look across the window and see a man, dressed in white, wearing a white skull cap entering the cemetry. He kneels down beside a grave. Somehow I am able to feel his pain of missing a loved one.

I call up my parents and end up answering my father whether I lock the doors properly and my daily diet to my mother, thanking almighty that I have my loved ones a phone call away atleast  and that they will be back in a few days.

The man is slowly walking away now, head bent.

Her City of Joy

It would be a busy day..hufff.. thought Naina. She checked the time restlessly, cursing the traffic and administration, shooing away the occasional knocks in the cab window by the traffic vendors and beggars.  She much reach office in time. Protests in the streets during office hours have worsened the condition. She is feeling uncomfortable in the Michelin jacket that she bought recently, fanning herself occasionally. She had obviously overestimated the winter in the city before buying it. She hastily reaches out to the calendar in her phone to check the schedules for the day. Suddenly something caught her attention and gave her a chill.

It was the date.  It has been four years now. She remembers how she used to plan for months ahead of this day then. The cake, the flowers, the food, the venue, the gifts, the guests.. all were done secretly and executed perfectly. She liked to see the astonished smile on his face which made her feel so very proud of herself.

She remembered the times when she dated him. The hopping around the city bunking college, tea from the road side tea shops, the auto rides, the travelling in tram to un-decided destinations. She liked the freedom and the adventure by simple bunking classes .  She was introduced to the city holding his hands. The Victorian book stores, coffee houses, the places of historical significance, Esplanade, Gariahat, Eden gardens, the metro , Nandan.. the crowded central and north Kolkata, the taxis, the “aste ladies”..the typical bengali accent, the adreesing strangers as "Dada and Didi"s. She used to be so anxious seeing the unknown faces around at first, the crowd she was not used to seeing. Being born and brought up in a small town, where everyone knew each other, she took almost a year to become acquainted with the city and to fall in love with it later.

The traffic has started moving. She looked around. The same streets where she used to walk holding his hands seemed unfamiliar now with the newly constructed flyovers all over, multi-storeys and shopping malls popping up here and there. She has grown up so much as a person since then along with the city. She is no longer her timid, innocent self. There was something in the city which made her stay back. It has a soul of its own. Always happy, always moving, always friendly. She felt warm walking in the same streets alone. She never ever felt the city was mocking at her. The unfamiliar faces around didn’t seem so unfamiliar now.

The city puzzled her as a newcomer but later it aroused a feeling of nostalgia while she was away. May be that is why it was once named “The City of Joy”, the city which she proudly call hers home now.

 

demoralized, dejected, depressed

Note: The below few lines would be very depressing, and full on nonsense rants. If you are here to read something nice, humorous and happy, please move on to my other posts. I had to write it.

Felling totally demoralized, dejected, depressed today after long. All the things that I have planned for myself have gone wrong. Yes, I admit there were surprises too,  I definitely cherish them, but what about all the things that I wanted? No I am not cribbing or being too demanding from life, but at least 1 out of 10 could come true? Is it too much of a wish?

Life had never been as uncertain as now…6 years back..or even 3 years back. I am feeling as if I am wandering aimlessly in a dark room trying to find  the door. The door of my salvation. I am missing the guiding light, the mentor. No I do not believe in God anymore. I have lost the faith in Religion. What is it? A couple of rituals to fool people? Who is God? I believed in the Gods that my parents followed, my religion by birth, imitated my mother in all the rituals then finally realized that everything that is happening around me is just mere co-incidence that is destined by fate.

Whenever I close my eyes, trying to find peace, I see complete darkness. I often see a dream, that I am walking through a cemetery full of white tombs and wake up in the middle of the night.

Is it the absence of love that has caused it? I guess not. I am pretty much sure of it. I don’t miss my lost love. I think I want a mentor, not a lover. A guiding light, not a romantic illusion.

Yes I am waiting, but the uncertainty is making me restless and at times I feel lost.

Suddenly life seems too long to live.. 

I Wish...

·         The dove doesn’t fly away from my window…every morning when I part my curtains..

·         I could choose my dreams every night while going to sleep..

·         Smileys could talk…

·         Ears had shutters just like eyes..

·         Me and mom had the consent while choosing anything.. I just don’t seem to inherit any of her genes..

·         All my favorite foods were less in calories..

·         My gym instructor would let me choose the exercises..

·         People stop asking me when I am getting married.. :P

·         Getting married meant more of being with your soul mate 24X7 than just a mere social status..

·         I had met Paulo Coelho in his 40s..

·         I find someone with similar imperfection, fantasies and madness.. ;)

·         At least some of my wishes would come true someday..

 

TRY BEFORE YOU BUY

I have had a self realization lately.

Finding a life partner from one of those matrimonial sites is so similar to buying clothes and shoes online. You can instantly fall in love with the latest animal print top displayed in the first page (who says love can’t be at the first sight), sincerely wish that you could at least try it out…see the top displayed from all the different angles available (for days sometimes ) ..zoom it at times to check out the details…imagine yourself wearing the same top…..check out if its available of your size….log off…dream that you are wearing it…come back the next day to see if your size is still in stock…zoom again…and after this procedure is repeated for days…and you have finally decided to buy it..you find it out of stock!!  

Oh poor you!! Atleast you can add it to your wishlist. The matrimonial sites donot have a “add to your wishlist” option though. I wonder what would it be like. :D :D

And sometimes you really don’t find anything worth a second look you kind of pity the stocks that are available..

But then at last if you are lucky and you are pretty confident that you made the right choice....and proceed to  pay.. before clicking the “pay” button you usually take a deep breath because you are not sure of what will arrive at your doorstep in spite of the hours or days spend in admiring the thing.

Atleast  they have the 30days money back warranty.. :P :P

I have never got bored looking for clothes and shoes online…. But after spending about a year now looking for …err…ahem…men……yawwwnnnn!!

Welcome 2013!!

In the blink of an eye we all shall be in 2013! A year that sped so fast, leaving trails of memories behind. Some will fade away with time, some will moving along with us as we move on. 

As I look back and start counting the personal losses and gains, I realize that 2012 had been the most unexpected and memorable year for me. It has managed to transform me into a completely different and new wiser me. A year full of self realizations, misunderstandings, highs and lows, growing expectations and broken hearts, meeting new people and people fading away from the list of social networking sites.  

In spite of all the uncertainties and loosing hopes 2012 has managed to surprise me towards the end and making me hope full and eager as before for 2013. 

So as I look forward to 2013 and un-wrap all the surprises that it has in its fold, I take this chance to wish all of you a very very happy new year 2013. Wish you all good health and luck in the coming year!

 

Cheers!!!

Trijeeta.

Confessions of a Facebookaholic

Facebook is the last thing I check before closing my eyes for a sound sleep... (the second last being Gmail ) and the first thing after I open my eyes. Sometimes I even find the Facebook app in my mobile open when I get up. I know you are not very surprised. I am very confident 90% of people reading this will have the same story to tell.

This e-existence of mine was simply unthinkable 7years before but for now it is most of me. Where on earth do you think you can get updated with the places your people around you have gone to honeymoon..or what jewelery people have worn in their weddings or where did the person you last met in school is going for a holiday…right from a boring meeting in office??..Or the inside scoop of a controversial engagement…the first look of your best friend’s car…or the dinner your neighbor prepared.. while travelling in a bus! Stalk the person you secretly have a crush upon…like every silly update posted by him/her.. I do it all. Right from the current affairs to Indian politics..to the presidential elections in US..to jokes…to quotes.. to whether Shiela is hotter than Munni… to the random shares of divine deities you get it all in the single tap of your smartphone. Isn’t it awesome?

Managing the Facebook profile updates can also be nerve cracking at times. As you all have realized by now likes and comments are your only popularity meter… :P  I sometimes even like my own random posts.. its nothing but an utter display of self confidence (few are smart enough to understand the underlying sarcasm). Once I even went to the extent of calling one friend of mine asking him to like a silly post of mine to save my post from just 1 like which was mine. Now you guess how nerve cracking it can be… phew!! Oh yes…profile pictures.. I change them occasionally just when I think I have stopped getting the required likes and comments.. :P Its like my monthly visit to the hair dresser. Its always smart to be prepared for people stalking my profile. And if you think any of your favorite picture has not got the enough popularity as it deserved…fear not! You can always recycle your old profile pics to the current one to alert people to like them in case they haven’t. :D :D

Whenever I visit to party/wedding/picnics, I often hear people around me saying things like: “wow this picture is so nice…it would put it up as my profile picture”…

I also have helped innumerable charitable causes by sharing random posts of sick babies (never ever bothered to find out if the share was genuine)…have slammed rapists…raised my voice for a cause…liked a photo-shopped picture of a God and get disappointed as nothing happened in the next ten minutes as was promised. Yes you get it right, all on Facebook!

The instant sight of the red notifications on the top right corner instantly uplifts my mood for a second and sometimes continues just like talking a guilt-free bite into dark chocolate. Hence my love for Facebook continues and if you ever hear people talking about calling me Facebook-addict or about me paying too much attention to the online page and drifting away from the grounded reality…just remember…being popular is not that easy…..hufff!!!

PS: I even had to add the word “Facebook” to the disctionary of MS-WORD to ease myself writing this blog post.

When Time Stops

I found my old diary while shifting my house. I had nearly forgotten about it until the time I found it again while packing. In the hurriedness of shifting I forgot it once again and re-discovered it while unpacking. Out of guilt I decided to give it a permanent place among my story books so that it is always there in the vicinity of my eyes. And one a leisurely afternoon I decided to give it a much awaited read. The cover had the year embossed on it … “1999”…

It was my first attempt to pen down my thoughts when I was in class ten, being inspired by the Autobiography of Pricess Jahanara, the book which I borrowed from School Library. The first diary note describes my inspiration and how awestruck I was reading the life of a princess which was not as glamorous as I had expected it to be. Sad that I hadn’t mentioned the date of the note. So, thats how it started...

The diary covers my life from class X to the first year of college. When my only Ambition in life was to score good marks….Tension meant the Chemistry exams….Only treasures being the friendship bands .... Love meant glue-ing pictures of Aamir khan in between the pages of the diary…..the greatest fear being performing on stage…..taking a break meant quarreling with my sister over a trifle pencil box or reading a comic hidden in the course book……Rebel meant slapping boys on their slapstick remarks…

I had even kept the snippets of songs written on the paper that helped me during the numerous Independence Days, Gandhi Jayantis and Republic days on stage. O’ how each paper wrinkled and yellowed with time took me back to the time when I had actually written them.  I also remembered reciting poems or prose in class, and how my then best friend Debashree took the responsibility of prompting me in between the lines when I forgot. Though I never ever looked at her during my recitation, to avoid the series of non-stop laughing without a reason publicly. The class teacher had even changed our seats to the opposite corners of the class, but with least success.

I found a lot of sketches of mine too dated back to 2000 when did  small quick sketches when I had to pretend that I was studying hard at home or school.  A sketch of “Prospero and Ariel”, from the cover of my course book  The Tempest, by Shapespeare , Or the “Backyard” where I often sat during sunny winter mornings.

Class XI and XII, new school and new friends…my first ever bench partner, So-mad-rita Das( in DNS we sat in single chairs)… being the permanent last bencher for the first time and loving it….sleeping in Chemistry and English classes….understating nothing of physics being taught… the pranks we played in class…. I had penned down all.....

Then my first step into the college, away from my parents..a whole new world with so many different people from different parts of the country.

Please take me back in time. The golden years of my life… I want to re-live the innocence and simplicity again.

Trijeeta.

11/11/2012.