Footprints...

I am sure it happens to everyone.

People touch your life with their presence, then become an integral part of your joys and sorrows, and then in a whiff, go away. It is ironical...when you are with them, the mere thought of parting causes an ache in the heart, but when it actually happens, you tend to move on with your lives, that makes you feel…was that all? All those times we laughed together…and cried, all those days when we would spend hours talking...and those when we never knew, what to talk...beautiful memories…and darkest fears...all get packed in some remote corner of your memories...only to be opened in one quiet moment like this today..

It happened to me at school...parting with friends...and it happened again at college…I don't know what happened to so many of my friends...no idea what they are doing and how they are doing...no idea what they look like…and no idea if I'll ever meet them to tell, "Hey, I care."

And in such solitary moments, when you start turning back the pages of life, it’s not just people you recognize as friends, but many other unnamed relations, which cross your thoughts…this post today is a recollection of some of those people, and the footprints they left behind…

The earliest memories that beckon me are of “Maan ji”- a frail old widow, always dressed in 5 yards of humble white cotton, a wry, toothless face showing the signs of all pains that life had inflicted on her, and a pair of gentle, pale eyes with a hint of pearly grey, that would shower us with all the blessings known to mankind!
And oh! The important part - she wore beautiful and really heavy anklets, which made her vulnerable to all sort of greedy eyes.
We had no ties of blood with her…but from the times I recall, I had always seen her coming to our home very often, almost on a daily basis…she would nurse us as kids, and we would treat her as a granny…her family had taken all her property, and abandoned the poor soul…and for all the love and care she found in our family, she would keep on blessing us endlessly…”Neesa” is what she would call me…I have seen you aging maan-ji, and then going to a state of complete loneliness…you couldn’t walk then, and stayed in a small, very small, damp, shanty abode, and I would often have to accompany my mom, despite all the nagging, to your place to give you food…I still recall your last days, when you would want to say so many things, but your body won’t let you…you would want to talk to someone…anyone, but I would not have the patience to listen…or the care to stay…I was wrong Maan-ji…I shouldn’t have been so mean to run away, when you once held my hand tight, and wanted me to sit and talk…but then..I was a kid, wasn’t I? I wasn’t sad, when you died, and no one else was, but if I look back now, I wonder at how you were able to retain all your sweet goodness, despite life being so bitter to you…

Move on…and I can see “Chote maharaj” standing with his calm smile, gleaming with a divine halo, which I am too ignorant to write about…we had just moved in into a new neighborhood, a place surrounded by what people call “The Ashram”- a holy abode of some saints of Naath sampradaya – a sect that worships Lord Shiva. I was in class 8, when we started visiting the Ashram on a daily basis…come teatime, and we would rush for our daily prayers, and Prasad, along with the assignments Chote Maharaj had given us to finish…he was the one who inspired me to write…write about a wide variety of topics, and before writing, do all sort of research possible…we did not have internet those days, so research wasn’t that accessible, and I remember digging into all sorts of old newspapers and magazines to find out information that was relevant…those essays, and later poems helped me form some strong, fundamental ideas about good and bad, developed the traits of reasoning, and debate, besides helping me strengthen the way I express myself…you constantly inspired me to do better, to grow as a human…time went on passing by…as I grew busy with studies, my trips to Ashram changed from daily to weekly to monthly…and now it’s been years… today I have no idea where you are Chote Maharaj, but somewhere deep inside, a part of me will always owe so much to you!

They say that life is the biggest teacher. For me, life came in the form of “Neelu maa’m”-my English teacher back in the high school days…you arrived when I just needed you the most…and you instilled in me the confidence to conquer all that I wanted…and then you left…no idea…to where…but I hope to meet you someday maa’m, and want to hear it from you, that I make you feel good about being a teacher…the world is too small…and I am sure someday, our roads will cross again…I have no idea, how to find you…but somewhere deep, I’ll always respect you…and love you!

Lots of thoughts drifting in my mind…and a lot many footprints still need to be dug up…and cherished… 26 years after all is a long time!

Some part of me still wants to hold those past memories together...cocooned, and take them along to the future...and keep their warmth alive...

Here's a toast to all those old memories.
Cheers!

Loss of innocence

I was touched. Again.
I cried. Again.
The sheer realization that I am living in a world where being innocent, and genuinely caring for others leads you nowhere just hit me..was watching "Dasvidaniyaan" again tonight, and was truly relishing the child like innocence of Vinay Pathak...he zealously grabbing a handful of 'imli' candies in the flight for his childhood buddy..and then telliing the airhostess--"Mere dost ko bahut pasand hain!!"...and then landing at his place..feeling dil-se happy that he has prospered..and then being turned down disdainfully by the snobbish, so-called self proclaimed sophisticates...because they think..nobody would travel half way round the world..just to meet an ol' pal!
Not that I was watching this for the first time, but the whole idea of how majority of this world thinks and works has me in tears today..and I need to look inside..shield myself from being THEM...but am scared..scared even to look inside..coz I might realize, that I am already one of them!! Yes..I am not the same person, I used to be..and I am feeling miserable about it..few yaers back, I was much more thoughtful..much more caring..and I could empathize more with people..
I still recall..I couldn't sleep the whole night on the day Gujarat was hit by that ghastly earthquake..we were having food when the news broke..800 people die..for a minute, I was numb...and when my senses came back...I could hear my family talking about it...post dinner everybody was back to their own lives..as if nothing had happened...and as if it was just another piece of news..were 800 lives just a nothing..why were they not feeling sad about it..how could they be so ok, when so many people have lost their near ones..More than the death toll, what worried me that night was the lack of empathy in my fellow beings..the fact that it didn't matter to them mattered to me..
Huh..that was then..and now?
I believe, I have become more selfish. In other words, I have grown up.
I do not send out hand made cards with personalized poems written on them to friends any more..I do not think months before mumma-papa's anniversary gift..I do not arrange surprise B'day parties for my flat mates...and do not play any pranks with pals...what's wrong with me?
My emotions have dried up..and oh..have I started thinking twice before passing a smile to people..on the surface, it might feel, that my life is more stable than before..things are under control..am doing reasonably ok in my career..but inside...is there a hollow somewhere..a feeling that I don't belong here..and that I need to preserve whatever little is left of my own self..or else..this loss of innocence and warmth would leave me dead...
No. I want to be alive. Again.