The wazir in all of us...

Of all things that I will cherish in my life forever, one will be stories from my dad. They are not particularly bed time stories but they came anytime, anywhere. I don’t know about my brothers but I listened and remembered them like a drought hit person would collect fresh rain water. It goes like this:

Once there was a king of a very prosperous kingdom. We can use some adjectives that are used for ideal situations. Of all the houses in his kingdom, his palace was the most magnificent. He used to stroll with his wazir in evenings to keep an eye on his subjects. He was good and kind to all.

There was one merchant who very soon became rich by selling wood. He built himself one grand palace. And then he began thinking of storing some sandalwood in hope that someday his king would die and the only place where they would get sandalwood for his funeral will be his shop. Then he would ask for much more than the woods will be worth of. Thus his mind was filled with ingratitude and shrewdness.

One evening while on his regular walks with his wazir, the king saw the merchant’s palace and asked wazir about who he was. After knowing all, the king demanded that his palace was to be destroyed as no other palace could stand high as the king’s. The wazir was made responsible for execution of the order.

This wazir was a very wise man. He understood and thought of some other idea to restore peace in both of their hearts. He went to the merchant and bought all the sandalwood on king’s behalf saying the king was impressed with his work and he wanted all sweet fragrant wood for his palace. The merchant now felt guilty to his core. He was ashamed about what he earlier thought about the king. The king was a generous man and he now began praying for his long life so that he would keep gaining his trust and his business could keep growing.

And when the king again visited the merchant’s place he looked at his palace as if he was seeing it for first time. He then turned to the wazir, smiled and patted his shoulders. He said, “It’s wise of you that you didn’t demolish this beautiful palace. Such palaces will make my kingdom more beautiful and make me more proud. I was so blind. People can come and see that such prosperity exist in my kingdom!”

See? Change in one person’s heart can change others too. The merchant thought ill for his king, the king ordered his palace to be removed. The merchant started wishing good for his king, the king’s heart changed; he too realized he was thinking wrong. This may sound absurd to many but what’s the harm in trying? Dad believe, if you think harm for another, it will come back to you. You just need to think good, others are suffering the same way as you are, in their own way. Also I think the problem started as soon as the merchant felt ungrateful for his king. As soon as he forgot that he is doing good in business because of his king’s liberal policies and just laws, his thoughts began to darken. We face problems in any relationship when we show ingratitude to the other person, to God. When we don’t thank for what we have things begin getting difficult.

And yes, there is a wazir in all of us, isn’t it? The wazir could have made situation worse but he thought! He thought without fear of king, fear of losing his image or whatever. People, who think they have got responsibility, also think they have got power. And power can easily blind them. Only a balanced mind and a wise heart can handle such situations. If in place of wazir, what would have been our action? 

A Good Marriage

Recently I read "Have a little faith" by Mitch Albom. It's a real story about two very different people, one Reb (some holy man) and a criminal who develops faith for God later. This particular chapter caught my attention because how simply it explains faith for God and love, the way lives of these two very different people is told focusing the similarity in them. The Reb who is dying is talking to the writer about random things. I have tried to cut short the story. Hope you find it worth reading.

A Good Marriage

According to Jewish tradition, forty days before a male baby is born, a heavenly voice shouts out whom he will marry. If so, the name “Sarah” was yelled for Albert sometime in 1917. Their union was long, loving, and resilient.

They met through a job interview in Brighton Beach—he was a principal, she was seeking an English teacher’s job—and they disagreed on several issues and she left thinking,“There goes that job” ; but he hired her and admired her. And eventually, months later, he asked her into his office.

“Are you seeing anyone romantically?” he inquired.

“No, I’m not,” she replied.

“Good. Please keep it that way. Because I intend to ask you to marry me.”

She hid her amusement.

“Anything else?” she said.

“No,” he answered.

“Okay.” And she left.

It took months for him to follow up, his shyness having taken over, but he did, eventually, and they courted. He took her to a restaurant. He took her to Coney Island. The first time he tried to kiss her, he got hiccups.

Two years later, they were married.

In more than six decades together, Albert and Sarah Lewis raised four children, buried one, danced at their kids’ weddings, attended their parents’ funerals, welcomed seven grandchildren, lived in just three houses, and never stopped supporting, debating, loving, and cherishing each other. They might argue, even give each other the silent treatment, but their children would see them at night, through the door, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding hands.

They truly were a team. From the pulpit, the Reb might zing her with, “Excuse me, young lady, could you tell us your name?” She would get him back by telling people, “I’ve had thirty wonderful years with my husband, and I’ll never forget the day we were married, November 3, 1944.”

“Wait…,” someone would say, doing the math, “that’s way more than thirty years ago.”

“Right,” she would say. “On Monday you get twenty great minutes, on Tuesday you get a great hour. You put it all together, you get thirty great years.”

Everyone would laugh, and her husband would beam. In a list of suggestions for young clerics, the Reb had once written “find a good partner.”

He had found his.

And just as harvests make you wise to farming, so did years of matrimony enlighten the Reb as to how a marriage works—and doesn’t. He had officiated at nearly a thousand weddings, from the most basic to the embarrassingly garish. Many couples lasted. Many did not.

Can you predict which marriages will survive? I asked.

“Sometimes,” he said. “If they’re communicating well, they have a good chance. If they have a similar belief system, similar values, they have a good chance.”

What about love?

“Love they should always have. But love changes.”

What do you mean?

“Love—the infatuation kind—‘he’s so handsome, she’s so beautiful’—that can shrivel. As soon as something goes wrong, that kind of love can fly out the window.

“On the other hand, a true love can enrich itself. It gets tested and grows stronger. Like in Fiddler on the Roof. You remember? When Tevye sings ‘Do You Love Me?’?”

I should have seen this coming. I think Fiddler on the Roof was pretty much the Reb’s worldview. Religion. Tradition. Community. And a husband and wife—Tevye and Golde—whose love is proven through action, not words.

“When she says, ‘How can you ask if I love you? Look at all I’ve done with you. What else would you call it?’

“That kind of love—the kind you realize you already have by the life you’ve created together—that’s the kind that lasts.”

The Reb was lucky to have such a love with Sarah. It had endured hardships by relying on

cooperation—and selflessness. The Reb was fond of telling young couples, “Remember, the only difference between ‘marital’ and ‘martial’ is where you put the ‘i.’”

He also, on occasion, told the joke about a man who complains to his doctor that his wife, when angry, gets historical.

“You mean hysterical,” the doctor says.

“No, historical,” the man says. “She lists the history of every wrong thing I’ve ever done!”

Still, the Reb knew that marriage was an endangered institution. He’d officiated for couples, seen them split, then officiated when they married someone else.

“I think people expect too much from marriage today,” he said. “They expect perfection. Every moment should be bliss. That’s TV or movies. But that is not the human experience.

“Like Sarah says, twenty good minutes here, forty good minutes there, it adds up to something beautiful. The trick is when things aren’t so great, you don’t junk the whole thing. It’s okay to have an argument. It’s okay that the other one nudges you a little, bothers you a little. It’s part of being close to someone. But the joy you get from that same closeness—when you watch your children, when you wake up and smile at each other—that, as our tradition teaches us, is a blessing. People forget that.”

Why do they forget it?

“Because the word ‘commitment’ has lost its meaning. I’m old enough to remember when it used to be a positive. A committed person was someone to be admired. He was loyal and steady. Now a commitment is something you avoid. You don’t want to tie yourself down.

“It’s the same with faith, by the way. We don’t want to get stuck having to go to services all the time, or having to follow all the rules. We don’t want to commit to God. We’ll take Him when we need Him, or when things are going good. But real commitment? That requires staying power—in faith and in marriage.”

And if you don’t commit? I asked.

“Your choice. But you miss what’s on the other side.”

What’s on the other side?

“Ah.” He smiled. “A happiness you cannot find alone.”

Moments later, Sarah entered the room, wearing her coat. Like her husband, she was in her eighties,had thick, whitening hair, wore glasses, and had a disarming smile.

“I’m going shopping, Al,” she said.

“All right. We will miss you.” He crossed his hands over his stomach, and for a moment they just grinned at each other.

I thought about their commitment, sixty-plus years. I thought about how much he relied on her now. Ipictured them at night, holding hands on the edge of the bed.A happiness you cannot find alone.

“I was going to ask you a question,” the Reb told his wife.

“Which is?”

“Well…I’ve already forgotten.”

“Okay,” she laughed. “The answer is no.”

“Or maybe no?”

“Or maybe no.”

She walked over and playfully shook his hand.

“So, it was nice to meet you.”

He laughed. “It was a pleasure.”

They kissed.

I don’t know about forty days before you’re born, but at that moment, it wouldn’t have surprised me to hear two names shouted from the heavens.

(Now the writer is talking about himself)

As a child, I am certain I will never marry out of my religion.

As an adult, I do it anyhow.

My wife and I are wed on a Caribbean island. The sun is going down, the weather is warm and lovely. Her family reads Bible passages. My siblings sing a funny tribute. I step on a glass. We are married by a local female magistrate, who offers us her own private blessing. Although we come from different faiths, we forge a loving solution: I support her, she supports me, we

attend each other’s religious functions, and while we both stand silent during certain prayers, we always say “Amen.”

Still, there are moments: when she is troubled, she asks Jesus for help, and I hear her pray quietly and I feel locked out. When you intermarry, you mix more than two people—you mix histories, traditions, you mix the Holy Communion stories and the Bar Mitzvah photos. And even though, as she sometimes says, “I believe in the Old Testament; we’re not that different,” we are different.

Are you angry with me about my marriage? I ask the Reb.

“Why would I be angry?” he says. “What would anger do? Your wife is a wonderful person. You love each other. I see that.”

Then how do you square that with your job?

“Well. If one day you came and said, ‘Guess what? She wants to convert to Judaism,’ I wouldn’t be upset. Until then…”

He sang. “Until then, we’ll all get alonnng…”

SPRING

Life of Henry (the other guy)

I couldn’t help but compare the Reb and Pastor Henry now and then. Both loved to sing. Both delivered a mean sermon. Like the Reb, Henry had been shepherd to just one congregation his whole career and husband to just one wife. And like Albert and Sarah Lewis, Henry and Annette Covington had a son and two daughters, and had also lost a child.

But after that, their stories veered apart.

Henry, for example, didn’t meet his future wife at a job interview. He first saw Annette when she was shooting dice.

“Come on, six!” she yelled, throwing the bones against a stoop with his older brother. “Six dice! Gimme a six!”

She was fifteen, Henry was sixteen, and he was smitten, totally gone, like those cartoons where Cupid shoots an arrow with aboinngg! You might not view a dice roll as romantic, and it may not seem a fitting way for a Man of God to find a lasting love, but at nineteen, when Henry went to prison, he told Annette, “I don’t expect you to wait seven years,” and she said, “If it was twenty-five years, I’d still be here.” So who is to say what a lasting love looks like?

Every weekend during Henry’s incarceration, Annette rode a bus that left the city around midnight and took six hours to reach upstate New York. She was there when the sun came up, and when visiting hours began, she and Henry held hands and played cards and talked until those hours were over. She rarely missed a weekend, despite the grueling schedule, and she kept his spirits up by giving him something to look forward to. Henry’s mother sent him a letter while he was locked up, saying if he did not stay with Annette, “you might find another woman, but you will never find your wife.”

They were married when he got out, in a simple ceremony at Mt. Moriah Church. He was slim then, handsome and tall; she wore her hair in bangs, and her high smile gleamed in the wedding photos. There was a reception at a nightclub called Sagittarius. They spent the weekend at a hotel in the garment district. Monday morning, Annette was back at work. She was twenty-two. Henry was twenty-three. Within a year, they would lose a baby, lose a job, and see the boiler in their apartment burst in winter, leaving them with icicles hanging from their ceiling.

And then the real trouble started.

The Reb said that a good marriage should endure tribulations, and Henry and Annette’s had done that.

But early on, those “tribulations” were drug abuse, crime, and avoiding the police. Not exactlyFiddler on the Roof. Both Henry and Annette had been addicts, who cleaned up once Henry came home from prison. But after their baby died and the boiler burst and Annette lost her job—and a broke Henry saw his drug-dealing brother with a fat bankroll of hundred-dollar bills—they fell back into that life, and they fell all the way. Henry sold drugs at parties. He sold them from his house. Soon the customers were so frequent, he made them wait on the corner and come up one at a time. He and Annette became heavy users and drinkers, and they lived in fear of both the police and rival drug lords. One night, Henry was taken for a ride with some Manhattan dealers, a ride he thought might end in his death; Annette was waiting with gun in hand if he didn’t come back.

But when Henry finally hit bottom—that night behind those trash cans—Annette did, too.

“What’s keeping you from going to God?” Henry asked her that Easter morning.

“You are,” she admitted.

The next week, he and Annette got rid of the drugs and the guns. They threw away the paraphernalia. They went back to church and read the Bible nightly. They fought back periodic weaknesses and helped one another get through.

One morning, a few months into this rehabilitation, there was a knock at their door. It was very early. A man’s voice said he wanted to buy some product.

Henry, in bed, shouted for him to go away, he didn’t do that anymore. The man persisted. Henry yelled,

“There ain’t nothing in here!” The man kept knocking. Henry got out of bed, pulled a sheet around himself, and went to the door.

“I told you—”

“Don’t move!” a voice barked.

Henry was staring at five police officers, their guns drawn.

“Step away,” one said.

They pushed through his door. They told Annette to freeze. They searched the entire place, top to

bottom, warning the couple that if they had anything incriminating, they had better tell them now. Henry knew everything was gone, but his heart was racing.Did I miss anything? He glanced around.Nothing there. Nothing there—

Oh, no.

Suddenly, he couldn’t swallow. It felt like a baseball was in his throat. Sitting on an end table, one atop the other, were two red notebooks. One, Henry knew, contained Bible verses from Proverbs, which he had been writing down every night. The other was older. It contained names, transactions, and dollar amounts of hundreds of drug deals. He had taken out the old notebook to destroy it. Now it could destroy him. An officer wandered over. He lifted one of the notebooks and opened it. Henry’s knees went weak. His lungs pounded. The man’s eyes moved up and down the page. Then he threw it down and moved on.

Proverbs, apparently, didn’t interest him. An hour later, when the police left, Henry and Annette grabbed the old notebook, burned it immediately, and spent the rest of the day thanking God.

P.S. I'm missing writing. This is just a small attempt to get back to my blog. And this kaput laptop of mine turns me off every time I even try to think bout writing. Let's see if I can. 

Random thoughts...on water!

Friends, I am re-publishing this post after a sweet suggestion from a distant friend. I had deleted this post after I so-called-came-back-to-my-senses thinking how stupid human can be. But it's really assuring to know that there are some people who encourage your stupidity or say, weirdness. And actually call it amazing...And yes that doesn't make you feel out of place!! or say I'm out of place but to a different one where I'm not alone!!! I no more regret what I wrote...And her comment gave my post a brand new title! :)

"It's astonishing to see the power of ONE moment. There's a time when you feel miserable, don't feel like doing anything and feel restless at the same time, even something called musical seems to be a noise, a company seems to be a crowd, amazed by your slothfulness you just prefer waiting...And the very next moment you act as if you can complete all your pending tasks of yours as well as others, start new ones, laugh and actually want to talk to people present around you. What a pity is this, your uncertainty depends on another uncertainty. Any type of worry, loneliness, trouble, anger seeks something that could help to fulfill them. There is no point you feel in thinking whether it's right or wrong!!

Too many thoughts are as dangerous as none. I don't know what I'm suffering with. I wish I had that magic wand that could take out your thoughts on water and make you realize what is actually going on. May be this is what soul mates do. they are your magic wands. Why sometimes you feel so complete within yourself that you don't need any support where as sometimes you desperately search for a meaning to complete you. More, more and more...a journey to no where! There was a time, when you so much loved your family that you thought you would never leave it for anything. Why study abroad, why work anywhere for the amount that you can spend in one day if you want...when you can stay with your people and work, why stay at some place where every wall reminds you of the 'home sweet home' you left behind. You only realize how your desires have made you travel so far when you look back. Those emotions get coated with certain harshness that life leaves on you.

It's so much important to stay happy with yourself than with others...respect your decisions, understand yourself, take care of yourself because you are always with You whether alone or in crowd. It's so much required to be true to yourself in your work, feelings or thoughts. I sometimes think so carelessly I have spent my life that my wallet is so finished. I didn't save anything that could help me now. May be that's why your job earnings and life's earnings are very different and help you in very different realms.

At some points when everyone takes a power nap to rebuild themselves up again with an audit of their life so far, I too feel like pulling my chair near the fireplace and sit. The only thing that makes you feel content is the presence of one person that holds the key to your life, your soul. You know all your wrong doings, painful words, evil thoughts will be taken care of by him(/her)...It's the same feeling when you are at your death bed. You know you are going back to your home. Your father will take care of you now. How bad you were, if you love your father truly deeply madly he will accept you. This lucky you get when you have that one person, your life partner and your death partner!!

There's one beautiful poignant song that is so beautifully written and composed and can be related by any one who listens it. Let's see if you all like it. Enjoy!"

Virtual reality?

Sometimes, life moves so fast...You know you are losing on something but you don’t have much option. I never ever thought what was coming when I wrote “Don’t bug me, hug me!” on a poster for the room. Now I am being paid for finding bugs!! I used to despise hectic office life...zombies rising from bed early morning, flying mechanically in a swarm, spending 9 hours at so-called-work, fly back...start off again! And now, I don’t mind when I see the office herd in the concrete farm mocking me and welcoming me to be a part of it. This is my escape...from myself. Being occupied for 14 hours hardly gives you time for things that you have decorated around for your life. God has been so kind to me, again!! Everytime!! How does he manage to make so many instant changes without affecting others? And how is it perfect for everyone? Now, I can remove things that pain me and keep things for which I can tolerate the pain. Friends call me to make sure I am still on earth and make me realize how boring and silent I have become, that’s so beautiful of them! And allow me to tell you all have enriched my life!!! I still have my moments filled with life so I can’t say I’m drained out.

Today while getting down from the metro stairs I was totally unaware of the incident that would keep haunting me for the rest of the day may be for days. A very normal looking lady was walking ahead of me. As I approached near her, my eyes fell on something in her right hand. It looked like a small stuff toy, probably a puppy...light brown and very clean in texture. As I came closer I realized what I was seeing. I know I didn’t scream but my ears heard it. I quickened my pace and tried to walk away as fast as I could. It was not at all pleasant as I was thinking. Was it a big ginger root?? It was her hand...a deformed one, painfully swollen and huge. It must be heavy for her!

Seeing it I felt as if someone has ruthlessly shaken me from a sweet deep sleep. Seeing it so close, I couldn’t think anything else but ugliness of human beauty. No animal is as ugly and worthless as human. You love so many people in your lives. You want to live with them, be surrounded by them for your whole life. What happens when they die?? Can you keep them any longer?? Do you want to keep them any longer?? You try to get rid of them as soon as possible!

You think you are free. But are you really? Suddenly I was feeling suffocated in my own body. What an ugly cage for me? For me the freedom was to ask nothing, expect nothing and depend on nothing!! Now I am too shallow to feel it, feel anything! I still pray that whatever I saw, let it be my mind’s imagination.

I can still imagine it as if I am seeing it in front of my eyes. I don’t know why this has affected me so much. It was like a truth that was shown to you involuntarily!! Yesterday one of my cousins was telling me an incident about some relative’s death. The husband crossed the road but after hearing a loud crash turns back to find his wife thrown several meters away on road, dead. I think I didn’t hear anything after. What I remember is the sound of wind blowing furiously in my ears as he rode his bike and I prayed never to make anyone unfortunate enough to see their loved ones die in front of them. And for the first time I started fearing the speed of the metallic ride. No chance to survive the super busy road with super fast vehicles if you lost balance once. My mind almost showed me the scenario. Weird!!

In morning I had realized that I haven’t talked at home for complete two days. It was a big deal because mom makes a point to communicate almost daily. And in case of gap for even one day she would call to ask if we have been too busy to care? I was alarmed of the sudden silence. In evening when could not take more of the annoyance created by the morning incident I called home. Sometimes, when you are ready to be the needle everything around you becomes a hammer. Every time, I talk to my grandparents, all they want to know is when I am coming to meet them. With a very soft caring voice, dadi asked me to visit her. I was trying to recall when was the last time I saw her when she told it has been a whole year!! I smiled to myself, it had been only 5 months!!

Human nature is selfish. No offense in it. It was made this way. You lie when you are afraid, you want something to hold on to when you are afraid, you hurt others when you are afraid, you search for love when you are afraid, you leave when you are afraid...

I apologize if you found this post unpleasant. But what more do you expect from the one who thinks she has been dislocated, forgets the start of the sentence as she reaches its end, who doesn’t feel the need to impress others, who likes treasuring her rudeness, who is fascinated about how loving teaches you to understand God!

Take care friends,

God bless you!

Dil gloom gloom kare...

The day had a gloomy start. I don't know what made it so. The heart was growing very nostalgic. May be it was because I woke up late for work. As I rushed for metro station I realized certain sorrow in the air. May be it was just

my heart playing tricks on me. But soon I realized as I witnessed the leaves falling from the trees. Autumn! I had almost forgotten this season. The yellow leaves of the neem flew somberly as the wind carried them and settled

them on the dark road. WOW...That should make a pretty site, eh? I don't think so...These senile leaves brought a beautiful prose by Waris Shah in my mind...

Aithay kaiiyan nu maan wafawan da,
Tay kaiiyan nu naaz adawaan da.
Asi peelay patay drakhtaan de,
Sanu rehnda khauf hwawan da..

It says as I understand it, in this world some people are proud of their commitments and relations they have made so far, some are proud of their appearances and beauty...I'm like the dry yellow leaf of my tree, I fear even the wind! You can't fight the wind, you are connected to the branch by a very humble cord...a gush of wind and you don't know where will you land!

About two hours of my day that I spent in metro these days, today I spent thinking about how lonely everyone is...staying away from their loved ones...just because they think they are doing what they think is right and should be done...

Usually such moments take me back to my hostel days...I didn't like that place but I never quit because I knew I had to do it. I never asked my parents to visit me because I knew I won't be able to see them off. I never left hostel before my friends left because I thought I won't let them stay alone. I was usually the last to go. Two different kinds of good byes...One that stays behind and promises to be there next time they meet. He finds seeing other go easier. One who leaves and promises to come back. He doesn't leaves willingly but he knows he has to leave.

It's like the tree and the leaf?? WEll, the day has made me nostalgic enough to hear one of my favorite songs...I'm amazed at how it acts on my soul and make it relax...

A Love Story

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry...”

Yes, right! It’s from the very popular ‘Love Story’ from Erich Segal. The classical so called ‘guide’ to those who in love and those not! From the moment I entered college I was told that this was the elementary course book one must read!! :P But I strongly avoided to even look at it rather touch it for I knew that the female protagonist dies at the end (sorry if you didn’t know the climax! :D ). My reason was simple: Why read such poignant and sad endings when there’s already so much sorrow and problems in the world and moreover sad thingies are for hopeless people!!

AND...Few days back, I accidently found the same book laying on my bed...the book I’ve been mocking so far! And for once my whole first year flashed before me in that moment and I saw it as an escape...escape from this world to a dreamland, from the noise, from my hopeless self! I was desperately wanting to read something, something light and assuring, without heavy dialogs and life’s wisdom...something happy, peaceful, loving and alive, unlike my days!! Forget the sad ending. I can handle it now. I was glad I didn’t read it before because the waste of time that it would have been for me in those days shall be a good time pass now! And someone inside again laughed at me: ‘At the end, you always do or get what you’ve been hating so far!! You poor b****!!’ Maybe it’s God’s way of showing his superiority, making you do what you haven’t ever thought of and not be able to do what you want. Maybe, it’s his way of reminding human of himself. He wants us to miss him!

Where am I taking my life? Is this what I wanted? If we are what we once thought we would be...what the hell I’ve been thinking!! :P It’s frustrating when you have no one to blame...How can you then smile in adversity, huh?? What has made me so rough, frozen and all so negative? For all these years I’ve been wearing so many different faces that now I’m not sure which one is exactly mine! I wake up every morning and say you’ve messed up!! Instead I wish God to wake me up and say, ‘come let’s go home’...

And at this moment, I’m missing my father...a lot! :( Ours is not a typical father-daughter relation but a very unusual and special in it’s own way. Whenever I miss him I recall a very beautiful incident from my childhood: I was 2-3 and father was away for a day. And I missed him like hell (so strong that feeling was it’s still very clear!! :) ) I desperately wanted to be with him. And I’m a type of person who doesn’t know how to overcome emotional impulses and believes in expressing them away. I wrapped my father’s shirt around my neck like a muffler!! :) :) Mother and grand ma tried hard asking me to give it to them so they could wash it but I just couldn’t let it go!! It had an earthy and sweet smell that made his presence felt and I prayed he would be back as soon as possible. Grand ma asked me laughingly about when he would return. I replied firmly, ‘8 (p.m ,I had zero idea when he would return)’ and exactly at 8 I found him standing at our gate!! I wish I was that little child again...with that innocent and pure soul!! :(

The best part in a girl’s life is when she is the princess to her father. So pampered I was that in my first few days of school I never copied my homework from the blackboard, I remember dad coming in my class after dismissal, sitting on that small chair and copying the time table!! And I was just standing close to him, scared and happy at the same time. He wasn’t there with me in hostel but he was still there. Whenever I look at my childhood pics (all clicked by my father) all I could feel is his presence everywhere! So engrossed he was in taking pictures of mine, that I don’t have him with me in any!! He has never ever given any fatherly lectures or emotional speeches but yet his just few words of wisdom and believes conveyed all what he wanted to say. In one of my cousins wedding, he called for all of us (cousins) and by the time we all arrived we found him snoring, ha ha!! (He loves sleeping and does it whenever he gets some time) So, mom woke him up. I was sitting beside him when he talked about the legendary love stories and how much of pure soul and strong faith is required for such commitment and also how much parents’ blessings is mandatory to make it complete.

I have never seen him crying in my life and I can never imagine tears in his eyes and never ever want to. However he has admitted later whenever he felt weak but he overcame his fears or sorrow with so much courage. He’s a real lion-heart. One night I was getting scared to death (the only moment I remember)...he called me near and made me recite ‘aukhi ghadi na dekhan deyi...’ loudly after him. It was magic!! I have many done this before but everytime it was just a consolation, but now literally my fears vanished!! It was my home again, there was light everywhere!! I don't know what made it; my father's recitation or the words them selves...It was a miracle obviously. The reason he remains stable and unbeaten given any situation is because of his strong faith in the All mighty. He sees God in everything he does and everything happening is God’s will. It’s amazing how he is able to do this all the time!! I wonder how he can hide all the disappointments, worries, fears and ‘love’ inside him every single day!

There have been special but short moments I share with him; I remember once he entered my room, he was happy and was smiling. He extended his right hand to give me something but it was covered with his left. I smiled foolishly (because I didn’t know what to do) with a ‘visible’ question mark on my face. He removed his hand to disclose an artificial red rose and handed it to me!! And all I could recall is saying it was beautiful. It was beautiful, I should have kept it. My first flower! How he said it all with just one smile. It is true when people say a father is daughter’s first love and searches him in his husband. In summer nights on terrace he would talk to us about the universe and other stories of wisdom (I now realize how much I loved those times), he is fond of roasting potatoes, peanuts between the meals (that makes mother frown!) and after he is done with his tandoor he would come out of kitchen and say, ‘Come bête, let’s eat’. I knew whenever I left for hostel what he wanted to say but it was at last hide and seeks of our eyes and unspoken goodbyes!

I also recall a very recent moment when I was having a bad temper that I just couldn’t hide from him (and I was really feeling sorry for that). And to my surprise he changed the topic and started telling a funny incidence from my childhood. I guess he knew it wasn’t all my fault. Was he trying to make me smile? Anyways, his work was done; I knew what he meant and nobody was angry any more.

And now sitting here, writing him I ask myself usual question, ‘How can I make him proud of me? Whether he is happy with me or not?’ How can I pay him back? I just want to stand content when he says putting his hand on my shoulder half-hugging, ‘Layak bête ko sab kuch milna chahiye...’

To whom It may Concern

It’s funny to see life changing. Some changes are very gradual; take years but some are sudden!! Some relations take long to either take birth or die and some just moments...And you act like a wooden doll to this ruthless puppeteer called life...

When you were born you knew only about your parents, siblings...then relatives, neighbours and then more. Then you get to make friends in school. You come to know about whole variety of people available on this earth. You get friends with whom you fight, laugh, share thoughts, and confide every day. You begin to think what you will be without them...that these are the friends you want lifelong and will stay all through. Remember the slogan, friends forever and the pledge that whatever happens we would never separate!? I remember my only best friend of seven years in school and after school I never heard from her!!  

Then life takes a sudden turn, your needs and dreams take you to a completely new world and your old world fades away...So many new smiles, new handshakes, new phone numbers, new relationships, new tears, new pains, new lessons to learn! You hardly get time to miss your single-soul-two-bodies friendship. You don’t even realize when it takes a back seat because you are afraid to stop so that you might not lag behind in the pace of life! You dance to the music of life as if you have those magic musical boots on, you can’t help. As you are growing, you see relations and people you meet now are not that simple as they used to be...the more deep the more they hurt and the less true the more fatal!!! There’s a carnival of people, they come they go, they come they stay they go...

You feel sorry for some of them and for some you don’t even realize their exit. Some leave because they could not get anything from you, some just drifted and you wondered what might have happened, some you decide to stay away from, some just couldn’t make it to your present because the paths were different and you couldn’t alter yours for them...And there might be some whom you never were able to forgive and forget...you still miss them but it may be hard to go back to them.

It’s funny; whom you considered important once is now just another number in population. Some of these numbers decide how you ought to behave, when you need to be nice, when you can’t be yourself, when you can be yourself but good one. They come in form of help, a good luck, companion for a short time, a warning, anything...You needed to meet them all, whether you chose or not.

You one day might decide to clean your phonebook and notice the names that you need no more, names with no more valid numbers, names whose faces you don’t remember any more and names that make you happy whenever you see them. While seeing an old family video today I suddenly realized how time changed for me and how badly I now miss that person sometimes. How unfortunate it is to become strangers after being so close. When you accepted the delivery of these good and closed ones from God, you actually signed an agreement that authorized him to take all away any time when he wants, as he wants, to which you don’t have the right to complain but accept.

Ajeeb tamasha hai mitti de bane lokkan da...

Bewafai karo ta ronde ne.

Wafaa karo ta rawaunde ne...