A clear blue sky above, with a few fluffy pure white clouds dotting it. The ocean below, bluer than the sky, the cold wind caressing the ocean water as it softly blows. The sun warming my body when it shivered because of the cold wind. The wind provided relief when my skin burned in the sun. The sweet play of the two of them on my body made me smile, as the sweet voice of the ocean water sang to me from its depth. The rough sand clings to my skin and slowly trickles down as I make attempts to hold it.

I run towards the water, the wind softly blows my hair, I hop and then jump with a loud splash in the crystal clear water. The bubbles around me rush for the surface. I float, the soft and smooth water splashes against me with a rhythm. A sea gull hovers above balancing itself against the mighty wind.

I dive deep, the sun's rays filter through the water, sparkling. The soft water pushes me ahead with its flow, the sand below on the ocean floor becomes the canvas of the sun and the ocean water. Waves become the brush strokes and the wind the painter.

Who says there is no such thing like magic. If this isn't magic then what is?

कब जानी थी उसने १ रुपए की कीमत? शायद गरीबी ने उसे माँ के पेट से ही सिखा दिया था | उसे तो अब यह भी याद न था की कबसे उसने पैसे जोड़ने शुरू किए | बरसों से पैसे जोड़ता रहा उसका परिवार, पर कभी पुरे नही पड़े | न तो उसे शराब और जुए की लत थी न ही वो फिजूल खर्ची था | साल भर पैसे जुटाता तब कहीं दिवाली पर घर में चार दिए जलते |  

गाँव छोड़ शहर में आ बसा, मेहनत मजदूरी कर कमाने खाने लगा | शहर उसे कभी नही भाया, अजीब सी दौड़ में सब यहाँ भागते रहते | वो शहर में होते हुए भी शहर का कभी हिस्सा नही रहा | जब अपनी हाथ गाड़ी के पास दो पल सुस्ताने बैठता तो दूर से ही शहर को और शहरवासियों को निहारता रहता | चमचमाती गाड़ियों में लोग सर्राटे से निकल जाते | एक अजीब सी उधेड़ बुन में सब फसे थे | कहने को उनमे और इसमें कई फरक थे पर फ़िर भी पैसे जोड़ने की दौड़ में दोनों लगे थे |  

एक सुखी रोटी देख उसने पेट भरना सीख लिया था | शहर की दौड़ती भीड़ को देख उसने जीना सीख लिया था |

The dirt road curved through the desert sand, the sun shone with all its might in the afternoon. Her little feet hurried as the road beneath burnt her little bare feet. Her red worn out frock fluttered in the breeze. Her face was covered with dust and her parched lips were dry but curved in a half smile.

As she came closer to the hut, she increased her speed and hopped and jumped. As she reached the door she came to an abrupt halt and stood at the door. The door was wide open, and she peeped inside and her smile widened into a grin.

The girl sitting inside caught the glimpse of her standing at the door. Her sight made her eyes sparkle and she frantically waved her arm and beckoned her little sister inside. The little one couldn't conceal her happiness and shrieked with joy. She ran across to her elder sister, and threw herself at her. Her sister hugged her tightly and tickled her playfully. 

She laughed and gasped for breath, her sister pulled the plate kept in front of her. She then picked up little morsels of food from the plate and fed her little sister. She ate hungrily and giggled in between looking at her sister. Her sister's eyes filled with tears looking at the joy of her younger sister. Deep within her heart she thanked God for the food and returned to feeding her little sister and they both smiled.

I feel empty as I sit here, ironically this emptiness makes my heart heavy. I swivel in my chair and ponder on a thought I can't think of. Its a beautiful evening outside and the child in me wants to go out and play.

I want to laugh at myself and at the same time I feel like crying. I feel angry and I feel sorry at the same time. In short I am lost and frustrated!

I don't know what to write and at the same time I have to write! 

An inspiration..

A holiday finally cleared my mind, as I lay on my bed, besides my mother. I couldn't stop my mind from wandering. I felt empty as work had taken up most of my last 3 months, I was drained physically & mentally. I turned in my bed, as cool breeze blew over my face, I looked at the shadow of a plant on the wall, casted by a construction site's halogen bulb. I had this sudden urge of reading, reading the blog of Rahul Pandita - Sanity Sucks. My mind races, sensing my mother still awake, I tell her about Rahul. 

"Maa, you know I read a blog written by a journalist. You won't remember his name, but during the Kargil war he would often report live from Kashmir. In one of his blogs I read how he is helping the mothers of Eastern India, where children often fall prey to drug abuse. Rahul decided to help these women, and he had a friend back in Delhi, who was good at making caricatures. They decided to start publishing comic strips to raise awareness and help in this movement. He gave up his job of journalism, and is now writing a book."

My mother asked, "What about the women? Did the movement help?"

I said, "Yes, it did."

I wondered, its been quite sometime since I read that story of his. I wondered whether I even remembered the facts clearly.

My mind raced back, almost 5-6 years back, I don't recollect completely. I had just entered home from college I threw my bag, and watched the TV as I sat munching on the dining table. A news report from Kargil was being telecast live, a name in white flashed on a strip of red at the bottom - Rahul Pandita, and a voice said, "... with cameraman ... reporting live from Kargil ... Rahul Pandita". I smiled, picked up my phone and called up my friend, Avinash Pandita, a Kashmiri, his best friend's name was Rahul Koul. I asked him, "Do you know any reporter called Rahul Pandita?" He said "No." Of course, it was this co-incidence that I could never forget Rahul Pandita's name. I happened to tell both Rahul and Avinash the next day in college about the reporter on Zee News (or was it Star News I don't remember now) named 'Rahul Pandita'.

Years later, I had started to blog, and had started to read many blogs. One day, while browsing through the list of one of the blogger Jugal, whose blogs I used to frequent often, I stumbled upon an interesting blog, where Jugal was a contributor and there were innumerable other contributors too. But, my eyes caught one particular name, 'Rahul Pandita'. My heart raced, and I wondered is he the same Rahul Pandita?!

A young boy in his twenties, wearing sun  glasses sitting on a low compound wall, that was his profile picture. That was the first time I saw him, I don't remember him from any of his news telecasts. But the white name on the red strip, flashed in front of my eyes again. At that time I had thought Rahul would be a man, in his late thirties or early forties, with a thick moustache, reporting from Kargil. But I was quite taken aback when I saw this picture of his.

I then clicked on his profile, and read that he was writing a book and thought, wow how cool is that! There were 3 blogs in his profile, the second one was where I had found him, where he contributed along with Jugal. The 3rd one caught my eye, it read, 'Sanity Sucks'.

I clicked on it, the background was an image, from a village, it was the picture of a brick wall of a house. It had a small closed window, which had a steel glass kept on it. I liked the picture, it reminded me of my granny's village. I read his posts, most of them, I barely worked for two days in office. I only read his blogs, and talked about his blogs during lunches and coffee breaks.

Read blogs about him in Delhi, about several other things, refugee camps, Abshaar, tomatoes. I discussed his blog with my Kashmiri friends on lunch the following Sunday. Of course my friends were younger than Rahul and didn't remember much about refugee camps. However, Rahul Koul, my friend, did narrate his adventure about their leaving Srinagar and moving to Udhampur. Vinay Raina too remembered, how sad he felt leaving his cricket bat back home, which he never got again. I proudly told Ashu, I learnt a new Kashmiri word - Abshaar. A song from the movie Yahan echoed in my head - Urzu Urzu durkut ... I pictured Rahul Pandita, sitting in Abshaar, as a guest in his own home.

I would often read his posts, I used to love reading them before going to bed. They always made me think, they made me think a lot. I purposely skipped most of his posts, they were real, they were true, truth so bare I knew I couldn't bear.

I turn again in my bed and my mind wanders again, I picture my self in a book store in Delhi. Its the launch of Rahul's book, I buy a book and move towards him, he doesn't look like that boy in his profile picture now, the sun glasses have been replaced with a pair of spectacles. I see the resemblance to his current profile picture. I hand my book over to him, he autographs it and smiles. I smile back, thousands of thoughts race in my mind, I wonder should I tell him that I read his blogs. I pick the book, and start walking away, I reach the exit and I turn back and look at him signing other books. I want to open the book and look at his autograph, but my mind cannot imagine his autograph, it draws a blank page and I like to leave it that way. I clutch the closed book, in my hands and walk out from the exit door.

I complained that traveling for 40kms each side to my office, never left me with enough time to blog. I would leave my home at 8am in the morning and would not reach earlier than 8:30pm often. I would normally sleep in the bus, which was a good way to spend the 4hours of travel. However, today I thought as I haven’t been giving myself the creative freedom that my restless mind deserved, I decided to put my mind to work and blog while my back aches during this journey.

 

I had to write about many things, a year back I was to write about our short vacation, to my birthplace followed by little adventures I had in Ujjain, Dewas & Indore. But I never got myself to writing it. Now, I wait to write about my Australia travel, a 15 day official visit to Gold Coast.

 

One thing I cannot get myself to write about is a trip, the reason is that, my mind starts to race and it floods with multiple thoughts and feelings. To top it being a software engineer, I feel laziness is not a bad habit it’s just my birth-right and it’s morally correct to be lazy.

 

Yawn! We are stuck in a jam, and my bus is crawling and I am getting distracted, a couple of guys are watching Phoonk on the seat right behind me. I hate horror movies, although I find them thrilling and I enjoy them.

 

I don’t mind confessing, that I couldn’t sleep alone at night. I needed someone at least in the house if not in the same room. I have always stayed with my parents and only for couple of years I was in a boarding school where almost 40 girls slept in the dormitory.

 

Well, the Australia trip at least taught me to sleep alone, in a room all by myself, and I am proud of it, and my bus still crawls, I assume the clock will strike 9pm today; I have a gut feeling we are going to set a record ;)

 

 Its festival season in Maharashtra, with the 6th day of Ganpati festival, we do expect a lot traffic because of the celebrations. On second thoughts I want to close this laptop and watch the colourful pandals erected outside :D and I succumb to the temptation. J

 

Bye..

 

Oh damn! Looks like I missed the major pandals on the road, now we will hit the highway and I don’t reckon we will see a lot of them there, and also I need to get my mind onto something, the sounds of the horror movie behind makes me feel creepy!!

 

P.S: I am watching Horton hears a Who!! :)

Wow.. blogging after a long long time.. and was quite taken aback with the new look of blogger..
anyways.. lots to write .. tonnes to share.. in this period I saw some of the worst and some of the best days of my life.. I don't know where to start.. a pathetic team at office .. my mother suddenly taking ill at midnight or the awesome Australia trip which followed..
I guess I will keep the posts to the Australia trip... that will keep everyone interested..
P.S: I feel great coming to blogger.. :) Thanks Blogger.. I thought I would need psychiatric help without you.. ;) ok.. thats getting senti .. lemme get back to my post.. and the ones which will follow..
Australia Trip - 3rd Aug to 16th Aug
Gold Coast, Southport, Queensland, Australia
Holiday Inn - A room on 7th Floor
Winter in Australia - 4 deg C to 14 deg C with strong winds

There is so much to write.. I guess I will put each day one at a time..
In short.. this trip taught me a lot .. I grew and learned a lot as a person .. this was my first trip alone, abroad, to a place so far. Yea! I was a boarding school student in 5th n 6th std .. didn't understand much and never was away from home after that.

I don't want your expectations to be soaring, this trip had its own adventures but don't expect adventures which you may find in a Batman comic or a Tin-Tin comic!

So watch out for the forthcoming posts and some great pics to follow!

After so many days.. I felt that numbness again.. the numbness of your brain.. its that feeling when you don't want to feel anything..
Today a new realization, about me, dawned upon me.. in short I had one of those moments of 'self-realization', not the spiritual kinds, just when you come face to face to your own self..
Well, after that.. you go into that do-not touch me mode i.e. the numbness feeling.. and then things start connecting, and you realize how deep rooted your feelings were.. and you knew your very desire since the beginning, as all your dreams were those desires.. and how ironically, its someone else's words which make you realize that..
Then the worst part.. you start judging those desires, and I wonder why do we have to classify everything into 'Right' or 'Wrong'?! Why can't there be a classification like.. "Nothing"!! Or "Just another thing" or "Anything"!!!
Then the next bad part follows, the guilt trips, yeah I know they are terrible too.. but well.. you feel guilty of not fulfilling your desires and betraying them, and then you feel guilty of being weak and giving in to your desire of fulfilling your desires.. ah.. I know its complicated I hate it too.. so lets leave it at that..
And then you write a blog to pour out your confusion, which results in confusing others.. nevertheless, you feel light.. you smile and carry on with your day! Feeling numb again?!

Happy Mother's Day
One of my mother's favourite song.. it's a beautiful song! Enjoy it mom! :)

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The town was devoid of green vegetation, a hot fierce breeze blew through it. The jeep stopped in front of the old house, which was just falling short of being called a ruin. He got down from the jeep, shielded his eyes against the hot afternoon sun, and after looking at the house, stared back at his friend, with anger in his eyes. His friend just shrugged and waved at the driver to start the jeep.

He stood on the road, in front of the gates, with his hands still shielding his eyes, he watched the house. Its garden was dry, a few pots were lined along the couple of the stairs which led to the door. The walls were bare and seemed that never were they coated with paint. The windows had their panes missing and the wooden frames had decayed long back, they appeared to be just holes in the old walls.

He shook his head in vain, and opened the gates, he slowly walked towards the door. The door, was locked, he peeped in through the broken window, the house had only one huge hall, and there weren't any other rooms in it. He sat at the stairs, and waited.

He didn't realize how long he waited, and when did he start fondling with the pot kept next to the stairs. When suddenly, his hand touched something funny, he picked it up, and when he looked at it, it was a black doll. He stared at it, the doll was barely 4 inches tall, and it appeared that not a skilled person had stitched the doll. It wasn't aesthetically pleasing either, as the doll had its face and limbs painted in white. He looked at the pot, and realized that the doll was tied to the plant with a black thread. The plant was dry and the mud in the pot seemed untouched for years. He threw the doll back in the pot, when something poked his finger. A drop of blood soon appeared at the tip of his finger, he squinted at the pot, and saw that a tiny nail stuck out from the place where the doll was earlier tied. He rolled his eyes, and kicked the pot in anger.

He sat waiting again, the afternoon didn't seem to end, the sun was still high up in the sky. When he looked down, his eyes fell on the old woman at the gate, she stood there staring at him. Her hair were white, but dirty, her white gown, was tattered and she looked filthy. He couldn't clearly look at her face, as her hair fell upon her face. There was a huge sack which she dragged behind her. He got up as she approached him. He was still observing the old lady as she pulled her sack behind her, while climbing the stairs.

He suddenly heard hurried footsteps behind him, he turned to look, finally they had arrived. The girl ran to him, while the old lady, her grandmother, who accompanied the girl, walked as fast as she could with the help of her walking stick. The girl held his hand, when she felt the wet blood, she looked at his finger and then looked in his eyes puzzled. Her grandmother reached to her as she stood there staring at his blood stained hands.

The creaking of the old doors, caught their attention. The old lady in white had entered the hall and was seated on the floor untying her sack. The girl stared alarmingly, and quickly looked at her grandmother with concern. Her grandmother returned her concerned look and looked down at the boy's hands, as blood slowly trickled down his fingers. He stood there looking at his hands, he was puzzled, thinking how can a mere pricking of the nail make his hand bleed so much.

The girl squeezed his hands, he lifted his eyes to look at her, she had spotted the pot and the voodoo doll, she turned to look at him. She had turned white with fear, she passed a questioning look at him, and he nodded in affirmation. She started breathing heavily, she was panicking, she pulled her grandmother's arm and beckoned her towards the door. They both quickly turned towards the door, and froze almost immediately. They stared with their mouth agape at the old lady inside the hall.

The old lady and extracted the corpse of a girl from her sack. The girl must have been some 13 or 14 years old. Her waist length hair fell over her shoulders, her mouth was slightly open and her eyes were partially shut, where only the whites of her eyeballs were visible. Her frozen blood, made her appear blue. The old lady looked at the three of them, her eyes were bloody red and her pupils were white. The three of them stood there looking at Death staring back at them.

ZACK - The Innovator

I created this animation film using chalk on blackboard..



Thanks to Abhishek my friend for manning the Camera!
A double thanks to my family for bearing with me all the while, and thanks to Bhabhi, for playing the role of a critic for my Coffee Cup's (Zack) expressions and design!

Also, thanks to the wall, which sadly got completely devoid of paint when the temporary blackboard was scrapped off its face! Tonnes of thanks to Papa, for having the patience, and the energy to get our home completely painted again after this wall's disaster! :D

P.S: I know I sound like a celebrity at a Filmfare award function.. but wat the heck, I am a celebrity already!

It was a full moon night, a few discrete bunch of clouds dotted the night sky. The moon light made the clouds glow with a silvery mist. A silent breeze blew, it was so subtle that it was hard to notice it. The breeze wasn't cool yet, still it provided some respite from the heat. A couple of neon bulbs sparkled atop the distant hill, saving the bulbs and the moonlight, the hill was engulfed with darkness. A dog barked carelessly and soon another one joined him, but they too fell silent soon. Silence is golden, is what the article was all about in the Sunday Times. It spoke of people preferring to remain silent to prove a point. But, did any one ever notice, that silence can not always be a choice, but sometimes a person can also be forced to remain silent.

She didn't know, exactly what made her fall silent. But, it was gradual, and certain circumstances made her silent. The silence was just as gradual as the splitting headache which she gets now. She wanted a break from the city, a break from the usual yada yada of the people around her, from the noises which were so inherent to the city, that it only worsened her headache. She wanted to escape.

Escape, not as a coward, but escape to explore herself, to find herself, to search for the girl who was long lost in the city and the expectations which the city threw at her. She had lost herself in fulfilling these expectations and couldn't realize till it was quite late. She knows now too, that escape is merely a dream, a mere wish, in her heart.

The city left her so empty that the fragile being which she is now, doesn't have the strength to search for herself. She sits here, in this moonlight, waiting as the city eats away at her strength, rendering her weaker by the second. She sits here getting lost again.

Words of Wisdom - Part I

Today I started a new thread, called 'My Words of Wisdom' :-) where as the name suggests, I will be posting some words of wisdom.. and will simultaneously post explanations of those words, which are difficult for you to understand, as you can't match my wisdom! :D

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A friend asked me to comment on "time management" and who is better at it - men or women?
I said - "Men are never on time, Adam was too early and all the others after him were too late"

Explanation-
Women are natural, when it comes to Time Management, they juggle between home, office, shopping and the list is endless.
Adam was too early, as he was the trial piece of work and Eve was the master piece, which followed the trial version. All the other men were too late to even visit the garden of Eden, and Adam had the apple, others couldn't.

My today's visit to the post office finally made me write this post. Every visit to the post office reminds me of the famous serial Malgudi Days. Why? Here is why ...
Its situated in an old structure, dating back to the time when British ruled us. It has those typical stone walls and red brick roof on the outside. On the inside it has that typical high ceiling, which requires a minimum of 10feet rods to suspend ceiling fans. It smells of old papers and glue, and of the wooden girders which support the ceiling. The men in the post office at times seem to be as old as the building itself.
These buildings always filled me with mixed emotions, on one hand when they would remind me of sweet past and of serials like Malgudi Days. Yet sometimes I couldn't feel one with them, because they also felt foreign to me, maybe because of their English architecture.
The part which makes me really uneasy, is when I see these grandfather figures in the post office working on computers. Trying to type, using only the index fingers of their hands. No-no don't get me wrong, I ain't against computerization or modernization of post-offices. But the setting of the post office, and of the huge mango trees in its backyard, make me feel that this building should be inhabited by babus wearing Kolhapuri chappals along with dhotis and a white long shirt, with paan stained lips and deep set eyes peering over thick framed glasses, with neatly oiled graying hair, the oil smelling of chameli . Don't get me wrong again, I ain't making fun of their fashion sense, lest I wouldn't call them grandfather figures. But, its just that all these years, one has the tendency of associating old buildings with old time babus, who sadly have become a rare sight now.
Now one can only find such associations in serials like Malgudi Days or one's imagination. It does make me feel uneasy, when I hear the screeching printers in place of the thuds of the rubber stamps, which were so typical of a post-office. It does make me feel uneasy, when I see barely a couple of people at the post-offices, when there was a time, one would have to wait for hours for his turn at the post-office. Although, we still have postmen who drop our letters at the mailbox and we don't even see them for years together. Whereas, there was a time, when postmen were friends, old uncles on cycles, those who helped you cross roads when you would return from school. Those, who shooed away the dogs, when you played with your friends. Those, for whom we would wait for hours, to deliver us those letters from loved ones!
I wish at times, I would get my old India back, the India which is now only a memory in serials like Malgudi Days!

It was a winter afternoon, but the heat was no less than the one experienced in May. I got down from my bus and headed for the six-seater stand. There was a kid hailing passengers to his vehicle, which was roaring with a rhythm, I wondered, whether these vehicles are ever shut down? I crammed my way in, sitting next to a lady, with a bold magenta lip color adoring her lips. The sun shone straight at my face, through the broken window of the seater. The kid sitting opposite me wiped sweat off his brow. A college girl with a hat, came and sat next to the boy. I couldn't help but think, things were so much better when we were in school, we had set aims, school then college and then engineering and then a good job. Little did we know that the real struggle starts here, and all this time we would think that it all ended here. I wondered whether do these people have the same questions running in their minds, that college girl, the lady next to me, the kid in front of me, the uncle sitting next to the driver.

I looked at the shops, its been so many years, I have taken the same road home, its almost 10years I have been plying to and fro on this road. There were bushes here, barren land, some huts, I remember zipping on this road on a friend's sunny and often on my scooty. It was rarely crowded then, and now, there is a perpetual traffic jam. 3 new malls have sprung in that stretch, which can be covered in say some 20 steps, the 4th mall is nearing completion.

I wonder, even the land has progressed, but have I? Well, I ain't doing all that bad, I have a super job which most people envy, I have a great life, a good pay check and most importantly I stay with my family. My mummy waits for me to get back home, there is always her lap to cuddle up, and cry when things get nasty. Its just about perfect.

Yup, just about, I wonder, why did I say just about. My stop had come, I request the boy to tell the driver to stop. I get up and hit my head against the roof, drag my bag, and my jacket gets stuck in some nail, which is nearly invisible. I struggle to free my jacket while trying to maintain my balance among innumerable pairs of legs, with their knees touching each other in a pattern which looked interwoven. I finally manage to get my jacket free, I can't hold my bag its too heavy and there is no place so that I can carry it well. I end up dragging it on top of the rail of all those legs, hitting my head a minimum of six times, and finally I jump out and take a deep breath. I pay the driver, and haul my bag over my back. Every time I do this I invariably think of the donkey's story. The one, where a merchant would place sacks of salt on the back of his donkey, and the donkey would sit in the river while crossing it, so as to reduce the load. I wished for a river, sadly my bag wasn't full of salt.

I look at the hotel, which had opened displacing a school, the parking of the hotel was a ground. I remember an old lady used to grow vegetables here, and we would buy our daily veggies from her, that was around six years ago. I keep walking. I think of school. It was when I was in school, that I would return at this hour. There was always some homework to do, there was the urge to beat your friends at badminton again in the evening, there were some table tennis tricks to learn. I don't know what will I do today on returning home, we have to go shopping for some things, but all depends on mummy's plans for the day.

I see a bus parked near the mangal karyalay, oh another marriage, it was a sleeper coach, looks like the baraatis had traveled from far. I kept walking, the colony which I was crossing, was silent, everyone must be enjoying their afternoon slumber I thought. I pass the school playground, two kids were playing alone, I wondered, do they know what life is, will they think the same when they reach my age?

Aroma of delicious food filled my nostrils, hmmm, caterers at work already! I enter another colony, this one too was drowned in their slumber. A boy lead two young kids, to tuitions, they were carrying theirs bag too.

I reached the road, which connected my colony to the one I just crossed, it was dug up completely. Oh no! No use thinking on this, there were some workers placing some optical fibers. I kept walking, construction had begun in the neighboring plot, another colony was to shoot up. So many years, all we heard were earth movers, drillers, concrete churners, we had a splitting headache earlier, but thanks to the human tendency of adaptability.

I reach my colony, my vehicles parked neatly in the parking. The lift as usual was on rest at the 9th floor. I remember mummy saying, if we had 90 floors in the building, our lift would always be on the 90th floor. I press the button, and move on to check my mail box while the lift crawls, its way down. Oh, the telephone bill!

I enter the lift, press 4 and switch on the fan, counting the floors in my mind. I reach my floor head for my door and press the door bell. Mummy was waiting for me, she opened the door and smiled, I grinned back and screamed 'Paani!' She fetched me a glass of water, while I littered the house by throwing my belongings, as I moved towards the sofa. I sprawled, and quenched my thirst and smiled at mummy thinking 'Yes, just about perfect life!'

She looked at him, her sparkling eyes smiled. He always lost himself in her eyes. She smiled and said, "Yes, I understand everything, now that I have experienced it." He playfully sighed and winked at her, she softly punched him, and both of them laughed. She said "You know what, I feel light, I feel very light." He said, "Yup, I know, you simply complicated things, and burdened yourself." She smiled approvingly and said, "I am such a nut!" He grinned and said "Was!" She giggled and said, "Ya, I was such a nut! I hope I stay this way! I wonder how you do it?" He said "Its easy, just don't do too much of thinking. Thinking is good, but don't overdo it. One important thing, think logically and not emotionally." She said "I guess emotions come bundled with girls, its like 'ek girl ke saath free mein aate hain' " and she laughed. He said "If they are free, you shouldn't feel bad in getting rid of them, after all they don't cost you a thing, rite?" She smiled and nodded approvingly.
They sat there sipping their coffees, and looking at the city passing them by, she thought how she was one of them, running forever, initially she thought, if she has to be in the city, she has to run, its implicit, thats what the world expects from you. Until, he came in her life and clarified things, he taught her to live for herself, she was living for others, who didn't even care about her, and at times didn't even remember her name. She closed her eyes, it was bliss, being in the city and still not being part of the maddening rush, she felt calm and peaceful.
She opened her eyes, and looked at him, he was enjoying the music, she hadn't even realised there were songs playing, she was so engrossed in her thoughts. She cleared her mind, and let the music and coffee fill her senses.
After a while, they left the coffee shop, he held her hand, she looked at their hands, and thought how her hand fitted his so well. On their way back, when they stopped at a signal, she spotted a huge ad, "Tata Safari - RECLAIM YOUR LIFE!"
She smiled.

It was a cold night, she lay awake in her bed, a blanket over her head. It was quite late in the night, may be 1am or even 2am, she didn't care. Tired of tossing and turning in her bed, she just lay flat. She felt drained, drained not physically, not mentally, she just felt that she had lost all the energy that she possessed. She removed the blanket from her face, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

The moonlight filled her room, she turned and looked at the moon rays falling on the floor from the window. She just stared at it, for how long, she herself was unsure. She felt tempted to go outside and stare at the moon, but she had no energy left. She remembered the days, when she would open all the curtains and drag her bed under the moonlight and lie down staring at the moon. Somewhere deep down in her heart she still wanted to do it, but she was puzzled, she couldn't get herself to do it anymore. She stared at the rays falling on the floor, and she realized that the rays which drew a bright rectangle of around 1 feet was reduced to a mere slit of an inch.

She jumped out of her bed, her warm feet pressed against the cold floor, she walked slowly towards the window, and craned her neck to take a glimpse of the moon. But it was too late, the moon hid behind the roof. She looked at her feet, as the last rays slowly disappeared casting her feet in darkness. She slowly walked back to her bed, and her feet turned numb, as they pressed against the cold floor.