Its been real long since I blogged...here is a small post..

He slept in her arms, wrapped in a shabby cloth, his head dangling without any support. His face was covered with dirt and grime. Tear marks were highlighted on his face because of the dirt deposited on the tracks. His lips were cracked and slightly departed, he seemed to be in deep slumber, but something about the way he slept made me feel queasy. The lady carrying him, tossed him in air to adjust his curled up body against hers, and still he slept in that deep deep slumber. This tossing up of his body made me observe his tiny right hand, it had a little rakhi tied on his wrist, it brought some warmth to the cold scene in front of my eyes. But it was only short lived, soon the skin of his hand became clearly visible as our car moved closer, the skin on his arm was shriveled, due to a burn I presume. It reminded me of a scene from a bollywood movie, where babies his age are given heavy doses of drugs so that they don't cry because of hunger or thirst. I send a small prayer for him.

I wonder about every comment, they say its constructive, constructive criticism. They pride themselves in crushing creativity, in crushing individuality. Some don't criticize, they just pass an order, a rule you need to follow without questioning. And I wonder is it my life or theirs? Why do I keep killing myself to be true on someone else's idea of an idol person. Why am I being watched over by everyone? Why all those million sets of eyes lock up on me? My eyes turn misty, I look up at the sky, all in vain, what would he know, who himself created this divide, sitting up there smirking at our plight!

I stand alone as my lungs fill with the dry summer air. A heavy heart and cold sigh have just possessed me. I look towards the moon amidst the scant patches of clouds. It just doesn't look beautiful. I stare straight ahead blankly, at the half finished concrete structure. The kids scream as they play and vehicles honk and dodge them. The reality has slapped me right across my face many times. Every single time I protest, with a faint hope in my heart, wishing it should not be this way, as its not right. My head feels numb again, yes I always get this feeling when I am low or furious. A voice inside me says, its been so many years, why don't you just give up and face the reality and accept life the way it is, it only says this so that it can ease my pain and I should not suffer again. Its hard to give up on that hope, the tiny rebel in me survives only on that, wishing, yes wishing against wish, that the life of my dreams does exist.

23rd April 2009 15th Lok Sabha Elections (2nd Phase)
My father had registered our names for the voting list almost 2years back. Our attempts to vote in the past were futile, as we would search our names in the voting lists and would return disappointed.
Finally, we came across www.jaagore.com thanks to the TATA Tea Advertisement, and found our names in the voter list. The information helped us a lot, we found our polling station's address and booth number all online.
We visited the booth in the morning around 10am and the whole process barely took any time. I was excited, this was the first time I got to vote, and it felt great to do my bit for the country. I now proudly flaunt my inked finger! :)

The hot summers remind me of my school days. The long summer vacations were fun, mischief and carelessness. Behind all these, there always lay a small fear, of not completing the summer vacation homework. The homework, we would tend to forget and feverishly try completing a couple of days before the school was to begin.

I get that little fear again and I hate it. I don't have any homeworks to complete, the summer vacations are long gone. Still I get that feeling at times and I totally hate it. Now that I think of it, it was so cruel of the teachers to give us summer vacation homework, it would somehow, somewhere prevent us from having 100% fun. The fun we so very well deserved. It saddens me to see, we are so bound by little things in life, which prevent us living our own lives.

A small trip from Norwalk to New York, in a train, Merrit7 to Grand Central. A plane from Mumbai to Brisbane via Singapore. A walk from nowhere to somewhere. I so want to walk away, just walk into the unknown. Walk to a place where no one is waiting for me, away from a place where no one bids good byes, expecting a safe return. I just wished I could walk one day into the morning mist and disappear. I so wish.

I am not running away, if you think so, I care not. I just want to live my life once only for me without that little fear holding back my heart's desires. I want to be free once, just once.