The songs of my heart

I have changed. Work life has changed. The work has not changed, but people around me have changed. Situations are different. The events are same, but the reactions to those events, which in turn create the situations, have changed. I do not know how to deal with them. I feel lost. It all struck me in the face- like BAM! When I was not ready for it at all.  I came back to office after the maternity leave and suddenly, I have turned into “that aunty of office”. You know, that aunty who arrives late at work, that aunty who is the first person to leave office. That aunty who does not want to work beyond office hours, not even for a minute! Moreover, the one who gets ‘hyper’ and ‘frustrated’ if she must stay beyond office hours and work? Nobody has said this to me. But I feel like that is what is being said without actually saying it. Mostly because, before the maternity leave, I looked down upon all these actions as unprofessional aunty-like behavior. I don’t like this ima...

  सादी सरळ गजाल . म्हाका चाफ्याचे कलम लावपाचे आशिल्लें , आनी तुजेकडेन मेकळी सुवात . Simple deal. झाड म्हजे - तू रोयतलो , जगयतलो .   नर्सरीतल्यान भायर सरतना थंय रातराणी दिसली . हि out of deal. पूण म्हज्या मनाची एक फँटसि - कि म्हज्या बेडरुमाभायर एक रातराणी आसची . अशी स्ट्रॅटेजिकली placed कि रातीं वाऱ्यावेल्लो तीचो परमळ नीट म्हज्याच रुमांत येवचो . हावें ती रातराणीय घेवन तुका दिली . फँटसि चे कांय सांगूंना . तुवें ती खंय रोयली तेवूय केन्ना विचारले ना . आयज दिसलें कि तेंच एक रूपक जावन उरलें - आमचेमदल्या   नात्याचें . संवसारांत जे कितें घडटा , ताका कितेंयतरी हेत / purpose आसता खय . So, was that a sign?   फाटीं ओवळांच्या दिसांनी ओवळांचो वळेसर घेवन , ताच्या परमळांत मुग्ध - धुंद जातना दिसले - अशेच धुंद जाता हांव तुज्या परमळांत . मागीर दिसलें - खरेच - तुजो   दरेक स्पर्श , दरेक नदर , केन्ना केन्ना उतराय - ओवळांवरीच - अचळय सुटून तशीच मोन्यानी देवतात . ते सगळे स्पर्श , उ...

So I changed my menstrual cup in the office washroom yesterday. Without a mess, without any difficulty. Clean job! I am so excited that I want to share this ‘achievement’ and hence, this post. To those of you who have already made a switch to the menstrual cup, I can feel you congratulating me. Thank you so much! To those of you who haven’t yet made the switch, please make it. If I can do this, ANYONE can! Here are some of my experiences. I ordered the cup almost one year ago. I bought the WOW cup after reading up a lot of reviews online and mostly because a friend was using that brand. Well, honestly, I had difficulties using it because -           I was a beginner -           It is soft silicon so the cup wouldn’t open after it went it. I switched to Boondh cup after 2 months - and the world changed. I’ll talk about the advantages first. -     To me, at number 1 wil...

  Textures and weaves Shapes and stiches, Colours and some magic, They gave it all to me one day. I was to make myself a dress I liked.   I made three.   For the first one, I chose the silver moonlight, Filtered through the perfect leaves of the jasmine tree, casting intricate patterns in sheer and lace of my whole tender flesh. For the accessories, I wore some cool breeze in my hair.   For the second, I chose the rain. There was a little chaos on the windowpane Some tiny droplets wandering about the misty planes. I picked that chaos and draped it Calf length. A minimum accessory look. A touch of mist on the lips is all it took.   For the third, I turned to you. A magical pick. This looks like a pattern of how you behold, Of how your eyes move about my body, But when I wear it, I find myself adorning the stars- Glitter and blush on the velvet of my skin. I’d like to finish the look with a rose ...

There is a pattern to how this argument goes – invariably always. So I thought of leaving this pattern here- just in case anyone wants to argue. Filter through this first. They’ll ask, “are you a feminist?” or say something like “that’s so ‘feministic’.” Here, the word feminist is pronounced with a certain tone of disgust. If you mean to ask if I advocate the rights of women, if I believe in equality of sexes, yes, I am a feminist. And I think you should be too. If you mean to ask me if I hate men and think women are superior to men, you must use a different word. Perhaps ‘chauvinist’ is a good option. Wrong use of the word feminism shows lack of homework. Also, remember that it is very irresponsible to spread wrong notions. So use your words carefully. Of course, no, I am not a chauvinist. Every time any injustice/atrocity/insults against women are called out on a mass scale, a counter argument of equal injustice/atrocity/insults on men are called out and the women taki...

Just sit there, Let it sink in. Deep. Like, you know how sometimes a smile, a gaze, a word, a touch, sets butterflies (or burns) around the whole outside of your skin, Or like how sometimes a sight, a smell, or a sound brings down a crashing flood of memories, Just sit there, Let it sink in.  Those butterflies, burns, floods, they like to seep in slowly, get under your skin, rush through your existance and touch your soul. They like to stir in a bit there, (sometimes even whirl) and create little ripples (or giant waves) But you sit there and watch those little brats sink a living heart into darkness (or bliss). In any case,  Just sit there  and let it sink in. Because when they are finally gone,  you will rise with a certain strength. Only, remember, next time around, with all that strength, Just sit there  and let it sink in!

Does this ever happen to you? Like, you are travelling in a crowded bus, and among the mess of pleasant and unpleasant scents in there, you smell a particular perfume. That scent unleashes a flood of emotions in you. Memories. Attachments. Entanglements? Perfume? That insignificant detail? Well, we seem to belong to the creed of people who have a knack of remembering such insignificant details. Time, my friend is an idea that can be killed by an insignificant detail. इस क़दर प्यार से ऐ जान-ए-जहां रक्खा है दिल के रुख़सार पे इस वक़्त तेरी याद ने हाथ This happens! This killer line is NOT an idea.  Memories can be so soothing on the  heartaches.  While leaving the Higher Secondary School midway, I almost broke down while saying goodbye to my favourite professor. He smiled and lovingly and playfully shook my head. I still use the memory of that touch... (not words, no!) to gather my spirit in low times.   एक जंगल है तेरी आँखों में मैं ...

सकाळ फुडें ऑफिसान वतना भायर पिश्या भशेन पावस रकता पळय,   तसो मोग तुजो . इतल्या लागी आसता मात भीजूक मेळना . चाळोवन दाखयता , हारश्यार नाचून वाट आडायता .  सगळ्यांक भिजयता. आनी हाव मात तशेच. Steering wheel कशें सोडू ? आनी हारसो सकयल करत जाल्यार , ऑफिसान कोण बसतलो ते ओले कपडे घेवन? आसू. राव तू भायर , म्हंटा. एक मात कळंना ... विंड स्क्रीनाचे वायपर पिड्यार जाल्यात , काय ....  तसोच तू. पिश्या पावसा भशेन . खंयच्यान तरी भितर सरतलोच. दोळ्यातली दुकां जावन, ना जाल्यार हारश्यावेल्लो दंव तरी जावन!

अहबाब भी ग़ैरोंकी अदा सीख गए है आते है मगर दिल को दुखाने नही आते  अहबाब = friends Friends! I have never been vocal about my love towards my friends. That I am generally not vocal about anything I do is another story, but nonetheless!  It is the greatest pleasure in life to have a true close friend. I consider myself lucky to have more than one of them. It is some euphoric kind of a feeling to love someone more than yourself and then get it back in turn. It is especially rewarding when people mistake your boyfriend to be your best friend and your best friend to be your boyfriend. It is also nice to have a friend who will rightfully share the negativity with you. Says something about the friendship goals. The say friends share and relieve your pain. Those who have true friends will know that this is not true. Bashir Badr has so very rightly pointed out in the above sher that pain is as much a part of friendship as anything else. And if you don't fe...

अंगावर काळ्या कभीन्न मखमलीची शाल पांघरुन रात्र धीम्या गतीने सरकत होती. बोचर् या थंडीची मजा घेत ती गेस्ट हाउसच्या मागे पायरीवर येवून बसली. आजूबाजूला तो चिमुकला गाव शांत झोपला होता. काळ्या मखमली रात्रीवर चंदेरी कुसर काढत चंद्र दूर ढगांच्या आड खेळत होता. दिवसभराचा प्रवास, स्वर्गीय निसर्गात सोबतीने मिळवलेले क्षण, सगळ्या आठवणींनी सुद्धा एक प्रकारची मंद धुंदी चढल्यासारखी झाली. पण याहून जास्त धुंदी चढवत होता तो जवळच वाहणार्या ओढ्याचा गाज. पाणी काही दिसत नव्हतं, पण त्या काळ्या शांततेत जीव ओतत आपल्याच धुंदीत तो खळाळत चालला होता. तिच धुंदी वाटून टाकत. समोर दिसणार्या हिमरांगा जणू  हिर् यांची बरसात झाल्यासारख्या चमचमत होत्या. त्या चंदेरी महालात अनोख्या मधुर तालावर तिचं मन उडत होतं. मागून हलकेच खांद्यांवर येवून विसावलेले दोन्ही हात तिने हळूच हातात घेतले. किंचीत भरू आलेले डोळे मिटून मागच्या मागे डोकं टाकत बिनधास्त ती त्याच्यावर विसावली. ओढ्याच्या गाजात अजून एक लय अलगद मिसळली. त्याच्या काळजाची धडधड. तशीच. बेधुंद.                       ...

"Heaven on earth" it is called. And it is an understatement. Welcome to the experience most people also call 'Kashmir'. However bumpy and long a ride you may have had, you can't stop appreciating the beauty of this place. As for me, I screamed like a kid when I first saw the snow caped mountains in the distance. And that was the least i could do so as to still appear 'in my senses and civility'.  but come on! Do you have any idea what that sight can do to a person who was born and brought up in a western coastal state of India? It does some magic. So to me, Kashmir is magical.  all magic begins with the roads winding through some beat-skipping but breathtaking landscapes. You snake through the tall mountains and deep valleys. The sight of playful rivers running down the mountains and flowing through the valley puts a fresh smile on your face. (Just in case the bumpy ride is taking it away). As you close in on Kashmir, the beauty of everything ar...

The vastness of Himalayas is itself enough to make you realise how negligible your existence is. And there at foothill of a mountain they call tololing , lies another monument which reminds you of that fact. This time even more painfully. Here you are at the Kargil war memorial. There is so much i want to write about this place, but i am at loss of words... I mean, what do you call all those feelings? For once, I know i felt proud when i entered the gate. Yes you read the gleaming "forever in operations" slogan and the tall fluttering tricolour and you have a pleasant proud smile on your face. It slowly fades when you  see a documentary which narrates how the war and other events unfolded. And you get a sudden shock. What do you call that shocking kind of a feeling you get when you realise that this is not a war movie on screen...dude -this -is -real -war footage. And then one jawan tells you that you are standing in front of tololing and tiger hill and this is exactly w...

'A wave' can never define an ocean My gaze can never define the sky. I refuse to spoil the beauty of vastness by limiting it to a frame. To contain feelings in a combination of alphabets is foolhardy. Words are frames. Body is a limit.  I see 'me' soaring. Beyond. I see love. And no, my love doesn't look like a red rose.

 "Count your life by the experiences, not days." You live this line. The philosophy of indifference fails to convince you. You have decided to live the experiences. Good and bad, happy and sad,the angst, anxiety, love, loss, hope, fear, excitements, surprises, breaking, aching, healing, soothing, humor, sarcasm, everything! Every experience is different when you live like that. Every feeling is new  Except a few.  You find that some experiences are repeating in a pattern. And you don't reject those. Strangely, You hold on and experience them repeatedly. It is as if you are addicted to the feeling. And you are not afraid to face it. You feel love. In all it's forms. You  see yourself going all out about it, giving it all of you. Gambling everything and forgetting that you could lose. You don't fear loss, nor heart aches. There are always tears which drown your soul. There is dejection. People don't understand you and you face rejection. There is ...