The sky is a canvas!

Collage of colors

Colorful paper art sold outside a Post-office in Leh

Memories-Remembering 9/11 victims in New York city

Memories-A fast buck

This is an incident about my childhood which is stuck in my memory and would probably always be there for the rest of my life.
It was a wedding in my neighborhood in the beautiful city of Chandigarh, Punjab. It is a custom in Punjabi weddings to throw money in the air when all the guests are dancing in the streets to the rhythm of the "dhols" (drums) played by "dholwallahs". The money thrown was then collected by beggars, domestic helps and the guys playing the dhol. I was a six year old then who was invited to the wedding with my parents, watching the proceedings with boredom when it suddenly struck me that I could make some quick pocket-money in that situation.

I eyed the coins and the currency notes scattered on the road with lust and was looking for an opportunity to pick up a few coins and stuff it in my pockets before anybody could notice. Throughout the celebrations, my total concentration was on the road, looking for currencies which went unnoticed by the beggars and dhol-players. What I did not know, was that my father, who was on the first floor of the nearby building, was watching the entire episode from the balcony and had read my intentions correctly.

After the celebrations were over, and as I was headed home, I suddenly felt a strong hand on my shoulders. It was my father, with a very mean look on his face. He took me to a corner of the building, where nobody could see us, and asked me to empty my pockets. I tried to protest and wanted to demand why I was being asked to do so, but the look in his eyes told me I should simply do as I was told. I turned my trouser pockets inside out and to my good luck, my pockets were empty. My father checked my pockets again as he was sure I had picked up some of the coins from the streets. Luckily for me, I did not manage to pocket any of the coins or currencies and I thanked God for that. Had my father found any coins in my pockets, I was in for a good bashing. After having gone through all the pockets in my clothes, and finally satisfied that I had not picked up anything, my father told me, “I know what was on your mind. Don’t think that you can fool me just because there was nothing found in your pockets. I can read your mind, so don’t you ever dare to pocket what is not yours”. With that, he went away, leaving behind a very relieved boy of six, who had missed out on making a fast buck, but learnt a very important lesson of life.

Desperately seeking Mohua didi

In India, an elder sister is addressed as “Didi”. I have lost touch with her- my didi who is so dear to me. Her family was very close to mine, and I have very fond memories of the time I spent with Mohua didi who was like an elder sister to me. She had two younger sisters, and I would often spend time at their place, as I enjoyed her company the most. She would take care of all us children, play games with us, feed us, and discipline us, if the need be. She had a strong personality and her mere presence would brighten up the room. I would often stay over at her place, like children of other family friends, and she would take charge of all of us. She was like a godmother to us children, and we would look up to her for solutions to our problems.

Her father lost his job, when she was in college, and she had to take charge of the family. Her family, once very prosperous, had to go through very tough times. Then her mother passed away – I remember that day when all of us were crying and instead of others offering condolences to her, she was the one hugging each one of us and asking us to be strong. She was always the pillar of strength to all of us. There was so much comfort in her touch.

I moved out of town and met her years later, during a family crisis. She had grown older-having to look after her two young sisters and educate them. I have not seen her since then, it has been 14 years, and I miss her so very much. I tried to find her on social networking sites, but she is not registered anywhere.

If you ever happen to chance on my site, Mohua didi, I want you to know that I have always loved you and will continue to do so all my life.

Stars

It’s gazing at the stars that I miss the most. When I was a kid, I used to live in a small town, which offered fresh air, open skies and a pollution free environment. In summers, I used to sleep on the terrace with my family. The smell of the night air, the sound of crickets and other nocturnal creatures, the light summer breeze, and the clear view of the skies with millions of stars bring back pleasant memories. I would count the stars – small ones, big ones, some brighter than the others, some closer while some very far, some moving while others still – I would count myself to sleep. I would, often, draw an imaginary line connecting the stars at different locations, forming imaginary shapes and figures. The vastness of the sky, the limitlessness of the expanse above would infiltrate a feeling of awe and wonder in the mind of a child who had many miles to go, many dreams to fulfill.

I live in a big city now, and hardly ever get the opportunity to gaze at the night sky. I miss the days of my childhood, the clear skies, and the million of stars that would stare back at me, and pat me softy to sleep.

Her name was Shiney

Her name was Shiney, and she was the cutest four-legged friend I had ever had. She was my friend, Ajay’s pet Doberman, and she would never fail to surprise us on every visit that we made to Ajay’s place. She loved to be loved, and would come running to me the moment I entered their home. She would always want me to stroke her head, which I would lovingly do, and the moment I stopped, she would tap my leg with her paw, indicating that I should continue stroking her head. If I sat on the floor, she would come running to me and rest her head on my lap. It was these impulsive actions that would make me visit Ajay’s place time and again.

One day, Ajay called me to say she was not eating anything, and wanted me to come over to try and feed her. I went to his place immediately but she refused to have anything to eat. It was later found that she had cancer, and she died within a few weeks. It was so painful to see her go. To this day, just the thought of her brings back a smile on my face.

Bipin's misadventure

This is a story about my friend, Bipin, which I can never forget in my life. Bipin, a very handsome guy in his college days, was very popular with the girls. Good-looking and charming, he always used to be surrounded by girls. One of his girlfriends, whom he had met during New Year's eve at a party hosted by the Air Force, had grown very fond of him. Within a few weeks of their courtship, she had already started dreaming about settling down with him.

One day, she invited him at her place to introduce him to her parents. This guy was very nervous and shifty throughout the day. When it was finally time to go, he asked me to come along for moral support. He went on his bike and I followed him a short distance behind. When Bipin took the bend to her house, and I was a little behind him, the scene awaiting us was disastrous.

At his girlfriend's gate, there was a huge crowd waiting to greet him! There were her parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, nephews, friends, even her dog! I was watching the whole scene from a distance. I could sense how nervous Bipin must have got as he approached the gate of her bungalow.

I had no idea that I was in for a bigger surprise. Suddenly, Bipin gave full throttle to his bike and vrooooooom......he raced his bike and just fled from the scene. I watched in disbelief as Bipin and his bike disappeared from my sight. His girlfriend's whole family was waving, shouting, beckoning, calling him back, the dog was barking madly, but Bipin was too scared to go back! I laughed so hard...I almost fell off my bike....from that day on, Bipin made it a point never to visit any girlfriend's home.

Simple thoughts-History repeats itself!

These pictures represent 3 generations of the same family - my father, my son & me. I am the common factor- While the pictures below shows me air-borne thanks to my father, the picture above is kind of history repeating itself, as I fling my son up in the air....

Ode to my friend Som

He was the typical boy-next-door. He was 13 years of age and extremely shy, lacked in confidence, was unsmart to the extent of being stupid, lacked communication skills, dressed shabbily, always had dirty nails but he had one talent - he was an artist. He had won many awards for his school in drawing & painting competitions. Six years younger to me, I decided to take this boy under my wings. I introduced him to hard rock, showed him the ways of the world, talked to him about the birds and the bees. We became good friends and spent a lot of time in each other's company.
I had to move to another city in pursuit of my career, and we almost lost touch. I knew that he had joined a school in New Delhi for a degree in Architecture. Years later, he turns up at my doorstep in Bombay, a man completely transformed. Those six years at the School of Architecture had done something to him! He was now a confident young man with razor-sharp intellegence who would discuss nothing less than rocket science. It became difficult communicating with this intellectual who was no longer the country cousin i knew. He was majorly into books, was involved in very important projects for his institute, and had clearly evolved into a superior personality. He had come to Bombay to negotiate with some institutes for a scholarship to pursue higher studies at a reputed institute in the USA. There was no trace of the old Som I had once known. I have never seen such transformation in my life.
This one's dedicated to you, Som. Wish you a very successful future.