Of oceans and dreams. Surreal dreams.

Stillness of the sky, 
Boldness of the mountains, 
Luminous chirping of the aves,
And then, somewhere between them cuts an ocean.
The plain, placid ocean.....

 Somewhere beneath the endless skies, I find myself a few centimeters away from the ocean waters. I bend closer, and timidly stare at my reflection. It stares back giving a sharp image. The girl with digital wrist-watch, beige shorts and cobalt checkered shirt has her hair cropped up short. Unable to believe at my deceiving retinas, I march on ahead trying to forget my own picture out of my head.  Walking ahead.

A strange kind of happiness engulfs me from the inside, when my naked feet moisten up, step by step by the damp sand grains. The weather is absolutely spectacular. The crimson orange sun giving out just the right amount of rays. I have an urge. So I quench it up by picking up a round pebble and throwing it as far as I can, somewhere in middle of the vast ocean.

Is there a measure to calculate the level of marvelous things we experience? I believe not.
So, after walking a couple of miles I release my tightly clutched black leather-bound folder that was enclosed under my armpits, dig my legs under the sand and sit down. And I start with my cursive in the blank, crisp white sheets. There are times, when our fingers can overpower the quirkiness of our minds. They can go on and on, without even taking any consult of the cerebrum.
How strange...

Everything feels just...perfect! I don't know why, but I continue writing for hours. Because I want to cherish every moment of the time, I am on this flawless land.
Where am I by the way? behind me is the tropical and somewhere very far I see some moss-covered mountain peaks. I am sitting on the sand and overlooking the ocean. Then why can't I make out where on earth am I? this isn't one of the islands I've watched on discovery channel, it is far more beautiful. It's far more beyond and ceaseless.
No sign of life, except the transpiring trees. No life beyond flycatchers soaring up. No life beyond the chirping of the crickets. No life beyond the light waves of the ocean waters. But there is a strange kind of solace. Of unusual peace.

I straighten up and lie down on the sand. My hair laden with the shiny sand grains. The perspiration wets my back but I don't care. This dampness feels amazing. Words fail me. Does, anything get better?
My eyes  marvel the sky. How can there be so many shades of blue up there?
So, I start on with my favorite pastime. Playing with clouds. I see a tiny little man playing with a stick, fire, a saree embodied woman. And well the list goes on and on. The clouds can bring the most creative side of people.

And then just I was lost in  my thoughts, a huge blob of black descend from the west. Replacing the serene blue clouds mixing  with them, giving them a dirty grey color. Thundering starts, lightening occurs. And there comes a heavy downpour.
I pick up my folder, dust myself and run into the canopy of the trees. I descend to the forest.
The dark green forests....

Baaaammm! wait! what the hell was that! why am I rolling on the floor? was that a dream? No, it wasn't! was it?
It's hard to come back to the reality after seeing something that is so intoxicating and surreal. It feels like I am still  stuck somewhere there. I can still smell the salty oceans. I can still feel the numbness of my wandering soul.

They say that we forget dreams within 24 hours. But here is the classic case of  a crazy dreamer whose dreams seek refuge not only in the mind but also in the heart.

Forever and ever.

When you think way too much.

It's 10 am . I stand up straight, my legs dangle out from my bed. My slumber saying, "WHAT?! get back down here! are you out of your mind! don't you want to complete your dream? pull that sheet over your face, and wander off to sleep, will you?"

But somehow, I don't listen to her. She gets over my nerves at times. She has the ability to show every kind of mood. Demeaning. Stringy. Earthy. Vulnerable - are just some of them. I don't know why, insomnia hits the strongest of sound sleepers ( here,I mean me).

Today, however it wasn't insomnia. Maybe I woke up because of the smell of burning eggs coming from my neighbor's house. Or wait? was that Himesh Reshamiya playing next door? can't really figure out. I can't shut my eyelids before 1 am and I longe to open them before 5 am.
So, I got up at two, sipped some water, read veronika decides to die. Thought about it. Thought about it & again thought about it. 9gagged. Ate Jubilee's macaroons. Climbed back to bed. Watched 'A Haunting'. Shrieked a bit. Woke up mum, got a good glare. Switched off  t.v, and tried to sleep.

And then laying in bed I thought about yesterday's swimming class, and gave some self-assurance that I won't drown in the deep. Then about going bald. A great idea! chopping off your hair. Feels impulsive, extreme and  strong. Then about how it would feel to have big bold kohl-smeared eyes (because, my eyes defy all laws of chinkyness). I LOVE big  eyes. They are the best assets anyone can ever possess. Then about Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood. Flipkart's getting me the book by Monday and I am dying to begin it.
South Africa. Afghanistan. Cheetahs. Niagara Falls. Kakori Kebabs(!). Hummed 'I am highway' by Audioslave (wonderful song!). Then  wondered what I would do if ever joined armed forces.(Wicked!). Learn to shoot. Stroke a stallion. Breathe in mogra flowers. Thought what was the last time when tears pricked down my eyes. The way how my tongue tasted saltiness. The last time I smiled at a stranger.

How wonderful it would be if it rained for a couple of days? I could really use some good weather and scream while getting wet. Rain gods? are you listening?

The panacea of my problems.
And then out of nowhere. My eyes started shrinking. Lips pursing. Rhythmic pulse-beats. Then it was just me. Me and  light howling of the cooler.
The room filled with tranquility.  My mind went blank. Bright visuals emerging under my closed eyelids. I let go.
Then came Black. Pure, Unadultrated, Jet Black.
And I dozed off.
Sleep had finally found me. It had embraced me with her gentle hands.

Because some songs are just meant to be!

Songs! They ALWAYS lift up your spirits.  And guess what I bumped onto? 'Don't give up' by Above Envy.   Which is an  absolutely stunning number. You feel like grooving and prancing the moment you hear it. You feel empowered and full of hope. So, do listen to it.

And there's one more. ' You found me' by The Fray which is my all time favorite. I listen to it whenever I switch on my computer. Just can't get over the awesomeness of the lyrics and  the sound of Isaac Slade's voice. Ah! how beautiful!

"For you a thousand times over"

I feel terribly inspired and touched today. With books I have a strange kinship, the couple of bucks you spend buying on them never goes "waste", because every book whether it be exceptionally meaningless or annoyingly extraordinary leave a mark in your brain. They leave stamp imprints upon us. And no matter how much we try, we do process the story again & again. And always, ALWAYS put ourselves in it.

And today, the 13 sunlit day of warm May I completed reading 'The Kite Runner' by Khaled Hosseini. Words fail me.And how beautifully, heart-breaking it was!
I have a habit of reading the first and the last dialogue of any book I read, no matter how much I try not to do it, I eventually end up doing it. It gives me a bizarre sense of satisfaction. With it I try to make my own little story, my own little world. But, here people the the last dialogue "For you a thousand times over" boggled me. How can you think about a line which has such uncanny thoughts linked to it? Can you?

The book began with a jolt. It was gripping since the very beginning. From the moment Amir friends the harelipped Hassan, the moment where Pashtuns and Hazaras forget their differences, the moment where a journey takes a plunge..to darkness, to sorrows, to happiness.
And the first time I completely understood Pauhlo Coehlo's words, "Truth resides where faith is".

I will not say what the story is about (probably because maximum number of people are aware about this story) but what I will say is about the intensity with which Hosseini's characters effected me. Made me think differently about universe. The characters of Amir and Hassan.

Amir, the protagonist. The emotionally detached soul who brings with him the shades of friendship he and Hassan shared. Though he shares a incessant relationship with Baba jan he regards, respects and worships him. He constantly craves for a father's affection which he receives backs in tiny bits and pieces. The guilt he faces all his adult years. And his relationship with his wife, Soraya.
Amir, stands out because he grows out to be a selfless person from a selfish child who once stole the twinkle of someone's eyes. Of  Hassan's.

He's the boy made up of pure white innocence. Whose china-doll face spoke a thousand unspoken desires.
Hassan  is the unchanged character of the story. He has the first-hand knowledge about pain because of his mother Sanaubar, who ran away days later after creating him. He defines the word 'selfless' by all means and  loyalty is his exceptional quality. The creator of the line," For you a thousand times over "

There is one more person, Sohrab. But to know him, you have to read "The Kite Runner"

I was left teary-eyed after the book. I closed my eyes and opened them again with a smile because this book said something to me, " If I ever left you with you guilt, I will come back again...to replace with an act which won't have a speck of misdeed."

Gotta love books, Eh? :)

The impact-filled pages.

The movie adaptation, [L-R] Hassan and Amir.

It's Momma's Day!

"So, you think you can take on this big bad wolf'y' world?"

"Of course I can! I'm smart, I'm worldly, I'm courageous and above all I have a brash side to me."

"Really? I don't think you are saying the truth"

"Do you think I am  hinting any second thoughts?"

"Close your eyes and say that again"
Doing what has been told.
"Now look into my eyes and say that again"
Waiting for a couple of moments. And then a smile, the Julia Roberts one. The one that doesn't know how to stop.
"Well, it is true"
"What is?"
"That mothers are created with some eerie supernatural power. How can you mothers know so well about your children? a crash-course in pyschic abilities, or you people are just born as witches?"
"Well, this tummy you see? that peeks and buldges?"
"Yes?"
"It was meant to know you 9 months ahead of anybody else."
This was the conversation between a mother and daughter. A conversation that every child once experiences. The conversation with a person who knows your guts and intestines, who can catch your lies, who can lighten up your mood, who can win your heart with their warm smiles, who can ease up your pain, the one who comes to your life just once and makes it a beautiful sojourn and that is your MOTHER.

I have this Bloodhound in my life, who can sense and sniff anything ANYTHING what's going on with me, whether I'm in trouble with my unsettling hair, or I'm upset if my latest novel got over. Whether I am super happy or unreasonably sad.
Muma. M.U.M.A.
In my lifespan of 16 years, one thing about which I am absolutely positive about is, that the most used word by me is Muma, in a grumpy & grim voice, in a squeaky mouse-like voice, in a spectacular exclamatory voice or just a plain ol' 'Muma!'  Well, this a small, tiny, minuscule thank you note for you.

Mom, is smart. She's witty, she has one of those amazing soft and slender hands which you can bend and stretch like a rubber band, and has perfect hair. A terrific cook. Who in spite of being shorter than me ( well, just 2 inches...But STILL!) loves to call me "Shortie". Has this rib-tickling sense of humour, and can go extremely bonkers. Well, one thing which she just CANNOT do is sing. She has a shrill, childlike voice and when she screams, then, Oh god! save our neighbours! Trust me, in my house getting some ear-plugs or an i-pod player is the most wise and mind-blowing thing to bring :p So, I certainly am not one of those kids who grew up hearing lullabies with a soft, subtle, melodious voice :)
But above all, when she smiles, the world just becomes better, it becomes some more lovely, as if some miracle has occurred.
I've never seen her stopping. Never ever. Right from my kiddie days, there hasn't been a single day when I haven't seen her packing her dubba, water bottle, corrected notebooks, giving the Kinetic a kick and going off to school. She still continues to do so, though the Kinetic is now replaced by Dio. And she does that without any complains, any remorse, without a speck of guilt. And she has remained my confidante as long as my memory recalls. A person who trusts me implicitly and a guide who has supported my every decision. Well, she hugged a bit tighter whenever I was going to different places for my badminton matches. And quietly said "I miss you" over the phone.

Thank you, Muma for giving me those pep-talks, for making me believe in myself and understanding my judgements. For lending out an ear to my horrible poems, for helping me spell my own name. For hearing my sad stories, and putting up with a daughter who despises shopping. For curing my problems with some kind of magic and teaching me to pat my own back. For laughing loud at all my Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise 'y' dreams. For always forgiving me when my teenage hormones go out of control and my arrogance goes out of hand.  And yes, for being a person I can always lean upon and being patient as ever with a knucklehead like me.

I don't say this very often, but yes when I do, you always stifle a laugh.
Muma, every muscle in my body is madly and unconditionally in love with you. You are and will always be the most awesome, beautiful and number one person in my life.
Love you. :)
A very Happy Mother's Day to all the species.

Muma and me, 1997
(Out of all the pictures I was going through, this was the only  one where  I looked  slightly less embarrassing:p
And the sole reason this picture is going up my blog,  is because Muma likes it and it's her day! )
Happy Mother's Day, Mum.