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A Memorable Wedding

Finally she got into the car.
As everyone tried to get a last glance
of her face,i stayed back,
my thoughts running in my mind
like a windpool taking me to the past.

We were enjoying our lunch together
and I asked her briskly,
What if your parents ask you to get married?
Will you?
She looked straight into my eyes and smiled
but didnt answer.
But the smile was meaningful and i continued.
What will you want the person to be like?
This time she looked away but then replied.
She said she would like to marry a professor
and the person needed to be only an ordinary
person who will be liked by her parents.
I didnt ask her anything after that.
Infact there werent any questions.
There were, but i knew she couldnt answer them.
She is a dear friend and as i know her,
she is a person with few expectations
and it was always the small things that elated her.
Never a career oriented girl with big dreams of
making it big and I could see it through her
eyes that she had made a small world
of her own dreams.
Two months later i received a mail from
her with the subject line 'Jhatka' and i very
well guessed the content.
Yes! She was getting married!
The person wasnt a professor but she had written
that he was nice.
I called her up and she happily said that
everyone liked him and then shyly added
that she too thinks he is a good person.
The dates were soon fixed and we all
got into the process of applying for holidays.
It seemed unlikely that everyone of us would
be able to make it to the wedding..
I wasnt even sure about myself.
But as the dates approached, everyone of us
got our tickets reserved.
8 hours in train and we reached our destination.
I ran towards her and as i had expected,
she was beeming in happiness .
There was a glow on her face that
comes only when you feel special.
That night was a night which will
remain alive in our minds for years.
We laughed till we cried ,sang till
our throat pained and danced till our
hearts threatened to burst.
We were 10 friends from college, very inseparable.
and we were so happy together.
We had a great time teasing eachother and
laughter spread like a flu.
Next day was the wedding and she
was looking even more beautiful.
One by one all the customs were followed.
I observed ,everyone was enjoying them except the
nervous couple .He tied the mangalsutra
and they fell into the lifelong relation .

Then came the most dreaded moment.
We had decided not to cry for she will
be ultimately coming to Pune and will be
near us.
But there was something in the moment.
As her brother held her close ,
none of us could stop our tears.
She slowly moved to each of her relatives
and bid them farewell.
As i watched her crying and waving
through the window of the car ,
I made a wish,a simple wish for a simple girl ,
that let the new world she was stepping into
be the world of her dreams.

Just thoughts

If we want to be somewhere ,
arent we already there?
If our memories never melt,
isnt our presence felt?
If the measure is many a mile,
wont reliving be worthwhile?

The Selling Price

Recently a news channel reported about
3 districts in Orissa,which are claimed to be
among the poorest in India.
The news reported about the people there who
sell there babies for money.
This didnt shock me because i have heard of
such incidents in the past,
specially when the baby is a girl,
these people sell them.
but what left me dumbstruck,was the fact that
they sell their babies for mere
80Rs. and 2 sarees!
Which means, just for 2 very basic needs
that is ,Roti aur Kapda.
When their own stomachs are empty,how can they
be expected to feed their children?
This is the state of affairs in India.
30% people below poverty line..and check the
defination of poverty line in India,
it means these people dont get their meals
everyday.
These people occassionaly get to work
in road construction or some similar work.
So if they get to work, their wages should be
Rs 25 ,but they are given only Rs 15. and
if 100 people should be made to work, only 20
are made to work.
Can you imagine they dont even get their well
deserved money because of the chain of corrupt
selfish officials!
"Goverment is of the people,by the people and
for the people" - is what the children are
taught in schools.
But if the goverment doesnt care for the poor
and if the middle class people dont really
care about who is in the government,
then for whom is the government working ?
Is goverment working only for the rich who
help them come into power and helping
themselves and the rich grow richer?
Is there no way the system can change?
Politicians have actually nothing to fear
,coz,these poor people have no voice to complain,
and the journalists are too busy catching
the celebrity scandals.
I was always taught, the only way we common
people can contribute to the society ,is by
being aware of our right and duties
and following them.
But i think this is not the exact solution
to eradicate poverty.
The concept shown in 'Yuva' was motivating,
but i wonder if that is a possible solution.

Anandwan

A place where happiness dwells in every heart
and every person is truly contented with
whatever little he has , a beautiful village ,
the world full of anand,Anandwan.
A place for the lepers and the abandoned.

Leprosy,brings the picture of uncleanliness
in our minds,but when you enter,
you are welcomed with boards challenging
you to find filth and take home a thousand rupees.

You will find people who have lost their
arms,limbs,eyes and yet they haven't lost
either their zeal to live or their dignity.

Here everything works on co-operation.
The people without eyes and hands are fed
by the other people.
Every single person contributes to the
community in some or other way.
There are old people,marooned by their
own blood and here they look after the
orphans and get love in return.

Here the leprosy patients are cured ,
but till then they usually lose half
of their body.
These people have no existence in our society.
There are laws which state
leprosy patients can be divorced without
being questioned, they cannot
be admitted in institutes and they cannot vote,
which means, complete boycott from the society.

After getting cured ,these people require companionship,
and in Anandwan,they get it.
The cured people get married and then the couples
adopt orphans.

These people work, and they create wonders.
They cultivate their food,weave their clothes,
build their homes ,produce leather goods,
sculpture ,everything.
They have an orchestra of the deaf and dumb and
you will be amazed by the perfection of their
performance.
The children here grow up to become doctors,
engineers ,scientists but none of them go out
to make money.They all stay in the village for
the community.
Now, they have their own hospitals,colleges
and the irony is that the people from nearby
villages use these amenities.

People usually visit Anandwan to share the
grief of these people but find none.
On the contrary they return with a happier
and cleaner soul.

The Closed Door

A fond smile lightened her face as
the door bell on the right made her
remember how it's ring irritated them.
She put her luggage down, and knocked.
The door mat indicated someone had recently
arrived.
As she waited patiently for someone to open
the door,she could hear footsteps approaching
and then felt someone checking her through
the eyehole.
She picked her luggage ,knowing she would
be trusted in.
But the footsteps retreated .
She thought her knock musnt have been audible
and so this time she tried the bell.
Patience had never been one of her virtues
and she continued ringing .
She was very tired and all she desired
was the door to open and have her lunch.
The journey hadnt been easy.
There had been a war inside her whether she should
make it or not.
But now she was there,right in front of the door
and she wanted it to open.
She could hear someone settle in the armchair
as she kept on ringing.
Too weary to bear a joke, she decided to rest
a while on the grass.
She fell asleep and when she woke up,
it was dark and cold.
She could see glimmer of light from the slit
below the door.
Intense anger maddened her and her eyes
were blinded with tears .
She ran towards the door and started banging
but it refused to budge.
Exhausted,she dropped near the door
and started thinking of possibilities.
Then she tore a piece of paper from her diary
and wrote the words of apology ,the words
she rarely used.
she wasnt sure why she was doing this
but suddenly she was afraid of losing,
losing someone she cared for and before whom
she hardly cared for her dignity.
That she had made the journey was proof enough.
She slipped the paper through the slit below
and waited.
She could again hear footsteps nearing .
Someone worked with the door knob but again
closed it.
She just couldnt believe this was actually
happening to her and was left with a feeling
of annoyance, dejection , rejection , anger
and pain.
Her pride had been brutally butchered
and yet she failed to generate hatred
within her , her need of the hour.
Feeling dizzy she fainted.


She woke up with the first rays
of dawn.
The door seemed miles away and all
she could see was ,the road ahead, beaming
in sunlight.
She wasnt sure where it would take her
but she rose with tremendous inner strength
and started off , determined
never to return .

The city that never sleeps

The business capital of India ,
the city that provides thousands a way of living,
where people find money in the air,
The city of Mumbai.
Mumbai gave me my first job,
showed me the wayto live independently,
made me believe that life is nothing but a challenge,
and taught me to face each challenge single handedly.
(even smiling is a challenge , you should find enough time!)
As i rush through the lanes to reach my bus,
i hardly take a look at other people lest i miss my bus..
Today i knew i would easily get my bus for it was too early
for that matter, and suddenly i realised that i was
still rushing.
I stopped ,thinking what it meant but then my
thoughts were interrupted by people muttering and
pushing me from behind. I turned to look and the
scene i saw suddenly scared me,
there were so many people in that lane ,all of them
rushing towards their everyday destinations,and
people just passed me ,pushing me to the corner.
Mumbai has no place for the people who stop,but a corner.
Mumbaiyas are born professionals.
You will hardly find people expressing emotions,
and you will be scared to express yours too lest the
people find you insane.
People who feel like breaking off or bursting out
can do their crying stuff in the corner and noone
comes to disturb .
Men here have turned into machines.
But man is not an animal...he needs to rest,and
he needs to express his emotions.
You will find people to accompany you when you
wish to go out and party but noone to help you out
of a depression except you .
Mumbai is a city with everything but a heart .