Fly on.....Fly on.....I Am With You.......

.....I burst with pride at seeing you go

but I hide from you my loneliness and 

secretly scream 'please don't go'

Fly on my sweet, fly on

I will be here when you come home

I will hide my pain just for you,

For you to make it through

What you have to do

                              - L.M.Owens

... 

When my brother and I were growing up, we often heard our parents say how their lives revolved around us. I did not give much thought to that until that particular day five years ago when I left my home to settle in England.

It was a bright September morning.  Around 8am, the taxi arrived to take me to the airport. There was a buzz in the street, the usual morning buzz – people going to work, children going to school, the 'sabziwaala' with his trolley of vegetables, joggers returning from the park. It was just like any other morning. But the only difference was that, on that particular day, I was leaving home to go to a place thousands of miles away; from where I could only speak to my parents over telephone; from where I could not  return back at the end of  the day. I was leaving home to start a new life.

As the driver was loading my luggage in the taxi, reality struck me – The time had come for parting. I was teary. My parents’ eyes were misty. Bhaiyya was helping the driver load my luggage in the taxi. Few years ago, on a day like this, he had left home to pursue his career. It was my turn today. I sought my Parents’ blessings and gave them a tight hug and stepped into the taxi. I had requested that they do not come to the airport to see me off.

As the taxi reached the far end of the road from my home, I turned back to look at my parents. They were still standing outside the gate waving at me. To me they seemed a bit lonely (though they had each others’company). Perhaps they were sad that their nest had become empty. 

Indeed, for years my parents' lives had been revolving around their children's. They were always teaching me and Bhaiyya to be independent. The early lessons were in polishing our shoes, tying our shoe laces, packing our school bags, lunches. This was followed by learning to ride a bicycle, running minor errands for the house, helping Amma in the household chores. Further, their lessons enabled us to make appropriate career choices and more importantly face the challenges of LIFE. Thinking of all this, I wanted to get off the taxi and come back to my Papa and Amma but I had to gather myself. I had to be practical and move on. I am sure Papa’s and Amma’s hearts ached too to see their baby girl leave but they had to let me fly and face the real world.

My parents’ lives still revolve around Bhaiyya’s and my life. As much excited as Bhaiyya and I  are when we experience new things, they are excited for us too. They are always looking forward to listening to the stories that me and Bhaiyya have to tell about our daily lives. They still do feel the emptiness in their nest but they know that their children will return to the nest every now and then.

It is that time of the year again when I fly back to my parents’ nest. I am going to India on Thursday to spend good three weeks with my parents. YAY!!!!!!!!

Aa Chalkey Tujhey....

Photo courtesy:www.johnspotphotography.com

 ......Main lekey chaloon

Ek aisey gagan ke thaley

Jaha Gham bhi na ho

Aansoo bhi na ho

Bas pyaar hi pyaar paley

ek aisey gagan ke thaley...

...

I was just humming this beautiful song by Kishore Kumar and was lost in my memories associated with this song. Let me share this memory with you today.

When I was a little girl, every night while my parents tucked me into bed, Papa would narrate a bed time story.  Papa’s stories normally began something like this – '' once upon a time there was a happy place and there lived a little girl.... a sparrow...a rabbit..…etc etc. Basically, all of Papa’s stories were based in this ''happy place''. When I used to ask Papa where was this happy place located, Papa would say that if I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I would be able to see that happy place. I followed this advice and every time, Papa narrated me a story, I would close my eyes, take a deep breath and try to find the happy place and the little girl, the bird or whoever the character of the story was. It worked, I could actually see the characters of the story and also fall asleep peacefully.

As I grew a bit older and I was beyond the age of  listening to bedtime stories ( mind you, I would still love to listen to Papa's bedtime stories..Papa is simply good at narrating stories...Oh the happy childhood days!) , Amma and Papa used to play some soft melodies of the 60s and 70s era during bedtime. Whenever the tape recorder, played Aa chalkey tujhe song I would close my eyes, take a deep breath and think of  Papa's bed time stories and also I used to see all the good things around me and develop a calm and peaceful feeling.

Happiness lies within us. If we don’t see them, they become invisible. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and go to that happy place within you. That Happy place belongs to you, it is with you in whatever you do and you can take it with you wherever you go. As you go to that happy place within you, don’t you hear a voice there that asks you to believe in yourself?  Don't you hear the voice that asks you to remain hopeful and positive? Don’t you hear the voice that asks you to share love and respect? Does that happy place not bring a smile on your face?

As, I write this post, I am feeling a deep sense of happiness. I want to take this opportunity to THANK all you lovely Blogdosts who read my blog and who leave comments on my posts, my THANKS are also due to all you lovely visitors who read my blog and don’t leave comments but do come back to my blog another time.  All of you mean a lot to me and  and it is you who inspire me to carry on producing blogposts. I want you all to know that I love you all and want you to be happy always. I hope that we will continue our friendship in the new year too.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU. I hope your Santa brings you loads of happiness.

Here’s wishing  all you lovely bloggers and readers  in the Blogosphere a VERY HAPPY AND PROSPEROUS NEW YEAR. I hope all your dreams come true just like how you wish them to be or even BETTER. Hope all of us are surrounded by good health, fortune and HAPPINESS always.

I will be back with new posts on other side of this decade.

Lots of Love and Best Wishes

Always Happy



My Shortest Speech....''I Came Vatican''

 

 I always loved to speak using a microphone. Growing up, I wanted to be a TV presenter or a radio jockey. But somehow I ended up opting for a totally different career. I am happy with what I do currently but I still have a little vision that one day I will be a radio jockey….Good Moooooooooooooooooorning India. Where did this ambition come from?

I vividly remember a particular incident, as though it was just yesterday. I was 3 year old and studying in LKG and my Bhaiya who is an year older than me was studying in UKG in the same school. As part of the extra curricular activities in school, there was a fancy dress competition. Bhaiya was taking part in the competition. Papa decided to dress Bhaiya like Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru and prepared a speech (primeminister's address to the nation) for him. Papa really worked hard to get all the fancy dress requirements. On Sunday, the previous day of the competition, Bhaiya’s costume and speech were ready.  The rehearsals began in the afternoon. By evening, intelligent Bhaiya, was doing complete justice to the speech. Soon our next door neighbours and close family friends were also accolading at Bhaiya’s rehearsals.

An enthusiastic or may be a little jealous me, wanted to take part in fancy dress competition too and make a speech. Not knowing what it was like to stand on that stage and deliver speech, I demanded to be dressed too as someone famous. I just knew I wanted to make a speech, get the audiences cheering and make Amma and Papa proud.

Amma and Papa did not want to discourage me. They agreed that I could take part in the competition too. Papa was to decide, who would I dress up as. Why on earth did he not think of anyone else? He decided to dress me as the Pope. The costume and props were put together in a rush. By 7pm on Sunday evening everything was ready including a short speech. The speech was in English. I had two hours before bedtime to mug up the speech (I had only just learnt to speak my mother tongue, let alone English!). The speech was apparently something like ‘’I am Pope John Paul. I came from Vatican .....

On  Monday morning, Papa, Amma, Bhaiya and Me went to the school. Bhaiya and I were dressed in our fancy dress costumes. I was still mugging up the speech.

The competitions began.  All the participants fared well. Bhaiya pulled it off very well too. Audiences applauded  his performance and I vividly remember how Amma and Papa were bursting with pride. As the competitions were drawing to an end, Papa and I went backstage to register my name for the competition ( you see..I had decided to participate only on the previous day).

Finally, it was my turn. Miss Geeta called out my name and I entered the stage. My first ever public performance…The kind public (mainly teachers, fellow students and their parents) cheered me. 

I was on the centre stage. Now all the eyes were on me but I was trying to look for Amma in the audience. There she was.. ..sitting next to Hemanth’s Mama. Papa was standing near the right hand side of the stage. I looked at him before starting my speech. He showed me a thumbs up.

I began my speech.

Good morning.

I came…hmmm…I came….I came Vatican………

(let me start again) Vatican…I came….

(may be it was) I came…came Vatican....

That was it….complete blank…could not remember a word of what I had been mugging up until then. I tried all the permutations and combinations of the words ‘I’, ‘Came’ and ‘Vatican’. All in vain. For the life of me, I could not remember my speech.

Fellow classmates were all chuckling by then. But that did not deter the stage and microphone lover me from leaving the stage. I was still trying to say my speech. Miss Usha came to my rescue again. Patting my back, inferring that I was good (of course, I was good!! After all, I had repeated the first line of the speech at least five times!!), she held my hand to walk me down the stage. But I resented. So the audiences decided that perhaps if they applauded, the three year old might leave the stage…soon there was a loud applause…. but nope…even that did not work. I just did not want to leave that stage. I was determined to complete my speech. Finally, Papa came to the stage and gave me a warm hug and said I had done a very good job. He took me in his arms and walked down the stage. It was only then that I left the stage.

Whoa! What a sight we must have been! A small child, proud for her performance and a slightly disappointed yet a proud parent walking his child down the stage. The kind audiences still applauded as we left the stage!!

Shortly after the competition, the prizes were announced. Bhaiya bagged the first prize, Suma second prize and Akhilesh third prize. I was given a consolation prize.

Twenty something years later, when I look back, I feel glad that I participated in the competition that day. The consolation prize meant as much as first prize or even more to me. It boosted my confidence. I have never had stage fear since that day.

Papa and Amma fondly remember that day. They say they were proud of me as much as they were of Bhaiya. Papa says it is important to try. Winning or losing doesn’t matter.

So, that was my first speech…albeit short and incomplete but it did play a part in my life. Every time I have a presentation to make or any new task at hand now, as long as I know I have tried and I have done my best, I am happy irrespective of the results. This is what I want to say to everyone. Be yourselves. Live your dreams. Do your best and don't worry about the results.

As for my dreams of being a radio jockey or TV presenter, I hope some day I can live that dream too. For now I am glad that at least I bear the  precious gift of sharing one of my fondest childhood memories - My shortest speech - that was not on TV or radio but every bit of that performance was as important to me, in its own little way.

Life this week - Memories of Diwali

This week, I have been drawing on diwali celebrations of my childhood days to make the best of present Diwali.

Jab ghar ki raunak badhaani ho...
Deewaron ko Jab sajaana ho
NEROLAC NEROLAC..
Rangon ki Duniya mein Aao
Rangeen Sapney Sajao
NEROLAC NEROLAC.....

This particular DD1 commercial and the Asian paints commercial where a war soldier returns home to his family for Diwali - every year these two ads used to be aired several number of times just few days prior to diwali. My enthusiasm and excitement for diwali also used to begin around that time.

Decorating the house with lamps and candles, tucking into sweets, bursting firecrackers, visiting relatives and friends- every diwali was filled with so much of fun and excitement.

I remember a particular diwali. I was 9 year old then. Even to this day I wonder why I fancied buying that red cotton lantern that I saw at the shop across the corner of the road. Papa had bought a yellow lantern that we hung in our sit out. It was a simple  paper lantern unlike the big red cotton lantern that I liked ....it was decorated with star motifs, rhomboid and round mirrors and long hanging threads.

I was naive. I did not understand the value of money then. My Papa, being the eldest of his 7 siblings, had several family responsibilities and monetary commitments. That is why Papa used to carefully spend every single penny.

Papa, brother and me went to the shop that was located at the end of the road to buy sweets and firecrackers. Bhaiya was just interested in the crackers but I was interested in the red lantern. I simply wanted that lantern for our house.

Papa bought us pedas, jalebis, pista chios and the firecracker package that consisted of my favourite sparklers, ground wheels, flower pots, the high flying rockets. But I was still staring at the red lantern in awe.

Me: ( pointing at the red lantern) ''Papa, can we also buy this red lantern?''  

Papa: ''Why do we need another lantern?''

Me: '' I don't like the yellow lantern. I like red''

Papa: ''Colour doesn't matter. Let's get started with the fireworks''

Me: Papa, please

Papa: '' Rs 175 is a lot to spend on a lantern especially when we have one at home''

Me: Papa, please please?

Papa gave in to my demands finally. That was very unlike him though. He would normally explain me the value of money. Probably Papa's heart melted when he saw my eyes and learned how badly I wanted to have the red lantern for our house.

Papa bought the red lantern and all three of us set off for home. I was jumping with joy on the way.

That turned out to be my best Diwali ever. The red cotton lantern played a great part in our diwali celebrations that year. But more importantly I realized how much my Papa loved me.

As I write this post, my lips are humming Jab ghar ki raunak badhaani ho..., my eyes are misty.

This precious memory and love of the family , is to me, what makes Diwali so special.

Happy Diwali.

 

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