I'm Back!

Hmm.. after 4 years.. back to blogging. Not sure how often I can post.

Anyways, wanted to revamp my dull looking blog. And in the process, lost all the gadgets I had in my earlier template .. :-(

Main aur meri Tanhayi

My two roomies with whom I shared a good rapport have taken transfer to Chennai. Some would believe it is ‘coz they were so troubled with me around that they escaped to Chennai. And many others (including me) know that what some believe is not true.

Well, with other roomies too busy in their own cozy worlds, me and my ‘tanhayi’ are left to each other, once again.

So many tales, anecdotes, trains of thoughts…left unsaid, none find their way out of me, and instead, all find their ways to their graves in the very cradle they were born in.

There’s nobody around to listen to my PJs, to see me literally ROTFL till tears come in my eyes at the ‘situational jokes’, which only I seem to sense and start laughing along with me. Believe it or not…once, everyone in my room was laughing for more than 2 hours, just by seeing me laugh, without even knowing why I was laughing.

Sigh! Those were the good times…

Now, who do I tell what I dreamt the previous night (I dream every night)?Who will listen to my gyan on body language and psychology? Gone are those long discussions on our future, our career, our ambitions, our dreams and our lives after some years.

One would now often find me smiling to myself, of course when I’m alone in my room, thinking of the things that happened that day, my first impressions on some person I saw on road, some funny incident that happened to me or some one else we know; wanting to tell someone about all these things and when I realize that nobody is around to hear all of that, I sigh and erase all those doodlings from the blackboard of my mind.

Come soon, 2007!!! Looks like only you can give me some company, at least for a year ;-).

Who am I?

I feel so detached from my life and from myself.

The image I see in the mirror seems like a stranger to me. Even my own name sounds kinda familiar but at the same time alien enough to ask myself whose name is it?

Sometimes, I even ask myself what my name is and come to a conclusion, after a lot of reasoning, that since people around me call me Deepa and my identity cards also show the same name, I must be this person called Deepa. I find myself walking along with my physical form and see myself do things as if I am watching someone else.

It seems like I, Deepa (the identity) and the walking, talking, living form are 3 different entities, each on a different plane of existence.

Who or what am I?

Am I merely a soul stuck in this mortal form which is trudging along in this life as one of the seven births in the form of a human being?

I find myself wandering in this materialistic world without an ambition of my own or any purpose which is convincing enough to bring myself to “live” and not simply exist.

I wake up in the morning only to spend a few moments thinking of what I am doing here and what I should be doing, once the hard reality bangs me right on my head.

I feel like a lost soul which is loitering around waiting to complete some unfinished business without any idea of what that ‘unfinished business’ is.

The days are just passing by with the hope of the times when I would be living a life full of things that I am passionate about (now, a research needs to be done on what I am passionate about) and thinking of the times in my past when I was blue and laughing at it with this thought, attached with a sense of accomplishment -“eppidi iruntha naan, ippidi aayittaen!”

Is this just a passing phase or some kind of seasonal depression or do I really need to find who I am and the purpose of my living to live a meaningful life?

I really have no idea.

Happy Birthday to me!!!

This time, again, I was in Chennai to celebrate my birthday, last weekend.

The day was just like any other day, with the only difference that I got more calls than the number of calls put together in a whole year. In fact, my birthday is the only day when people call me. And I am thankful for that. At least they remember that someone called Deepa does exist in this world.

The crowning glory was that I was on roaming and the conversations were getting longer than usual ‘coz there was a lot to talk and get updates on things happening with each other.

My landline was out of order, as usual. My mom went to the office and my dad had some work outside, so I couldn’t give their number to receive the calls.

And everyone promised that they would call later. I’m still waiting for their calls. Hope they will remember to fulfill their promise before my birthday next year.

I was toying with the idea of postponing my Chennai trip considering the fact that it was raining heavily last week and also the forecast had predicted rains till Monday. But then, I thought lets take the risk - getting drenched in rain, catching cold and things like that. Mother Nature was very kind to me and kept the day time comparatively sunny and rain free, though I didn’t go out anywhere fearing sudden showers n messy roads.

And right when I was getting ready to leave, the Rain Gods starting shedding their precious tears, bidding me adieu… at least that’s how I consoled myself.

On Monday, I reached Bangalore by 4.45 a.m. only to find that the prepaid auto counter was closed. The auto drivers were having their own way asking 3 times the actual fare.

A few people like me were waiting in the queue, hoping the counter would open anytime.

Some auto drivers were even enacting a small drama, their style:
Driver 1: Hey, don’t you know the prepaid counter won’t open today?
Driver 2: Oh no! I didn’t know that…

Somehow I managed to get an auto and reached my PG around 5.15 a.m. Since the gate was locked, I had to call up Aunty to open the gate. Surprisingly, the auto driver waited and left only after someone came at the gate to open it.

I was confused if it was indeed a kind gesture on his part or was he trying to check if I really stayed there. Ghor Kalyug! Even if people were really good, we tend to suspect their intentions. I guess it is because such things are too good to be true these days.

There was another surprise waiting for me in my room. My roomies gifted me with a beautiful watch and a cute little pen stand with a teddy hugging it tightly. I have placed the teddy stand on my desk at office. I found it as the perfect place to keep my good old mobile.

And the watch… hope my good times have started!!!

Weekends

Weekends have become more significant than being merely 2 days of a week.

Every Monday you get mails saying that there are 5 more days to go for the weekend to come again. And every Friday morning greets you with happy faces in your office beaming with rays of “Thank God it is Friday”.

When I think of it, Saturdays and Sundays were never so important before in my life. Now, they are the only days when I get to connect with my soul which was left far behind in the fast and hectic pace of work life and also some time for myself.

Questions like “So… what’s the plan for the weekend?” and “How was your weekend?” have become so common like “How are you?” “How’s life?”

My husband takes up most of my time during the week days and I get little or no time at all to be with my boyfriend .That’s the reason why the weekends are so special to me.

And now that my office is shifted to Whitefield, my day begins at 5 a.m. and ‘should ‘end by 10p.m else I would miss my only source of transportation to my place of work.

Everything in my life apart from my job gets crammed up in those 48 hrs.( 32 waking hrs. to be precise)-shopping, movies, meeting friends, music classes...phew!

And the sad part is that these two days are the only times in the entire week which pass by you faster than a lightning. Before you know it, you wake up on a Monday morning and are on your way to the office again, dreaming of the next weekend.


Note:
My husband-my job :(
My boyfriend-my blog :)

Thoughts and Tears

One of my pastimes when I’m at home in Chennai is to sit on my house terrace and bask under the usually moonlit, starry and breezy, late night… just close my eyes, be a mute spectator to the random thoughts in their Brownian motion of my fluid memory. The randomness lies in the flow of the thoughts, which bring a smile on my face one moment, making its way to a tear or two the next second and again giggles of uncontrollable laughter vanishing into the redness of anger.

It is really very relaxing to just let my emotions free and let them run around like wild horses with me enjoying and reliving the moments again. And one would find me crying at that time. Those tears are neither of pain nor of joy. I feel they are simply a means of cleansing the mind, taking all the pains and sorrows with them as they flow down my cheeks leaving their salty streaks behind. They leave a sense of calmness in me.

I miss those moments here. I want more of solitude. But most of the time I find loneliness (in crowd). I can’t afford to drown in my thoughts because that would make people really question my sanity if they were to see me smile, laugh and cry all alone.

My experiments with Sports.

Sports and I are poles apart. The only day in my school when my heart clangs like huge cymbals with fear is on the Sports Day.

I don’t remember what kind of events I used to participate when I was a kid. But the day when I played kho-kho when I was in fifth std. is still clear as a bright sunny day in my memory.

It is really funny when I think of it now.

People assume that I can run just because I’m tall. And the next moment I find myself amidst a group of girls and boys, full of team spirit, shouting and screaming and cheering their teams. Well, I didn’t know the rules of the game. And even when I enquired, I was told that if I run and give kho to a team member to catch the opponent team member, that would be good enough.
And I thought that, when I’m running, the sole responsibility of catching the opponent was on my shoulders and I had to do my best to catch her. I forgot the ‘kho-giving’ part. So, I ended up running between poles, as the girls from the other team kept hopping from one side to another and the girls from my team begging me to give them kho. And I would give in, giving kho to any girl who has been requesting for a long time.

Obviously, we didn’t win that match. But before you think I was a loser, let me tell you, we did win the junior level kho-kho match. Because, by then I understood that giving kho would help me prevent wasting my energy unnecessarily. The first prize certificate laminated with pride lies safely in my folder now.

In my later school years, I would escape somehow from participating in kho-kho. The screaming of girls and the sizzling heat of enthusiasm freaks me out and I just can’t stand there with my heart ticking like a time bomb, as if it is going to burst any moment if I don’t leave that place immediately.

Another sports day I remember is when I was in my 12th std. It was the 1500 mts. race.
I was in the Diamond house. When the race was about to begin, we found that there was no participant from our house. In order to save the grace of our house, my friend and I participated in it. We didn’t aim to win. Participation is all that matters. With that spirit, we entered the race. And the worst part is, I lost count of how many laps I had completed. I still wonder if I had run an extra lap and hence lost the race and my shoe( which tore at the end of the race).

The only thing that consoled me was that I ran 1500 mts. and did manage to complete the race. And that was the first time I was running in a race. Not bad, huh?