Little Showers of Joy…..

tumblr_o4r8znjdL51sjodmuo1_r9_500            It was a bright, sunny morning today and the sea breeze from the main shore of carter road  flew generously through the lanes of Bandra. I wore my beige coloured frock which had small crimson flower prints. Like most of the days, this morning also I went out uptill the Pali Hill Market to get some bread, eggs, confectionery and some greens for the morning breakfast. I was carrying my lime yellow coloured  grocery basket with me to the market. I picked up few greens from the mausi on my way to the store. Bought some sweets and headed to the next store for getting some freshly baked breads from Ruby’s. Ruby’s also have a section of jar filled with candies and  sweets displayed at the counter. While I was there waiting for my bread to get packed, something strange happened right next to me,

Grubby feet, dirty hands and torn clothes,

matted unwashed hair and a dirt streaked face.

Yet on her face was an impish smile.

Her sparkling eyes peered over the counter expectantly

her tiny hands hardly reaching over the top.

He failed to notice her,she caught his attention with a knock

“Mr shopkeeper” she piped

he looked at her with a wistful smile

noticing how her hands cluched the one rupee lovingly

it was the most precious treasure for her,that he could see

“What do you want ? ” he asked

with the very same soulful eyes she looked back and asked

“Could i have some joy ? ”

something clutched painfully at his heart

something stuck in his throat

he poured every little candy he could in her little frock

and when she put the coin on the counter top

he gave it back and whispered no charge.

She looked up at him, more than words could say

the old man wept unabashedly in the corner that day…………


After the entire incident, I walked back home, made myself some sandvich and poured some coffee, sat across the window with my book and went back on the entire incident to pen it down in my diary. There is always some story to take away with you, only if you pay attention. Today I took away this….



Loss of a maroon cover book and many more



This story was about day before yesterday. When after a long time and a long break, I thought of hanging out with someone immediately when one of the person I know Divesh texted me saying, ‘’Hey, I am going to the Prithvi Theatre this evening to attend my friend Kanak Nanda painting live mural, would you like to join me ? ‘’ I gave it some thought, but anyways went ahead with my decision of hanging out in the evening at the Prithvi café. It had been long since I went out with my friends casually in the evening. But somehow I thought I should give myself another chance and love myself a little more.

The evening arrived and I got dressed into a jumpsuit. It was six in the evening already. I stepped out of my house, locked the Godrej brass lock outside  my house with the keys. I climbed down the two floor staircase of my building. I had decided to board a bus for Juhu from Carter Road stop which is right outside my building. My wrist watch was showing 6:30 pm. And that particular bus still didn’t turn up after a long 45 minutes wait at the bus station. After much anticipation, the bus number that I was waiting so anxiously for, no. 56 finally arrived and I boarded the bus breathing a sigh of relief. The bus was carrying only two passengers, a driver and a conductor till now. Not anymore. Now it had me and two other older couple to board the bus with me. I sat down on the window seat of the bus, reading the book Autumn of the Patriarch by Gabriel Garcia Marquis which had a dark maroon cover. I always felt about him, he is one difficult and surreal writer. As much as I am always excited to read his books always, I also feel he has a complicated way of writing. I have to literally take it slow, sentence by sentence whenever I read him. But when I sat at the window seat, reading this book , a sudden gush of sea breeze, teased my hair and touched my skin so pleasantly, I was forced to keep the book aside and simply gazed outside the window. From Bandra,  Carter Road to Juhu Hotel stop, it took me around 40 minutes to reach. All this while I kept looking outside the window, observing everything around, people, behaviour, gesture, skyline, spaces, other species, almost everything that was hitting my eyes. At 7:15 pm, exactly after 40 minutes, I picked up my bag from the seat and alighted the bus. To my luck I realised it rather quick that the book that I was carrying, the one with the maroon cover is forgotten on the window seat of the bus. I thanked God for the Mumbai’s traffic, as because of the traffic, the bus didn’t move an inch and I happened to board the bus as fast as I could, picked up my maroon cover book to my delight and alighted the bus again.

I held the book in my hand and started walking towards Prithvi Café. As I reached there I found my friend Divesh, we exchanged hugs and he gave me the new superhit candy in the markets recently, Pulse, which I immediately unwrapped and gulped down. Both of us were searching for a place to sit. Being a weekend and a Sunday, the place got overcrowded and we had no place to sit. As we were moving out to find a café, to casually sit and chat I urged Divesh to accompany me to the Prithvi book store which I could see right in front of me in the same premises. We went inside the store, browsed through few books, holding my maroon cover book in between my arms and the side of my chest. After spending almost 15 minutes at the bookstore, we left from there and headed over to Juhu Chowpatty nearby to have some pani puri. We walked over till the chowpatty, had ragda puri, sev puri and pani puri. Talking and laughing and looking at everything around. After couple of hours, chatting and walking on the sand, we thought of calling it a day at 9:30 pm. I reached home in an hour.

The most dreading thing was awaiting for me, to my surprise. Did I tell you I am pathetic in keeping the books that I read. I tend to lose it at random places, never to find it back and sulk over it later. While I was cleaning up things after reaching home I realised I couldn’t find the maroon cover book of Garcia Marquis. It wasn’t in my bag and anywhere in my room. I realised I must have forgotten the book in that crowded book store. Next day morning I tried to follow up with the book store manager if by any chance they could find my book in the store, waiting for a positive response at least once. But to my disappointment they could never find any book, neither did I. I realised I lost my precious book. You must be thinking what is the big deal with losing a book, I might as well buy the book again. Yes sure I can, but I have a habit of making pointers and write notes on the page itself. I just didn’t lose the book, I lost those notes of my experience. That is why it is more painful.

Anyway, all I can do is take more care of my books while carrying it outside somewhere. I hope to keep up the promise I made to myself.



Of Love, Pain and Courage

It was terrible. On a pleasant December night few years back, I woke up with a shiver, sweating in anxiety on my bed, brushing my hands hurriedly on the bed next to me. It felt like all of a sudden unexpectedly I lost grip of my hand and fell inside a deep valley. The depth of the valley seemed endless. I kept falling for hours. Where was I going ? I didn’t know. It was in that process of falling that I woke up with a jerk. It was dark, I could see the bright moonlight falling on the beige sheer cotton curtains of my window. The curtains stood still, as if they could see me, as if they knew what was happening to me. Everything around was a pin drop silence. I looked around with a staring gaze, why wasn’t anything moving ? Why was it suppose to be so calm, as calm as death. I couldn’t feel anything, I was numb. As numb as the still air could be. I think I was waiting for this silence to occur. I screamed. I wailed. Made noises as hard as I could in anguish. These noises helped me to take my demons out. From my eyes I could only see my entire room inundated with water. Everything was floating. The table, the wall, the lamp, the study. After a long time I blinked my eyes and heavy drops of tears rolled down from both my eyes upto my chin and below,  wetting my thin comforter. I asked myself , What had I ever done to deserve this? Why was this chosen for me after all my sacrifice. Why me ? My little heart  was naive, innocent, fragile, then why did he abandon my love after five long years ? I kept looking for answers, got none. Days were slow and nights were crawling.

This phenomena kept recurring to me at its own whims and fancies. As if I had no control over it. As if I was being tested every single day. The only thing that differed was intensity of the pain. It kept coming back reminding me of the harsh reality of him betraying me. I decided to stop  running from it and face it head on. I kept facing it everytime, everyday. Like they say feel the pain until it hurts no  more. I did the same. And it was working indeed. Gradually in 2 years or so that pain was settling down on the surface of my skin. I could feel it. They say time heals everything. May I contradict, time doesn’t heal anything, maybe we just get used to the pain. But thanks to that event in my life and the massive heartbreak, I came out as a completely new person. It felt like a rebirth of myself. One best thing about enduring pain is, it helps you grow which no other institution of knowledge probably can ever bestow upon you. I’ve always heard of these quotes, there’s always a silver lining in the darkclouds or there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. Provided you wish to have faith in that light and move ahead to find the light.

Even today I keep brushing my hands next to my bed like I was searching for that one warm hug by my mother during my most demanding times who’s gone long time back.