Where on earth is my heaven???.

"Heaven is a choice to be made on earth,
Not a place to be found".

These obscure lines, kept reechoing its nuances, in her mind, like those of the recurring, strikingly powerful waves lashing at the vast, unsparingly spread white shore, which was visibly clear untill a few minutes before. She could no longer see them through the large , freshly cleaned glass -paned window, still smelling of the cleansing liquid......The overcast sky, defending itself from the fury of the mighty clouds, clashing against each other, willfully poured its casket of burning anger on earth, and soon enough, it was followed by the thunder's deafening groan..........every element of nature, set out to prove its unruly force to the other.

"Weather can be so treacherous", she muttered to herself....... and so can be Life, capricious and totally unpredictable..........

The cruel phone in the drawing room rang constantly, shrieking with it all its intensity. She ran into the hall, opened the creaking door that led her way in to the dark room , which was emitting the continous sound. The ring abruptly ended, when she placed her right foot in to the room.as if the caller had heard the gentle tap of her footsteps, invading the room and had decided to refrain from talking.......And even her feet, played the part of an accomplice by defying every consciously made attempt to move forward.

This bluish coloured, square shaped phone had meant everything to her a few months ago , for many, it was simply another inanimate object, similar to the dozens that every average household boasts of, but for her, it was nothing less than a dear comrade , who brought her lover's messages time and again, crossing the distant seven oceans and seas..........The voice of Bob, filtered through the innumerable tiny holes of the earpiece ....was so pure and chaste, just like the bhajans that she used to sing ,even before the chirpy birds woke up from their sleepy nights, to an active day............Now the phone, was a mere lifeless instrument.....whose invariant sound played havoc with her hackneyed senses....every time it rang.....

She had met Bob, a freelance journalist working for various NGOs, during a trip to the States. A young, exuberant individual, who strongly held the binding principles of his life with an inviolable chord of closely - knitted values, a Gandhian to the core.......He resembled to a T the "Man " who persistently appeared in her dreams, ever since she had crossed her teens and exhibited mutable signs of progressive womanhood . It was not a "love at first sight" phenomenon , nevertheless Cupid struck between the two love birds who spoke for hours over the phone, hours which passed like seconds.....Often the morning door bell aroused her from the hysterical frame of mind that she unknowinghly dived in to, on hearing Bob's voice..... They seemed like a perfect "made for each other" couple, each wanting to fly away far with the other..., chasing their uncertain, unrealistic dreams with utmost genuinity.

Love is blind, they say, but in her case it had proved a point beyond that by metamorphosing her from a jovial girl in to an obtuse person, who had willingly, offered her reasoning capability as an immortal sacrifice to Aphrodite.., the Roman Goddess of Love........Those endless talks that perpetually intruded the day, those gentle, caressing touches that her body splurged on, when she had been on her first date with him, on that rainy day, little pearls of water flowing like rivulets all over her slender body......., those peals of laughter that they jointly shared, How could she forget.......???.....and how would she now live without it??

She dreaded those lonely nights, more than the restless days which she spent carelessly at JP Morgan's. The murky darkness of the room, the cold stillness of the air, the plain white bed spreads and the ghostly walls outstaring right in to her face, all of them jointly evoked memories of those absorbing conversations, which had defined all the solemn nights of her life. She only had one loyal friend, who never left her even for a millisecond...the reclusive sleeping pills by her bedside, always fully stocked ,that forcibly put her afflicted mind to sleep, successfully for a few hours.. only to wake up with a renewed hope that perhaps, he would call her, that he would talk to her as he used to listlessly during those countless nights, only to hear her soft, low pitched voice.....

Happiness does not stick around for long, it does not linger...........Only if people could understand that....

Bob, left, in pursuance of a lucrative career as an advertisement professional In London, She had never imagined that her dreams would be so short- lived, that her happiness would be so transient , so momentary....., that Bob would give away the love of his life for monetary allurements.... He snatched away her innocent charm, and her flawless smile.......She could never be herself anymore, she had even forgotten the last time she had smiled, her smile which once upon a time, trailed her like a shadow, wherever she went.... ..The only thing that she could effortlessly do was cry, cry for long, cry for hours till the tear glands dried..............., without a drop to flow..............

"Why do People fall in love, why do u infinitely like somene to the extent that your own happiness seem so insignificant, so meaningless......................??. Gazing at the waves, which now flowed in a pattern, she tried to find an answer to the most mysteroius secret of life...But could only hear the brutal sea roar with all its strength., perhaps there was none..................

The phone rang again, this time breaking the awkward silence that had engulfed her inner self......

She had to find her heaven once again, here on earth.......



(This article is dedicated to a person who is very close to me, hope , she too finds her heaven, once again on this beautiful earth)

(This article should be in no way rewritten or republished without the consent of the writer. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely fictional)

Grow up, Man

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
How i wonder what u are!
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the Sky!

Those nursery rhymes, those carefree playful years, those grimy hands smelling of fresh wet mud...........................................................They were so wonderful, so amazing.....But nevertheless time bound....

Oh, how i still miss those nappy days, when all i used to do was "trying" to "run" around in my three room apartment situated in the congested locality of Thane...My wobbly feet danced with sumptuous joy on the little support that the rambling pillar provided with its generous bounty of mercy...I can till date recapitulate how i used to briskly run around,when i may be a little over four, my delicate feet, often giving way and leaving tiny bruises all over my knees, only to be hugged and lifted by my 6"feet "He-Man" uncle, the only exception in my family of short people...

Those memorable days were often accompanied by incessant pleas for those special "Foreign" chocolates and icecreams(my taste buds still long for that rich, creamy flavour, not that Indian ones are any bad) and left me throwing tantrums, only to receive gentle pats, with a complimentary lullaby.(However i could choose the language).....It was like "Buy two Get one free offer"...Sometimes if i were just a little lucky, i could lay my hands on a small candy bar, not more than the size of an eraser.The logical reasoning that followed that their bold action and my formidable reaction was "Shonu, kutta, chocolates are bad for the teeth"....

"Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear Polish ur shoes
Teddy bear, Teddy bear, off to school."

Then came the time to pack your weighty, bulky bags and go off to school.....Standing at the Gate of the school and waving goodbye to their dearest Mom, was an everyday ordeal for most of my childish friends, I used to tease them, often using that as an excuse to bully them, "Oh man, Grow up".

Those impisch acts and naughtyand saucy behaviourof a bunch of us , maddened quite a few of nursery teachers, but the excellent grades that they could see through their steel rimmed glasses, always positioned me in their list of "smart, brilliant kids".

As i Child, i used to crave to become big, or rathergrow big...so, that i could be out on my own.....I had involuntarily changed in to the mindset of a Traveller with huge rucksacks on his shoulder, unsure of his dusty, perhaps, even ardous way ahead, but nevertheless determinded to succesfully complete his unknowing journey.....

Being Born is the biggest Gift that u can ever ask for, Growing up the greatest boon...After all everyonehas to grow up, life has its own courses and circles..... U learn to live each day as it comes, with all the ups and downs that the capricious life has to offer. Growth is an inherent part of life, something that cannot be dispensed with.. Sometimes reality strikes u like a thunderstorm, blatant and powerful and u have to painfully accept the echt fact that u are no longer small. Perhaps, now i know it all the more when i seen people around me thoroughly relying on me, especially when i am aware that every action or reaction that i knowingly or unknowingly take can make or mar relationships with people....

The other day, i was sitting in the train, just opposite to a Female with a small baby in her arms, a sweet, angelic little girl , whose wide eyes opened like a large book. Her delicate, snowwhite fingers clutched the Duppata of her mother, who was busy mixing thevarious nutritive ingredients of the Baby food...All of a sudden , apparently, for no reason, she started wailing and desperately breaking herself free, from the strong arms that it once affectionately held.. My human brains rushed like a Rajdhani, trying to find an answer to the child's, illogical behavoiur.All i could say, that the 1o minutes which my feeble mind spent analysing the child's behavoiur was completely futile.......

Nature has its own inexplainable ways of doing things..No wonder, God gave the priceless treasure of multiplying the human race to the women folk. Nobody can understand a child as a woman does, there is a subtle, but impregnable connection which links them to each other in to some kind of covalent bond....The Lady, an unruffled look in her eyes, held the child gently to her chest and kissed her forehead.....She held her so closely that the warmth of her composed body put the child's crying, puffy eyes to sleep..Fortunately, the commuters were saved from the blaring cries that ripped apart their ears, the tiny , sharp shrieks more potent than an explosive......


And that's when I realised the beauty of growing up.......Of understanding without being told , of learning without being taught, , of not giving a care to the world, yet being so affectionate and caring....and most importantly of doing things without expecting anything in return