Overdose of Nostalgia

Sometimes our memories can engulf us if we allow them to. 23rd December 2017 was one such day for me. A day that was so close to magic that just in 4 days’ time I am wondering, did it really happen? Or was it just a dream? You understand what I mean. Don’t you?

It was our 20th year school reunion. 20 long years. 2 decades. It’s a long time. Isn’t it? the world had been a different place since we left our alma matter in 1997.

But from an era of 

Outdoor games to mobile games

Walking to a friend’s home for chit-chat to sending forwarded messages on WhatsApp

Seeking love in people to seeking solace in technology

There are things that never change. In a distant hazy corner of our heart, we are still the same. Craving for a human warmth, a real connection and lots of love.

And I got all this on 23rd December. Lucky me. The thing with school friends is that you can pick up from where you left. We were planning for some icebreaker session but as soon as our friends started pouring in we realized we didn’t need any icebreaker. We were silly to even think of it. we started chatting as we were never separated, totally ignoring the changes in appearance caused by time, and surprisingly time had stopped for some, they were still the same.

We started the event the way we used to start our day in school, with a prayer, followed by the national anthem, thought for the day and news.

Memories are like bogies of a train, one pulls another. I loved when teachers and students shared their memories without the fear of being judged. Someone shared how they used to steal mangoes from a teacher’s garden, someone shared how they were bribed with imli and mango for some answers. And we couldn’t stop laughing. And as they shared a part of their life I was wondering, long back, maybe 20-25 years back when those incidents happened would they have imagined they will be sharing these things with a laugh in a crowd of about 100. And as they unshackled their memories I saw many faces smiling with glint of tears in their eyes.

It really needs courage to speak out that you realize your mistakes and I salute Kusum madam, our maths teacher when she admitted how she thinks it wasn’t right to judge students on the basis of their marksheets, no matter whether a child was average or a ranker they all are at happy places and it made her realise marksheet doesn’t matter in long run. She gave us the valuable advice to be not the kind of parent who forces their children to focus only on marks. Joshi madam, our Hindi teacher gave such a wonderful speech, she said she was proud to see that the saplings they nurtured have transformed to lush green crops dancing to the tune of winds in the meadows and that makes her feel happy. All the teachers gave their blessing in their own beautiful words. When you listen to such heart-warming words from your teachers you feel overwhelmed, in a moment you are smiling and the very next you are crying, and in some you are doing both.

The best part for me was touring around the school. It was an overdose of nostalgia. How much we have changed from nasty little kids to responsible parents but somewhere deep down aren’t we still the same? Seeking acceptance and love from all around us. Some emotions are so raw that they scare us. We are afraid to embrace them and we are afraid to push them aside. Somewhere we are still seeking what we used to, it’s just that we are scared to speak it aloud.

And as the event came to an end and we walked out I was wondering how long does it take for a magical day to surrender to memories. One moment, just a moment when we wrap a million of experiences in a secured corner of our heart where no time can snatch it away. A memory that will make us smile in our dark days. A memory that will remind us we had lived our life. A memory that we can count when we count the blessings of our life.

I can write pages after pages about what I felt that day and what I am feeling now reliving those memories but I have to stop somewhere. Now it’s time to share thoughts of some of my friends about this reunion. 

*************

Aarti Sharma:

Reunion brought all the childhood memories back which were buried behind day to day deadlines/commitments. In 4-5 hours we relived our childhood.

Hume humse dobara mila diya

Pranjal Desai:

Thanks almighty for giving me the strength to co-ordinate the function nicely.

Firstly, I would like to say that my father lifted the sand from the school stairs and applied to his forehead. It symbolized that school is temple from which I am learning so much and am proud of it. It was very nice meeting after 20 years and understand friends in a better way. Shared lot of stories, danced a lot and felt warmth of teachers. I would also thank my wife and children for supporting me in a big way. Kudos.

Tarun Parmar:

The scent of friendship has embraced the heart once again...

Those long lost memories have sprung up again..

I could still see that innocence in all my mates..

Lingering in the Nostalgia, opening up my

Brain's flood gates...

Walking down that porch, meeting the same old friends

Who made me so strong, because of them my life is still transcends...

We left each other a while ago, in a hope to find better life and friends,

How little did I know, life is a circle, it starts at the same place it ends...!!!

Pathik Almoula:

Once upon a time .... yes no less than a story! In 1997 when I moved out of my school with a disgraced pride, with lump of poor marks I had no clue what will I do in this life and would I ever like to come back to school to show my face. But it is the same school which taught us how to be resilient and bounce back. Yes it did teach and I did bounce! On 23rd morning of December 2017 Kumaril and I with many of you entered bowing down at staircase. Oh yes today also Kumar and I were together.

What I first recalled was the feeling of coming to school to see my 12th results. My heart pumped faster and with our age nearing 40s I realised that my BP also would have raised slightly. Then I walked through the corridor thinking OMG I am actually back in my school - IPCL School No.2, yeah that’s the name. While walking through classes and sitting back on benches I realised that my biggest gift was to make friends and not be judgemental (it’s only a pursuit)

Yes making friends, beyond class mates or batch mates. When I approached the hall it felt like playing Jumanji. All the characters whom we were whatsapping with, came alive and were grown up in size and still behaved the same like we did in school. Breathless selfie proves it all.

Like most of us I too felt the school looks small yet cozy. The Lyceum which use to make us feel like an achiever in battle field, felt like, home for a soldier coming back after the hiatus called (no less than a war) Life. I felt that what we are living today is just a result of what we lived then was truly Life. Growing up, and maturity felt kicked when I met all of you. Though it took me three attempts when Niru invited to speak in front of our teachers but finally I could speak or talk rather. 

Like characters of Chotta Bheem (I am trying to not refer to some fatsos including yours truly) we did some rewinding pranks and visited all those places in township where we all lived and loved!

When we parted in the evening I felt like Doremon and Nobita going back home after great day!

This blog will be incomplete without mentioning Pranjal who made this experience real! Yo bro! 

Totally enjoyed that day and again I walked out with pride but with grace, happiness and above all many more friends than I had in 1997. 

Looking forward, it’s payback time and would love to do something that makes us again united for a cause to help build an institution for the future of our nation (oh it sounds like an elocution). As a leadership coach I feel our school is “the place” which taught us situational leadership “jiski definition MBA mein sikhi 😜” . True example of situational leadership emerged when we were brought to principal sir’s room or when school no.1 guys messed with us!! 

I hereby volunteer to teach one full day in a year to 12th standard batch about leadership lessons which life teaches and a state board or ICSE or CBSE may not cover. Dear School - look forward to see you soon dude but next time for a purpose to return a bit what you gave us! Ciao!!

Dipal Naik :

I want to express a deep gratitude to all of my gurus ..a very very big THANK You 

This gratitude comes from those who are present here and from everyone else who could not make it. They remember you. 

Our first introduction with our respected Teachers... was that YOU were our parents when we left our own parents for that time of the day and beyond. 

YOU gave us a secure home( our second home) away from home. 12years prior, we entered the school scared and worried and 12 years later we walked out as grown up boys and girls with these epic memories that we have cherished for 20 long years. 

We were lost where to go at first day of school, we left leaving memories at each corner of school.

We still can't forget the competition, sports day , colourful annual functions , picnics our secret hideout and most memorable our scary results day !! 

Every year going to new class n getting new teacher , may it be first to second or 11th to 12th the anxiety remained same!!! 

The fun of recess time, exchanging our breakfast n at times eating under beach during the classes makes us happy but also brings tears in eyes.

Two years ago we planned for THIS BIG DAY .... n today we r all together....the bees saal baad gathering.....( speech written when I was in ICU)

*************

Thanks so much dear friends for sharing your thoughts here and making it a special place. A place where I can return to from no matter where I go.

I also want to share the messages of our teachers that were sent on Whatsapp, I don’t want those precious blessings to be lost in the plethora of messages we receive daily so I am preserving them here forever.

*************

Meena madam: 

It gives immense pleasure to see that our children have become so matured and understanding that they can take up any and every challenge in life. May God give them all the success and happiness they dream of. I am sure their children will also make them feel proud just as they have made us feel proud. May God bless them for everything.

Verma madam :

Thanx a lot to all students for very very lovely and memorable reunion. It was fun. Lots and lots of blessings to everyone who took pain to organize it in such a great way.

Joshi madam :

Yesterday Pranjal & co' s performance was " super she bhi upar ". Thanks a lot. God bless you all.

J R Desai Sir:

I didn't realize that you care so much. Athithi devo bhavo. Great job done by students for reunion, I was very happy to sit continuously for 4 to 5 hours and wanted to see more. But eventually when Niranjan completed his speech and I saw my watch I was surprised. I said to myself wow it was too fast to complete.

Jeevani Sir:

My dear little friends, " program me bahot Maja aaya that, Lekin ham sab ne ese mil liya etnese na chale, aap sab Ko mera request he ki jab bhi jisko time mile milne aya karoge to muje bahot achha lagega" may God bless u all.

Kusum Madam:

Dear students,

Thank you for everything ... showing love & respect, delicious food, gift...

Rekha Madam: 

Pranjal very well organised function. Thanks for everything. You all put lot of effort and are so good in this. It was perfect. not bored. I felt personally that you all become students .it was great fun. Bless you.

*************

In the end I just want to say, it was an experience for lifetime. An experience that connected us not only to our long-lost friends and teachers but also to ourselves.

And as that day is receding day by day, slipping into some unknown realm I am trying hard to hold on to whatever I can and you know what it is; memories. 

LIFE IS A BOX OF MEMORIES

Life is a box of memories, each in the form a butterfly. And I have named almost every butterfly.

The butterflies named childhood are the most colourful. They are in plenty; whenever they spread their wings they adorn my present. They gift me a smile. Every single time. But day by day they are flying out of my reach, returning to their origin. I wonder where those moments are right now; must be stored somewhere, maybe in some unknown dimension of universe yet to be discovered. As those butterflies fly away the myriad of colours in the box of my life is decreasing, but still I have a lot to boast of.

The butterfly named youth has a plethora of shades ranging from bright to dull, dark to light, intense to mild. Some are heavier than others. Some are closely attached to others, they fly in groups, I can’t see them one at a time. They all come together and then when they leave, they leave behind a trail of raw emotions. Emotions that tell a story, some complete, some incomplete.

There are countless butterflies from different phases of life. It is impossible to name them all. Some I didn’t name deliberately and some just wished to be free from any category. And sometimes I like nameless things. Kind of strange but it’s true. I like nameless relations, nameless emotions, nameless aspirations. It keeps us away from scary reality and liberates in a strange way.  

Some butterflies just flew out of my reach though I tried to chase them and then there are those stubborn ones who are not ready to move an inch. They stay hidden in a deep corner as if afraid to face the present, as if scared time will steal them if they resurface. Though they are so strong that they can conquer the present if they soar up. I wonder if they have signed a life time contract for that little space in the box.

And this forces me to wonder what kind of butterflies I am creating in my present. Are they colourful? Are they stubborn or weak? In future will they gift me a smile? Or tears? Are they enough to decorate my box when the older ones fly away?

By the way, how many butterflies are there in your box? Are there any stubborn ones? I am sure there are.

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’ 

PS - To read a free sample of my novel "Beyond Secrets" click here

पीछे रह गए वो दिन...

माँ कहती है हम नींद में मुस्कराते थे

बहुत पीछे रह गए वो दिन जब ख्वाब हमें परियों के आते थे

ज़िन्दगी मुस्करा के दामन में भरी थी

छोटी छोटी ख्वाइशों में खुशियां बड़ी थी

धीरे धीरे न जाने कब ख्वाइशें बढ़ती रही

न जाने कब वो खुशियां सिमटती रही

बहुत पीछे रह गए वो दिन जब एक चॉकलेट से हम खुश हो जाते थे

बहुत पीछे रह गए वो दिन जब ख्वाब हमें परियों के आते थे

एक पल में लड़ाई दूसरे में सुलह थी

शिकवों के लिए कहाँ दिल में जगह थी

रिश्ते मज़बूत हुआ करते थे, अहम् कमज़ोर

न जाने कब बढ़ सा गया मन में उस अहम् का शोर

बहुत पीछे रह गए वो दिन जब एक पल में रूठे दूसरे में मन जाते थे

बहुत पीछे रह गए वो दिन जब ख्वाब हमें परियों के आते थे

माँ कहती है हम नींद में मुस्कराते थे

बहुत पीछे रह गए वो दिन जब ख्वाब हमें परियों के आते थे

5 Benefits of Getting Older

Looking at an old photo makes you sad? The slight wrinkles burying the youthful skin wasn’t a friend then. The glint in those dark eyes isn’t a friend now. Time does that to us. But getting old isn’t that bad. It comes down with its own happiness package.

Starting from middle age this package starts becoming lucrative with each passing year. I have listed down just a few of the endless benefits that comes down with getting older.

1)            Expectations are tamed down

I think as we age we make peace with reality. Youth is loaded with energy, dreams, ambitions. But a crushing weight of unrealistic expectations stresses it out. Expectations, from everyone and everything. And as the famous saying goes “expectations reduce joy”. It really does. And as the expectations are crushed brutally under realism we are forced to shed the layers of expectation with passing time. Though some expectations still hold us tight but they are much more realistic. 

2)            Realizing what really matters

I wanted a lot of things from life. The most important was to secure 100% in every relationship. I wanted everyone to be happy with me. And that made me most unhappy. The point is not that it was impossible, the point is that it wasn’t important. As time passed, I realized what really matters in life. And it is a huge relief.

3)            Getting comfortable in our own skin

I believe change is toughest to accept at the onset, and as the journey progress it becomes acceptable. I have never seen my mother fretting over getting old. She has other issues to deal with, like dreams of her children, her grandchildren’s health and other things, but the wrinkles on her face or the age spots no more bothers her. I am yet to meet an elderly person who is worried about being fat, short, dark or lacking a grand personality. Isn’t it great? Free from the burden of looking great all the time. Well this is something that comes late in life. I have yet to travel long to reach there.

4)            Little issues don’t bother anymore

Sometimes when I look back I am surprised at the things that fretted me out. They were numerous. I used to frown at things I now just laugh at because life threw bigger challenges. But then I realized time breaks us and then it only mends us. This too shall pass – this is the first thought to pass my mind when I am upset.

5)            Finally, some me-time

Everyone is talking about having me time. How does one get it with little toddler demanding all your time and energy? But by the time we reach middle age kids have passed the toddler stage. Though the responsibilities and tensions don’t end here but at least the nappy changing times and a kid-totally-dependent-on-me stage have passed. And finally, the me-time starts sounding real. What a relief!

These are just a few of the endless benefits of getting older. I would love to hear a few more from you. Till then cheers for every passing day making us wiser (Another Famous saying says – Age doesn’t bring wisdom always. Sometimes age comes alone.” I am in no mood to prove it true 😊)

A Perfect Relationship

It was a perfect relationship. Of love? Friendship? I don’t know. I just know it was perfect.

They were inseparable. So, may be yes, it was love. May be.

When she dreamt of becoming a bird, he gave her the wings. He gave her the wand when she wanted to be a fairy. They cried together for Cinderella and laughed together at stupid jokes. Nothing was too small to be ignored, nothing too big to be serious. Tears or smiles, silly questions or stupid answers; they walked together. Always.

Oh, I just realised I didn't introduce you to the stars of the story.

She was childhood.

And he was innocence.

Perfectly entwined with each other theirs was a perfect affair. And together they could feel everything, things they didn’t even understand. It was magic. Pure magic.

But then time casted its spell and the magic began to fade.

Her tiny steps strode towards a broad world and he was left behind. He tried to follow but couldn’t keep pace, his traces getting fainter day by day. Too desperate to hold on to her he also travelled towards a new identity.

And they are still friends, but they can never match the relationship of childhood and innocence.

Hey wait, before I confuse you, let me clarify, our little child actors are now grown up and they are;

Youth

And ego

Their bonding is still strong; it is just that they sometimes fail to understand each other though they understand the outer world perfectly.

It is like a magic show; reason overrules the concept of miracle. It is more important to understand; feelings have taken a back seat. Oh, the difference between magic show and pure magic :(

Sometimes she still wants to chase the butterflies, but he won’t let her, he wants to walk back in time, but she stops him. And when they embrace each other, they do it just too tight and suffocate each other.

Yes, bestowed with beauty, strength and energy youth has a lot to boast of but her true friend was left behind somewhere in the labyrinth of time. And with its endless affair with pride, sometimes it is at a lonely place.

The pure magic sometimes still sparkles when it rains, and she walks our bare feet. Rainbow is a pure magic. But then mind starts to reason, and the rainbow is a no more a magic, it is reflection, refraction and dispersion of light. And she can’t be stupid to dance in rain, she has more important things to do. The magic dries with the rain and what is left behind is the void of a perfect but broken affair.

अधूरी नज़्म

Also published in AajSirhaane

अपनी पुरानी डायरी के पन्नो को पलटते हुए

बीते हुए पलों से मिलना चाहती थी

एक नज़्म दिखी उसमे अधूरी सी

उस अधूरी नज़्म को मैं पूरा करना चाहती थी

एक चौथाई पन्ने पर सिमटी

कुछ जख्मी से एहसासों में लिपटी

शायद मुझे कुछ याद दिलाना चाहती थी

उस अधूरी नज़्म को मैं पूरा करना चाहती थी

मेरे अपने ही वो ज़ज़्बात जैसे गैर हो चुके थे 

शब्दों की तरह अब कुछ धुंधले हो चुके थे

धुंधले से उन शब्दों को -जज्बातों को जाने क्यों पढ़ना चाहती थी

उस अधूरी नज़्म को मैं पूरा करना चाहती थी

कुछ शब्द नए जोड़े पर वो उसमे घुल न पाए

किसी पुरानी जीन्स में रफू की तरह अलग से उभर आये

अपने कल से अपने आज को जाने क्यों जोड़ना चाहती थी

उस अधूरी नज़्म को मैं पूरा करना चाहती थी

एक रोज मेरे ही दिल से निकली थी

लेकिन आज मुझसे ही कुछ अजनबी सी थी

कुछ कह कर भी कुछ छुपाना चाहती थी

शायद... हाँ शायद...

वो नज़्म अधूरी ही रहना चाहती थी

Hope

Photo Credit - Asha Dimri

Hope is a good thing

It keeps me waiting for the love to return

Not a person but a feeling

Deep, tough, true

Unafraid of the pain it brings

But fearful of its absence

Of the void it leaves

When it's all gone

Love, faith, dreams

And the endless stories

Incomplete or with sad endings

Hope is a bad thing

It keeps me waiting

For what doesn't exist

A mirage?

A truth wrapped in a lie?

Or memories to turn real?

I don’t know what exactly

But it keeps me waiting

For the unreal

And I am happy

Or sad? I don't know

Hope is a strange thing

It keeps me alive between dead moments

The moments that belonged to me

Yet were strangers

It mends the broken dreams

Fills in the cracks of reality

And makes it new

As if it was never broken

Dreams and heart are anew

Sometimes for a moment

And sometimes a little longer

Happy Birthday - My Blog

Happy Birthday dear blog. Wow, my blog is one-year-old today. 

It feels like yesterday when I posted my first blog "In Search of Love"

The journey from my first blog to the one I posted a few day ago "यादों का बस्ता बहुत भारी हो गया" was wonderful.

There were times I could decorate my thoughts with beautiful words and there were times I just posted them raw, without any flavours.

There were times I posted like this

And there were times I had the leisure of undisturbed writing; at 2 in the night. 

Looking back, I remember how apprehensive I was about starting a blog. It was way outside my comfort zone. But, sometimes our happiness lies beyond our comfort zone. And believe me, crossing the boundary is the toughest thing, the journey ahead is fun.

What better time to thank you all for making this journey easier for me, for the views, likes, comments and messages you sent my way. They fuelled my confidence and passion for writing. And I hope we will travel this journey together for years to come.

It’s our journey so don't forget to share your thoughts on my thoughts :)

See you soon with a new post. In the meantime, take time to discover the new world outside your comfort zone.

यादों का बस्ता बहुत भारी हो गया

कुछ पल मैं लौटा दूँ वक़्त को

की यादों का बस्ता बहुत भारी हो गया.

धीरे धीरे ना जाने कब

मेरे आज पर हावी हो गया.

ज़िन्दगी की दौड़ से थक कर

कुछ पल चुराए थे छुप कर.

कुछ सुकूं सा मिला था दिल को

यादों की छाँव में रूककर.

लेकिन धीरे धीरे ये पल ना जाने कब

गुज़रे कल के हवाले हो गया.

कुछ पल मैं लौटा दूँ वक़्त को

की यादों का बस्ता बहुत भारी हो गया.

एक कदम आगे, दो पीछे चलते रहे

नए पन्नो पर पुरानी कहानी लिखते रहे.

एक नयी सुबह की चाह में

बड़ी देर तक वो पन्ने मुझसे लड़ते रहे.

शब्दों से भरा वो पन्ना

उम्मीदों से खाली हो गया.

कुछ पल मैं लौटा दूँ वक़्त को

की यादों का बस्ता बहुत भारी हो गया.

Time is a Businessman

The tiny drops dancing on my balcony and my childhood photo album in my hand, it pulled me to a faraway world and I meekly surrendered. I met a stranger there. It was me.

And looking at her I thought about time, which bit by bit, stole her.

Time is a perfect businessman, at every turn, it give us something, but not without taking away a bit from us.

He traded

My innocence for maturity

My vulnerability for strength

My careless laughs for thoughtful smiles

My crazy dreams for real ambitions

And as time passed, I became a little more rational, a little more practical, a little more mature.

But... a little less me.

And a time came I couldn’t cry as I used to, laugh as I used to and sometimes even love as I used to.

The layers of different seasons that covered us are too hard, too deep to dig into to find the real us. And sometimes in a moment of solitude when we are just about to reach ourselves, we are pulled back by work, kids or the practical world around us and we are just consumed by another demand of life.

And the stranger slowly drifts back into the mist of time.

Memories

Photo Credit - Asha Dimri

So true are the words said above, the world of memories is a puzzle. So far, yet so near...so real yet so surreal. It often plays hide and seek with our busy routines. Mostly present take over those memories but there are moments when those memories bounce back so profoundly that we forget every priority and surrender meekly to them. At times it feels like a shadow, it follows us where ever we go, a part of us that in an instant lives within us and in other leaves us.

A faint memory of my school days that still brings a smile to my face is of my school friend, Sheela. I was in 3rd or 4th standard, I don’t remember exactly. I forgot to keep my compass box that day. When I asked her if she has an extra pencil she smilingly handed me her pencil. After some time when I turned back, I saw she was just sitting. When asked, why she was not taking down the notes, she innocently replied “I had only one pencil’. That incident introduced me to a whole new relationship with her. It was innocence of childhood that she didn’t bother to miss her notes, that made me wait for her in the middle of running competition, that made our relation precious than our ambitions.  Her father was transferred in a short while. I was too small to realise that once lost I won’t be able to regain her contact. The only thing I realized at that time was the pain of departing. As much as I missed her I couldn’t regain her contact. Thanks to facebook it has reunited me with many lost friends but not Sheela, I don’t ever remember her last name, I spent hours searching for her just to feel disappointed and accept that she is no more a part of my life. And I am left only with faded memories of her innocent face and her two little knots tied in red ribbons - and of course our indefinable bonding.

Other faint memory I would like to share is of our little puppy; it was a street dog that I and my friend Dipali fed every day. We created a small house for him. Making him sleep in a blanket became a routine. Waking up early in the morning and rushing outside to see if he was safe became our biggest excitement, which we eventually lost when we lost him in a road accident. Days passed before I stopped crying, months passed before life became normal, years passed before I could forget his appearance but no time could steal his sweet memories from me.

These are just snapshots from the album of my memories - some sweet, some sour, of people who are still a part of my life, of people whom destiny took apart. I envy time, it has all those hidden moments captured in its existence; well, although it can take away the moments from me but memories are mine. It’s my little world wherein I can live everything I desired, I treasured, I lost. Shattered dreams, moments of joy, tears, laughter everything comes alive in a moment – it’s a world that I can visit but not stay. After all, memories are like tides and shores are like present; the tide comes and touches its shores, and moves back leaving it wet.