ages, stages n places...

growing up has not only meant growing in ages for me, it has also been growing through stages n places...with every shift in place, i have known that its time for growing up... i shifted first at 5, then at 13, then 18, and then at 21... i have grown up in four phases... n i know there's a lot left to grow still... with every shift there have been new people, new environment, new rules and regulations,( new freedoms too), but 1 thing has remained intact, adjustment.. an old thing to b done with all the new things.. 
nevertheless, life has been worth living despite these shifts....and the footprints... that have been left on the shifting sands of time... only to look back... and cherish memories, laugh and cry over lived moments...wishing some would repeat, and some would never have happened... all in a flashback, and again looking forward to creating more of moments... day and night, night and day, life happens...to me, to everyone…

6 degrees of separation

Its the random thoughts and the unspoken bond

The broken strings and yet the attached cello-tapes

The running between rooms or the fleeting glimpses

Its the six degrees of separating separations...

[P]

It’s the drinking and the puking

It’s cheering for every grade

It’s a celebration, it’s a memory

It’s more than just a passing phase...

[AJ]

Its the fights and differences

its about being smitten by each others enthusiasm

its the varying wavelengths of attitude

but mainly about balancing the rhythm of friendship

[AG]

It’s the kisses and the misses

It’s the group studies and the gossips

It’s the eating and then walking

It’s the separation which always ends in meeting again

[T]

its the tea in the mess and 'n' number of glasses,

the rumage for the seats for lunch and for classes,

Its the fights, the laughs, the claps and Shanghai

Its the 6 degrees entwined in  the "Us" and the "I".

[M]

its the bread&mayo n hot water bags 

the 500bucks per head n personalised surprises 

its the american pies n dominoes fever 

the separating every second n uniting forever... 

[D]

p.s. - this is a post created at random by the 6 pods in a pea,  on the uneventful night of the 24th of feb, 2010, and will appear on the blogs of all the pods...

the pods : "P"- Paulami aka Polo

                     AJ - Aashi joshi

                    AG - Anu G

                       T - Anwesha aka Teddy

                M - Amropali aka Mango
                D - Debashree aka Debo

the pen ruined us...our childhood...

i wonder why i started writing with a pen... it was different earlier. when i used to write on slate with chalk. mum taught me, she said it was ok if i made mistakes, i could always rub it and start all anew... afterall, we all learn by making mistakes. i rubbed n wrote, rubbed n wrote, rubbed n wrote until both the legs of A became proportionate, until i could make the perfect half rounds for B and a flawless curve for C. D, P n R weren't that difficult once i got past B. G n S were the toughest to learn n i hated them. but mum said i could always rub n write... once in a while she would rub the slate with a wet cloth, n it would become as good as new. i liked its cool surface then, i would press my cheek against it n absorb the cold. it felt just like her hands when she came out of the kitchen...

then  i started writing on paper with pencil. it was good, i felt like a grown up. i was but a bit upset when i learnt i wasn't allowed to make as many mistakes as before. i would have to be careful. in case i made a mistake, i could erase, but it would leave a faint shadow behind, which was not very welcome. i tried my best, tried to become perfect at every stroke, started to make tails for "a" and "c" and "p" and so on. mistakes were still rectifiable, n unless anyone made a deep scrutiny, my copies were more or less clean.

the excitement started to grow as the time for writing with a pen approached nearer n nearer. so many varieties in the market, i simply could not decide which to use as my first... it was a big thing you know, writing with a pen! what excitement, what joy, what fun would it be!! my first was a "WING-SUNG" ink pen, i had put "CHELPARK" ink in it. now, all the excitement apart, i was adviced to be very careful of what i wrote, no mistakes were accepted any longer, coz what once done could never be undone. i realised, i grew up... i cannot rub n write, rub n write, rub n write. i cud always cut it, but that would make a deep, unforgiving mark on my paper. 

no longer was life crystal clear. no longer was i young enough to make mistakes n learn, no longer wud faults remain mild shadows behind corrected words, but every mistake would remain dark, n unforgiving.  I wonder, why did i ever start writing with a pen, why did the blissful years of slate n chalk pass away... why did pencil-years become fast fading? why can't i rub n write, rub n write, rub n write? why can't she clean it for me with a wet cloth,  make the slate cool n soothing anymore...

 
 P.S - I am participating in Share Life Blogger Contest(sponsored by  Tata Docomo) under the category My friends. My life. My phone.

A PSALM OF LIFE

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
  Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
  And things are not what they seem. 

Life is real!  Life is earnest!
  And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
  Was not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
  Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
  Find us farther than to-day. 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
  And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
  Funeral marches to the grave. 

In the world's broad field of battle,
  In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
  Be a hero in the strife! 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
  Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
  Heart within, and God o'erhead! 

Lives of great men all remind us
  We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
  Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
  Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
  Seeing, shall take heart again. 

Let us, then, be up and doing,
  With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
  Learn to labor and to wait.

                                         -H.W. LONGFELLOW

undecisive

why did i ever think i wasn't capable of taking decisions?
last sunday i took a decision
this monday i took one
coming friday i might take yet another
i decided to love me,
i decided to allow u to hate me
i decided to shout
i decided not to cry
i decided life.
twenty years down the line
i might repent my decision
but why would that bother me today?
i might not exist to see twenty springs
so i decided to live this spring.

from contemplation to execution

the feeling is kinda great
when u let go things from the heart
when u speak the long unspoken
when u do the long undone
when u finally muster the courage
to state what u want n don't want
what u like n dislike
or liked n disliked
what hurt u n what made u happy
when u finally manage to post that long written letter
it reaches the destination or no doesn't matter
but now u know u can wait for a reply...

think!!!

he looks at u
u look at him
he smiles
u smile back
he comes to u
kneels down
n says..."i love you"
what do u decipher???
love at first sight..
.
..
...
....
.....
.......
or
'
'
'
'
'
desperation?????????

A NEW START...

its been a while i've cleaned my desk,
a while since i dumped those scrapes in the waste paper bin,
a while since the blots of ink were wiped away,
a while since i turned from page 226 to 227,
a while since i made blue marks on white paper,
but now i plan to do it all again...

and so on...

The life is a stage. Everyone comes here, plays his part and moves backstage. There are no rehearsals; every performance is the final one. Some play their roles smoothly, some keep on making blunders; some are always perfect from the very beginning. Why always this pressure for perfection? Why not leave me to play my part freely? People expect that I would always be the perfect one, rather cover up other’s imperfection with my smooth finish. Nobody ever considered the fact that I too am a human being, prone to making mistakes and learning from them. I am supposed to be the good girl, the benevolent fellow, the generous friend, the understanding partner and so on…

I should be the faultless possession my owners would like to flaunt and display in front of others. I am supposed to behave like the machine which should operate faultlessly just because it was tagged by a brand and came in with a lifetime guarantee and so on...

I have never been allowed to be myself. I had been just like the water which had continuously been transferred from one vessel to another. The vessels never changed themselves for me; I had to change myself for them. I went with the flow shaped me according to circumstances and and so on…

 I have been stabbed again and again, front, back, everywhere, but I could never cry out “et tu brute” coz mine was never a Brutus, it was “brutuses” and so on...

Have I learnt to endure, or have I become indifferent? Have I tried to exaggerate my pains, or has fate tried to exaggerate itself through me and so on...