Finally Fifty!

It has been a little over 1 year (13 days to be precise) that I began with this blog and this is my 50th post on Meandering Recollections. And after all this hoopla that I have in my mind about my blog, I feel that I should have devoted more time to it. But the best part about my blog was that I wrote when I had this burly urge for writing, something unlike Nothigman who is really devoted towards churning out a new story every day, or unlike Island girl who would keep on writing things in her diary and post it when she has the time or unlike occasionally like Sid who would write about his everyday chores, now and then like Crazy apothecary who just disappears suddenly, sometimes like Random Ramblings where one liners are in abundance.

But one thing that I have realized is that my blog occupies a special place in my life. It hasn’t just made me a little more aware of the cyber world, the blogosphere has bombarded me with just so many emotions, so many write ups, verse, so many styles, a world where there is freedom in abundance, a world which is so unrestrained that concept of constriction does not apply.

Right from choosing the template which is black and grey (yes it isn’t white!) because i wanted to use the starkest of the contrast that exists but since life isn’t black and white, I used grey to write things that I never thought would see the light of the day and would have gone in the trash can (recycle bin to be precise, I hate my habit of not writing on the paper now and directly on computer) It has all been extremely special.

I thank all my readers- Nothingman, Island Girl, Zedekiah, Kindawierd, Impressionist, Codger, Crazy Apothecary and everybody else who visits my blog and posts comments have been looked after. Criticism or eulogy, I have enjoyed them all because for a comment to be critical or eulogizing, or for that matter a comment to be even there in first place, the writing has to be provocative and stimulating enough- good or bad. A lot of my stuff has been weird too but that’s how I am I guess.

As one of my good old acquaintances from Seattle had pointed out sometime back- “Journalists have a heightened perception of things.” (well he is going to pay for this one!). I just want to say that they are a little too sensitized towards issues which should not be equated with heightened perception. I have been fanatical about every word that has gone on this blog (except for a few)

Anyways, keep coming back and this blog is going to be there till the time I am there (I don’t say things that I don’t mean!)

The Corpse- Living and Dead

Jeanie’s body had a lot of fun today, the crudity and coarseness of the passion that the body sleeping next to her had showered, adding to her share of ‘fun’. The soul did not cry. It just kept on staring in the vacant. Unlike the difference of the body that would maul her everyday, this time things were quite unlike. She had been noticing the similitude for the last few days now.

The routine was set everyday but at the end of it all, what felt bruised was the actual Jeanie inside that Jeanie. It felt as if he would extract out the heart everyday from deep underneath her bosom and squash it in his right hand, the blood oozing from all sides of his hand and no clamour in the backdrop. The satisfaction would reach up to the level of absolute bliss for him similar to a baby getting what he wanted.

One day, the Jeanie inside that Jeanie was too bushed to handle it all. Today, she wanted to extract the heart. But the moment she tried to squeeze it, she was pushed into the next room where a burly giant with dirty teeth had a chef’s knife that shined in the dim light of the room.

As their lips rubbed against each other, Jeanie pulled the trigger of the little something that she had carried with her. The blood was splattered and in that pool of blood lay Jeanie.

After staring at the chef’s knife in her spinal cord, He smiled at the burly man saying, “How could you kiss her. I don’t share my women. ”

The trigger was pulled again and a body fell next to the pool of blood.
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I am generally not too gory with my stories. Just felt like adding a little blood this time. And ya you are free to make your guesses in concern with the last part.

Air...Its Ours!!!

This post can easily go back 2 years back, to my group discussion and interview day in the Mass Communication Dept. The topic was Sex Ratio in Haryana and Punjab. Well I can’t be modest here and can without doubt say that I was outstanding in the 1st round and knew that Iwould qualify. Another girl with braces on and nervousness hounding on spoke well and I knew that she was my competition in the group. Well she did make it and was always called the Sonia Gandhi of the class (she mimicked her really well)

On the first day I met this cousin of one of my batch mates from college, and ya we did hit off well enough to last forever (at least I can hope so). She thought that Nothingman (an extremely tall senior of ours) was a girl! Then there was this group of 4 girls from Carmel (well they all are a little too proud of the fact still, and it is a little irksome!!) A few more days, me and this cousin of my batchmate also became a part of this gang which comprised the gold medalist of the 1st year- a complete tomboy though girly at heart, a doe eyed beauty, a hard working girl with the perfect bun and the ‘kasauli cottage’ and last but not the least a devout Christian girl with loads of guy friends (chuckle!).

A Delhi girl who’ loved’ Delhi, literally was also around the group, her camaraderie and clashes very off and on with members of this gang of mine.

Then there was this guy who was the PR of the class. I chose him for my documentary and ya did we fight? Well like cats and dogs. All money collections for all parties, he was always out with a list. (Please read this post and return my fabindia folder.) This PR guy had a dusky Bong girlfriend (well I used to get a lot of compliments from her). She still remains the smartest Bong girl I have ever met.

Also there was this artiste, an amazing cartoonist and a pleasant person. Well apart from a dose of everyday hug, patting my nose was like a ritual. This artiste friend had a huge crush on this girl from sports quota. Amazing sportsperson and more then that somebody who knew how to lose gracefully. The sportsperson used to hang out a lot with one of her friends who was equally quiet but came across as an extremely nice person.

This artiste had a friend who still is known as the Mastermind of the media festival. His girlfriend, also called as the first lady of the festival (she also won Miss Mass Comm recently), could never really be my type of friend, though I knew her for 5 years. She may be happy in her own skin but I still feel that her pretentiousness was too overpowering for me to like her. No judgements here but ‘To each his own I guess’. I anyways wish her all the best.

Then there was this chick, the one, all guys would literally scuttle after. The one with a sexy dressing sense and perfect straight hair falling over her eyes and cheeks all the time, well man! In the words of guys, “She was hot!”. She had 2 friends, one a baby who had just not grown but had exceptional writing skills and one extremely tall girl who was too humble to be true but ya sweetness in profundity.

The media fest guy that I was talking about, also had an ex girlfriend. Well that’s not her identity but ya she was a little uncanny for me however extremely passionate about what she wanted in life. This uncanny friend used to be found a lot with the tallest girl in my class (She was 5 feet 8 inches and I used to tell her that I might ultimately end up with a guy as tall as you…and laughters!!). Her intrepid questions with conviction in MK’s class are worth recollection.

Then 2 girls I used to hang out with a lot. One a little too plump a girl (well that’s a cute way of saying that she was fat) and one so thin, that she looked like a malnourished child but ya we did spend some memorable times together.

Also there was this extremely cute chink guy who loved Rock music, a chink girl with mind blowing dressing sense and another chink girl with a Punjabi brother-in-law!

There was a guy who looked like a criminal (he was also our DR) and an extremely tall guy who had 2 kids at home but still wanted to be in the department (I still am unable to decipher as to what was he really upto.) Then there was my laughing partner who always cribbed about her ‘PG wali aunty’ and her plump and cute friend- her hi in the morning would brighten up quite a lot. There was also an extremely quiet girl, who I really became friends with towards the end of 1st year. Miss Serenity, extremely hardworking, but sweety, take a chill pill at times!

The girl who is getting married to the ‘Hawks’ guy, ‘aadha chammach’ and ‘sone’ girl, curly hair girl who loved to laugh aloud, another sportsperson, who has a 24 lakh per annum worth a job offer from America, a chamba girl, the décolletage girl (well the farewell day reminds me of that) who had a surd boyfriend, a sociologist with a weirdly sensual and sluggish talking style.

Gosh! At the end of it all, I am going to cherish everything! To count the number of memorable events is tough in this nightmare-cum-fantasy filled sleep which had lasted up till today. I lived through it all, and every moment left a deep impact in me. It isn't all about sadness, but about letting go. About committing the same mistakes, about not growing up

And yes in the end, my favourite line, I loved and unloved it all at the same time.

But the air in that department is definitely ours….Its going to be difficult not feeling it anymore!
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The last time I had written something like this, it was titled, ‘Air…Is it ours?’ and was a dedication to my seniors but this time as you see, things have changed. Dunno how true is the title given to me ‘Miss Intellectual’ but as I look at the mug which sits pretty with my teddy, it doesn’t take much time to go down the memory lane in a flash.

That One Moment....

That one moment, the ecstasy of touching those little fingers, making life a prospect, worth not just a glimpse but ‘pestering’ to see the entire landscape, tickling those soft feet, that gurgling with pleasure, every little sound like music to ears, as gentle as the rain that falls, as calm as the dew on the grass, like brightness in the night…..

Like that moment there would be no another, for somebody who became a father of a little baby girl today. The pride, the joy, the peace and the love, was oozing in the voice like blood from the veins, the weariness so muddled up with zest, that apart from him touching beauty today, surprisingly I ended up feeling it and yes……The conversation so cosmic and rich in texture that I felt guilty about talking about my life in the middle of something so special… !

Sometimes, somethings are just so honest and chaste, the untaintedness so overwhelming. That you can’t help but appreciate and value them.

Have you touched beauty? Ever? Not literally, I mean, But in any form, a way not tactile enough? Something not palpable and physical but still leaving a streak behind….

Well, I did that today. Sitting five thousand miles away from the source of joy.

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A dedication to a somebody special who became a father today. Somethings just don’t change and remain special!