A woman who touched my life.

She sits in the train next to me. She is knitting today...a light blue, cross-stitched sweater for her teenage son. The son who will grow up to be an engineer and may be even an MBA graduate...who will get a nice job, buy a nice house (on EMIs of course) and finally settle down with a nice girl of her choice (she hopes).

Yesterday, she was picking methi leaves from a bundle. Yes, in the local train. 'It saves time, you see, my husband likes to have his dinner by 8 pm' so she tells me, this middle-aged lady.

I smile back...like I always do. Listening to her stories, her worries, her dreams.  Her shinning eyes telling me far more than her words. They shine with a glint of pride as she talks about her son’s good grades and grow a shade darker worrying about her husband’s knee joints. Her conversations swing her many moods and I slowly realize how less of 'her' do I find in her stories, her worries, her dreams.

She is always busy being a mother while sparing a few thoughtful moments as a wife each day. The daughter-in-law in her is always on a high alert when in-laws drop by for a visit and on rare occasions, she revels in being her dad’s daughter all over again.

She is a science teacher, she tells me, ‘for class VII to X’ she says almost gloatingly. And although I have never met her outside this local train compartment, I have absolutely no difficulty in imagining her as a sweet-stern disciplinarian whom her students would lovingly remember years down the line.

What is her name? You may ask.

Well, that’s not really important. And although I may have met her in a local train compartment; you will see her and her kind all around you.

She is that lady in your office who leaves sharp at 6 pm because she has a kid waiting to be picked from tuitions. She is the one eyeing that unreserved seat in the bus because a week’s groceries can be really heavy. She is that lady whom you just crossed paths with but never noticed.

She is your everyday, regular woman. And no, she may not be very memorable, but she is every bit quite special.

Adhoore khwaab...revisited.

Saved drafts.

Unsaid words.

Unshared feelings.

Mysteries of life. Of unrelenting what-ifs and quick hollow sighs. A bubble of our own world with parallel universes of everything we imagined but never dared. The exploring mind wanting to tread the uncharted paths. The meek heart tugging back to comfort and familiarity of the known. Will they ever agree? But they were never meant to. Just as some things and some people are never meant to. So go ahead...dream on. Don't expect them to fulfill. Expectations hurt...dreams, never!

Adhoore khwaab...

choti aankhen dekhe bade khwaab
mushkil sawaalon ke mange jawaab
khwaab dekhne par na thi pabandi
ziddi mann chahe unka hona puri

Why did George O'Malley have to die?

He died. George O'Malley.

During a Sunday afternoon re-run of Grey's Anatomy.

The Mr. Nice Guy. The Mr. Best Friend. Died. Just like that.

And surprisingly enough, it feels like a personal loss.

I went to a very geeky college. The one where people spent hours looking down their microscopes or mixing their acids with bases. Where library late fees made a major dent to pocket money and where guys would grow beard just staring at their HPLCs. And right there...in those chemistry labs and dark hallways of my very geeky college, I met quite a few George O'Malleys. 

I don't wish to stereotype here because they each had a distinct personality. But, they all had this quintessential O'Mally-ness - Generous. Kind-hearted. Always willing to go out on a limb for a friend.

In 2012, I lost my George O'Malley. A friend for over 8 years. 

It was funny how our relationship had transitioned during all these years. 

From a senior whom I adored, admired and even had a crush on from the very first day of my college life. (He would always stop in the corridors for a chat - That used to be the high-point of my day).

To a friend/advisor I ran to with my problems just to always get the most encouraging words.

And finally one of my closest friends, who gave me my first and probably the last nickname, discussed his life issues with and used to rant/ramble for hours at end!

How do you deal with a loss? How to tell yourself that that niche in your heart made by your crush-turned-best buddy is always going to be a vacuum now? Those long phone calls, those chats, his 'hey Rutu, sun na', and all that wonderful time spent together and not to forget his cheerful, heart-warming smile, is never coming back?

Do you 'celebrate his life with tearful eyes and remember his goodness'? I am told that that is the most acceptable thing to do. But then I took to crying in bed till late at night. Of course you can't forget people. It's easier to pretend that they are in some far away land..temporarily unreachable. I hear his 'hey Rutu, sun na'  and 'arey yaar, bas kya?' quite often. (No, I am not losing it) I see his face smiling back at me. And although its been a few months, I still feel, it's a prank. Still.

I remember our conversations. Especially the ones when he was getting married. I had never seen a more enthusiastic groom but then as he said...shaadi toh ek hi baar hoti hai! 

You were there the night before my first job interview - coaching me all evening.

You were there when I landed the job next day - celebrating my success.

You were there as my competitor in GD/PI classes - it was such fun fighting it out with you.

You were there when I had my first heart-break - consoling me, telling me I was meant for better things.

You were my George O'Malley. And you weren't supposed to leave till the last episode of the season. Wasn't that the deal? There isn't a single day I don't remember you. And I am not saying this because that's the most cliched thing to say. I have cried a lot. Alone and in front of lots of people. I have really out-done my quota of tears. And yet, I fail to reach a reason. I changed blogs. I spoke to other friends. But nothing seems to help. So finally today, I blog about it. About you. 

Cause if I can declare it to the world that I am sad because of a sitcom character dying (read: actor ending his contract for better prime time), I can very well say it out loud that I am still grieving your loss and I miss you so much. Still mad at you for not replying my Diwali message. (And dying is not a good enough reason for that!)

Miss you, Apurva.

Things I learnt today

• It's perfectly alright to snooze your alarm and sleep those few extra minutes, snuggled in your blanket, in a dreamy state...that is your time for wishful thinking. 

• What's more alright (is that grammatically correct?) is to stop and catch a few precious minutes of the movie 'UP' even in the mad morning rush. 

• You are allowed to curse and crib about your job...but if you look closely, you will find small fulfilling joys that make things better.

• Make friends at work place. Find at least that one person who you don't have to be competitive with...coffee times can be so much fun (or in my case, gossip-er).

• Be friends with your boss...if he/she is worth the effort. That is a lot of time saved from bitchy office politics and mindless ego hassles.

• Own up a mistake. But don't run to someone for help. Roll up your sleeves and get the goddamn thing going. Sometimes just putting up a fight more than makes up for the mistake.

• Don't work till late hours. No matter how much you love your job, leave when it's time. As someone wise (That would be you, Sunil) once told me, "Working late every night may fetch you a promotion...but is that worth 365 beautiful sunsets?"

• Catch up with a long-lost friend. Not online. Call. Talk. Listen to their stories. You will be surprised how happy that leaves you.

• Complete that one task you promised yourself before sleeping. Then high-five yourself while grinning shamelessly.

Under the spell

Ever felt this inexplicable joy when you listen to this old favourite song of yours...after ages?

You know the words...by your heart and soul. you probably lived those lyrics in some lifetime. 

But you don't rush. not even in your mind. you wait. like slow-burning passion awaiting climax.
 
The strings don't strum music here...they tug at your heart.

Every note is a long-lost friend, whom you meet at the corner turn of melody.
  
Your heart doesn't sing along. it simply listens. and revels, soaking the mist of music.

Liberation of a very different sort...such is the bondage of music.

The Beginning

It's late in the night and I am contemplating another cup of coffee.

  

Lots of catching up to do - reading my must-visit blogs. I started with Thought Catalog. Don't judge me here. I am in that phase, where every heart-broken story on Thought Catalog seems to be written just for me. And every writer there seems to be nursing a recent heart break. So you see, that place feels like a club I belong to :)

Talking about backlogs - many a posts are pending. So here's what I am planning to do. I will grab that cup of coffee and start blogging.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I was watching Grey's Anatomy tonight [yes, I am in that phase.] where Meredith mentioned that one of the patients may be suffering from Cardiac Tamponade. The term seemed familiar. Quite familiar. Something I had read about. Wikipedia-ed. And suddenly my last 2 months flashed in front of my eyes.

I was home for Dassehra and the first day of my holiday promised home-cooked yummy-ness and endless laziness. Instead, I found my mum intermittently cribbing about some weird noises in her abdomen/ chest [she couldn't pinpoint it then] while blaming it on indigestion soon thereafter. A Doctor's wife and a Science teacher herself, she thought all she needed was a little rest. 

Little did we know then. Three hours and a visit to our friendly, neighbourhood Hospital's Cardiac Department later, she was diagnosed with Pericardial Effusion. From making pohe for breakfast to Pericardial Effusion by 1 pm.  That was the fastest, rudest shock ever. [For those interested in details - she had around 30 ml fluid around her heart.] It's moments like these that teach you the definition of Helplessness.

Within 5 minutes of knowing the words, I had read up the wiki link [that's where I first met Mr. Cardiac Tamponade] and felt stupidly prepared to brace myself for what was going to come. Information does that to you....But no matter how much you grow up and how much ever information you gather, how do you prepare yourself to face your own mother's frightened face?

But prepare, we did. If I have learnt anything from my old lady, was that the 'prepare for the worst and hope for the best' adage still holds ground. Tests and tests we sat through. And we talked. About silly little things. About health and family. About relationships. Some of the best conversations. Not in our drawing room, but in a hospital's patient waiting area.

Information. A little of it - gives you facts, neither insights nor any possibilities. 

But too much of it - makes you rush ahead of yourself, with mind-numbing what-ifs and what-nots - and that was the case with my dad. He went silent - mulling over the cause of PE and calling up his friends for consults. That was a week of utter turmoil.

And then, exactly a week later, my mum had to take the Cardiac CT. The test that was supposed to tell it all. Grim: yes, shit-scared: more so. That was the first time my mum broke down. Anticipation can be quite agonizing, but finally came the test results - the cardiac CT eliminated all the scary possibilities of PE leaving behind the inexplicably simple and yet highly possible viral infection which may have caused the inflammation and hence the fluid around the heart. So, yeah, a viral infection caused all that! Can you believe it?? It was a viral infection - that stupid little thing that must have gone unnoticed and blew up into so much trouble. Viral infection - which btw, is treatable, quite easily, actually. So yeah - viral infection- something that I have come to love ever since!! [Compared to all the sickening possibilities - I take this Viral Infection with much love.Thankyouverymuch]
 
Mum was ordered a month's complete rest and heavy medication. But that's a breeze as compared to the other possibilities! The other possibilities - things that I don't even wish to write down out here. They make me feel grateful today as my mother is back to being hale and hearty. After this biggest scare in my life so far, relief seems like an understatement. Smiles are treasured. And probably for the first time ever, care has been worded out in my family. Heck, I am even planning to say 'I love you' to my parents, one of these days :P

So yeah...it has been a roller-coaster ride. Every day, since then, has been one of cautious looking-over-the-shoulder. It took me 2 months to finally accept and write about it. But gratitude - just like grief, needs to be expressed.

So, Thank You!
Rutuja