Thursday, August 16, 2007

I celebrated I-Day

Well- there is nothing like a holiday standing in the middle of a week. I love it much more than an extended weekend. And this year India’s birthday fell on a Wednesday much to my joy!

Ever since 1st August, I was looking forward to the 3rd week. It would be a much shorter working week :-). An extra day to rest, extra hours to unwind, extra time to catch up on pending chores (thankfully no trips to the bank or the post office for me :-).)

Start of the 3rd week of August – and office started loosing its tautness. My manager timed his vacation in this week - leading to a general slackening in the team’s interest to work. And since 13th I was all agog for the 15th. I was literally urging the Monday to pass.

Come 14th morning and the newspapers were vibrant with the colors of the coming Independence Day. I don’t know whether the articles were thought provoking and compelling (because it being the 60th year of India’s independence) or I was in a heightened state of consciousness – I could feel the patriotic fervor. So much so that as I was picking what to wear to work, I gave the western formals a pass and chose an ethnic Indian attire.

Towards the evening there were some celebrations in office with performances by live band etc. I gave the events a miss but in spite of that I could what shall I say – feel the thump!?

15th morning – holiday : -). Customarily I hit the newspapers with my morning cuppa. And I could feel the hair on the back of my neck raise as I read the articles. Some good some bad, some touting India some deprecating. But each letter made an impact.

As I was reading there were strains of Aye mere watan ke logon, Jhanda ooncha rahe humara and the like wafting from the nearby school. The air had a tinge of chill (pretty unlikely I feel in the middle of August that too in a place located at 17.20 N latitude.) There was something different about the day – I kept feeling.

60 maybe is a big and important landmark to cross.

And evening it was the movie Chak De India for me!

Could not have asked for a better way to savor Independence Day. And could not resist uploading this picture :-) At the beginning of the movie as the entire auditorium stood for the national anthem, I felt so Indian.

I did not wear the tricolor on my shirt, I did not go for a flag hoisting or watch the ceremonial parades on national TV – but throughout the day I felt proud and strangely happy. I feel I celebrated I Day.

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Tears

They don’t seem to stop some times. In spite of all my attempts, there are times when my lachrymal glands are just not under my control. The tears just roll on and on as if there is no tomorrow.

When I have such pangs, I literally clutch my heart, lest I choke myself. There is an upheaval within me which if I don’t let out, threatens to suffocate me. I feel shrouded with grief. I feel I will never be able to come out of the envelope of sorrow. I beseech the heavens to relieve me of the pain. I think of brighter times so that I can feel better. Sometimes in a masochistic stint, I scratch the wound even more. I try to prod the cause of distress and cry it all out, so that my eyes are dried of the tears.

But no. Nothing works.

With my will failing me, I just let the tears roll on.

Oblivious to surroundings, unconcerned about what people might think – I just cry. I have cried unabashedly on the benches in a teeming mall. I have cried inconsolably in the departure lounges of airports. I have cried with reckless abandon in public transports, telephone booths (prior to the age of cell phones); eat outs and many other places under full public glare. I am not a person who is comfortable displaying her emotions and would prefer to drench my pillow rather than create a scene. But some times in spite of myself, I have had such uncomfortable instances, where I seem to be under free fall under the influence of the feeling of despair.

Generally after this emotional catharsis I feel drained.

The analysis of the events that lead to ‘pain causing situation’ wrecks me.

Insignificant things keep reminding of what went wrong, or how things might have been.

I fall into a reverie and feel a stir of distress at ubiquitous sights and sounds and smells. The heart inundated with pain, takes time to see the sunshine over the horizon.

I pray to God, after each such episode not to make me pass through such trauma again. But then… life’s sky is not always azure…

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