The Millennial: Cross-Domain Careers

Circa 1997: Class 4:

The teacher asks a question – “What do you want to become when you grow up? Let us start from Roll call 1”.
For about an hour, each student came up on the stage and said things like –
“I want to become an Engineer”
“I want to become a Pilot”
“I want to be a Dancer”, I replied.
Back at home, 7-year-old me told my mother – “Mom, I want to become a dancer when I grow up.”

My mother looked at me and said – “But dear, how will you earn money by dancing? You should plan to get a job, right? Why don’t you study Math and Science more so that you can become an Engineer?”  
I pondered over this with my tiny brain and thought maybe she is right! But still, it didn’t fit.
It didn’t make sense, because how can somebody without the prowess of science and math actually enjoy these subjects? After all, my mom had earlier that year said that not all fingers are the same.

Every individual is different.

Circa 2019: Auditorium of a school for sports fest

As a guest speaker for a famous school in the city, I was anxious to be delivering the keynote to a bunch of 500+ students, aged 6 -16-year-old accompanied by their parents as well. When I was invited on the podium, with some jitters I mustered courage and walked towards the lectern.

Talking about a career is not an easy task; we end up justifying our actions, blaming society and opinionating that our country needs to progress a lot. My motive was to show a new perspective about one’s career to the younger generation and motivate positively to have a free-thinking mind.

Gingerly greeting the dignitaries on the dais and welcoming the students I recalled the incident from my childhood to the audience. Those were the years where we were new to Internet Systems and Computer of things (see how messed up we were back then!). The IT boom had enticed the middle-class man and with the government supporting IT culture by advocating and installing newer institutions, we were sold.

Everyone wanted to be an Engineer; we heard stories about the massive salary packages, the free cab services, business trips to onsite and client meetings, etc. Now here we sit, being the software engineers that we dreamed to be, having the luxury of time and a higher pay scale than the average man could expect in the 90s; sipping expensive coffee and chanting – “I could have done better if it were not for this Engineering fever. I was a good dancer/ writer/ poet/ artist”.

Many nodded from the audience, especially the parents of the said students. They looked at each other with a sigh, their forlorn expressions reiterated my words. I paused; I looked around my audience then asked them – “What is stopping you to be that?”

Read more about public speaking, parallel careers and the Millennial here:

The Millennial: Cross-Domain Careers

Strange Feelings

Imagine a circle.

A small circle with a diameter of say – 1 cm:

A Circle

Now think about a bigger circle surrounding it:

Concentric Circle

Hypothetically, consider that the inner circle has a diameter of 1 cm and the outer circle has a diameter of 3 cm.

Just by adding a new circle around the older one, its is enough to make the older one look smaller. However, does that change the diameter of the inner circle in any way?

Nope. Nada.

It is simple math.

We too have a problems. Sucky jobs, bad relationships, health problems etc. Now, put them all in a circle and show it to someone. The simplest and the laziest way to convince you to overcome your problems is to put another round of bigger set of problems thus diminishing your problems in the hope to show you perspective.

Sure, there are is poverty, sure there are homeless people. However, this only changes your view of the circle of problems in your life and in no way gives you motivation of any kind to solve them. Infact you might even feel better knowing that ‘Thank God, I don’y have that problems. Phewww!’

People in bad marriages are often shown that they have a great life even with a bad spouse when compared to those alone! Bad jobs people are stuck with gets them some money to pay their bills which is better when compared to jobless people!

Why! Why do we always have to change the perspective of our problems and accept 2 lines of lazy script explaining how we should not fret about our problems?

Secretly our wellwishers are simply lazing away from their reponsibility to help us make the right choices and don’t want to be guilty of giving us good advice, if it turns out wrong.

People, think twice before to pour your heart out by showing your circle of problems. There are many amongst us who will simply put a ring around you and show you perspective rather than help you solve your issues.

First day in Australia

The moment I got off the plane, I was so tired of the long flight that I didn’t realize that I was stepping on the ground that would fulfill my long-waited trip to the land of Kangaroos. 

After finishing the immigration formalities for the first time on a foreign land, I met my sister who was waiting for me at the arrivals, holding a balloon labelled “Welcome to Australia” with a heart above the ‘i’ and a Koala holding a tree branch on the side. We hugged each other and I could feel excitement emanating from her which was not reflecting in me. Yet, we screamed at each other in excitement and I pushed my 25 kg luggage towards the exit. 

The most dreaded solo flight journey was over. For the next fifteen days on my trip, my only job was to do the things which Amy had lined up for me and enjoy. (I’ll explain the Amy part later on). 

Sydney was cold; it was breath-taking as I had anticipated. The climate was bleak and just like my tiresome mind, the feeling was reflected in the atmosphere around me. We took a train from the airport towards her residence in Hornsby. It was around 11 when we reached Hornsby and we walked the half a kilometer distance to her house. The roads were empty; she pushed my big bag across the street on to the curb and I threw a glance to my surroundings; huge mansions neatly lines, lush green foliage covering the walls, one or two cars drove past us and not a soul around. We reached a corner and there was a small three storey building with English lamps on either side on the pavement. 

The one bedroom apartment was cozy and white; thick carpet on the floor provided warmth and absorbed sound. After a quick shower and some hot chocolate, I fell on bed and closed my eyes and drifted into  deep slumber.

“Finally, I am in my dream city” .

Day 1 in Sydney started early. It was a surprise to see darkness outside at 8 am. Although my body was jet lagged and craved more sleep, my mind was fresh and reads to explore the beautiful city. 

I had a bucket list to accomplish; a to-do list which included landmarks places, try all the local cuisine, walk up to strangers and converse, to learn their accents, collect souvenirs and make a lifetime of memories. 

Every change in Sydney was new and welcome for me; although drinking tap water from the bathroom was a no-no. I settled to drink water from the kitchen tap. There was no bucket in the bathroom but only a shower for bathing purpose. Somebody was practicing piano in the neighborhood. I got a new sim card for my mobile phone and checked the service and made quick calls to my family. 

Coming from Bangalore, I was not very used to walking. In Sydney though there was a lot of walking. To reach any place, mostly everyone used the metro trains. Walking to and from the Metro to home and back was a daily affair. It took a couple of days to get used to walking and matching pace with Amy. We boarded the train and I saw a plethora of people from different nationalities. Being Indian and a chatty girl, it took every ounce of energy to keep my mouth shut and maintain silence in the train compartment. 

Harbour Bridge, Sydney

We reached CBD, the Central Business District, the IT hub of Sydney and walked amidst crowds, constantly flickering neck around and checking out outfits. My mouth fell open looking at the beautiful scenario, ocean cutting the city in two with the Harbour bridge- a two and a half km long bridge with 4 lanes, a walking track on one end and a metro line on the other. Walking in the Harbour bridge, I looked at the Opera house, majestically perched on the wharf below. 

The view was amazing; blues and greens around; clear sky, a few birds flying above Sydney’s most visited landmark; my dream destination; my phone’s wallpaper over over a year now. 

Just then a girl in tracks, ran past me and I jumped on to left side of the path, getting out of my day-dream. 

Our next destination was the Manly wharf for which we had to take a ferry from the main land to the other part of the city. The ferry ride was smooth and serene; the sun was out. I got my camera and clicked a million photos of myself with the Harbour bridge and Opera house in the background. Manly wharf was crowded with tourists. Music blared from one of the nearby bar- The Bavarian.

Bavarian was the quintessential Australian bar; throngs of tall Aussie people were drinking beer from large mugs; blue eyes women dressed in cute mini-skirts served their customers with a smile to go. 

We ordered some chicken wings and couple of local beer. Initially I couldn’t grab the local accent and found ‘mate’ sufficed at the end of every sentence; to save me from embarrassment, Amy placed our orders and the girl in the mini skirt left us with a high pitched ‘Thank you’. After ten minutes, we were served two large glasses of blonde beer and a large plate of chicken wings covered in Buffalo sauce and a side salad. 

After the scrumptious lunch, we headed to the Manly waterfront. It was drizzling slightly now. The long road along the beach was lined with beautiful, huge mansions with glass doors and white windows. Even though every mansion had a different architecture, most of them had a garden in the front yard, complete with a barbecue, a wooden table surrounded by some chairs. 

The 6 km long walk was tiring but the view was breath-taking. Around 5 pm, we were back to the ferry and made our way towards the mainland. Our fellow passengers on the ferry stood at the front deck, laughing and giggling every time the boat rose high on waves. Me and Amy sat holding on to each other for dear life and prayed so that we don’t end up puking out guts out with sea sickness. 

I gathered courage and walked to the front desk, holding the railings for support. The waves were pretty strong and the ferry rocked back and forth. Lady beside me said – “Oh my God. This is so much fun” I smiled at her meekly and said- “Oh Yeah. OF course it is”. 

She further said – “Hi, I am Susie. You are?”

I extended my hand and shook hers, replying – “I am Anusha”, to which she got confused. I bet she didn’t get my name correctly. At that moment, my sister came to my rescue and said – “Hello there. I am Amy and this is my sister Ana”. Now Susie nodded and smiled at us. 

By the time we reached the mainland, Susie knew all about us and wished us a fun filled vacation ahead. Now it was night fall and the Opera house was lit. It was a beautiful sight to see the spectacular Opera house. 

Opera House, Sydney

Train ride back to Horsby was a blessing as there was complete silence in the compartment and fewer people. 

Darkness surrounded us, as we walked back home. I thought to myself- “Quite an adventurous first day. Let’s see what more Sydney has to offer tomorrow“.

Around 10 pm, I was dead tired and closed my eyes picturing the day’s events in my mind like a slideshow and quickly drifted into deep sleep. 

Couple’s Yoga

Morning sunrise woke me from my deep slumber. A few stray sun rays sneaked through the curtains and fell over my face warming me slowly in an attempt to cook me as I lay rolled up in my blanket as a shawarma. As I open my eyes, I see another face; eyes closed, my husband was still in deep sleep. I snuggle and steal a few more moments of bliss trying to remember the long lost dream I had.

I couldn’t stay in long and rise from the bed, dragging my feet and getting into morning business. It is 7:10 am now and I pack some food for lunch. I don’t want to go out for jog today. It is very sunny for my taste, not to mention the lateness of the hour.

Then, what do we do? We got to drive the sleep from the eyes.

We don’t have tea or coffee for that.

I lay one yoga mat in the living room while the other inmate of the house is still dragging his feet, brushing his teeth!

I call him and ask – “Hey, come join me for yoga!”

His eyes lit up. After wiping water off his face, he joins me in the living room and lays another mat parallel to mine. We are facing the open balcony with its wide open door, letting in fresh air and yellow sunlight which is now falling on our faces.

Before getting into the trance or yoga, I ask him to play music. The whole tune is set for 30 minutes.

He got his phone, connects it to the DVD player and after a few seconds, small beats of tabala starts playing through the speakers and with that note we fold our palms in a Namaste, rise above our head and bend forwards, touching the toes.

Standing side by side, we continue Suryanamaskara for another 15 minutes; facing the morning sun, praying, breathing deep, inhaling and exhaling.

Now the music is on another level; higher notes; flute and tabala music dancing alongside each other.

With the flute beats in the background, we now sit cross-legged facing each other;

Our rhythm matches, we quicken the pace; our feet pressed between the palms, pressing against the floor covered mat. Another 5 sets of Suryanamaskara and we are breathing through our teeth.

After completing we look at each other smile. It is the sense of completion, complimenting each other.

The next set of exercise is stretching.

We now sit on the floor, facing each other as our legs stretch on either side of us, with 2 feet distance between us, we bend forwards, holding the toes for support. We hold that pose for a few seconds and retract back to the normal posture.

We sit cross legged, facing each other; he takes my left palm with his right and right palm with his left hand. We hold each other’s wrists and close the fingers around it. We inhale slowly, matching each other’s pace, hold in for a few moments and then exhale slowly. Eyes closed, we are matching the music, now flowing in a serene rhythm.

He brings both my palms together in the center and closes his palms around mine; pressing the fingers slowly, drawing circular motions with his thumb.

I become aware of fingers on the back of my hand and follow the pattern.

As my mind is empty with only the music running in the background, I focus my attention to my palms.

Nothing else exists. It is just him and me; the music; our palms. There is a connection there.

An energy flowing through each of us and transferring to the other.

I slowly retrieve my now warm hands and hold both of his in the center and close mine around them. I simply hold his hands; no movements.

Music now is slowing down.

After a few more moments, as the music comes to an end with the flute stopping completely and the just 2-3 strokes of tabala, I release his hands and open my eyes to see a beautiful smile spread across his serene, happy face.

“Good Morning”

What a great way to start your day! Nothing can go bad today as the start was so powerful and rejuvenating.

MID-OFFICE MUSINGS

Since the day I joined a new project, my life had changed. So far, I was in an internal project where my work revolved around the office managers, sending them reports, extracting reports at hourly, daily and the weekly basis of each employee effort details, their availability and billing hours. To me, it was learning time. I had the bandwidth, as my manager called my free time, to learn some new technology and get things certified.

I agreed to do that and I spent my time working at my own pace with an occasional tap from my lead about the pending calls for the week. Other than that nobody would call me or ping me. Since everything was internal and nobody sat on my head to resolve any issue, I spent a good amount of time for lunch and coffee and tea breaks in our cafeteria. This also gave me enough time to pursue my writing passion, my fitness regime, and my socializing skill. I chewed my food minimum 20 times per morsel, as the blog said.

However, all this came to an abrupt halt when I moved into the new technology and was replacing a junior member. First few months were onboarding time for KT and learning and nobody gave me the critical work since I was new and might mess up. As days went by, I took up more work and started working on them at a much quicker pace. This shortened my lunch time and my break timings went haywire.

Hey, it’s a new project; got to give what it takes; got to impress the Gods (read clients)

http://shanbhagrocks.co/uncategorized/mid-office-musings/

Ethnic Day:

14th August, one day prior to the Independence Day, ethnic day was scheduled at my college. Us girls were in discussion for over a month over the prospective saree plans.

It was given that, for ethnic day, we get a chance to wear colourful saree only. There was no scope for other traditional clothing. Along with all the traditional accessories blazing with glitter and shimmer, it would be a lovely day to flaunt ourselves. All of us helped each other to shop for the perfect, first, self-owned saree, matching bangles set, shimmering silver bindi, a jewelled necklace, complete with dangling earrings to a pendant for the forehead.

As the D-Day arrived, we all dressed up and got into pleating and braiding. I fumbled with my skirt and fastened it tightly across my waste. It was not tight enough, said my friend. I took a deep breath, tucked my tummy inside and with a swift movement tightly put the knot and smoothened the creases. I couln’t let go of my breath easily, now stuck in my chest.

The blouse was designed in a way that had a wide back; another set of fastenings were latched on either side on the blouse, that would be tied across the backside of the shoulder, so the sleeves would not fall off. Thus with another set of rigid fastenings, my shoulder was pulled back and set in place. As I looked myself in to the mirror, I saw what my perfect posture should be; straight, erect, shoulders broad and butt out.

The red saree was made of netted veil, georgette body and designs in gold that adorned my waist.

As I went on to drape my saree, round and round, measuring the pleats, the length of the veil that was required to be dropped off the shoulder, the length of the saree that needed to be tucked inside in front of my belly button, a weird thought haunted me.

“Is it how society expects women to be? uncomfortable in their own skin and pleasing the eyes of the beholder with beauty and culture oozing out of our clothing choices?”

I brushed that thought aside when a sharp pin pricked my shoulder as I fastened the pleated part of the saree over my shoulder.

For the second time, I drew a sharp breath and tucked the folds of saree neatly inside the knot of the skirt, smoothened out the bulged areas and covered it with the top most saree fold.  Another set of pins were attached to the second set of pleats that were flowing down towards the floor, brushing my toes lightly.

After a few adjustments, I was done with my saree draping part. I quickly wore all the matching accessories; the heavy set of danglers that threatened to tear away my ears, the colourful bangles, some make up on my face, some contour, eye liner, lipstick, blush;  I picked the velvety clutch and walked slowly, trying to balance myself on the gilded sandals which had 2″ heels.

Just when I was about to lock the room, my roommate shouted – “Wait” from down the hall and came running to towards me.

“What did you miss?” – I asked.

She replied hastily, -“Bindi“.

Oh damn, I realised, I too have forgotten to put on a silver stone sticker in the middle of my forehead. I rushed inside to fetch the perfect matching sticker. After finding the right spot to stick it on my forehead, not too high, not too low, I locked my door and walked towards the staricase, which, on other days I would take two at a time, but with body lock that I was in and the pricey heels, I held on to the railing as I slowly descended down and walked towards the waiting college bus.

The day went on quickly; with a million oooohhhhhhs and aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhs, a zillion pouts, many many photo sessions, a couple of in between make-up touch-up sessions.

Around 4, we all came back to our hostel, giggling and laughing.

I rushed to my room and slowly extracted each pin that was safely tucked inside the many fold of the precious saree, twhich held the whole saree in place. After all the pins were out, I plucked each pleat off the skirt so as not to ruin my beautiful saree.

I let out the air that was stuck in my lungs ever since morning and drew in luxurious amounts of air inside.

My diaphram hurt; there were marks on my waist where the fastening cut in to my skin; my feet were killing me. I wore my most comfy PJs.

I slowly walked to the restroom, brought a bucket full of cold water in to my room and sat on my bed, placing my feet inside the bucket to cool my heels.

As the cool water worked its miracles on my tired feet, the pain wore off slowly. That is when I realised; this is what it is to be a woman.

A life full of wearing the most umcomfortable clothes which will cut your skin and bruise your ribs; adorning shimmer and glimmer that will beautify us and the place around us; to bear the beacon of tradition and culture by giving up our comfort zone. 

One missing thing, a bindi or a earring, lack of fairness or inability to reproduce and the whole world brings you down, because women are expected to be complete and perfect, flawless and divine. 

Women should not have flaws; our whole lives are spent on fixing these flaws. Flaws are eye sores for our society; flawed ones are shunned or veiled or safeguarded; they don’t satisfy the eyes of the beholder. 

P.S: Image taken from Pinterest.

It’s never too late

It’s never too late

 

The nurse ushered Aditi into the hospital’s VIP ICU ward, where her father was admitted last night. She hadn’t met her dad for a while and was skeptical about their meeting. The kind nurse told Aditi that her Dad is in coma and wouldn’t be able to respond to her. This seemed to calm her nerves a little.

Aditi slowly pushed the door open and entered the plush room; her dad was resting on the bed. There were many wires attached to him which connected to a monitor that confirmed his heartbeat, which was shallow. A ventilator was placed, covered with a ventilator cup, over his nose and mouth to assist him in breathing; an IV line ran from his wrist to a stand that had glucose drips hanging on the other side of the bed. His eyes were closed but Aditi recognized her father’s scowl that was in place like always. Reassuring herself that she is just imagining his scowl, Aditi sat by the bedside stool.

“Hey”

“Sorry to hear about this”

“I can’t believe am saying this but you look pathetic.”

After a few words, she almost waited for her father to respond. His various responses ran in her mind like simulation. He would have said –

“Aditi, what are you sorry about? These things happen. We have to be strong about it. Now don’t cry like a baby. It is just a heart attack”

Aditi laughed a little realizing how she knew her father very well; the man who was always angry. He was the angriest man she had ever met, except his elder brother who was much fiercer. Anger must be genetic in their family, she wondered.

Aditi continued – “You must be angry that you got a heart attack and went into coma; it must be so angry that it wasn’t a paralysis, and then you could at least boss around people. Not that you are not doing that already. See, I came for you, didn’t I. You summoned me, in spite of the fact that I swore never to meet you.”

For the first time in life, Aditi was able to talk more than 3 sentences with her father, without him interrupting her. When Aditi’s father colonel Das didn’t stir or squirm, Aditi was encouraged to spill out her frustration at him more easily.

“The reason I have come here today is because I have some news. I have met a guy. We are getting married soon.

I would have been scared to tell you that he is a Christian but you can’t do anything but roll your eyes. But hey, guess what, you can’t even do that now” and laughed alone uncomfortably.

Aditi continued non-chalantly – “So Dad, Joseph is a teacher. He teaches English in high school. I met him at a library. I know, I know, it is because of you I started reading. Now don’t poke your nose in every sentence of mine okay, Dad. This is about me.”

“Do you want to meet him?”

Without waiting for a reply from her unconscious dad, Aditi went outside and brought back a handsome young man with plaintive features.

Pointing to the man, Aditi said “Dad, this is Joseph. Joseph, this is my Dad. The great Col. Das whom everyone feared and saluted, when he walked with his head held high, twirling his thick moustache.”

“Dad, I know that you wanted me to marry some military trained strong and rich man. But I have decided to spend the rest of my life with a person who is dead opposite to you and whom I really like. I couldn’t stand you and nor can I ever stand another military man in my life.”

Aditi sat again and beside her comatose father, while Joseph stood in a corner. He was watching the one-sided conversation between a troubled daughter and her egoistic and religious father.

“Dad, do you remember that day when Mom left you? How can I forget that day? It is still etched in my mind. That is when I came to know your true side, that you are a misogynistic prick. I hated you for beating mom. I am glad she had the nerve to leave you. Can’t blame her for cheating on you now, can I”

Distraught with emotions, Aditi raised her voice and told her dad- “I wish you would die soon, so that Mom and me can live in peace knowing that you got what you deserve; a whole new life without you in it.”

At this moment, the monitor’s beeps changed pace. They were occurring with fewer gaps and the heartbeat monitor quickened. Coming out of her emotional upheaval, Aditi shouted – “Nurse, something is happening.”

Just then the nurse arrived, followed by another who started checking the commotion in the ICU ward. A doctor was summoned who just in time entered when Col. Das raised his hand. His eyes opened slowly. The doctor made a few more checks and spoke to his patient.

He helped him to speak, raise his hand and move his head.

It was close to a miracle that a patient had recovered from coma so early.

Aditi and Joseph stood astounded; too shocked to move.

The doctor now asked Aditi- “Miss. Aditi what is it that you spoke that made him recover from a coma so quickly. I am surprised. Hope it is not a bad news, because there is a chance that he may again have severe heart attack due to his emotional state. He is too weak to take anymore news.”

“Yes doctor” replied Aditi.

As the doctor was checking his vitals, Aditi ran to her father, held his hands and cried continuously.

“Oh my God. Dad, I am so happy that you are back. I couldn’t stand the idea of losing you.”

Col. Das was grim faced. He was still on the ventilator and motioned for the doctor to remove it.

“Now Mr. Das, don’t speak anything. You can rest for a while. Your daughter will be here and you don’t have to trouble yourself with too much pressure.”

But the look on Col. Das’s face was enough to scare the doctor.

Again the doctor said – “Okay, I will let you speak but not too much. It is my request.”

The doctor removed the ventilator cup from Col. Das’s nose and he turned towards his daughter.

Slowly he opened his mouth and uttered – “I won’t let my only daughter marry a Christian. Get that clear, young lady.”

Weak and out of coma, Col. Das was still able to instill fear in the minds of his listener.

Now Aditi relaxed and smiled coyly at her beloved father.

“Dad, I am not getting married. This was just a plan to bring you out of coma. This is not Joseph. In fact he is …. I don’t even know his name. I just found him standing outside the hospital. I gave him 20 bucks and he agreed to come with me. Am so glad you are back, Daddy; I won’t leave you” as tears flowed and Aditi was crying.

“That was the stupidest you have ever been Aditi. Dammit” smiled Col. Das. He asked the only person not crying in the room – “Young man, what is your name?”

“My name is Shantanu Kumar, Sir and I am really sorry for being part of this.”

Col. Das asked-“But why did you let a total stranger drag you inside a hospital?”

Shantanu was skeptical to reply, he looked at his toes and murmured something like – “She was beautiful and I was mesmerized.”

The whole room erupted in laughter as Shantanu blushed deeply.

___________________________________

Outside the ICU, Shantanu and Aditi exchanged pleasantries.

“Thank you Mr. Shantanu for your help. I didn’t know what to do and it was a moment’s idea to give my Dad a shock to bring him back to life. Please tell me what I can do to make this right.”

Shantanu replied – “Just tell me one thing. How much of it was true?”

Aditi let out a sigh – “Everything except the part of Joseph. That was purely creative imagination; the right shock that would wake my Dad even from his grave.”

“So your Mom cheated on your Dad and you are still siding with your Dad? Phew, that is a little weird.”

Aditi said exasperatingly- “It is true that my Mom did what she did. He was the kind of father you wouldn’t respect. He had his prejudices about the place of a woman in the household. Dad being a military man always had a temper. My Mom’s cheating was purely revenge against his abuse over her for the last decade. So in a way, I have lost the ability to differentiate between right and wrong. It is so messed up”

Shantanu replied, – “Phew! that is quite a story. It has been my pleasure being your fiancé for 15 minutes, Aditi. How about a cup of coffee? Machine coffee sucks.”

Aditi thought, ‘It is never too late to start over’ and she smiled as Shantanu held the door open for her.

The End.

____________________________________

 

Kiss Day –

Kiss Day

 

“I want to, please now Raghav, come on” said Paaru.

“I don’t think that is right for us Paaru. What do you think everyone will think huh!” replied Raghav.

Paaru convincingly said-“Nobody will come to know. I just want to know what it feels like”

Raghav –“Fine. I’ll take you for a ride on my bike. But this is only one time alright? Don’t ask me to take you to college every other day.”

Paaru rejoiced- “Yayyyyyyyyy”

Raghav and Paaru have been friends from the first day of college. They both joined engineering in the same branch and their friendship blossomed from the day they were part of a dance team for the annual day.

Paaru, or Parvati was a chirpy girl and the whole class had a crush on her because of her charming personality and her short haircut. She was the only girl in the class who would wear jeans trousers, funky t-shirts and made faces at boys who couldn’t stop ogling at her.

Her girl gang was glued together always; chit chatted nonstop all day long and the lecturers themselves were unable to control her and her group. All eyes were on Paaru, her bubbly cheeks and big brown eyes that went bigger after every gossip that the girls shared.

However, she was not that bright or beautiful for that matter. She would be seen scratching her head, yawning in class and once or twice she tripped walking on plain ground. Another group of girls was jealous of Paaru and her team; they were always found on the first bench and topped the class and gossiped behind their backs and giggled at the silliest comments passed.

At the end of their first year, the whole class participated in the annual day where they met and mixed with senior students who had an air of seniority and the final year students were nowhere to be seen in college, as they were enjoying the final days as students and were busy with campus selections and internships.

Raghav was a first year student who was an excellent dancer; he was shy in class but when it came to dance, he was a completely different person. Raghav and Paaru were the choreographer’s favorite pair and were in the center of every sequence. When Raghav and Paaru danced, it was magic; their chemistry was nothing like ever seen before.

During the practice sessions, Raghav and Paaru were inseparable and thus they were always seen together; the whole college gave up hopes of dating Paaru as she was never to be seen alone without Raghav by her side.

As they stepped in their second year, Raghav conjured up some courage and asked Paaru to meet after class.

Raghav – “Paaru, I wanted to ask you something”

“Finally, it took you so much time to ask me out is it?!” retorted Paaru with a quizzical expression.

Taken aback by her boldness, Raghav was at a loss for words.

Paaru giggling slightly – “Sorry sorry sorry. You were saying?!”

Raghav stammered– “I-wanted-to ask….”

Paaru completed his sentence – “I know. I know. You and I are already dating stupid. You didn’t even realize that. Anyways, let us go to canteen. Am starving”

Raghav followed her happily.

After the initial confusion, Raghav and Paaru were officially dating. The whole college knew; also the lecturers were aware of their status and they never hid their relationship from anyone. As long as they were not doing anything unconventional, all was good.

_________________

Paaru and Raghav were hanging out with friends in the cafeteria when a group of people entered and started handing out pamphlets. It was Valentine’s week and there were some celebrations and games conducted by the student body on account of Valentine’s Day which was the last day of the festive week.

After receiving the red and pink glittery leaflets, Paaru pulled Raghav aside and stood there with crossed arms and a serious look.

“Hey why did you pull me outside like that huh? What will our friends think” asked Raghav.

“You first tell me what you are planning for the big day” replied Paaru as if it was obvious.

“What big day?!” asked surprised Raghav.

“The day; Valentine’s day, Raghav!” said Paaru stating the obvious.

“Oh that. Do you believe in such bullshit days, Paaru?” asked Raghav.

Bursting through her excitement, Paaru was shocked to listen to Raghav. It was unbelievable. As realization dawned on her that Raghav was not going to celebrate their first Valentine’s Day as a couple, she turned furious.

“I don’t know anything. You are taking me out for a ride. We can go to in the city for a ride and then come back in evening before 7. My hostel warden won’t let me in if I am even a minute late” stated Paaru making future plans.

Raghav asked her with raised eyebrows– “You want me to take you for a ride, on a bike? I don’t even have a bike. Where do you think will I get a bike from? If my parents come to know that I am borrowing bikes and taking a girl for rides I am done. I will be skinned alive.”

Paaru replied- “I don’t know that. We are going for a ride. That is all” and returned back to her group, stomping away from Raghav and thus began their whole argument about bikes and rides and Valentine’s Day etc.

____________________

Raghav mentioned this to his roommate Mohan. Mohan was having a bike and he agreed to lend Raghav his bike for a day, for him to take Paaru for a ride. Raghav was worried about all the circumstances. For the first time in his life, he was going to take responsibility of a girl and he was scared if something went wrong how he would have to answer his parents.

After a few tips from his friends, Raghav gathered a few things for their first ever road trip. Now that he knew about Paaru’s excitement about Valentine’s Day and the whole charade, he even planned to give her a few gifts.

As the big day arrived, Paaru was dressed in a red salwar, a mirrored veil, tingling earrings and a handful of bangles. Raghav’s heart went fluttering as he saw kohl eyed Paaru with a mischievous smile on her trembling lips which she bit, as she stood in front of Raghav who was at a loss for words.

“How am I looking?” asked Paaru batting her long eye lashes.

“Beautiful!” exclaimed Raghav.

Now Paaru was red; she blushed and tried turning the subject.

“So where did you find a bike in such short notice” asked Paaru.

“It is Mohan’s. He was kind enough to lend me his bike. Careful with your veil, I don’t want to end up in hospital because of you” replied Raghav now starting the bike.

Paaru rolled her eyes.

Her hand went above his shoulder and Raghav revved the bike for the whole college to listen.

The lovely couple was enjoying their first ride together. The weather was pleasant as it was the onset of summer, marking the end of winter. They roamed the city, laughing, giggling, skipping traffic signals and avoiding traffic police. They had lunch at a fancy restaurant where Raghav presented her with a box of chocolates. Paaru was excited and couldn’t stop giggling. She too had bought a gift for Raghav which he resisted to accept but after a little convincing he too opened his gift to find a wrist watch. They both complimented and appreciated each other’s gifts and enjoyed a movie after lunch.

Everything was a first for them; first ride, first gift.

It was their first movie together.

This was something they both had not anticipated. As the lights dimmed down in the movie theatre, there was obvious tension. As the movie started, they relaxed a bit and the obviousness rose as the on screen couple kissed at the end of the movie marking their togetherness forever.

The usual chirpy Paaru was silent as they exited the hall. Raghav was sensing something was amiss. He tried to crack a joke here and there. Paaru smiled softly and rolled back into her own thoughts.

As the day came to an end, Raghav was slightly sad. They would meet the next day in college but that would be different. It seemed to Raghav that something was missing. He racked his brains and went checking his list of things to do. He had gotten everything right and yet it felt incomplete.

Paaru’s hostel was just another cross ahead, when she asked him to stop there. It was a deserted corner and she didn’t want her hostel warden to see her with a guy at 7 pm, getting off a bike.

“Okay then Raghav. I’ll go from here. Thanks for the lovely day” said Paaru.

“Yeah ok. I had a great time too. Thanks for coming” replied Raghav.

Their conversation was very formal, unlike their usual talks involving arguments and fights.

“Yeah ok” said Paaru without moving away and stood there twirling helm of her veil; knotting and unknotting.

Raghav got off the bike and held Paaru’s hand. She took a step forward and before he spoke, Paaru planted a kiss on his lips and ran away before Raghav knew what just happened.

As Raghav realized that Paaru was already gone, his phone beeped. There was one new message.

It said – “Happy Valentine’s day” and ended with a kissing emoji.

P.S: Image Source is Google. This is Priya Varrier who is an internet sensation. I really lke her expressions and emotions which inspired me to write a story in college backdrop.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Artsy and Crafty

For the past few months, I have indulged in art and craft decorative item creation.

Have a look and if you find anything interesting, you can respond back to me.

I can collect an order and deliver if it is in Bangalore.

A few of my hand made decorations are posted below.

Pack of 3 flowers arranged on my bedroom wall.

A named heart with butterflies studded, for a newly wedded couple.

Colourful Paper fans with mickey head at the center for wall decoration for new born baby ceremony.

 

Karma is a bi*ch!

As I rushed towards the door while leaving office, I was suddenly blocked by a man in a green shirt who pulled the door open for himself and stopped me in middle. I was appalled; I cursed. I wished as a gentleman he could infact hold the door open for me and would allow me to go out and I would mumble a thanks to him for being nice.

But alas! He triggered the nerve on my temple and I cursed him damning him to hell; I wished him a wrath from all the feminists and a million thoughts jumped in my head about how I go teaching him a lesson. I remembered every time I had to follow a man in my life.

I hit the button that that summoned the lift. As thoughts poured into my head, I descended into basement. I saw a securtiy guard stand up to check into a random employee’s laptop. I eased my pace to a nice smooth slow stride.

As I was about to step into the aisle where the security guard was standing behind his desk, a man emerged from the other door which is a stairway to the basement and was invited by the lazy security guard for checking. It was the man in the green shirt!

He walked towards the guard with bowed head and gave him his laptop bag sheepishly, checked his watch as he had to wait another agonising 30 more seconds for the bag to be checked and handed back, while I serenely walked past him, having saved my precious 30 seconds, swiping my ID at the exit; pushing the bars outside and I stepped into blissful freedom with my head held high and chin towards the sky.

Karma is a bitch, after all!