Note to Self

“Errm.. Hello.. You there?”

Silence.

“You there?!”

Silence.

“I know it’s been long. I don’t even know how to speak to you anymore. I’m still attempting though.. I want to apoligise.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry. I know that I’ve been incognito for years.. But I really need you right now.”

Silence.

“I don’t know what to tell you to come back.. I really need you right now.”

Silence.

“Are you even there? I need some sort of an acknowledgement.. Even a “Hmm” will do.. I really need to talk to you right now. At least hear me out.. I’ll feel lighter.. I can’t trust anyone else with this.”

“What is it?”

“Okay. So I just thought I heard you respond. Did you?! Or am I just imagining it?”

“That’s a disputable fact. Most people would think that. Now spit it out before I change my decision..”

“Are you serious? It’s been so long. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to speak to you. Will you really hear me out?!”

“Yes. Stop being this excitable. Now go on before I change my mind.”

“Don’t you need any sort of an alibi? I mean, I can explain.”

“None needed. You get ahead of yourself sometimes. I’m quite used to this. It’s not the first time you know. But if you continue, I will really go away. And I mean it this time. You’re a few months away from 25. Its time you got responsible.”

“How do you mange to sound this practical always? I mean, we’re like the same person. I’m a part of you and you’re a part of me. In essence, were like the same person.”

“Yes, we are. I’m just grounded and you’re flaky. You need to learn that from me.”

“Ouch. You really know how to make me feel rotten, don’t you?”

“True. I know you as well as you know yourself. You just need to speak to me before you make those rash decisions. I know the thought of insides make you squirm but believe me when I say that you need to trust your gut.”

“Ergh. Can you please not be this graphic? You’re one pricky conscience.”

“Nothing personal really. I’m just doing my job.”

“Right. You take yourself a bit too seriously don’t you?”

“I do. Now, enough of this banter. What was it that was troubling you?”

“Come to think of it, it’s not anymore.. (Pause) Ermm.. Listen..”

“I always am.. (Laughs)”

“That wicked sense of humor is still around I see?”

“Get to the point. What do you want to tell me?”

“Thank you for speaking to me on such short notice. I have been extremely self – centered. Which is ironical, I know.

“Interestingly, yes.”

"So later then. I’ll call on you if I need you.”

“Sure, I’m always around.”

“I noticed. Chal, bye”

“Bye.”

The Quest for the Perfect Mosaic

When people tell me how much I remind them of my mother or my father I can’t but say, “No sh*t!” in my head. As humans and given the fact that we live in society, we can never be unique pieces. We are assemblages of people we idolise, people we work with, people we meet on the train, people we see on the television even people we fleetingly pass by on the street.

We are like an infinite mosaic – Our “tipri’s” are borrowed traits that in time we make our own. The same reason why we find raging similarities amongst close groups of people. It seems like a “mean” has been arithmetically drawn and done so most involuntarily.

I for one am an amalgamation of many people. I try and steal from any interesting person I come in contact with on any sensory level. Be it an efficient bai who I envy, an obsessive boss who I loathe or this unattainable rockstar who I have the hots for.

There are a copious number of people who arouse my curiosity. My partner is one of them. It feels strange because we are quite dissimilar. He is the complete opposite of who I am and of what I am. We are diametrically opposite in essence, in character and in behavior. Yet, I am attracted to him. He is everything I am not. He posesses the tipri’s that fill most of the empty parts of my mosaic and hence, he is valuable.

There are some parts of my mosaic that I want to chip away - Parts that make my mosaic a little ugly. People have told me that if I do, I’ll be a better mosaic, one of the best even. It’s hard but I have decided that I will try.

I’ve started chipping away (it hurts a little) and I’m on the look out for those perfect tipri's to fit right in.

Citation - Tipri’s (Hindi) are small colorful pieces of broken tiles.

Globetrotts

My younger sister and I have traveled the world when we were living life being single-digiters and early double-digiters. Name a place and we’ve been there. Yes, how lucky.

But, let me mention that we traveled there in our heads - minus passports and airplane tickets.

Summer vacations were long and sometimes boring. Having a Hitler of a grandmother minding our every move didn’t help our vacation excitement one bit. The parents were usually at work. We were confined to our bedroom in the afternoon lest we make “masti” and wake nana who loved her afternoon siesta.

We had to figure a way to utilise all that pent up hyperactive energy. Our modus operandi was simple. We had an old globe that was our time traveling device. We would spin the globe, close our eyes and then place one of our fingers on a spot on the globe. That was the destination to which we traveled to that afternoon. No time-space issues boggling our little minds, we reached our destination in seconds.

We had a series of The World Book Encyclopedia that we used as a guide to the place we were traveling to. Most of the places we “Globetrotted” to were completely new to us. This was the computer-less and internet-less phase of life on earth. The Encyclopedia was our Lonely Planet Guide. We even packed up a bag to take on our trip - woolens if it was a cold place and dresses and skirts if the climate was tropical.

Our travels were lovely. They were unique. They were magical. No one we knew had them. No one knew we had them. We built the place in our heads, we built the travel in our heads and we built the adventure in our heads.

Kellie, just once I want to Grobetrott with you again. Just to relive that memory, just to relive that feeling and just to relive that belief in a world beyond the world we live in.

Nana's Almirah

I remember as a little girl i was very intrigued by what lay behind my grandmother's locked wooden almirah. I always envisaged that a secret world lay beyond it. It was made of old Birch wood which had this very distinct smell. It was around 6 feet tall and 5 feet wide. I felt so very tiny when i stood in front of it. The almirah was divided into two sections. On the left was a full length vertical door that concealed her dresses, skirts and blouses. Her bags and belts were here too. These were sourced from the very best high fashion stores in London, Paris & New York. This section also contained sarees that were made of pure silk. She looked like a Maharani when she was draped in one of those. Her clothes always smelled of Chanel No. 5. This door had an internal lock which held one of the prettiest keys i had ever laid my eyes on. The head on the key had an intricate design. I always felt it held a cabalistic cryptic message.

The section to the right was split into two horizontal divisions. The lower half bore two drawers. Objects and materials of lower importance lay here. These drawers had no internal locks. I kept going through them when she wasn't around hoping she had mistakenly put some of her valuables here but i was always left disappointed. I'm sure she knew a pair of tiny hands were rummaging through her belongings!

The most dear to me was the upper half which was an enclosed shelf containing riches that made my small eyes sparkle and pop. Always under the spell of a small padlock, it concealed a cornucopia of stringed pearls, uncut diamonds sets, rings set in precious stones, delicate lace, crochet made from the most expensive yarn - the works! I even told her once that i would give her my doll collection in exchange for a day's worth of of dressing up in her jewelry. She just laughed.

On my 18th Birthday i got full access to Nana's almirah. I held the intricate key in my hand, staring at it for a while. Slowly all the memories came rushing back.

Somehow, going through the almirah wasn't as exciting as when i was a big eyed little girl.