Quiet creations

I sat there, alone in the crowded classroom. There was so much noise around, but it all seemed like a distant buzz to my ears. There was so much movement around me, so many people preparing for presentations. Some rehearsing their speeches, others setting up the projector, the rest chattering amongst themselves. But they all appeared like blurred dots to me. I had taken off my specks and laid my head down on the bench. No one bothered me. ‘The presentation is about to begin.’ A clear voice rang through my ears. I upped my head by barely an inch above the desk to look who spoke. It was the teacher announcing the commencement of the next presentation. I stared at the blurred outline of an old cupboard lying in our classroom. There was movement around. But it dint bother me. I kept staring like an idiot. It took me a while before I could register some vivid movement out there. Near the cupboard I mean. Someone was franctically waving out to me. My pupils contracted as I carefully looked in that direction. It was this classmate of mine whom I must’ve not even exchanged 10 words ever since I stepped into college. I looked up a bit and unsurely pointed out a finger to myself to indicate ‘who me?’. He nodded with a charming smile on his face. He continued to wave until I waved back with a faint trace of smile on my face. Why he did that, I had no clue. But I could guess he spotted silence in the commotion. A while later he came to me and said, ‘hey, will you be there to see my play tomorrow?’ ‘Me?’ I asked again, stupidly. ‘Yes, you.’ He replied calmly. ‘Umm.. ok. Sure.’ I replied, still, stupidly. ‘Tomorrow. Be there to see it. Ok?’ he said and left me aghast. I went back home, admittedly, smiling. Even though I dint know what had happened, I surely recognized the effort to make me feel wanted and to make me feel good. To my pleasant surprise, it wasn’t the end of it all..  

 

I went home and as a habit and a ritual, I signed into MSN messenger. All the nocturnal creatures like me were online. Yes, he was online too. He never spoke to me online either. Never ever since my last two years in college. I just looked at his name out there and smiled. ‘Hi, how are you?’ came a pop-up of a chat window.. And to my pleasant surprise, it was him! ‘Hi! I’m good.’ I replied. ‘But you don’t look so good in college. I have been observing you. You have been very quiet and down lately. What has happened?’ he asked, much to my surprise.. ‘Uhh.. well, a lot is down lately.’ I admitted. ‘If you want, you can tell me. I promise you I wont tell this to anyone. I can be an outlet to your problems. Talk it out.’ He offered instantly. Ok, here was this guy who dint even speak a few sentences with me ever, and yet, and simply yet he had sensed so much that was going around. There are times when you let your heart take over the rationale. By logic I shouldn’t have given a damn to his offer and should have politely refused. But my heart told me he was god sent. He was the outlet I was looking for. An unknown person who’d listen to me, understand me and yet, stay away from me. Without a second of hesitation, I poured out my heart to him. He heard me out patiently. And even gave me some great advice which I remember till date. That night I shed tremendous burden from my mind. It brought back a smile on my face. We never bothered to talk much after that incident.. occasionally when things went low, he did ask. But never much otherwise. But one glance at him and I knew there was someone who cared. Who wanted to be there when I was alone. You mustve come across such people.. They’re special. Extremely special..

The father handed out a torn blanket to the old man and said, 'Sleep outside in the balcony, there's no place at home.' He said this and turned around. His 10 year old son was standing holding another torn blanket in his hands. 'Why this blanket?' the father fumed. 'It's for you' replied the son. 'Me?' 'yes, because when you will grow as old as grandpa, I will give you this blanket when I also throw you out of this house.' he concluded innocently. The father was aghast. The grandpa dint know whether to be shocked or relieved. And tears swarmed my eyes. Within a few seconds, it turned into a stream flowing out of my reddened eyes. My parents, grandparents, all turned to look at me. They stared at me and got confused. What had happened? Just a few seconds ago all of us are watching this serial on television and now this girl is howling! 'Did she hit you beta?' asked mom pointing a finger at my innocent looking little sister who was barely 3-4 yrs old then. My sister saw all the fingers being pointed at her and turned her innocently surprised gaze towards me, questioningly. I was in a half a mind to attribute my crying to a non-existent 'hit' by my sister. But instead I chose to keep quiet and continued crying. My eyes repeatedly darted to the television. My granma noticed this and added up the situation. 'She's realized what that story we just saw, meant. She's crying for that old man' she said and smiled. My mom looked at me and smiled. But they dint pester me much about it and I stopped crying. But that was my first encounter with old age abuse. And it was so freaking touching that it reduced me to tears at that tender age of 7. I found this story as an answer to why does this topic pester my mind all the time.  

 

I was just reading a few writeups on the mental state of the people in old-age homes. Parents living in bunglows, parents living for their children entire lives, been thrown out of their homes.. Parents been thrown out just coz they cant cope up with their old age? an elderly was thrown out just because she asked for a box of sweets!!! And Imagine their trauma.. of not having met their children for years together.. left alone to deal with their withering body, and barren funds! When I see all of this around me, I feel I am so blessed to have such great values instilled into me.. for us our elderly are the ultimate authority. We seek their blessings before every work we do and we seek their advice for every move we make.. I just wish people start realizing the value of parents, of the elderly. They are like this huge baniyan tree that gives shade, that roots us firmly to the ground.. the moment it witheres, the moment it dies, the heat, the harsh winds and rains are bound to erode your lives

Today was a grim day. In addition to the recent tragedy faced by Mumbai, today was the first death anniversary of granpa. Well, really, not BBC news material, but on a personal front, it meant quite a lot. Till date we always gathered at Grandma's death anniversary to sing some prayers and bhajans in her rememberance and also so that grandpa would feel good that we havent forgotten her as he thought we would have. Every time during these sessions, granpa would make 'farmayish' of his favourite bhajans and songs and we would oblidge. He felt thrilled and had created a special set of xeroxed songs to be distributed amongst all of us. It was so ironical and sad that it was from those very sets that today we were singing those bhajans for the death anniversary of my granpa himself. He was terribly missed. Missed like hell.

 

I thought may be, no amount of words would do justice to a noble soul like his. And so i decided to make a small 2 minute movie for his dedication. the background score was as cheesy as it could get. It was the song 'yaadein' from the movie 'yaadien'. I quickly selected a few snaps and a couple of video clips of granpa for the 2 minute essemble. In a giffy, at night 2 i created this small and simple video. Little did i know so big would be its impact. In the evening, once all the bhajans and songs were over, I gathered all the family members in one side of the room and played the video on my television. The reaction. The entire lot of 20 people were in tears. Some of them, uncontrollable, the rest, mildly crying. I was aghast. They're voices choked as they congratulated me for this extraordinary piece of work (or so they say). They wanted to see it once more. I played it once more. And the tears flowed once more. I was really surprised to see this kind of reaction, but well, it was my aim, and hence i was happy. I was happy that they all cried in the memory of granpa. Nothing can be fitting than this, although im sure if he'd be watching from the heavens he'd say 'arreey! shit! they're actually crying for me! oh no! drashti! what did you do? why are they crying for me? im with them, always.' and then perhaps i felt him smile and whisper' thanks drashtiben'.

 

 

 

She worshipped her friends. She always made her adjustments for them. Anyone who showed her sightest courtesy was enrolled in her hall of fame and received unbounded care and love. People liked her very easily. No she wasnt attractive. But she radiated a warmth that no one could ignore. But yes, while her friends were a breath of life for her, she wasnt the same for them. She was an angelic child. She was the 'cute' friend. Or so she thought.

 

Her hall of fame had its own share of critics. How often people questioned her on her extra show of care and affection. How often people told her it sounded all fake and stupid. How often people questioned if this goodness was genuine! How often they shattered her faith in friendship, including her own best friend who refused to give her friendship a chance.. but she embraced those incidences, took the negative in her stride and tried to learn from the criticisms. But never, even once, her respect and care for her friends, waivered in the process. For her, friendship was unbreakable, unshakable.

 

Inspite of all this, now, gradually, she finds herself alone. Inspite of this fight against the critics and circumstances, she finds her hope in the word 'friendship' diminishing like a dying star. She has friends, but no friends. She has friends, who will hang out whenever she calls, but she doesnt have friends who will call up simply to ask 'how are you?' she has friends who will share their joys and sorrows with her (and she loves it genuinely when they do that), but she doesnt known anyone who will take her stories as anyhting less than a burden. And she also has friends who have made her what she is, who have helped her out in her depression, but now, have gone their own way without giving her a chance to repay. She has reached a stage, where she is the needy. She begs for people to keep in touch, she has to beg to arrange meet-ups. And sometimes, most embarrasingly, she has to write threatening e-mails or smses and shout out their mistakes.. at the expense of hurting them, stupidifying herself and well,, acting silly.

 

She is tired now. And thinks she will quit doing all of this. Coz if everyone's being so distant, all of them can't be faulty. Either its a way of life, or it's just her. Either ways there's no solution. SHe lives, coming to terms with reality.

(as much as you're tempted to guess who the 'she' is, i request you not to jump to any conclusions. It's just a story.. just a blog! Let her be! :) )