MAD ME!!

“Do you like green color?” The voice on the other end asked. “Yes, I replied, I love all dark, bright and vibrant colors”. “Ok”, came a prompt reply. The conversation ended and I completely forgot about the “green color”. Yesterday she called up again. “When does the courier guy come to your office?” I could sense a lot of impatience in her voice. “He will come in the noon. Why?” I answered with a question. “Nothing”, she said and hung up. After an hour she called up again, “Has the courier guy come?” “Not yet” I answered again. Why? She inquired like a child waiting for a surprise. “It will come in sometime, I will let you know”. She again replied with a usual “OK “and it sounded so sad. By now I could smell a fish. I immediately questioned her, “Have you sent something?” And the answer to this was a child like giggle on the other end. “Yes”, she replied. “Hmmm……I paused... well let me check and call you”. I hung up.

The courier guy was in by now and he was holding a courier for me. The security guard carefully handed it over to me. “Madam, aapke liye hai”, he said. I smiled and took it. I did not have the patience
to reach my desk and open it. I began un-wrapping it right at the reception counter blocking
way for so many employees. Was I bothered? Naaa .. I cautiously un-wrapped the gift and out
came a beautiful looking Journal. It had a “GREEN COVER” on which a loved one had very beautifully embroidered “MAD ME” (for all those who don’t know, “MAD ME” is the name of my diary where I open my heart everyday). I was so touched with this gesture. I opened the journal and found a love filled note on the first page. My smile spread from one ear to the other. I am the super expressive kinds, yet, yesterday I found no words to express my gratitude to this special person who had taken out time to make something so beautiful for me.

I had first met her when I joined this new organization some eight months back. She had big bright eyes, round cheeks and a child like grin that can make even a dead man smile. “Girija Shetty”, she introduced
herself. “Khushboo Singh”, I promptly replied. We spoke for sometime about work and some random
stuff. She works out of Belgaum while I am placed in Bangalore. So regular meetings were not possible,
yet we would often speak on phone (thanks to our team meetings). Slowly and steadily we started
getting close. Honestly I didn’t realize when I started calling her “Giri” and found that her mails often addressed me as “Khushi”. When did this transition take place? Only God knows. But as we grew together, we realized we were so similar yet so different. We shared our interest towards arts, crafts, writing, reading, cooking( baking ), trekking, travelling and chatting.

Yet we are different and I believe that is what makes our friendship so unique and so beautiful. As
mentioned in my previous posts, I am this impulsive woman, whereas Giri is this grounded and patient
girl. She has been a constant support for me while I was still settling in the new system. We often call
each other to share a joke and laugh together. We also share all the difficult situations we encounter
in our everyday lives and the solutions towards them. There are certain times when share the woes of
being an “HR” . Well, the best part about her is that she is an optimist from head to toe. She always
helps us look at the brighter side of the picture. And with her “looking beyond” attitude the team has
achieved a lot. She is upright honest about everything and that makes her all the more special. There is
no fake mask to unveil. She is as she is, humble yet assertive.

I have always wondered why do I find some people so beautiful and lovable? They quietly walk in to
my life and build a place in my heart. I have no answer to this and I am sure I will never have. Giri calls
herself “small” but she doesn’t know that she has a heart that’s large enough to love millions like me out
there.

Giri, the “MAD ME” means so much to me. It will always remind me of the madness that we have shared. It is also a reminder of the giggles that has added joy to our lives. Those insane ideas that have travelled to and fro through this beautiful invention called the “telephone”. It is a symbol of the love and care I have received from you. Every time I will open the journal to scribble my thoughts, I will remember to look at the world with a different perspective, the perspective that was introduced to me by you. And please note: the Journal is as beautiful as you are.

That’s about "MAD ME"… and about two mad friends who are so far yet so close!!

Love and everything like it!!!

I have known him for almost 5 years now, yet the joy of seeing him and talking to him never ends. I eagerly wait for him every evening to share all that the day had to offer. His voice still sounds so sweet to my ears that I feel I can converse with him for hours together. When he tries to steal a moment with me in a room full of people, I still blush and turn pink. I love it when when we hold our hands and share moments of silent conversation, staring at the beautiful sky for hours. It’s wonderful how he shares his knowledge of the many stars that beautify the sky every night after a long tiring day. The “chai time” that we share every morning makes just the perfect start for my day. His childlike smile just fades off my memories of pain, grief and worry.

He never fails to surprise me with his love for other beings. His humility is something that most men today can only boast of. In an age when people brag about the money they make or the organization they work with, he is a complete unfit. I believe the more he achieves, the humble he grows. He enjoys talking about the lovely orchids that we own or about the fish tank that he saw at a store. He remembers the times he has spent with children and the times when he was a child. He brags about the cartoons that filled up the last page of his history notebook in school or the pompous celebration of his school sports day.

I have seen the awe in his eyes when birds flock together in the sky or when there is a new rose bud in the little plant of our balcony. I have seen him hide his tears when he there is a child in pain or when an animal is abused. I am the witness of his serene face while he is meditating and the faith in his voice when he praying for someone who is a complete stranger. His passion for Astronomy coupled with his keen desire for "Shell Scripting" certainly makes him different. I have seen him bite his nails when there is a thrilling cricket match and jump from the chair when when Arsenal hits a goal. I have seen the mischief in his eyes when he pulls my cheeks and the cheer in his voice when he learns something new.

He has added a new dimension to my life and changed my perspective on things. The best part is that he didn’t have to try a bit. It just happened. He has taught me that love is in its purest form when it is "unconditional". While I am this carefree, outspoken and impulsive woman, he is a thoughtful, calm and considerate man. He has a forgiving heart, the one that carries no grudge. While many of us only talk about Karma, he is simply walking the path. He is a silent winner and has won many hearts with his abound love and simplicity. Life has not only become meaningful but it has also found a new path where he and I tread together.

Yesterday when I opened the e-mail box I saw an email from Kakimaa (one of the most beautiful person I am fortunate to know and before I realized I was in love with her). The mail began with a line,” Sweetie, you have blossomed into such a beautiful person, and a lot of the credit goes to Rakesh for enabling you to be who you are.” A tear fell from my eye. I am not sure how beautiful I am. My Kakimaa loves me immensely and this could be the reason why she thinks I am a beautiful person. Yet a part of her statement is so true. Apart from my parents, it’s he ( Rakesh )who enabled me to dream and made me believe that dreams  come true if you pursue them with perseverance. When I shared this e-mail with him, he smiled (as he always does), hugged me and said, “Just let your love fill me”.

He is a wonderful person and I am so fortunate to be with him. He is an answer to my prayer and one of the most precious gifts of God to me. Every day he unleashes a new color of joy in our lives and with each passing day I fall in love with him, all over again. He is my soul mate, my best friend and my companion for life - He is "My Husband".

This picture was clicked by Kaku on our 2nd wedding anniversary

"I have a Dream" - Rashmi Bansal.

Author: Rashmi Bansal

About the Author: Rashmi Bansal is a writer, entrepreneur and youth expert. she is a motivational speaker and mentor to students and young entrepreneurs. She is an MBA from IIM - Ahmedabad.

I have a Dream - First Published by Westland 2011.

On several occasions, I had these strange questions barking loudly inside me. The questions were simple yet blunt. I always thought, Is there no hope in today's world? Is there no humanity left? Is there no love for the other in one's heart? I did not have an answer to any of these questions until recently. And then I stumbled upon, “I have a dream”. After reading this book, I am hopeful again that “All is not lost in today's world”.

Written very succinctly by Author, Entrepreneur and Youth Expert- Rashmi Bansal, the book touches your soul and moves you beyond everything. It questions the very basic existence of you and me. All of us are here for a reason however very few of us find this reason and live it completely.

The book entails the stories of 20 unconventionally conventional idealists. These idealists have nothing in common except for the fact that all of them are committed to social causes. These are social entrepreneurs. The book talks about the thrilling, rough yet amazing journey of these next door individuals who made a difference in the society, for the society.

The book begins with a heart wrenching tale of Bindeshwar Pathak and his journey towards making a difference in the rural India through Sulabh Shauchalya. Then it it talks about Saloni malhotra, a young girl who dared to dream to create jobs in rural India. The other tale encompaases the heart touching tale of Sumita Ghose, a woman whose determination to empower the labourers of rural India during a very rough phase of her life, created a revolution. Another story of grit and passion is the story of a scientist, Harish Hande who was determined to bring light in the lives of labourers through solar lighting. And nonetheless the story of a young entrepreneur, Dhruv Lakra who employed and empowered specially abled people and made a difference. It takes you through a journey of many more such entrepreneurs leaving behind a mark on your heart, mind and soul.

Each story stands a testimony to the power of “one” single being's dream to make a difference to the nation that belonged to them. As Rashmi rightly says, " These stories say one thing loud and clear - change starts with one person could be someone next door".So while a typical middle class Indian is cribbing about the dirty streets, unemployment, pollution, lack of education and various other problems that are eating up our nation, the real Indians are out there getting their hands dirty and contributing their bit to the society. The society that is made up of you and me. And such real "HEROES" make the society worth living.

While I was reading the book, with every page that I turned, I was left wondering about one thing. Who are these people? The answer was straight, they are simple, humble beings like you and me. Yet they are different. They are different in their thoughts, actions and goals. While today's youth is running a race to make it to the corporate ladder, these dreamers, dreamt out of the box. They took the road less travelled.

If you are looking for a book that will change your thought process , “I have a dream” is the right pick. It is one of those rare gems that shines occasionally in your eyes and in your thoughts.

My First Valentine!!

I don’t remember when,

With you I first fell in love,

It must be when you hugged me

And thanked up above.

You showed me the world,

On your shoulders all around,

I felt so blessed and gay

With your love so abound.

I walked my first step,

And mumbled my first sound,

You held my tiny hands,

And saw me play around.

I slowly then grew up

And walked my path alone

You still stood with me

And never made it known.

I made poor mistakes,

And argued all along,

You taught me the lesson,

And kept it going strong.

I was the dream of your eye,

And the grin on your face,

The thought in your mind,

Bestowed with HIS grace.

I then fell in love,

With a man I never knew

I still held your hand,

And I always wish to.

You were the only man I knew

And the only man I loved.

I was your tiny daughter

And the woman so beloved.

I have now moved away,

Like a woman so grown,

I have paved my own road,

Through some mud and a stone.

Yes, I am so content

With all that I own,

Yet my lovely father,

For your caress I moan.

There is no man like you,

And no affection like yours,

Let’s toddle together again,

Through the sand and the shores.

I will always love you dad,

With all the strength and heart of mine,

I will always be your daughter,

Dad, you were and will always be, “MY FIRST VALENTINE”

Tiny Little RAG PICKING Hands!!!

Photo Credit : http://freeclipartnow.com

Life is unpredictable. At times it portrays the best of itself to you. But sometimes it punches you hard on your face with its brutal reality. It wouldn't be wrong to say that today morning I was punched with its harsh reality.

Reading the newspaper is a common "to do" every morning. I am from a school of thought which says, “Newspapers expose us to a lot of negativity”. So I usually ignore the depressing news and prefer to read something that’s less negative and more informative. But today something caught my eye. A picture of a toddler completely mauled and injured. I just read through the article only to realize that this 4 and a half year old kid named Selva was clawed and bitten by stray dogs.The incident occurred while he was “PICKING RAGS” in a locality of this hi-tech city. This news sent a shiver down my spine.

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/bangalore/Dogs-maul-4-year-old-rag-picker/articleshow/11419702.cms

I was left with tears in my eyes and a thought in head. But life moves on. While I was on my way to work this conversation broke. There were comments on how the city is full of stray dogs. Some mentioned the gory incident where these dogs had eaten up a tiny little kid. Some criticized the government for being so unreasonable. There were multiple ideas on how this can be curbed. There were solutions to making this city cleaner, greener and healthier. But there was one thing that got completely missed out. The kid was just four and a half and he was a “Rag Picker”.

A Rag picker? A kid of his age must play and sing and dance and not pick rags for his living. This thought has not left my mind even for a second. I am sure many fortunate children of his age may not even carry their school bags. And they must not. These tiny little shoulders are not meant to carry off the burden of the family, today. They are meant to grow stronger to face the realities of life, tomorrow. They are the future. While I do understand that circumstances play a major role here, I fail to understand the very basis of life.

I am not sure what will happen to him now. After he is discharged from the hospital, he will probably be pushed back to slums. He will again hold his bag and go picking the rags that we "white collared sophisticated society citizens" have left behind. While children of his age will sing “bits of paper lying on the floor”, Selva will actually go and "pick them up".

But then we are the “Aam Aadmi”. We have a life of our own. We have enough and more on our plates to cater to. So we will feel sorry for Selva, some of us will sympathize with him and blame the government, some of us will blame the parents or the relatives, and some of us (the most intelligent of the lot) will only blame the dogs for what they have done. A few of you will also mock at me for writing this. Because as the Aam Junta of India this is what we always do. In fact, this is what we are meant to do.

As far as I am concerned, I feel shallow of myself and my kind.

Just a thought!!!

“I disagree”, I exclaimed.” I don’t think getting a progress report for a 3 year old kid is the right thing to do”. Naina did not react. She knew I was right. But women are women. She began to defend herself and shot at me, “Listen Khushi, it is not about the progress report, it is about Nihal’s lack of attention in the class. His teacher has been continuously telling me that he is naughty and just dances around. He sings songs and refrains from writing even a single alphabet.” Before I could even speak, Naina had already started crying. I couldn’t believe it. Naina was crying at her 3 year old kid’s progress report? I tried to pacify her and told her that Nihal was just 3 and this is the time when he should and must dance and sing around. Not sit in the class like an attentive nerd. Somewhere deep within Naina agreed but the mother in her was still upset.

This incident certainly triggered the thought that always runs at the back of my mind. In this hi tech age, do our children really enjoy their childhood? Are the schools in today’s world open to newer ways of teaching and learning? Are we looking at our children like lovely little buds who need time to grow up into a beautiful flower? For some this may sound very bookish / filmy. But the ones who agree with me know that our children are simply victimized. Yes, I reiterate, VICTIMIZED.

Last year my sister was running from pillar to post to find a suitable school for my little niece. The scenario was pretty frightening. Either the schools would demand a hefty donation or torture lovely little kids while conducting interviews. Yes, kids are getting interviewed. Sad. I always ponder, what are these school authorities going to ask the kid? And if the kid has to know everything beforehand why are we even sending our children to school? I am sorry if I sound rude but this idea of interviewing these lovely bunches of kids (Laddoos) makes me sick, really sick. Finally my sister found a school which neither burnt her pocket nor interrogated my niece about her capabilities. My sister (please read the entire family) heaved a sigh of relief. But then all good things come to an end. Very soon we realized the school was running a race, the race to make its kindergarten students “NOBEL PRIZE WINNERS” (It may sound like a super exaggeration but I somehow believe it’s true). End result? We are hunting for another school.

The other day a very close friend laughed and shared a very funny incident. She told me her son’s teacher was very upset because her son talks a lot in the class. He looks outside the classroom and dances around the classroom. My friend just laughed at it and said,” What does she expect out of a 4 year old bachha (child)?” This reminded me of my school days. I was a naughty kid, in fact very very naughty. I was so talkative that my kindergarten teacher nick named me as “Grand Ma of the class” (Yeah, yeah you can laugh at it). But the point is this never bothered my teacher so much. I am sure with so many children in the class my teacher must have been troubled with my non sense questions. Then why didn’t she ever moan about it? Instead I remember she would often encourage my questions. She motivated me to participate in story telling competitions (with my not so great English). This boosted my confidence and my trust in my teacher. When I would make mistakes she did punish me but at the same time corrected me. In today’s scenario, I believe everyone wants a disciplined kid.

Please do not get me wrong, I am neither asking the “teacher clan” to baby sit kids nor trying to teach people to do their jobs. I understand that it is every parent’s right to know about his child’s progress. But then that should not take away the child’s innocence from him.

Kids are meant to be naughty and playful. It is okay if they don’t learn something fast. Give them time, they will learn. It is alright if a nursery rhyme is sung differently. It is alright if a child doesn’t get good grades (the question still remains, what is a good grade?). I think it is unwise to even label them with grades. There is always a next time. In fact there is always time. Let them play pranks, let them be mischievous. Once they get in to the grind of life these memories will keep them going.

Some parents would disagree with me and think I believe in spoiling children. No, that’s not true. It is important to discipline children. It is important to teach those manners, good manners. It is necessary for your child to learn things in school. But how he learns it and at what pace should be decided by your child.

Well, at times I believe schools and teachers are only partly responsible in this act of “LEARN EVERYTHING NOW BECAUSE THERE IS NO TOMORROW”. Parents play an equal and sometimes more than equal role. There are parents who want their children to speak in English right from the time when they are born. I doubt if they wish they had given birth to SHAKESPEARE? Oh, I feel sorry for such kids. There is nothing wrong in teaching your children the global language. But tell me, is it right to keep a condition that THE GLOBAL LANGUAGE should be the only language spoken? Once while I was picking some grocery on a lovely weekend a kid came running to the vegetables section and shouted loud, “Maa, aam khana hai (Mom, I want to eat mangoes)”. The mother embarrassed for no reason replied, “Aam nahin beta, IT IS MANGO (It is not Aam my son, its MANGO)”. And I thought, may be calling it Aam makes it less nutritious. Grow up parents, if he has learnt Aam today, he will certainly learn MANGO tomorrow.

Sometimes parents are running a race too. They love to compare their children with the other children (sometimes of the same age and most of the times elder to them). Once a relative from Delhi told me, “My daughter is 5 already and she still can’t speak fluent English. The kids in her class are so fluent with it. I don’t know what to do?” I looked at her and thought to myself; thank god I was born 27 years ago. And thank god (again) that I was born to my mother because I started speaking English only when I was 9 and believe me I am still struggling with it.

What we lack in the so called competitive world of today is the courage to accept each kid as he/she is. Some have the capability to learn a new language with the snap of a finger, while some can cook up wonderful tales. Some can play video games pretty well while some love to run around the class. Some can sing songs and some can add subtract and multiply at the age of 5. Each kid is gifted. Each child is lovely, unique, wonderful and special. Love them, care for them and accept them. That’s all they need. Our children have to study more than just books; they have to study the world.

Crowded classrooms and half-day sessions are a tragic waste of our greatest national resource - the minds of our children – Walt Disney.

For my Mother!!!

When long long ago,

Nothing did man know.

Neither light nor dark,

Lived on trees and wore the bark.

He ate only flesh,

And fruits so fresh.

He drank only water,

And little did he bother.

There was no house,

No kids no spouse.

he dwelled in a cave,

And fought so brave.

Yet there was something,

To light that I bring.

Something that has no change,

And I find it no strange.

There was a warm arm,

And a smile so calm.

A womb so small,

Yet which held it all.

A woman so sweet,

The first face to meet.

The embrace so tight,

A grin so bright.

Today we have the lot,

Nothing that we do not,

Something is still the same,

A woman with a name.

The same tight embrace,

The same serene face.

The same little kiss,

The same eternal bliss.

From stone age then,

To cyber age men.

She stands honest,

Human at its best.

You call her Amma or Ammi,

Maybe, Maa or Mummy.

Well, She is no other,

She is your darling Mother.