Baarish, not monsoon

Monsoon is here. The gushing wind trickles the trees and they sway with perfection in an attempt to escape the fierce yet gentle brush of the wind.  The grey clouds gather around the bright morning sun to guard it from the boisterous little drops which will soon arrive to quench the thirst of the barren land. And when they arrive, they are like tiny pearls which go and fall on the dry and hungry land and form a pretty necklace of green and glee. These little pearls also graze against our glass windows. The slimy green frogs and the crawly earthworms embrace the little drops of water like a blessing and a gift from the sky above.  The atmosphere is dark, but each drop brings with it a fragment of hope.

That essentially summarizes what monsoon is in the poetic sense. But it isn’t what an Indian monsoon is all about.

Monsoon for us is a time for our cherished rain dance, and not for getting our old umbrellas out. We get inspired by our iconic Bollywood songs, be it Chak dhoom dhoom chak or ek ladki bheegi bhaagi si, each song and each star is remembered in times like these. We love to jump into the dirty puddles for they splash happiness on our faces. The little paper boats float in almost each little ‘stream’ which forms in monsoons. An Indian monsoon is incomplete without a plate of pakodas. The crunchy little pakodas are like a blessing in the rainy season. Onion, paneer, mirchi, aloo, bread, each and every item available at home is dipped in the pale yellow besan and fried to perfection in loads of tel and love. Maggie is another saathi for the monsoon. Sitting with a bowl of piping hot Maggie and a cup of chai or coffee, looking out of the window at the lovely raindrops sounds like the perfect monsoon. Cozying up in bed with your favourite book, or sitting on the couch all day with your favourite video game or movie is also amazing. An Indian monsoon is unique and there is perhaps no country where monsoon is as exciting as it is here.  We don’t have monsoon in India, we have only baarish.

Sooraj nahi hua maddham

Finally, I let my creative juices flow to give this article. This article isn’t one of my best ones, but I’ve tried something different and hopefully humorous:

9.00 a.m.: I feel something wet around me. I wake up with a start. Half of the bed is wet. I’m way past the phase of peeing on the bed, but is this the return of the pee monster? Thankfully, no. I’ve just drowned in my pool of sweat. I am a cute little bacchi who sweats like a big fat piggy.

10.00 a.m. : I check my phone and my dear friend Thalia (pet name) tells me that the temperature today is 40 degrees! I do a ‘haww’ and type ‘Hey Ram!’ to show my exclamation. She tells me to use some other exclamation and I come up with ‘Hayo rabba!’. She asks me why I am so obsessed with these God-related exclamations and all I tell her is that they are pretty much automatic. Besides it’d be really weird if I start exclaiming using my favourite celebrity names. Just imagine Haye Dhoni or Haye Sindhu!

11.30 a.m.: I look outside and the song that plays in my mind is – sooraj hua maddham, chand jalne laga. Aasman ye haye kyu pighalne laga. I don’t really know about the aasman, but I’m sure that I’ll melt if this stupid garmi doesn’t stop.

12.30 p.m.: Our internet package is over. Thanks to Fawad Khan. My family has been obsessed with the Pakistani shows Humsafar and Zindagi Gulzar Hai and watching them till 12 in the night is seriously violating my sleep-by-10 policy. But then Fawad Khan just looks too good to be missed. So before calling me a desh drohi, check out his picture.

2.00 p.m.: After a delicious lunch of my favourite bhindi chawal, I decide to finally start doing some constructive stuff during my vacation. So I decide to walk it up till Phoenix mall and get some books from Crossword. But I’ll do so  after just one episode of Zindagi Gulzar Hai……

4.00 p.m.: Where did all the time go? Its 4! That whole one episode paitra works neither in movies, nor in real life. I’m late. Baba offers to drop me till Phoenix, as the sooraj is not maddham and walking in this heat might lead to atmahatya.

4.30 p.m.: I reach Phoenix. On my way to Crossword, I bump into my dearest friend Malia (pet name again). She’s shopping with her maa and asks me if I have some time to spare so that we can do some time  pass. I tell her that currently I’m the most jobless person on Earth, so I have all the time.

4.45 p.m.:  We are roaming around the mall, drinking Masala Lemonade, calling random people, talking about other people and cracking super lame jokes. We step into H&M and start looking around but turn around once we look at the prices of the  outfits, cause even if we buy a hairband here, we’d go into some major loss. Our dhai sau rupaye can’t even buy us one of those stupid bunny hairbands that one gets here. We now start praising our desi MG Road street shopping.

5.00 p.m.: I’m walking towards Sephora, where we are supposed to meet Malia’s mother, when I hear someone calling “Aastha didi!”. Everyone except my sagi behen calls me that, so I turn around to see Papita and Bookworm (pet names!) who are two sweet little sisters aged 5 and 9, and are the scrappy sister’s chaddi buddies. They have been our neighbours for 10 years now and unfortunately, are shifting. They are with their grandparents. I say hi and talk to Miss Bookworm, the shareef one, while Papita, the gundi stares at me in awe and asks where my parents are. I say that I’m alone. I get a shocked expression.

5.05 p.m.: After the accidental meeting, Malia and I proceed towards Sephora to help her mom with some lipstick shopping. Neither of us is fond of makeup, so we tell Aunty that we won’t really be able to help. So while aunty tries out new lipsticks, we roam around the place and our nazar goes towards an eye shadow. Malia exclaims that even she has eye shadow, but under her eyes *points towards her dark circles*. I let out a sarcastic laugh.

5.30 a.m.: After a lot of debate, the lipstick shade is finalized. Maa calls. She says we are going out and tells me to reach home soon. I bid a teary farewell to Malia and head home.

7.30 a.m.: We reach a faraway mall for dinner and start looking for a good place to eat. We find a place with a lovely ambiance and outdoor seating. It’s pretty breezy here, so I start feeling afraid about my hair and dress flying away.

8.30 a.m.: Thankfully, nothing flies off and we have a decent dinner. Now we need to visit the washroom, thanks to the 3 glasses of water and 2 glasses of cold drink. We reach the washroom and realize that there is a daughter-mother pair inside the washroom already, having a conversation which is pretty lame:

Mother: Beta, are you done?

Daughter: Haan mamma, ho gaya.

Mother : But you’ve hardly done anything. Try doing a bit more.

Daughter: Par mamma, nahi aa rahi.

Mother: Theek hai, turn your face now, mamma will also pee.

(I guess the daughter turns)

Daughter: But how does mamma pee?

Mother: Just the way my baccha pees.

The daughter starts asking the mother whether she can touch the things the washroom and the mother refuses.

Daughter: Mamma can I turn now?

Mother: Two minutes, beta. Arre, don’t touch that its dirty!

I hear a loud sound, I think someone falls! After two more minutes, this iconic drama pair comes out and the condition of the mother is totally shabby.

I guess this heat has just made everyone mad. Hey Ram, don’t give such an ‘adventurous’ day to anyone in the future please. And this is just April, I wonder what kaarnamas May has in store.

Sophie

I had my board exams so didn't get a chance to write anything for a long time.  Finally, here I am:


The tinted soul stared at its tinted reflection.
Her reflection was stained with the bad memories that resided in her soul.
Her reflection showed her ghastly conscience.
It showed the bald-headed evil witch that resided in the blonde-haired pretty princess.
She wanted to be good,
But the truth of her sombre soul couldn't ombre with the colour of the lies the world told her.
Love had betrayed her.
So had her best friend.
 Love had only meant hate.
 ‎She stared again at the reflection that stood before her,
 ‎And let out a smile.
 It took years for her to understand,
 ‎That she was her true love.
 ‎That only she could accept the light from her dark soul.
 ‎She loved just one thing truly, the thing which loved her back-
 ‎Her Mirror.

This poem is based on the character Sophie from School for Good and Evil

Kahani coffee ki

The velvety and smooth texture of the Coffee Walnut ice cream touched my palate. I experienced ‘love at first sight’ for the first time and fell in love with a flavor so rich and powerful, that it stays in the mouth for a while. I was introduced to Coffee when I first ate this lovely ice cream. I am a huge fan on walnut and since the ice cream had some crunchy walnuts in it, I decided to give it a try. Little did I know that it’d introduce me to a slightly unconventional flavor which would have its name on top on my list of favourite flavours.

I had a faint idea about Coffee. The memory of maa beating her own coffee was perhaps my first experience with it. The aroma of piping-hot coffee was as soothing to me as a walk on the seashore is. The most vibrant memory of coffee would perhaps be the daily dip-dip rendezvous. The dipping or dunking of the  Parle-G biscuits in my parents’ coffee was perhaps the best way to experience how delicious coffee can make even the bland Parle-G biscuit. Sometimes, the biscuit used to get so wet that it used to fall inside the coffee.

I never drank coffee until 8^th grade. I was afraid that it’d be too bitter and dark for my taste. I was accustomed to bitterness though, for I loved the strong flavours of mint, tulsi and elaichi. Once, I took a sip from maa’s coffee and found it too bitter. It’s really ironical, since what I drink now is the purest form of coffee without any sugar or milk- Espresso.

Baba (Marathi for father) is a very frequent traveller. I don’t know where he got introduced to Espresso. What I do remember is that he used to try it at almost every restaurant we went. It used to be this really tiny cup, which had a dark and almost jet-black liquid in it. I used to be scared by the sight of it.

Westin is a hotel in Pune, and we used to visit it quite frequently when we had its membership. We used to visit it on at least one weekend per month for breakfast. The scrappy sister and I used to munch on yummy grilled sandwiches and hot chocolate, and baba used to have his Espresso, which was perhaps the best one he found at that time. I guess my introduction to Espresso happened here.

The first time I drank Espresso was at a place named Olive Bistro. Baba had ordered some and by now my curiosity for this dark yet interesting drink had risen to infinity. So I demanded to try it. I bought it close to my mouth, and at first I actually got scared to try it out. I succeeded in the second attempt. When the Espresso touched my lips, my bitter taste buds got to work and the most bitter, weird and unknown flavor touched my palate. I almost felt like spitting the thing out. I tried drinking water, but this eerie taste remained prominent. We paid the bill and walked to the car. The taste in my mouth was gradually changing. It was unknown and new, but it was one I strongly admired. That was how I was introduced to Coffee.

My love for Espresso only increased after that. The weird and unknown flavor had now become the most familiar and lovely flavor. I try Espresso at almost every restaurant I visit now. I can’t have even a pinch of sugar in my coffee, because I find it too sweet.

But somehow, there was one coffee with milk and sugar that I liked immensely. It’s named filter coffee. I’ve had filter coffee only thrice, even though I yearn for more. There’s a food joint in Phoenix Marketcity by the name UpSouth which had heavenly filter coffee. My parents used to always love this joint, even though I didn’t find anything great about it. Recently, when I had gone with baba to watch The Mummy, we were waiting for the movie, so meanwhile he took me downstairs to try out this extraordinary cup of coffee. It lived up to its expectations. It was truly phenomenal! The first cup was a wee bit too sweet for my taste so I had another one, which was stronger and yummier.

People say that coffee takes away sleep. Well, I drink the strongest form of coffee and still sleep for 10 hours straight! Most people are deewanas of chocolate. I was a fan of chocolate and used to love eating chocolate ice cream but now I have merely 4 flavours which I absolutely love (and eat ice creams of)- mint, coconut, coffee (ofcourse!) and our very own paan.

I realize how much I love my Espresso each time I visit Le Flamington in Kalyani Nagar. The first sip ignites a smile. The dark, bitter and always better teeny-weeny cup of coffee makes my mind race a million miles per hour and switched on my ‘happy mode’. So, kudos to coffee!

Oh, I completely forgot, a very happy new year to all!

Gazab ka hai din

6.00 a.m.: I wake up after a sleepless night. I have not been able to sleep last night because today is a day that I have been waiting for since the last 4 years. It’s the Teacher’s Day celebration at school! At our school, on every teacher’s day, the students of grade 10 dress up as teachers and enact their roles. I wanted to be a Social Studies teacher since I joined school, but today I have got an even better opportunity- I am going to be the principal of our school! I was overjoyed when I got the news and am now looking forward to going to school and having a gala time.

6.30 a.m.: I was all excited about Teacher’s Day. But now my excitement has died down. I completely forgot the fact that I am supposed to wear a saree today! I am one of those girls who lives more than half of her life in a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt. I can’t wear a skirt properly, how will I wear a saree? Apart from that, what if the saree falls? And what if I need to use the loo? How will I? How will I walk? What shoes will I wear? How will I eat? There are all these questions in my mind. But then optimism is the key to a happy life. So, wearing a saree isn’t that difficult also.

6.35 a.m.: Maa has invited one of our neighbors to help me wear a saree. Its just dadi who wears a saree regularly at my house, but she isn’t a pro at it. I have just had a head-bath and I was wearing a blue blouse and blue petticoat. But I was feeling cold, so I put on my grey gharelu jacket. So, I am looking like an orangutan with tangled hair, a bear with grey fur and a whale with a bright blue tail.  I am chomping on my yummy cream cheese sandwich when neighbor aunty enters. I look like an idiot.

6.40 a.m.: We start the most dreaded part of the day- the saree draping. Neighbor aunty drapes it and removes it so that there is no risk of the thing falling. I stand like a still yet talkative khamba and let out a few ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’. 

I am told to change my earrings and put on some make up but I blatantly refuse to do so. I just put on some Vaseline.

6.55 a.m.: We finally finish draping the saree. The Noble Prize in saree draping should be given to Neighbour Aunty and the one for patience to me.

7.00 a.m.: We are sitting in the car. I am clicking some selfies to record this achievement of my life. The scrappy sister’s comments don’t stop. I told baba to drop me today because I can’t go in the bus with this fiddly thing. The kids would start calling me ‘ma’am’.

7.30 a.m.: I enter school. Luckily, I have Divya and Riya by my side who are (like me) trying to adjust to this sadma. We go to our class and find all our dear friends dressed in sarees (girls) and shirt-pants (boys) who look unrecognizable. We basically tell everyone about how ‘different’ they look. Later, we go down for the function.

The Function:

8.00 a.m.: Whoa, this is nerve-wracking. We are all sitting on chairs, and there is pin-drop silence. The term pin-drop silence sounds like some fictional state, but this is the first time we have actually experienced it.

8.05 a.m.: The Function starts. We have a lovely ramp walk with the teacher whose role we are playing today. The fact that I am going to have the first ramp walk of my life, and the fact that it’s going to be with Principal ma’am just makes a shiver go down my spine. But my name is called out. I walk like an inexperienced saree-bearer, struggling with the six-yard fabric, trying to walk without stepping on the long skirt-like saree. After a struggle as grand as the Sepoy Mutiny, I finally reach the podium, and have my first and perhaps last ramp walk with Principal ma’am. I have a broad smile on my face, but my heart has mixed feelings of fear, nervousness, excitement and happiness.

9.00 a.m.: We finish off all ramp walks. The most hysterical one was Bella’s (who is a guy, not a girl as perceived from the name which is a mere pet name). Basically, Bella is this Biology wizard and is mad about Science. He wanted to be a science teacher but ended up being an English teacher. To show his disapproval of the same, he didn’t smile during the ramp walk (smiles rarely in general too, is expressionless). The funny part is that even the teacher didn’t smile. So there they were, sad and depressed mirror images of each other.

9.30 a.m.: The function ends after speeches by Ishika and I.  I am told by my real class teacher (not her student doppelganger) to address the students cum teachers. So I address them and give them some instructions and they just move out to their respective classes after a proper chai and biscuit breakfast.

10.00 a.m.: Aditi (who is acting as the Vice Principal) and I go to different classes to see whether everything is functioning well. We come back with Teacher’s Day cards. I actually have to run (in my saree which almost fell) from some of the classes to escape the children.

11.00 am.: My set of coordinators and I are sitting in Principal ma’am’s cabin. Ma’am teaches me about how the school functions and how the records are kept in the school. She also tells me how all the coordinators work in synchronization to regulate the functioning of the school. We have a small meeting and then we are given lovely donuts to eat. With each bite of the donut, I swallow all the things that I have learnt today and cherish all the memories that I will have from the best day of my life!

11.30 a.m.: Srija and I are sitting in the bus discussing about how wonderful our day was. I tell her about how awesome my day was even though I was scared the whole time about my saree falling. I had experiences that I will cherish throughout my life. I had the best time ever! All the experiences were unique, and the ones that I would never have in my life again.

12.00 a.m.: I reach home and send the saree to heaven (the cupboard). Its going to Rest in Peace. But the memories associated with it will keep floating in my mind forever.

Back to the Past-3

“How dare you speak with such confidence to the Empress of the Mughal empire? Don’t you know what punishment I could give you? You ask me about who I am. First introduce yourself, you shameless girl.” The Vision said, beaming with pride.

“Your Highness, I think you do not know. You are in 2017. The era of Mughals and emperors and empresses has long gone. We live here as an independent nation today. I am Abha, an archeologist. I work for our government’s history department.” I said.

I was surprised at how confident and fearless I was. The difficulty I faced was in looking for Persian words for ‘archeologist’ and ‘government’.

“What are you talking about? I hope you know the punishment of talking this way to Arjumand Banu Begum! Don’t dare to lie. You will die a gruesome death.” The Vision warned.

Arjumand Banu meant Mumtaz Mahal. That was the name! The famous empress for whom Taj Mahal was built! I should have known that she would be Mumtaz  Mahal. How could it even be some other empress? I was astonished though, to find her ghost here.

“I am telling you the truth your Highness.” I said, doing the signature Mughal konish.

“I am a big admirer of yours, begum. I have read loads about you and know almost everything about you. Still, I want to hear from you. Please tell me about your life. Please tell me about Badshah Shah Jahan.” I enquired.

Suddenly, the angry face of the Vision turned into a mild one. At this point of time, I started to feel dizzy and almost hypnotized by some power. But this didn’t stop me from listening to what the Vision said.

“I am the niece of Nur Jahan Begum. Our family used to call her Nissa. I used to admire bua always, and she was my favourite relative, but she changed drastically after her marriage to abbu jaan (Jahangir).Soon, I also got married to Khurram. I had engaged Khurram at a young age and we knew each other quite well. I was delighted to marry a man whom I knew nicely and liked. Love blossomed between Khurram and me and we lived a blissful married life. He used to spend all his time with me. We had a lovely time with each other until bua interfered. After her marriage to abbu jaan, bua became my stepmother i.e. ammi. She was a really strong woman with political desires. She wanted Ladii (her daughter) to become the Padshah begum (chief queen) and hence wanted her to marry Khurram. But this didn’t happen. She forced abbu to make Sharyar (Ladii’s husband) the king. But he wasn’t worthy. Khurram had been promised the throne and did not like the idea of being overshadowed by his younger brother. So he did bagawat…….:”

As the Vision spoke, my dizziness increased and my vision started to blur. But my ability to hear remained unaltered.

“It was only after winning the throne that we were happy. We had lovely children who kept us happy. But some of them turned out to be bad. I died after giving birth to Gauharara, our last child. But Khurram lived on. My love for him could not be broken by death. I continued to try and guard him. But I was unsuccessful…..”

At this point, my eyes were just about to close. I had a terrible headache.

“Everything was fine with Khurram and Jahanara, our elder daughter looked after him nicely. As old age dawned upon him, our sons started fighting for the throne. Khurram wanted Dara (Shikoh) to succeed him, but Aurangzeb was adamant. I should have known, for he was always running behind power. Aurangzeb didn’t find his father’s decision fair, for he thought that Dara would not be able to take proper care of the warfare. Even the masses preferred Dara over Aurangzeb. But Aurangezeb turned out to be a traitor. He treated his father like a criminal and locked him up in chains. It was only Jahanara, our eldest daughter, who stood by Khurram always and took proper care of him. Roshanara also betrayed her father. She was jealous of Jahanara as she didn’t get the charge of the imperial harem. She didn’t like her father’s love towards Jahanara. Her jealousy led her to favor Aurangzeb and help him in his quest or the throne. She was the mastermind behind him.”

“I don’t know what was wrong with my upbringing, but two of my children turned out brutal and merciless. They caused surmountable pain to their father.  The desire to take revenge from them has been on mind ever since I saw Khurram suffer.”

“I didn’t recognize you at first”, the Vision said, “But now I know. You are a reincarnation of Roshanara and Allah has sent you here so that I can avenge my husband’s suffering. I will rest in peace at last”

Saying this, the Vision removed a khanjar from near her waist and stabbed me numerous times. Life was drained out and my body lay lifeless.

My companions were astonished to find my body the next morning.

My ghost resides in the same cave today.

Back to the past-2

I arrived near a cave. Its appearance was as ordinary as any other cave, it was made of grey stones and covered with weeds and creepers, but there was certainly something extraordinary about it. I couldn’t point out, but there was something unique about it.

I entered the cave. It was pitch dark inside the cave. The darkness made the surrounding eerie and scary. There was almost a feeling of fear in my heart. The wind was twirling and making stormy sounds. Each creeper and weed appeared like an arm, which wanted to grab me and push me further inside the cave. Although the atmosphere was ghostly, and my mind told me to move out of this cave, my heart didn’t allow me to do so. I was scared and unsure about what I was doing. Still, somehow I couldn’t stop myself from going inside. I wanted to discover more. Stepping into the cave was almost like entering into a pool of unwanted yet wanted desires.

I started moving inside. I could hear something that appeared like a mild whisper of a feminine voice. It was in Persian though. As a lover of Mughal history, I ought to understand Persian. The whisper was mild, and I couldn’t really decipher the saying, but I knew for certain that it was in Persian. My heart skipped a beat after hearing the whisper. I couldn’t understand what was going on. I had no control of my senses.

I don’t know how I gathered up the courage to move further inside the cave, which was shrouded in darkness. The whisper became louder with each step. I was really scared. My mind was fired up with the feeling of fear. Still, somehow, I kept walking further into the cave.

Soon, I could decipher what the whisper said. It welcomed me into this world of Mughals. The Voice had something extraordinary about it, it seemed to be full of pride and sounded almost like that of an empress.

My emotions of fear were overpowered by the strong commands of my senses. My body was controlled by a mind that wasn’t my own. The Voice was getting louder and louder and heart was beating faster and faster. The adrenaline was rushing.

But what I saw was nothing compared to what I heard. As I reached the end of the cave, I saw a translucent vision of a woman who unmistakably was a Mughal empress.

She was clad in a pair of wide-legged pants and a loose tunic with a V-shaped neck. All over her hands and feet were intricate designs made with the fragrant mehendi. Her hair was elaborately dressed in plaits at the nape, and was decorated with attractive flowers. Her well-sculpted face was decorated extensively. Her eyebrows appeared symmetrical, and her eyes had a decent amount of kajal. Her lips looked like they had been dyed using a betel leaf. She adorned every single ornament one could think of. Armlets, anklets, necklaces, bracelets, ear rings, the signature ring in the right thumb and her maang tika, all added to her otherwise made-up appearance. She had something that appeared like a tiara or crown.

My heart sank. But my body didn’t let me collapse. My senses ditched me yet again. I couldn’t believe that I opened my mouth and actually spoke to the vision!

“Who are you?” I asked confidently in Persian.