Closure is not easy, and often not even desirable. We lament our loss and are unwilling to give up the feeling of loss for our loss. After all, after the loss what remains with us is the sense of loss, or the grief associated with the loss. Or so we think.
Is loss our own? We often end up hurting others because they do not sympathize as much as we would like them to, with our loss. The loss remains still, albeit, with quite a lot of hurt spread all around.
Ultimately none of it is in our hands. Neither the loss, nor the hurt that it causes. Only perhaps closure is with us.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Foggy Ahmedabad morning!
A very foggy day in Ahmedabad, very very unusual for the place as well as for this time of the year. There is rumour that soon there would be snowfall too, for now the rumour remains unconfirmed.
These are images from the terrace of my office where we spent about 20-25 minutes looking at the fog (basically not looking at anything at all) and feeling good about it. The fact that it was from our working hours was, of course, conveniently forgotten.
The images are from my mobile phone (Samsung Jet) and the quality is pathetic (rather than dramatic).
These are images from the terrace of my office where we spent about 20-25 minutes looking at the fog (basically not looking at anything at all) and feeling good about it. The fact that it was from our working hours was, of course, conveniently forgotten.
The images are from my mobile phone (Samsung Jet) and the quality is pathetic (rather than dramatic).
From the terrace |
Vishakha and Deepa |
SG Highway from the terrace |
The terrace garden |
More from the garden |
Foggy parking |
Labels:
ahmedabad,
deepa shah,
fog in ahmedabad,
gujarat,
office,
terrace,
vishakha desai
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Its me again!
Another post about my very dear niece, Mihika, and of course me.
When I reached home this time, I was asked to stand back and wait at the door for a while. Mihika had given strict instructions that my entry into the house had to be barred at all costs and everyone in the house basically just complied with her wishes.
However, within minutes I had this in my hands. A stunning card for me and showing me in full glory. She added a bit of facial hair (which she hates) to make me look more like her mamu, than the didi in the neighborhood! The card has two sides and both are shown below, with descriptions as well.
Enjoy!
When I reached home this time, I was asked to stand back and wait at the door for a while. Mihika had given strict instructions that my entry into the house had to be barred at all costs and everyone in the house basically just complied with her wishes.
However, within minutes I had this in my hands. A stunning card for me and showing me in full glory. She added a bit of facial hair (which she hates) to make me look more like her mamu, than the didi in the neighborhood! The card has two sides and both are shown below, with descriptions as well.
Enjoy!
This is my house with a mini-window which helps me look at the world (I wonder if she is being symbolic here). My house even has a chimney as she knows that I cook too! |
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Wedding woes in Gurgaon!
It’s nice to be home in Gurgaon. It also brings excitement to the lives of my nephew and niece, though anything alive visiting home brings them much excitement (my visit being no exception).
This time the focus has been on their missing mami. The last time I visited home, dad asked my niece to inquire about when I plan to get married, and ever since this has been on her mind. She wants a clear time-plan for this now, no more ‘soon’ will do. Her best friend has a mamu and a mami too, and that somehow makes her mamu a lot less accomplished. So this time Mihika (my niece) got this best friend and her elder brother also to ask me about the missing mami.
I was happy with all the attention I got, and was forced to give out a timeline too. Mihika even insisted on fixing her dance number for the wedding right away, I suggested she wait till the planned year and pick up a more contemporary hit then. Her friend wasn’t as understanding, this is how the conversation went with her:
Vrinda: Where is the mami, mamu (I am the universal mamu now)?
Me: Mami is still not there.
Vrinda: What do you mean? A mami has to be there.
Me: There is no mami.
Vrinda: Oh, is she dead then?
Me: No, no. She is not dead, she is still to come.
Vrinda: When will she come?
Me: Soon.
Now Vrinda was a little confused, for her if there is mama, there has to be a mami as well; there cannot be any mama without a mami. Reluctantly,however, she agreed to the present scenario accepting that Mihika’ mamu’s case is rather odd.
I wonder if it actually worries the kids that their visibly old mamu is still without a mami. Or if this is a strategy fueled by the worried elders in the household? It seems like getting old without a partner is something new, unusual and still undesirable.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
pain/ physical/ emotional/ fear/ something else
A hospital once again. I am at least a couple of hours before time and have little to do kill time, but observe people and their curios habits. And often intrude their private spaces in an environment where privacy is almost a no-word and public is the apparent private.
A middle aged South Indian couple, woman being the patient, fill in the space in front of me,. Conversations struggle between them as they attempt to eat dosa with sambhar/ chutney. Two women on my either side - one constantly peeling fruits while the other one deeply engrossed into an old issue of Readers' Digest (reading an article on '13 ways to lose weight').
Conversations here are few and far in-between, but the place has a constant chatter intermixed with the traffic noise outside. I wonder if hospitals should at all be like this, even those meant for the poor. But the place is homely in its own way, an extremely silent place for treatment may be too condescending for some of the people here. Certainly, noise can't be comfortable for the patient.
With even more free time in hand, I wonder if hospitals have any color, I can see almost all colors but the tone is overwhelmingly neutral. Even the South Indian aunty eating dosa looks muted in her red-yellow-golden ensemble. 'Too fast to live, Too young to die', reads one of the black T-shirt running around. T-shirts are uncommon though, pant-shirt win over the jeans-tees outside.
Dosa finally over, the aunty lies down on uncle's lap and starts crying (pain/ physical/ emotional/ fear/ something else), while uncle plays with her cheeks, the way do with toddlers; curiously this puts her to sleep soon. I look at them and wonder if they are in love. How many of us actually grow old with the one we love? All relationships I see around are broken, most are simple compromises while a few lucky ones survive with mutual affection.
Its time now to stop taking notes, my young partner for today's investigations is walking towards me with a bright smile. Smiles will have to wait, hospital waits for us.
A middle aged South Indian couple, woman being the patient, fill in the space in front of me,. Conversations struggle between them as they attempt to eat dosa with sambhar/ chutney. Two women on my either side - one constantly peeling fruits while the other one deeply engrossed into an old issue of Readers' Digest (reading an article on '13 ways to lose weight').
The space |
With even more free time in hand, I wonder if hospitals have any color, I can see almost all colors but the tone is overwhelmingly neutral. Even the South Indian aunty eating dosa looks muted in her red-yellow-golden ensemble. 'Too fast to live, Too young to die', reads one of the black T-shirt running around. T-shirts are uncommon though, pant-shirt win over the jeans-tees outside.
Dosa finally over, the aunty lies down on uncle's lap and starts crying (pain/ physical/ emotional/ fear/ something else), while uncle plays with her cheeks, the way do with toddlers; curiously this puts her to sleep soon. I look at them and wonder if they are in love. How many of us actually grow old with the one we love? All relationships I see around are broken, most are simple compromises while a few lucky ones survive with mutual affection.
Its time now to stop taking notes, my young partner for today's investigations is walking towards me with a bright smile. Smiles will have to wait, hospital waits for us.
Friday, November 12, 2010
A new political low!
K S Sudarshan has espoused a bizarre theory that the Congress president and UPA chairperson Sonia Gandhi had plotted the assassinations of her husband Rajiv Gandhi and mother-in-law Indira.
In more bizarre charges – in Bhopal two days ago – he called her a CIA agent and said she had blocked an attempt to remove Satnam Singh as Indira Gandhi’s bodyguard (he would later assassinate her along with another bodyguard). Sudarshan also questioned why Sonia had “insisted” the dying prime minister be taken to AIIMS instead of the nearby Ram Manohar Lohia Hospital. Topping it all was Sudarshan’s charge that Sonia was an illicit child.
Read the complete article here.
Time of India, online edition.
In more bizarre charges – in Bhopal two days ago – he called her a CIA agent and said she had blocked an attempt to remove Satnam Singh as Indira Gandhi’s bodyguard (he would later assassinate her along with another bodyguard). Sudarshan also questioned why Sonia had “insisted” the dying prime minister be taken to AIIMS instead of the nearby Ram Manohar Lohia Hospital. Topping it all was Sudarshan’s charge that Sonia was an illicit child.
Read the complete article here.
Time of India, online edition.
Labels:
AIIMS,
indira,
k s sudarshan,
low,
politics,
rajiv,
RSS,
sonia gandhi
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