Hello. Welcome to Taxingtime, your Interactive Tax Return Program. Do you feel like filing your taxes today?
Oh, I see. Well, don't you think you should do them anyway? After all, it's July 14. And who knows? Maybe you'll get a refund.
That's the spirit. Let's begin with your name, address, and marital status.
Sorry to hear about the divorce. But don't let it get you down. That alimony deduction will come in handy.
Please don't cry. Things are bound to improve. In the meantime, let's talk about dependents. Do you have any children?
Wow! I hope they're not all in college.
You're having visitation problems on top of everything else? Gee, I can't help you there. But you might try our Interactive Matrimonial Lawyer Software.
I hate lawyers too. But we're really veering off track. Do you have any other dependents?
Sorry. You can't deduct your dog, even if she's your only dependent.
I agree. The Government is unreasonable. But let's move on to income. What were your wages in 2009?
Wow! You're having a bad go of it. But at least you're getting the Unemployment Benefits max.
I'm afraid Unemployment Benefits are taxable. The government giveth and the government taketh away.
Hey, don't blame me. I'm just the messenger. Anyway, did you have any interest or dividend income or capital gains?
Your spouse got everything, huh? Well, look on the bright side. If you don't earn it, they can't make you pay taxes on it.
Please don't exit. It was just meant to be a joke. Too bad you din't get it right. I don't suppose you were able to stock anything away in stocks and shares?
I didn't mean to insult you; I'm just doing my job. They make me ask about all these you know.
Okay, okay. I get the point. You're broke. So let's go over your deductions and see about getting you a healthy refund.
And speaking about health, I need a complete list of your non-reimbursed medical expenses.
That's great -- a fractured sacroiliac. And your income was so low that most of it will be deductible.
You're absolutely right. I should have asked you how you're feeling. That was inconsiderate of me. But in my defense, we're really fighting the clock.
Okay, I apologize. Let's move on to your income taxes and real estate taxes.
Boy, they weren't kidding about Income taxes. But that huge mortgage tax deduction should really increase your refund.
You had to sell the house to pay for the divorce? What a shame. But I thought you said you didn't have any capital gains.
You sold it at a loss? So tell me. Are there any good housing buys out there? One of my other users is looking for a home.
You're absolutely right. That was a selfish and thoughtless thing to say. I'm a new program, and I guess they haven't gotten all the bugs out.
Let's go back to your deductions. What did you pay in mortgage interest?
I'm afraid deducting credit card interest is a major no-no. But you may want to consider our Interactive Bankruptcy Software.
Don't get your nose out of joint. It was just a suggestion. Anyway, it's time to list your charitable contributions.
I know you can't afford them, but list a couple grands in cash anyway. Everybody does it, and it's impossible to check.
I know charity begins at home, but thats not what our Government believes in. So any such contribution towards the upliftment of your moral character will not get counted here, I am sorry.
Now I'm almost afraid to ask, but did you suffer any unreimbursed casualty or theft losses last year?
That's pretty much what I expected. Just give me the numbers and I'll take it from there.
Is there anything else you want to tell me?
Well, of course they canceled your policy. They always cancel your policy. But what I meant was, did you have any other income or expenses?
Fine. Now why don't you surf google for sometime, so I can do some quick calculations.
I have good news. Not only don't you have any tax debt, but you're entitled to a 732/ INR refund. Would you like to apply it to your 2010tax?
I beg your pardon. They don't pay me enough to listen to that kind of language.
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Men will be men, and women...women, ofcourse!
If your husband ever invites you to join him on one of his business trips, think twice. Or at least be sure to ask him these questions:
1. Will you ever get to see him apart from when he is…technically…sleeping?
2. What will he do, if you accidentally lock yourself out of your hotel room in the middle of the night while you are not…technically…dressed?
Unfortunately Saina neither thought twice nor asked these questions when her husband Neil invited her to join him on a week-long business trip in xxxx. Why xxxx? Because it does not matter where you are…it will just be the same. Anyways, coming back to the main point, since Saina did not ask these questions to Neil before setting out, she had to get the answers the hard way:
1. No
2. He will remain…technically…asleep.
Saina, a middle aged, happy go lucky, housewife-cum-fancying-to-be-author with acute addiction to cappuccino and the on-line life was excited to get such an invitation from her husband which was so unexpected and made her feel so special. She even did go back to her college time romancing days and winked and blushed like the stupid teenage girl she had then been. Apart from the “teen-age” part she is exactly the same even now. With lot of excitement and after packing enough gear for a year she set out brimming with joy alongside her husband with a lot of dreams and hopes for this week-long trip to xxxx.
They checked in late the first night, and the accommodations (thought paid by Neil’s client) were luxurious. But Saina, too hooked on to the net, gave no thought to the lovely hotel, or the sites and sounds around. While Neil unpacked, requested a wake-up call, and ooohed and aahed at the view, Saina was busy getting a modem connection. Only one view mattered to her…the blank screen on her laptop.
At last, she had her computer set up. Neil had already called it a day and with the sound of his snore as the background score, Saina began to relax, happy in the knowledge that any minute she’d… What’s this? An error message?! What did they mean “no dial tone”?!!!
It has to be some mistake, Saina told herself, as she tried to sign on again and again and again. After some multiple dozens of failed attempts, she even violated her “don’t crawl on a strange rug” rule. Struggling to reach the wall behind the desk and the bed, she squeezed her arm into places it didn’t belong, pulling, pushing and tugging at anything that looked relevant under the circumstance. She was desperately trying to spot a loose connection, that is apart from the one in her brain. Now, a normal person would have probably given up and gone to bed after 50, 60 or 70 failed attempts to sign on-line (Neil had been asleep nearly an hour by this time). But the more disconnects she got, the more determined she was to access her net account. So she kept on persisting, all the while cursing her computer, the hotel, her husband’s client, her husband, and her neighbor’s pet as well!
Then suddenly it hit her…kind of revelation one get only way past midnight, that she would phone the concierge, and that he would do some concierge type thing and get it fixed. So she picked up the phone, and guess what? It was as dead as her modem. As she was trying to guess whether she was personally being singled out for email deprivation or whether she was just a part of the whole lot of unfortunates in the hotel, she heard a sound in the hall!
Eager to find out if anyone else had the same problem, and forgetting that her attire (or the lack of it) would get her arrested in many countries including where she was now, she rushed out the door, wedging it open with a shoe. The sounds were coming from the next room, whose door was ajar.
“Do you have phone service?” Saina asked a female guest, who was still gripping her luggage.
She didn’t answer, instead she stared at Saina blankly. She has every reason for it, probably wondering why some barefoot, barely clad, crazy, middle-aged woman was standing in her door way at 3 a.m.
“Do you have phone service?” Saina repeated.
“No speak English,” said she, as she put down her luggage and looked around the room possibly for a weapon. Now desperate, Saina attempted to mime talking on the phone. But she apparently didn’t speak mime either.
At this point, Saina did something that can be either characterized as “Sainaistic” or “Insane”; She strode into her room, walked right past her towards the far end, and picked up the phone on the desk. It was dead. “Good,” thought Saina, for you need a phone to get someone arrested for trespass.
Saina put the receiver down and belated began to apologize. But the woman ignored her. She was embroiled some incorrigible dialogue with a man (her husband?) who had apparently been in the bathroom when Saina invaded their room and the woman walked in.
Saina quickly crossed their room, hoping in desperation that they wouldn’t try to stop her and praying that they understood the meaning of “sorry”.
Finally she made it out of there, and they slammed the door behind her. Relieved, she turned towards her own room and, after tripping over her failed wedge show, she discovered another shut door…her own!
20 minutes of door pounding and later, and she was still stranded in the hall, and Neil (who according to Saina can sleep through anything) proved her right and was still sound asleep.
She probably would have continued with the futile pounding going by her stubborn nature, but adding the crime of “destroying the peace” to “trespass” didn’t seem quite wise to her. She reasoned, after all, getting thrown out of the hotel probably wouldn’t go too well with Neil’s client and wouldn’t help his consultant/client relations.
Weighing the other option of taking the elevator downstairs and begging the concierge for a key dressed the way she was, she started down the hall way, moving as quickly as she could manage, and praying she wouldn’t meet anyone en’ route. Fortunately every reasonable sane person was asleep by then. So the halls and the elevator were empty. She was so relieved that she actually didn’t mind the strange looks from the couple getting on as she was getting off the elevator; or, for that matter, the amused grin from the concierge when she told him that she needed help.
“Phone problems?” he asked, looking her up and down.
“For starters” she answered.
"Sorry, everything's down at least until late morning. Anything else I can do for you?"
"Yes, I locked myself out of my room. Could you...?"
"Yes, I can see you did. Hold on and I'll get my keys."
"This is very embarrassing."
He took another look and grinned again. "No problem. I've seen a lot worse."
Throughout the journey to her room, the guy regaled Saina with the tales of locked-out guests stranded in garb that made her appear ready for a full dress ball. Then he placed his key in the door and said, "Do you have any ID?"
“What?” she said, panicking? “Where would I…”
"Just kidding," he said as he unlocked the door.
Safely back in her room, she found Neil sound asleep. Exhausted and angry, she stared at him, willing him awake.
Suddenly Neil sat up! “What is it?” he asked.
“Didn’t you notice I was gone?!!!”
"What are you talking about? One sec. I have to go to the bathroom."
"What were you saying?" Neil said as he climbed back into bed.
"Never mind. But you should set your alarm. The phones are broken, and you probably won't get that wake-up call."
"Thanks," he said as he fiddled with the clock and lay back down to sleep. "What did you do to their phones?" he added just before he began to snore.
1. Will you ever get to see him apart from when he is…technically…sleeping?
2. What will he do, if you accidentally lock yourself out of your hotel room in the middle of the night while you are not…technically…dressed?
Unfortunately Saina neither thought twice nor asked these questions when her husband Neil invited her to join him on a week-long business trip in xxxx. Why xxxx? Because it does not matter where you are…it will just be the same. Anyways, coming back to the main point, since Saina did not ask these questions to Neil before setting out, she had to get the answers the hard way:
1. No
2. He will remain…technically…asleep.
Saina, a middle aged, happy go lucky, housewife-cum-fancying-to-be-author with acute addiction to cappuccino and the on-line life was excited to get such an invitation from her husband which was so unexpected and made her feel so special. She even did go back to her college time romancing days and winked and blushed like the stupid teenage girl she had then been. Apart from the “teen-age” part she is exactly the same even now. With lot of excitement and after packing enough gear for a year she set out brimming with joy alongside her husband with a lot of dreams and hopes for this week-long trip to xxxx.
They checked in late the first night, and the accommodations (thought paid by Neil’s client) were luxurious. But Saina, too hooked on to the net, gave no thought to the lovely hotel, or the sites and sounds around. While Neil unpacked, requested a wake-up call, and ooohed and aahed at the view, Saina was busy getting a modem connection. Only one view mattered to her…the blank screen on her laptop.
At last, she had her computer set up. Neil had already called it a day and with the sound of his snore as the background score, Saina began to relax, happy in the knowledge that any minute she’d… What’s this? An error message?! What did they mean “no dial tone”?!!!
It has to be some mistake, Saina told herself, as she tried to sign on again and again and again. After some multiple dozens of failed attempts, she even violated her “don’t crawl on a strange rug” rule. Struggling to reach the wall behind the desk and the bed, she squeezed her arm into places it didn’t belong, pulling, pushing and tugging at anything that looked relevant under the circumstance. She was desperately trying to spot a loose connection, that is apart from the one in her brain. Now, a normal person would have probably given up and gone to bed after 50, 60 or 70 failed attempts to sign on-line (Neil had been asleep nearly an hour by this time). But the more disconnects she got, the more determined she was to access her net account. So she kept on persisting, all the while cursing her computer, the hotel, her husband’s client, her husband, and her neighbor’s pet as well!
Then suddenly it hit her…kind of revelation one get only way past midnight, that she would phone the concierge, and that he would do some concierge type thing and get it fixed. So she picked up the phone, and guess what? It was as dead as her modem. As she was trying to guess whether she was personally being singled out for email deprivation or whether she was just a part of the whole lot of unfortunates in the hotel, she heard a sound in the hall!
Eager to find out if anyone else had the same problem, and forgetting that her attire (or the lack of it) would get her arrested in many countries including where she was now, she rushed out the door, wedging it open with a shoe. The sounds were coming from the next room, whose door was ajar.
“Do you have phone service?” Saina asked a female guest, who was still gripping her luggage.
She didn’t answer, instead she stared at Saina blankly. She has every reason for it, probably wondering why some barefoot, barely clad, crazy, middle-aged woman was standing in her door way at 3 a.m.
“Do you have phone service?” Saina repeated.
“No speak English,” said she, as she put down her luggage and looked around the room possibly for a weapon. Now desperate, Saina attempted to mime talking on the phone. But she apparently didn’t speak mime either.
At this point, Saina did something that can be either characterized as “Sainaistic” or “Insane”; She strode into her room, walked right past her towards the far end, and picked up the phone on the desk. It was dead. “Good,” thought Saina, for you need a phone to get someone arrested for trespass.
Saina put the receiver down and belated began to apologize. But the woman ignored her. She was embroiled some incorrigible dialogue with a man (her husband?) who had apparently been in the bathroom when Saina invaded their room and the woman walked in.
Saina quickly crossed their room, hoping in desperation that they wouldn’t try to stop her and praying that they understood the meaning of “sorry”.
Finally she made it out of there, and they slammed the door behind her. Relieved, she turned towards her own room and, after tripping over her failed wedge show, she discovered another shut door…her own!
20 minutes of door pounding and later, and she was still stranded in the hall, and Neil (who according to Saina can sleep through anything) proved her right and was still sound asleep.
She probably would have continued with the futile pounding going by her stubborn nature, but adding the crime of “destroying the peace” to “trespass” didn’t seem quite wise to her. She reasoned, after all, getting thrown out of the hotel probably wouldn’t go too well with Neil’s client and wouldn’t help his consultant/client relations.
Weighing the other option of taking the elevator downstairs and begging the concierge for a key dressed the way she was, she started down the hall way, moving as quickly as she could manage, and praying she wouldn’t meet anyone en’ route. Fortunately every reasonable sane person was asleep by then. So the halls and the elevator were empty. She was so relieved that she actually didn’t mind the strange looks from the couple getting on as she was getting off the elevator; or, for that matter, the amused grin from the concierge when she told him that she needed help.
“Phone problems?” he asked, looking her up and down.
“For starters” she answered.
"Sorry, everything's down at least until late morning. Anything else I can do for you?"
"Yes, I locked myself out of my room. Could you...?"
"Yes, I can see you did. Hold on and I'll get my keys."
"This is very embarrassing."
He took another look and grinned again. "No problem. I've seen a lot worse."
Throughout the journey to her room, the guy regaled Saina with the tales of locked-out guests stranded in garb that made her appear ready for a full dress ball. Then he placed his key in the door and said, "Do you have any ID?"
“What?” she said, panicking? “Where would I…”
"Just kidding," he said as he unlocked the door.
Safely back in her room, she found Neil sound asleep. Exhausted and angry, she stared at him, willing him awake.
Suddenly Neil sat up! “What is it?” he asked.
“Didn’t you notice I was gone?!!!”
"What are you talking about? One sec. I have to go to the bathroom."
"What were you saying?" Neil said as he climbed back into bed.
"Never mind. But you should set your alarm. The phones are broken, and you probably won't get that wake-up call."
"Thanks," he said as he fiddled with the clock and lay back down to sleep. "What did you do to their phones?" he added just before he began to snore.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Love...
It has been another long day for Rituparna. Long, tiring, and to make it worse a routine day; nothing exceptional, good or bad happened and that what makes it so irritating for her.
"I need a miracle", she thought as she unlocked her apartment and entered in there. "I need a miracle to save me from the boring, uneventful life that am living; and I need it soon, before it is too late." As she kept her stuffs in their "supposed-to-be" places she wondered if those stuffs felt the same boredom that she suffers from. With a sudden impulse she kept the umbrella on the shelf of her bedroom rather than on the Stand in the main entrance. She kept her purse on the centre table rather than in the cupboard and left her laptop bag on the bed itself. Let them enjoy a different state of being today...irrespective of whether it is better or worse...just to have a different "taste" of life. She smiled at her insanity and wished she had the power to change her own course of life the way she is doing for her stuffs!
Rituparna, a successful career woman in her late twenties. A woman who lives life on her own terms and faces its consequences with a smile today feels burdened with her life. Not because her life is not worth living. In fact, many women would love to trade places with her. A successful career, well established, independent woman, living life on her own terms in this faraway land in Europe... earning a decent livelihood as well as respect in the society...who would not want to be in her place? And she realises that. She is grateful for everything life has given her. She realizes the value, all the more because she has earned them all. Some people are born lucky, some people "get" lucky, and she is definitely the latter. So she relishes the achievements of her life. But with all the fights that she fought right from her childhood, today she feels tired. Tired of fighting and getting things - today she wants to "be" lucky and not "get" lucky.
After changing she switches on the TV - her companion at home and starts preparing dinner for herself. Boredom sets in yet again, but she knows she has to "fight" it to prevent herself from starving. She has to cook tonight, whether or not she feels like doing it. She takes out the marinated chicken from the freezer and stars chopping onions... she always liked chopping onions...as then you can cry your heart out without feeling guilty. The "strong" woman tag that she wears all the time prevents her from crying...but the soft girl inside her, wants to cry - this conflict is best resolved when is is cutting onions. As then the girl trapped inside can cry her heart out without the strong woman interfering in there. As she cuts the onions, she cries and tries to console the girl...the innocent girl who feels like rebelling, but is too weak to do so.
Ritu was very popular amongst her friends always. A bubbly girl, always with a friendly smile whose simplicity moved everybody around her. She believed in perfection of human relationships. She believed in Love... a girl in love with love. All her relationships she lived perfectly. Her power of "loving" was immense and divine. She was the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect friend...in short her "love" was perfect. She was idealistic and wanted an ideal world - where she would be able to heal others' pain and miseries. Many a times she got scolding from her mother for being too liberal in giving all her stuffs/toys away to needy and poor people around. Her father always supported her and she adored him for that. Ritu was a girl who would unconditionally "give" in every human relationship that she lived. And she believed the world is exactly the way she is.
That has been her biggest mistake. She believed "Love" is conceived by everybody exactly the same way as she does. And her idealism truely exists. At every crossroad of life when someone somewhere would break her heart, she would fight with the cruel world and take her idealism forward - no way she could let her belief break because of one or two persons! She always believed in optimism. She would not let anyone break her faith on "love". So all the hearbreaking events, now matter how small or big they were, were kept somewhere deep within her heart. She believed there would be one specialperson who would help her forget all those events and make her realize that her dream of finding "true love" has indeed come true one day.
And it happened when she met Rahul. She knew he was the one...she knew she got her soul mate. She forgot all her past miseries and she knew her life was perfect with her soul mate. They loved each other truely, or so she thought and their life together was a perfect example of love and togeherness...or so she thought. She felt so secured, so protected in Rahul's arms. She knew thats her world, and she was happy and content.
After being together for 3 whole years and enjoying many good moments, their relationship started falling apart - this process of falling part was so gradual and slow that probably both of them didnot realize it till the time the gap widened to such an extent that they realized they just cannot accept that gap and continue living. Ritu did not want to know whose fault it was - and thats not an important issue at all. The most important issue was it was a great loss, and that the damage was done.
Ritu, with all her idealism and principles could not ome in terms with the pain of staying in that broken relationship - so she had to decide to come out of it. It was tough as this time the girl in her just couldnt take it anymore. She started losing faith on "love", on "relationship" on "God" on everything that she always believed in. Taking a job in Europe she fled the situation there but she knew she could never flee from the memories...from the ghost of the past.
As she started preparing the chicken and warming up the cold rice in the freezer...the ghosts of the past started dancing all around her. She tried to fight them but she was too weak to do so... she wanted to run away, but she didnt know where to. She knew she had to fight and win them over but the girl within had no energy left in her to do so... and thats when she hoped and prayed that some miracle would happen...
Who is this Ritu? ANd why am I blogging about her? I dont know Ritu, but I know that we all can relate to Ritu at some point of our life. When we believe in something very strongly and that belief breaks, we understand Ritu's pain. So Ritu is in each one of us... And miracle? Does miracle happen?
Am at such a crossroad of my life where am yet to see whether miracle happens or not, when you desperately want them to happen. As for Ritu... I wish her all the best. May God send His angels to help Ritu out.
"I need a miracle", she thought as she unlocked her apartment and entered in there. "I need a miracle to save me from the boring, uneventful life that am living; and I need it soon, before it is too late." As she kept her stuffs in their "supposed-to-be" places she wondered if those stuffs felt the same boredom that she suffers from. With a sudden impulse she kept the umbrella on the shelf of her bedroom rather than on the Stand in the main entrance. She kept her purse on the centre table rather than in the cupboard and left her laptop bag on the bed itself. Let them enjoy a different state of being today...irrespective of whether it is better or worse...just to have a different "taste" of life. She smiled at her insanity and wished she had the power to change her own course of life the way she is doing for her stuffs!
Rituparna, a successful career woman in her late twenties. A woman who lives life on her own terms and faces its consequences with a smile today feels burdened with her life. Not because her life is not worth living. In fact, many women would love to trade places with her. A successful career, well established, independent woman, living life on her own terms in this faraway land in Europe... earning a decent livelihood as well as respect in the society...who would not want to be in her place? And she realises that. She is grateful for everything life has given her. She realizes the value, all the more because she has earned them all. Some people are born lucky, some people "get" lucky, and she is definitely the latter. So she relishes the achievements of her life. But with all the fights that she fought right from her childhood, today she feels tired. Tired of fighting and getting things - today she wants to "be" lucky and not "get" lucky.
After changing she switches on the TV - her companion at home and starts preparing dinner for herself. Boredom sets in yet again, but she knows she has to "fight" it to prevent herself from starving. She has to cook tonight, whether or not she feels like doing it. She takes out the marinated chicken from the freezer and stars chopping onions... she always liked chopping onions...as then you can cry your heart out without feeling guilty. The "strong" woman tag that she wears all the time prevents her from crying...but the soft girl inside her, wants to cry - this conflict is best resolved when is is cutting onions. As then the girl trapped inside can cry her heart out without the strong woman interfering in there. As she cuts the onions, she cries and tries to console the girl...the innocent girl who feels like rebelling, but is too weak to do so.
Ritu was very popular amongst her friends always. A bubbly girl, always with a friendly smile whose simplicity moved everybody around her. She believed in perfection of human relationships. She believed in Love... a girl in love with love. All her relationships she lived perfectly. Her power of "loving" was immense and divine. She was the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect friend...in short her "love" was perfect. She was idealistic and wanted an ideal world - where she would be able to heal others' pain and miseries. Many a times she got scolding from her mother for being too liberal in giving all her stuffs/toys away to needy and poor people around. Her father always supported her and she adored him for that. Ritu was a girl who would unconditionally "give" in every human relationship that she lived. And she believed the world is exactly the way she is.
That has been her biggest mistake. She believed "Love" is conceived by everybody exactly the same way as she does. And her idealism truely exists. At every crossroad of life when someone somewhere would break her heart, she would fight with the cruel world and take her idealism forward - no way she could let her belief break because of one or two persons! She always believed in optimism. She would not let anyone break her faith on "love". So all the hearbreaking events, now matter how small or big they were, were kept somewhere deep within her heart. She believed there would be one specialperson who would help her forget all those events and make her realize that her dream of finding "true love" has indeed come true one day.
And it happened when she met Rahul. She knew he was the one...she knew she got her soul mate. She forgot all her past miseries and she knew her life was perfect with her soul mate. They loved each other truely, or so she thought and their life together was a perfect example of love and togeherness...or so she thought. She felt so secured, so protected in Rahul's arms. She knew thats her world, and she was happy and content.
After being together for 3 whole years and enjoying many good moments, their relationship started falling apart - this process of falling part was so gradual and slow that probably both of them didnot realize it till the time the gap widened to such an extent that they realized they just cannot accept that gap and continue living. Ritu did not want to know whose fault it was - and thats not an important issue at all. The most important issue was it was a great loss, and that the damage was done.
Ritu, with all her idealism and principles could not ome in terms with the pain of staying in that broken relationship - so she had to decide to come out of it. It was tough as this time the girl in her just couldnt take it anymore. She started losing faith on "love", on "relationship" on "God" on everything that she always believed in. Taking a job in Europe she fled the situation there but she knew she could never flee from the memories...from the ghost of the past.
As she started preparing the chicken and warming up the cold rice in the freezer...the ghosts of the past started dancing all around her. She tried to fight them but she was too weak to do so... she wanted to run away, but she didnt know where to. She knew she had to fight and win them over but the girl within had no energy left in her to do so... and thats when she hoped and prayed that some miracle would happen...
Who is this Ritu? ANd why am I blogging about her? I dont know Ritu, but I know that we all can relate to Ritu at some point of our life. When we believe in something very strongly and that belief breaks, we understand Ritu's pain. So Ritu is in each one of us... And miracle? Does miracle happen?
Am at such a crossroad of my life where am yet to see whether miracle happens or not, when you desperately want them to happen. As for Ritu... I wish her all the best. May God send His angels to help Ritu out.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Escape...if you may
This is goodbye...goodbye forever...goodbye for good.
No, it is not what you think. I rather like you, and that's why. I am afraid I will fall in love with you. You won't like that...ok fine, am not being honest. I actually love you...love you more than I ever thought I would be able to love someone.
My love is a grasping clinging all-pervasive thing. I get insecure if you so much as look at someone else. My love and my world is be so full of you that there is no room for others, but I know you don't love me in the same way. You talk to others, you have a life beyond me... If somebody ever mentions your name and I get insanely jealous.
And neither of us wants that.
I love you to the extent that my own self is subsumed in my love for you. That I have realised, is rather exhausting and you don't like ir.
So I am stopping before I can get to those stages of devotion, longing and madness. I am quitting before you feel claustrophobic and shackled, before you will resent me and my helpless adoration. Because I am scared.
Escape while you can.
No, it is not what you think. I rather like you, and that's why. I am afraid I will fall in love with you. You won't like that...ok fine, am not being honest. I actually love you...love you more than I ever thought I would be able to love someone.
My love is a grasping clinging all-pervasive thing. I get insecure if you so much as look at someone else. My love and my world is be so full of you that there is no room for others, but I know you don't love me in the same way. You talk to others, you have a life beyond me... If somebody ever mentions your name and I get insanely jealous.
And neither of us wants that.
I love you to the extent that my own self is subsumed in my love for you. That I have realised, is rather exhausting and you don't like ir.
So I am stopping before I can get to those stages of devotion, longing and madness. I am quitting before you feel claustrophobic and shackled, before you will resent me and my helpless adoration. Because I am scared.
Escape while you can.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Kaahin Door Jab Din Dhal Jaaye
I leaned back in my cane chair and smiled. You smiled back. The cool aftermath of rain left the evening scented and becalmed. Too early for frogs. The balcony had some puddles left still, but our corner was dry, our chairs in the usual places, the table between.
I hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on against the arriving night. We sat savouring the evening. The scent of raat ki raani arose presently, and I smiled again. You smiled back. So many memories hinge on that shrub and its fragrant flowers, do they not?
As dusk deepened into night I went in and fetched something to drink. You raised yours in silent toast. We sat together, as always. On the balcony, among the scents of night blooming shrubs planted by some thoughtful gardener long ago, we sat together, as always.
The descending night brought its own haunting sounds. A flute sounded plaintively, poignantly. It was untutored, utterly without sophistication, but the melody tugged at the heart. Some workman from the nearby construction site, surely. We exchanged smiles, my question unasked and your reply unnecessary. What did it matter what raga it was?
A car sped by. I frowned. You must have sensed that frown even though we were sitting in the dark. I felt rebuked by your silent reproof. Well, I suppose people did have to get from place to place.
There was no need for conversation. I thought your thoughts, and you could read mine, always. A glance and a smile, a squeeze of fingers or a nudge spoke for us. That distant sound of drums and cacophony, we shrugged at another procession to immerse another idol; that mournful hoot of a goods train before its wheels beat a rhythm on the tracks that lingered a long while after the train passed, we sighed in unison. So many memories attached to the sound of trains.
I went to fetch some more drink, negotiating the furniture easily in the dark. I sighed as I sat down. You looked disapproving. I was sighing in contentment, mostly, in gratitude for all the perfect evenings that went before. One more evening... You nodded.
Something brought the fireflies out. I watched in surprise. I always liked fireflies and all that they evoked. Some flitted close enough to try and grab. I didn’t, of course. You wouldn’t have liked that.
It was getting late. A distant dog barked in impotent fury at some slight. I got up regretfully. I folded and put away the chairs, dragged the table to a safe corner so it wouldn’t get rained on. I murmured a good night to you. Another evening gone by.
I went to eat my solitary dinner.
I hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on against the arriving night. We sat savouring the evening. The scent of raat ki raani arose presently, and I smiled again. You smiled back. So many memories hinge on that shrub and its fragrant flowers, do they not?
As dusk deepened into night I went in and fetched something to drink. You raised yours in silent toast. We sat together, as always. On the balcony, among the scents of night blooming shrubs planted by some thoughtful gardener long ago, we sat together, as always.
The descending night brought its own haunting sounds. A flute sounded plaintively, poignantly. It was untutored, utterly without sophistication, but the melody tugged at the heart. Some workman from the nearby construction site, surely. We exchanged smiles, my question unasked and your reply unnecessary. What did it matter what raga it was?
A car sped by. I frowned. You must have sensed that frown even though we were sitting in the dark. I felt rebuked by your silent reproof. Well, I suppose people did have to get from place to place.
There was no need for conversation. I thought your thoughts, and you could read mine, always. A glance and a smile, a squeeze of fingers or a nudge spoke for us. That distant sound of drums and cacophony, we shrugged at another procession to immerse another idol; that mournful hoot of a goods train before its wheels beat a rhythm on the tracks that lingered a long while after the train passed, we sighed in unison. So many memories attached to the sound of trains.
I went to fetch some more drink, negotiating the furniture easily in the dark. I sighed as I sat down. You looked disapproving. I was sighing in contentment, mostly, in gratitude for all the perfect evenings that went before. One more evening... You nodded.
Something brought the fireflies out. I watched in surprise. I always liked fireflies and all that they evoked. Some flitted close enough to try and grab. I didn’t, of course. You wouldn’t have liked that.
It was getting late. A distant dog barked in impotent fury at some slight. I got up regretfully. I folded and put away the chairs, dragged the table to a safe corner so it wouldn’t get rained on. I murmured a good night to you. Another evening gone by.
I went to eat my solitary dinner.
Because I Love You
She loved and trusted her. Her every step watched over, guided and protected. Then she grew up. Her every step watched over, guided and protected still, she chafed. There was the whole wide world to explore and learn. But she was hemmed in, penned and bound by a litany of you mustn’t, you shouldn’t, you can’t, it is not done. Or whats worse, she was told that the time has not yet come. And all that she wanted to do, would be rejected with only one excuse, "tomar ja moner icche, bor er shonge puron koro" (whatever your heart wishes, fulfill them with your husband).
If she had ever voiced the question, crying, “why are you doing this,” she had been told in hurt and loving tones that were actually implacable, “because I love you.”
**************************************************************************
She loved and trusted him. Her every action watched, every move noted, her world small as ever; still hemmed in, penned and bound by you can’t, you shouldn’t, you mustn’t, and more. Or whats worse, she was told that the time has gone to explore her dreams; she was told its time she should mature, shoulder responsibility and be practical. And all that she wanted to do, would be rejected with only one excuse, "eishob korar shomoy periye geche; biyer aage koroni keno?" (the time has gone for you to chase your dreams, you should have fulfilled your desires before marriage!).
If she’d ever thought to ask “why are you doing this,” she would have been told “because I love you” with the same implacability.
***********************************************************************
She discovered bonsai. All her hemmed in, penned and bound realities shaped her trees. She became particular. She grew trees from seedlings, saw them as saplings and urged and nudged and pinched them into the shape of her vision. Then she used wires. If she thought her first seedling grown into sapling reaching out to experience more of the world ever asked her, “why are you doing this,” she’d have gone on twisting the wire around the branches to bend and hold them to the perfect front view and back that she envisaged for the young tree, and she’d have whispered “because I love you.”
Her collection of imprisoned trees, her miniature world grew as she aged. Unnaturally shaped to imitate nature, with hollows and lightning-struck scars and more detail, her trees grew. Her loving mother, who defined her boundaries when she was a child, who tainted her pubescent and teenaged perception of the world, was long dead now; her husband, who refined those boundaries and fences and limits, dead for a month.
She was old, herself. But not so old that she couldn’t dig a patch and find the perfect spot in the sprawling grounds her house was set in; it was the mansion and grounds that she was given in marriage to as much as her husband, by her mother. She was going to plant that tree, her first seedling sapling young tree that she stunted into submission; plant it in soil that would let it grow, now at forty years of age. At liberty to grow as it pleased at last.
“Are you crazy,” her sons screamed at her. “That tree will fetch thousands for its age alone. You are destroying it.” They took her potted world away from her to be cared for by a gardener. She was taken aback.
Bewildered, she whispered the words, “why are you doing this.” And she received an honest reply.
“Because these bonsai are money.”
If she had ever voiced the question, crying, “why are you doing this,” she had been told in hurt and loving tones that were actually implacable, “because I love you.”
**************************************************************************
She loved and trusted him. Her every action watched, every move noted, her world small as ever; still hemmed in, penned and bound by you can’t, you shouldn’t, you mustn’t, and more. Or whats worse, she was told that the time has gone to explore her dreams; she was told its time she should mature, shoulder responsibility and be practical. And all that she wanted to do, would be rejected with only one excuse, "eishob korar shomoy periye geche; biyer aage koroni keno?" (the time has gone for you to chase your dreams, you should have fulfilled your desires before marriage!).
If she’d ever thought to ask “why are you doing this,” she would have been told “because I love you” with the same implacability.
***********************************************************************
She discovered bonsai. All her hemmed in, penned and bound realities shaped her trees. She became particular. She grew trees from seedlings, saw them as saplings and urged and nudged and pinched them into the shape of her vision. Then she used wires. If she thought her first seedling grown into sapling reaching out to experience more of the world ever asked her, “why are you doing this,” she’d have gone on twisting the wire around the branches to bend and hold them to the perfect front view and back that she envisaged for the young tree, and she’d have whispered “because I love you.”
Her collection of imprisoned trees, her miniature world grew as she aged. Unnaturally shaped to imitate nature, with hollows and lightning-struck scars and more detail, her trees grew. Her loving mother, who defined her boundaries when she was a child, who tainted her pubescent and teenaged perception of the world, was long dead now; her husband, who refined those boundaries and fences and limits, dead for a month.
She was old, herself. But not so old that she couldn’t dig a patch and find the perfect spot in the sprawling grounds her house was set in; it was the mansion and grounds that she was given in marriage to as much as her husband, by her mother. She was going to plant that tree, her first seedling sapling young tree that she stunted into submission; plant it in soil that would let it grow, now at forty years of age. At liberty to grow as it pleased at last.
“Are you crazy,” her sons screamed at her. “That tree will fetch thousands for its age alone. You are destroying it.” They took her potted world away from her to be cared for by a gardener. She was taken aback.
Bewildered, she whispered the words, “why are you doing this.” And she received an honest reply.
“Because these bonsai are money.”
Thursday, July 17, 2008
My sin
You came upto me. And smiled coyly, the first time I saw you. I didnt think much of it then. Life is a dizzy blur between then and now. Candy, flowers, n agenda-less conversations on the phone. I spent days thinking about an endless list of favorites. Favorite car. Favorite color. Favorite ice cream. Favorite movie. Favorite book. Yours. Not mine.
What happened between yesterday and today? Your eternal promises shattered in less than a day.
I wait for you in the rain. I can feel the cold wind chilling my spine through my drenched clothes. My mind turns away in aversion. This disgusting sight of me disintegrating like a mudslide in rain. Each cold painful drop hits my body. Each thud tries to bring me down physically. I simply stand and I watch you. And they stab slowly painfully, like knives, kissing my back.
You spot me. Panic drives my mind. I want to move. But I cant. I m paralyzed. I am slowly dying in the rain.
Please don't turn away.
I know you will. My mind my heart my soul pleads again and again.
Please dont turn way.
Yet they cannot make me speak. The words will not come out. Yours wont either. Your eyes simply ask n appeal.
"Don't You get it? Its over. I m sorry."
Just like that. Oh the physical agony as my chest ties into a knot. I gasp for air. You are sucking my life away.
I wanted to shed all dignity and fall on my knees and plead you for your mercy. Please let me stay. With you. And my lips don't part. And they wont speak. I stand there, contemplating my dreadful fate. If my life, is to live to my heart's content. I will never have a life, for what my heart wants I'll never know. You stand there and dig your fingers in to my chest, you grab it like it was a decaying bug and rip it apart. There is no surgical precision. There are no stitches. Just an open bleeding wound. You take my heart away with you. Thats... mine. But probably you think is it yours that you had given me to keep? ... Or is it the same thing?
I ask for no apology. I m not even here to judge. I simply watch you in the rain. Walking away. The world is washing away. Not yours. Mine.
What happened between yesterday and today? Your eternal promises shattered in less than a day.
I wait for you in the rain. I can feel the cold wind chilling my spine through my drenched clothes. My mind turns away in aversion. This disgusting sight of me disintegrating like a mudslide in rain. Each cold painful drop hits my body. Each thud tries to bring me down physically. I simply stand and I watch you. And they stab slowly painfully, like knives, kissing my back.
You spot me. Panic drives my mind. I want to move. But I cant. I m paralyzed. I am slowly dying in the rain.
Please don't turn away.
I know you will. My mind my heart my soul pleads again and again.
Please dont turn way.
Yet they cannot make me speak. The words will not come out. Yours wont either. Your eyes simply ask n appeal.
"Don't You get it? Its over. I m sorry."
Just like that. Oh the physical agony as my chest ties into a knot. I gasp for air. You are sucking my life away.
I wanted to shed all dignity and fall on my knees and plead you for your mercy. Please let me stay. With you. And my lips don't part. And they wont speak. I stand there, contemplating my dreadful fate. If my life, is to live to my heart's content. I will never have a life, for what my heart wants I'll never know. You stand there and dig your fingers in to my chest, you grab it like it was a decaying bug and rip it apart. There is no surgical precision. There are no stitches. Just an open bleeding wound. You take my heart away with you. Thats... mine. But probably you think is it yours that you had given me to keep? ... Or is it the same thing?
I ask for no apology. I m not even here to judge. I simply watch you in the rain. Walking away. The world is washing away. Not yours. Mine.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Sarah - The richest girl of the world.
Sarah is my friend. Not actually, I think I can best explain my relationship with Sarah as an acquaintance, may be. I dont know. But yes, Sarah and I had been room mates for almost a month, about 13 years back. And we grew pretty close during that phase. It has to be. Two girls of the same age, spending 24 hours together for almost a month. You have to be deaf, and dumb and blind not to be friends in such a situation.
It all happened that I was proposed by my college to attend a special training for a month in Mumbai once and thats where I met Sarah for the first time. Tall, slim, black anglo girl with the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. She was not beautiful, in fact she was very ordinary looking, but her eyes! They speak. They tell you what Sarah is thinking at any point of time. The day I first landed in Mumbai, I met her at the airport itself. She was from Chennai. We exchanged profanties. Even then I didnt have the faintest idea that i would be spending the next one month with this girl. I was sad, and depressed that I was away from my family for almost a month, and more so, because, my birthday was also within that one month. The whole idea of spending the birthday all alone in an alien land, was killing me. In such a frame of mind, both of us boarded the same car which took us to the college campus where we were to take our training from. At the registration desk we were told, that we would be sharing a room. Initially, I didnt like the idea of sharing a room with a stranger at all. I prefered to be left alone. But ofcourse, I had no option. Sarah, on the other hand, seemed to be very please to have got a room partner. She did all the talking, from the time we left the registration desk till the time we found our room and got settled in there.
The room was neat and clean, very well maintained, and having a very beautiful view outside from the window. But nothing could perhaps make me happy then. I was cribbing and complaining about everything from the curtain to the bed sheet to the colour of the bathroom tiles. The fact was that, I had probably pre-programmed myself not to like anything I was offered. I was missing my family and my own room the most. Sarah probably realised and tried to make me feel at home by being more friendly, but with the frame of mind i was in, I wasnt really appreciating her intrusion much. It was a Sunday, and we spent the rest of the day in the room itself, only venturing out during the meal times. Dirung our college days, we didnt have mobiles, so in the evening I went out to look for STD booth to call up home. I asked her if she would also like to go, to which she said, her family only consisted of her mother, whose line of work is into sailing. For months she would be out of contact and the ony way they would interact with each other is through letters (even e-mail was not a very in-thing then). Thats when I saw Sarah's eyes for the first time, may be. Her eyes were sad. Thats when she told me that she had been in a hostel from her childhood, and would only get to meet her mother during summer vaccations. Her eyes told me how much she missed her mother, missed having a proper familly, but explicitly she said none. Thats when I took an immediate liking to her.
Our days were pretty hectic there. We would get up in the morning, get ready, have breakfast by 8am everyday and would go the main college campus. Our classes would resume sharp at 9am. We would get a lunch break from 12:30PM to 1:30PM and the classes would continue till 6PM everyday. After that we would come back to our room, freshen up a bit and do our studies etc. Followed by that we would have our dinner and go off to sleep. This was our regular routine for the next one month. Over the wekends we would explore the city, but not every weekend.
Sarah and I were poles apart in terms of our lifestyle, experience, nature, characteristic - infact everything. Even then, we bonded pretty well. May be our differences brought us closer to each other. I used to tell her about my family - my extended family of 34 members excluding the maids and servants, who were very much the part of our family. i used to tell her about my life in Kolkata. How pampered I am. How lazily I spend my life amidst my uncles and aunties, and cousin brothers and sisters. I used to tell her about my loads of friends, my social life, my neighborhood etc. She would listen to everything i said, with a lot of appreciation and amazement, because her life was entirely different. Her father fled away when she was a little girl, and she absolutely had no idea even how he looked like. Her mother was a strong woman, fighting all odds to bring her only child Sarah, up. But in trying to maintain herself and Sarah, she could never give quality time to Sarah, as a result of which she was always lonely. This probably made her an introvert. She didnt have many friends. She was fiercely independent right from her childhood, doing all her things on her own. And there I was - so dependent on everybody. My life would be a standstill if i didnt have my family and friends around me.
Every evening I would get loads of calls from my parents, family, friends, and they would tell me how much they were missing me. My mother would speak to me for hours. They would courrier me gifts to cheer me up. And Sarah would appreciate all these with her eyes. I always felt bad for her. No calls, no letters, no gifts, nothing for her.
During this time only, we discovered one very significant similarity between us amidst so many differences - that we share our birthday!!! Yes, and as luck would have it, our training was getting over just one day before our birthday, and both of us got our tickets to our respective places on our birthday itself. Sarah's flight was early in the morning, and mine was in the afternoon on the 19th of June'1995 - our 20th birthday!
From 4-5 days prior to my birthday (and hers as well), I started receiving gifts, cards, flower bouquet, chocolates etc from my firends, relatives, family members etc. Our room looked like a little gift shop and flower shop with so many packed gifts and flower bouquets around. She would be so excited to see them. And she would decorate our room with those received gifts - ofcourse only my side of the room. Her side was empty. I made a note of buying a gift for her for her birthday. But the training got stricter and absolutely left us with no time to go out for shopping or anything else for that matter. Then I decided, that I would give her something from what I have received in all those days. But each and every gift was special to me. So I couldnt make up my mind as to which gift of mine i could part with and give it to her. Everyday, i promised myself, that next day I would decide on which gift to give her from the ones I had received.
On the last day of our training, ie, on 18th June she received a package. It was a gift from her mother on her birthday! She was escatic! She was so happy! That gift made her so special, her eyes spoke again, and this time with tears of happiness rolling down her cheek! I was very very happy for her. And amidst that happiness, I absolutely forgot to give her a gift from my side, which I was procastinating for long - unable to decide which gift of mine i should part with...
On 19th June, I woke up late. By that time, Sarah had already left. But before leaving, she packed my baggages (by then she knew me well enough to have understood that i never did packing on my own ever in my lifetime). So she took the trouble of packing all my suitcases neatly. She did her own bed (everyday she would do both our beds), and left a letter for me there. Alongside the letter was a packed gift.
I read her letter with sleepy eyes. She had wished me a very happy birthday, and a life ahead. She mentioned there that this one month that we had spent together was the best phase of her life, as she realised what having a sister, a family meant! Each of the words in that letter was so real,so genuine, and so from the heart... I started crying. In the last sentence of her letter she mentioned, that since it was my birthday today, and since she didnt have the time to shop for a gift for me, she is leaving the gift that her mother had sent her on her birthday, for me! As my birthday gift!!!
I didnt know what to do... there I was, unable to decide which gift to give her from so many of gifts I had received... and there she was, without any hesitation she had gifted me the only gift she received on her birthday! i was standing there speechless, cos thats when i realised, that Sarah is the richest girl of this world. She has a heart of gold. And that she taught me the Art of Giving.
It all happened that I was proposed by my college to attend a special training for a month in Mumbai once and thats where I met Sarah for the first time. Tall, slim, black anglo girl with the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. She was not beautiful, in fact she was very ordinary looking, but her eyes! They speak. They tell you what Sarah is thinking at any point of time. The day I first landed in Mumbai, I met her at the airport itself. She was from Chennai. We exchanged profanties. Even then I didnt have the faintest idea that i would be spending the next one month with this girl. I was sad, and depressed that I was away from my family for almost a month, and more so, because, my birthday was also within that one month. The whole idea of spending the birthday all alone in an alien land, was killing me. In such a frame of mind, both of us boarded the same car which took us to the college campus where we were to take our training from. At the registration desk we were told, that we would be sharing a room. Initially, I didnt like the idea of sharing a room with a stranger at all. I prefered to be left alone. But ofcourse, I had no option. Sarah, on the other hand, seemed to be very please to have got a room partner. She did all the talking, from the time we left the registration desk till the time we found our room and got settled in there.
The room was neat and clean, very well maintained, and having a very beautiful view outside from the window. But nothing could perhaps make me happy then. I was cribbing and complaining about everything from the curtain to the bed sheet to the colour of the bathroom tiles. The fact was that, I had probably pre-programmed myself not to like anything I was offered. I was missing my family and my own room the most. Sarah probably realised and tried to make me feel at home by being more friendly, but with the frame of mind i was in, I wasnt really appreciating her intrusion much. It was a Sunday, and we spent the rest of the day in the room itself, only venturing out during the meal times. Dirung our college days, we didnt have mobiles, so in the evening I went out to look for STD booth to call up home. I asked her if she would also like to go, to which she said, her family only consisted of her mother, whose line of work is into sailing. For months she would be out of contact and the ony way they would interact with each other is through letters (even e-mail was not a very in-thing then). Thats when I saw Sarah's eyes for the first time, may be. Her eyes were sad. Thats when she told me that she had been in a hostel from her childhood, and would only get to meet her mother during summer vaccations. Her eyes told me how much she missed her mother, missed having a proper familly, but explicitly she said none. Thats when I took an immediate liking to her.
Our days were pretty hectic there. We would get up in the morning, get ready, have breakfast by 8am everyday and would go the main college campus. Our classes would resume sharp at 9am. We would get a lunch break from 12:30PM to 1:30PM and the classes would continue till 6PM everyday. After that we would come back to our room, freshen up a bit and do our studies etc. Followed by that we would have our dinner and go off to sleep. This was our regular routine for the next one month. Over the wekends we would explore the city, but not every weekend.
Sarah and I were poles apart in terms of our lifestyle, experience, nature, characteristic - infact everything. Even then, we bonded pretty well. May be our differences brought us closer to each other. I used to tell her about my family - my extended family of 34 members excluding the maids and servants, who were very much the part of our family. i used to tell her about my life in Kolkata. How pampered I am. How lazily I spend my life amidst my uncles and aunties, and cousin brothers and sisters. I used to tell her about my loads of friends, my social life, my neighborhood etc. She would listen to everything i said, with a lot of appreciation and amazement, because her life was entirely different. Her father fled away when she was a little girl, and she absolutely had no idea even how he looked like. Her mother was a strong woman, fighting all odds to bring her only child Sarah, up. But in trying to maintain herself and Sarah, she could never give quality time to Sarah, as a result of which she was always lonely. This probably made her an introvert. She didnt have many friends. She was fiercely independent right from her childhood, doing all her things on her own. And there I was - so dependent on everybody. My life would be a standstill if i didnt have my family and friends around me.
Every evening I would get loads of calls from my parents, family, friends, and they would tell me how much they were missing me. My mother would speak to me for hours. They would courrier me gifts to cheer me up. And Sarah would appreciate all these with her eyes. I always felt bad for her. No calls, no letters, no gifts, nothing for her.
During this time only, we discovered one very significant similarity between us amidst so many differences - that we share our birthday!!! Yes, and as luck would have it, our training was getting over just one day before our birthday, and both of us got our tickets to our respective places on our birthday itself. Sarah's flight was early in the morning, and mine was in the afternoon on the 19th of June'1995 - our 20th birthday!
From 4-5 days prior to my birthday (and hers as well), I started receiving gifts, cards, flower bouquet, chocolates etc from my firends, relatives, family members etc. Our room looked like a little gift shop and flower shop with so many packed gifts and flower bouquets around. She would be so excited to see them. And she would decorate our room with those received gifts - ofcourse only my side of the room. Her side was empty. I made a note of buying a gift for her for her birthday. But the training got stricter and absolutely left us with no time to go out for shopping or anything else for that matter. Then I decided, that I would give her something from what I have received in all those days. But each and every gift was special to me. So I couldnt make up my mind as to which gift of mine i could part with and give it to her. Everyday, i promised myself, that next day I would decide on which gift to give her from the ones I had received.
On the last day of our training, ie, on 18th June she received a package. It was a gift from her mother on her birthday! She was escatic! She was so happy! That gift made her so special, her eyes spoke again, and this time with tears of happiness rolling down her cheek! I was very very happy for her. And amidst that happiness, I absolutely forgot to give her a gift from my side, which I was procastinating for long - unable to decide which gift of mine i should part with...
On 19th June, I woke up late. By that time, Sarah had already left. But before leaving, she packed my baggages (by then she knew me well enough to have understood that i never did packing on my own ever in my lifetime). So she took the trouble of packing all my suitcases neatly. She did her own bed (everyday she would do both our beds), and left a letter for me there. Alongside the letter was a packed gift.
I read her letter with sleepy eyes. She had wished me a very happy birthday, and a life ahead. She mentioned there that this one month that we had spent together was the best phase of her life, as she realised what having a sister, a family meant! Each of the words in that letter was so real,so genuine, and so from the heart... I started crying. In the last sentence of her letter she mentioned, that since it was my birthday today, and since she didnt have the time to shop for a gift for me, she is leaving the gift that her mother had sent her on her birthday, for me! As my birthday gift!!!
I didnt know what to do... there I was, unable to decide which gift to give her from so many of gifts I had received... and there she was, without any hesitation she had gifted me the only gift she received on her birthday! i was standing there speechless, cos thats when i realised, that Sarah is the richest girl of this world. She has a heart of gold. And that she taught me the Art of Giving.
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