A breezer story.

She sat in a corner and watched the others.She had a lot on her mind. She did not want to be there but somehow she was here and she looked at the people swarming around her.
One of the boys was strumming a guitar and the rest of the lot sang along loudly and a little out of tune, having guzzled quite a few bottles of beer. They were playing a Bryan Adams song when he walked in.
Her heart stopped for a moment. Was it really him or? She absentmindedly stroked her drink. A bottle of her favourite flavour of breezer. Jamaican Passion. She hoped he could not see her so that she could watch him for a little while. It was him alright. A ghost from her past. And her thoughts drifted to the night she first set eyes on him.

All of sixteen and ready to take on the world, she was at a birthday party and dancing with her girl friends when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
She turned to face a lanky young man, hair falling over his beautiful eyes, an honest face smiling at her.
She blushed and didn't know whether to be angry or flattered. The stranger was asking her for a dance. She could feel all eyes on her.
Feeling confused, she laughed self consciously and walked away from the dance floor.
He followed her to her corner, all eyes following the developments. "You'd better leave me alone" "Just one dance" "No. I don't think so. I don't dance with strangers" "One song. No more."
Suddenly it felt too warm and constricting, so she stepped outside. The thump of the music fading. The air was crisp and cold.  She shivered and hugged herself, looking up at the clear night skies and the stars shining down. She felt a heavier coat on her shoulders. It was him, throwing his coat around her. His perfume filled her head and she could feel her cheeks burning again.
"Hi, I am Ian and I hope we can be friends." He held out a bottle to her. "I don't drink." "You could try this. Pretty light and nice. Perfect for a gem like you. My sister loves it."
"Just because your sister likes it doesn't mean I will like it too." He smiled.
"I bet you will like it too." He smiled. She took the bottle and looked at it. Breezer. Jamaican passion. The label said. "Here, let me open it for you."
Tentatively, she took a sip. She wanted to disagree with him and say she did not like it, but it was really good. "How is it?"
"Not too bad, I have to confess. Reminds me of the passion fruit juice my grandma used to make in the summers. Crisp, fragrant and sparklingly tasty."
"Good. My sister was right. You are very pretty." "Oh! Right and who is this sister of yours?" He gave her an enigmatic smile.
Slightly irritated, she hurriedly finished off her first drink feeling the piercing gaze of the handsome stranger.
She chided herself thinking about how she had just had her first alcoholic beverage with a stranger, no matter how handsome and felt foolish.
"There you are!" said a familiar voice. She turned to find her best friend, Jane smiling at her. "Oh! So you have met?"
And then it dawned on her, the handsome stranger was Jane's older brother who had been away at university and had just come home after graduating.
"Oh my gosh! Why didn't you tell me so?" "And spoil the surprise?" "I nearly made a fool of myself"
"Don't worry, you are in safe hands." His eyes were twinkling as he laughingly shook her hands formally.
"You have grown a lot." She blushed even deeper. "Oh stop it, you old man" said  sweet Jane. "So now, what about a dance now that I have established that I am not a stranger?"
She felt very grown up and beautiful as she danced with Ian. He was so handsome and gentlemanly. A few dances later and some more breezers, they were ready to head out of the party.

Jane called her the next day. "Ian wants to take us driving in his new car for a picnic." "Don't forget to pick up some breezers."
She blurted out and Jane was laughing and saying "We have a new breezer fan" as she cut off the call.
It was magic as she drove shotgun in Ian's new car, a sleek electric blue i20 and picnicked under the blue skies of Shillong in the green glades.
He seemed to draw her out like a magnet and yet he kept a slight distance unlike the night at the dance. She felt out of sorts by the end of the day. But as he drove her home, under the watchful eyes of Jane, he planted a soft but chaste goodnight kiss on her forehead. She could not face her best friend and ran in red-faced but whooping with joy.

Two first loves. A breezer and wonderful Ian. Who knew a bottle could open up so many memories?
It had all started with a bottle of Jamaican passion.

Jane was ecstatic with the developments. Her best friend and her dear brother, together. Wow. They went on many picnics and long drives with many a breezer in tow. But time can do so much and things went awry in some time. Ian got a job out of town and the distance finally did them in. Neither of them knew what really went wrong but they hadn't seen each other in years.

Tonight, when she saw him walk in to the room, it was as if fate was giving her a second chance. She walked up to him and gently tapped him on his shoulder. He turned around, and as recognition dawned on his face, he smiled. His next words told her that everything would be alright again between them. "Should I get you a Jamaican Passion?"

This post was written for the #Catchtheflavor Contest powered by indibblogger.in. Click here for more details.

Shy boy.

And he lives in my dreams.
Thrives in my thoughts.
Oh Boy! Where art thou?

He, of perfection
Chiselled jaw, sharp nose and
Sunkissed skin.
Deep brows and eyes sparkling with intelligence.
Chocolate voice that weakens my knees
Hair softly teasing my fingertips,
When my hands run through.

He holds me close to his chest,
I hear the beats loud and clear.
He has affection, deep and true,
Though lips are wordlessly mute.

And kisses like drawing breath,
From a sudden lack of air.
Infusing me with passion in his embrace.
But draws away into his world
When I look into his eyes.
Shy boy.

You  make me smile.
I wonder why.
I miss the rush of the wind in my ear,
As shadows grow in threes and fours.
Flashing by under the streetlights.

When will you hold me again?

Dancing for my causes! @my Maiden Indiblogger Meet

I love dancing and that's why I made sure to sign up for my first Indiblogger Meet themed Dance India Dance Season 4 and be there to check out the fun at the Oberoi on the 23rd of October. I got there quite early and waited for the evening to unfold.

That's me at the Meet :D (Thanks to Indiblogger for the pic)

Back to my dancing skills, in my head I know how to execute the perfect pirouette and those slow languid moves that dazzle my partner as I become one with the music reaching a crescendo and end with a seamless bow. But in reality, I am blessed with almost double left feet eh? I still think I am a pretty good bathroom dancer and I still love to dance though I am not sure I could ever put myself up on a stage to be judged for my dancing skills.

Ahem.
But if my dancing could make a difference in someone's life, then Hell Yeah! I can and will dance it out. Dancing for me is pretty intimate and I do not like an audience at all. Or rather, I block them out and have my fun.

But, like I just declared, I will put on my dancing shoes anytime and make all my super moves for a few causes. Namely, creating awareness for and prevention of Violence against women, racial and gender discrimination and legalization of Abortion.


As a female living in the big bad city of Delhi, there are n number of instances when I have felt that being a woman is a curse. I totally love being a woman and would wish to be born as a woman again but why is the Indian world so cruel to us women? Everyday, I watch so many women, lost in their daily struggles, fighting for a place under the sun, be it with their family, in laws, home or at work or even for a seat on the crowded metro and it breaks my heart. Besides the physical hardship of being the weaker sex, we also face a lot of untold miseries and discrimination. We live in fear. Of eve teasing, assault, judgement, social isolation, the glass ceiling, violence, curfews, discrimination and most of all, of time ticking away and becoming a victim of circumstance. Why is there such an onus on the shelf life and marketability of a women? Do give us moments to cherish our womanhood and not always worry about being a woman.

There are so many women bearing the brunt of inhuman treatment at the hands of their husbands, relatives and even brothers and often lovers. How can you do this to us - your mothers, sisters and daughters? Need I mention the horror called honour killings? Does this ever apply to men? I am afraid not. Women are the honour of men but they bear the consequences of all dishonor and are rarely honored. How sad is that? Is this the kind of world you want your children, especially daughters to be born into? Think about it.

We need to empower girls and women to speak out about instances of violence and have a system in place to protect them from further violence. Do you know why very few women speak out? No surprise here. Simply because they have nowhere else to go so they keep their peace and suffer. We need radical changes in attitude towards women to improve treatment of women in our country.

There are so many reports of rape and molestation; not to mention the unreported cases and the humiliation victims have to go through inspite of the system in place. It is just not fair. There has been a national outcry but has that lessened the number of cases? Why should women have to make sure they don't put themselves in a situation where they can supposedly invite "being raped"? Shouldn't men and parents and society be making sure that women don't have to think twice about stepping out of the house even in broad daylight? Hey, is it even safe for women in their own homes?
We are killing them even before they are born. Is it a woman's fault if she gets raped, gets eve teased, attacked with acid or bearing a girl child or being born a girl? Give me the answers and I will dance my shoe soles out. If my dancing can make it a safe world for women and free from violence and discrimination, I will dance it out.

Our country is a land of diversity but instead of celebrating diversity, why are some of us treated differently - like we are less human or aliens in our own country just because we look different and eat different? Hey, we are also your brothers and sisters. Same blood, feelings and emotions yaar! I will dance it out to make India free of racial discrimination.

And abortion. Hmmm. This is just my opinion. But women deserve better treatment and also the freedom to make decisions concerning her body and her biological functions. She deserves the right to proper medical attention should the need arise. Numerous women lose their lives every year due to medical negligence or improper care post incomplete or bungled abortions at dubious clinics and health centers with no respite in case of any accidents or misdemeanor on the part of doctors or quacks. If women have access to good hospitals and proper treatment without the stigma and illegality attached to it, many lives will be saved. I mean give them a break! It's not like they made the baby alone without any help from the guy and only we bear the stigma? Not cool. Plus, it our bodies that have to bear the ravages of pregnancy, the discomforts and the risks. So allow us to make these important decisions. If abortion was legal, more women will be empowered to make educated decisions about their health and well being and ensure the health of the Nation as well. I will dance it out for women to have access to legal abortion minus the stigma.

And there I was at my first Indiblogger Meet, dancing it out for "Safer streets for Women". I didn't just get to put on my dancing shoes and make my moves but also got to throw a few realistic punches at some eve-teasers (acting) for our group's choreography piece. And we won! Call it beginners' luck but I am raring to go and dance it all out for my causes and here's a big thank you to the wonderful people at Indiblogger who made the Meet happen and gave us bloggers a chance to have a blast with the Dance India Dance Icons Feroz and Mudassar.

I am also somewhere in there in the third row :P

And thanks to Ratika, Rinzu, Rigzin and Manpreet for making the Meet extra memorable.

Click here to catch the action and here to see what happened! 

Silence

favim image

Tonight is like any other night.
I am alone.
Your shadow left me.
I count the bruises of our passion.

Last night, you were my dream.
Lover,
Friend and comfort. Soulmate.

I tell myself.
Not again.

And here I am.
Craving to be yours.
Again.
And again.
This cycle of need makes me weak.

In your arms,
I am lost.
No today. No tomorrow.
Just now and us.

I wish you the best.
In life always.
And the walls come up again.

Shed your skin and be with me.
Words unspoken.
Pain in my heart.
Love flowing between us.
But not on our lips.

I miss you and yet I run.
Catch me and never let me go.
Until this pain is healed.

Silence.
Hold me and keep me warm.
Tonight.

How many times on top of the world is enough?

At FICCI's TURF 2013, I got the chance to interact with a young man who was the youngest Indian to scale Mt. Everest and subsequently the youngest Indian to summit Mt. Lhotse and Mt. Manaslu.

And what does it take to scale the top of the world thrice literally? He says "Hours and hours of training, exercise, endurance building activities and a diet that resembles that of a wrestler, support and prayers of family and a will of steel but humility to the forces of nature and the whims of weather conditions."

"Conquering Everest was a big deal but convincing my parent was an even bigger deal. But I was adamant to do this and my dad had a huge role to play. He believed that I could do it and he went all out to make it happen for me."
For this young lad of twenty, the business of Mountain climbing is a serious issue which he highlights at events he attends as a motivational speaker. Mountaineering is an expensive hobby and for him a way of life so funding his dreams is the main focus of his life.

He also wants to educate, create awareness and promote mountaineering as an adventure sports and extreme sports in India which he believes can be sustained in India with many youngsters these days becoming interested in the field.

He laments the lack of recognition of young achievers in the field of Mountaineering as it has not received its due as a sports in India and hopes that it will gain the stature it deserves through the efforts of many more like minded people in the country.

"I have received recognition abroad for my achievements but here in India, except for some sections of the Media, we mountaineers are largely ignored. I have so far not received a single penny from the government towards my expedition though fortunately for me, I have been able to get good sponsors to back me up to make my dreams come true so far."

What next? This enthusiastic young man who almost ended up being a football star, has a long list of summits to conquer. "It is my dream to reach the all the 14 summits around the world at above 8000 metres above sea level. It is not about conquering the highest peaks but it is about conquering myself, being one with nature, testing my limits and finding new ways to getting on top of my dreams."

He feels that he has lived more by being on mountains. Yes. There may have been movies he missed, family time and celebrations he had to forego, but the feeling of seeing the world at one's feet when on top of the World is worth giving the rest of the experiences a miss and he is ready to do it again and again. Precisely eleven more times in the next 7 to 10 years, god-willing and weather permitting.

I wish him all the best as he goes from pillar to strength to pave his way to the remaining dreams.

Special Note:

Thanks to Blogmint, India’s first and only paid bloggers network and the online media partner for FICCI’s TURF 2013 for allowing me to be a part of the LIVE Blogging experience.

Read more at Call of the mountains.

Answering the call of the Mountains : Twin Wonder girls

"The mountains are calling and I must go."- John Muir

Most of my young life, I have lived in the hills. And wherever I go, the sight of a hill makes me feel at home. I have grown up climbing trees and chasing streams of water in the monsoons and catching tadpoles in puddles after the rains. I have trekked and climbed hills in slippers and suffered muscle cramps and sore feet and cuts. But I have also felt the thrill of being in the thick of Nature, feeling small in front of rivers and mountains and amazed at the boundless energy of the wild.

Last year, I was invited along with my sisters, to attend the Mussoorie Writer's Festival at Woodstock School and the theme being "A Mountain Festival : The Himalayas", we had the wonderful opportunity of learning so much about the unique flora and fauna of the Himalayas, efforts at cleaning up the mountains, preservation and education efforts and sat through exhilarating accounts of mountaineers, nature enthusiasts and environmentalists as they shared their experiences in stories, photographs and films over the course of a week. It set me wondering what it is about the mountains that attract so many people to seem to not care about the perils of mountaineering and all the discomforts, not to mention the amount of funding and training that is required to do serious summiting. I could only marvel at the enthusiasm they had and ask myself if I would ever be up to some serious climbing. I do have an idea of how it feels to be on top of a hill and looking around and below at the vast expanse of green or brown and blue or white, feel the cold crisp air whip your hair and whistle in your ear. It is wonderful. But the Himalayas and Mount Everest. Hmmm. Magnify that a hundred or even a thousand times and I can't even begin to imagine.

Over 4000 people have summited Mt Everest and there are more people in the fray to attempt it. There is immense beauty and the call is stronger than ever. Now that there are better equipments and know how, it would also seem even more feasible than ever and there will always be more people who will want to be on top of the tallest peak in the world and to many it won't matter if he or she is the first or the thousandth. And then again, it matters to be first.

Sometime ago, I picked up an edition of the National Geographic Magazine commemorating 50 years since Sir Edmund Hillary conquered Mt. Everest and I was completely absorbed by the picture he drew. The mountains came alive for me. I could feel the icy cold, the wind and the pain almost for real and imagined the sight of the world from up there.

Two days ago, I signed up to be a part of a LIVE blogging event powered by blogmint at FICCI's TURF 2013 - the 5th Global Sports Summit and I ran into three young people who had actually been on Mt. Everest and a few more and are raring to climb some more. I'm flabbergasted and yet their excitement was infectious. I don't see myself gearing up to go on an expedition like that anytime soon but well, I do wish them the very best.

So there is Arjun Vajpai, youngest Indian to summit Mt. Everest and Nungshi and Tashi, the world's first twins to climb Mt. Everest and I met them all in one go. How cool is that?
Sometime ago, I had read somewhere about two young ladies, twins from Dehradun who had gone on to create the world record of being the first twins to summit the Everest and they were Indians. The first thought I had was that their parents must be totally cool to let their girls do this. And the next thought was Wow! way to go girls!

Tashi & Nungshi at Turf 2013, FICCI, New Delhi

From the little trekking I have done, I know that it takes a lot of effort, discipline and patience to climb. And Everest is the mother of all climbs in a lot of ways. Extreme temperatures. Extreme everything. And being me, when I met them, I just had to ask how they dealt with the female monthly afflictions and answering the call of nature while on the climb and if being girls made it all the more difficult as the press would like to point out. (We girls got it bad! and men will act like they didn't hear or saw this bit. Hmmm. It happens you know, like the birds and the bees. It's got to be dealt with. Ahem.)

Pic courtesy: Nungshi & Tashi

Nungshi says "It is not that since we are girls, we should get special attention. It was of course more difficult in ways that are unique to being a women, but being women, we adapted to the circumstances pretty quick. Throughout our mountaineering journey, we have been pitched against men but we don't look at it from a man vs woman perspective. It is about doing the best one can in any circumstance."

Pic courtesy: Nungshi & Tashi

"Of course, it is a moment of pride that we, two girls could do this like a lot of men have done and yet we also have to acknowledge that we are as good and even better on some counts at doing this. We consistently did better than the boys in training school. Only 3 people in the training program got graded A and it was the two of us and a boy."

Nungshi & Tashi

For these twins who have traipsed around the country, courtesy of their Army father, they are delighted to have been able to see much of the world and from the top of the world too.And more of the world to see.

At FICCI's TURF 2013 Inauguration, their presence was acknowledged. "Our dad is our core inspiration and our Mother our support team. We continue to nurse our dream of doing the Seven Summits, the highest on every continent of the world. Funding is a major challenge. We have been travelling, networking and raising funds as well as promoting peace through adventure sports. We have so many dreams and the mountains have taught us that life is infinitesimally precious and we got to live while we can." says Tashi.

And while we chat, a man walks up and hands over his card and asks if they would like to get in touch with him as he is documenting twins for a film. I ask the girls what are the other things they like to do.
"We sing, play a little guitar, big time in sports playing hockey at the regional and national levels." Nungshi further explains, "We have been offered modelling assignments too. But we are right now focused on building our life skills and funds for the next climbs. Platforms like TURF 2013 also allows us to meet and get in touch with potential support. Our parents have spent a fortune to fund our dreams and we are looking at ways to harness more opportunities to fuel the rest of our dreams."

We also connected over the fact that I am from Nagaland and since they have spent considerable time in the Northeast, especially Manipur and Nagaland, we have much to share including the curiosity their names generate - Nungshi is an obvious Ao Naga name and Tashi, a Tibetan one; and share notes on the state of affairs back home. We exchanged contacts and move on to the next session while I am left with the thought in my head that these girls will surely go on to create history, shattering myths and breaking moulds that the male dominated world puts us women in. And I truly wish them the best as they draw closer to conquering more summits not for the sake of reaching each but to show respect to the mountains that beckons them and rediscovering themselves on each journey they take.

Special Note:

Thanks to Blogmint, India’s first and only paid bloggers network and the online media partner for FICCI’s TURF 2013 for allowing me to be a part of the LIVE Blogging experience.

How Ambipur saved the day!

Leaving home and coming to the big city was a huge cultural shock for me in a lot of ways. Most of all, the change in food habits, timings and none availability of certain vegetables and food items that were taken for granted at home.

The truth is, we people from Nagaland and Manipur and most of the Northeastern States have what people out here like to call, exotic food habits and a weird diet. It was also a terrible feeling to be judged for what you eat and what you drink. I know of friends and acquaintances being thrown out of their rented flats because they cooked non-vegetarian items.  

Of course, some of the items of our staple diet definitely calls for a sense of adventure and a love for our fermented food items like Bamboo shoot, Axone (fermented soya beans) and Nari (fermented dried fish) are acquired tastes at best. These three items invariably get us in trouble because they all have distinctly pungent aromas when being cooked. But hey! we grew up eating them and enjoy them and crave for them like people out here love their lassi and golgappas and the myriad other dishes they crave for.

Househunting is a huge frustrating adventure, especially for us from the Northeast as Landlords would always ask of our food habits and warn us not to cook "non-veg". Lucky for me, I have always had great and sporting landlords who were openminded and accommodating. But my friends and cousins have not been so lucky. 

I had this cousin who kept inviting me to come over to her tiny rented flat and cook her something special. She had a tiny kitchen and strict instructions not to cook anything "Non-vegetarian" or in other words any "Strong aromatic dishes typical of the Northeasterners". Most days I would cook something from my place and take it over to hers but on one particular occasion, she was unwell and I had been nursing her. She had been craving for some Naga style food and she begged me to cook something special. I would have gone off to my place, cooked and brought it over but there was no way I could leave her alone in her weak state. And she looked so sad that I had to take the risk of whipping up some pungent Naga dishes to cheer her up.
I decided to cook her some pork with bamboo shoot with hot chutney made from green chillies and dried fish. I went out to get some fresh meat. The other ingredients were safely stowed in her kitchen's tuck box.

Now, the risk of being caught was great. There was no way we could mask the strong scent the items we would be cooking. We knew that the moment the bamboo shoot got boiling, it would fill up the house with its strong smell which would undoubtedly assail the Landlady's nostrils and she would rush to our floor banging the doors demanding an explanation and worst case scenario, my cousin might have to vacate her flat.  But she convinced me to go ahead.

You see, cooking all these dishes with strong aromas does have a negative side. My fridge gets filled with the pungent aroma, and my curtains hold remnants of the scent that becomes pretty strong for me too sometimes. I have tried to combat it with potpourri but the combination often became quite the opposite of soothing. Room fresheners and sprays didn't help much and there just wasn't enough fresh air inspite of running the fans full on after a cooking session. 

After buying the meat, I stopped at a store to grab a room freshener all the same as I didn't have much of a choice. The salesman talked me into buying an Ambipur room spray that I hadn't tried before. He said it would turn my day around as it totally worked on the strongests of odours. I was in a rush to get back and so I hurriedly paid for it and got to my cooking. It was then that I remembered that I had an Ambipur Set  Refresh sample somewhere in my bag which I had recently received by signing up for a free sample on Indiblogger.in for an ongoing competition. I fished it out and place it the living room. Mmmm!Tthe room was instantly filled with the scent of Vanilla and Lavender. My favourite scents.

Halfway through my cooking session, I also took the precautionary measure of thoroughly spraying the living room, hallway and bathroom with the new Ambipur spray. It smelled of spring and happy days of childhood. It was called Blossom and Breeze. The kitchen was fast filling up with the aroma of bamboo shoot and I was slightly alarmed. But my cousin was asking if I had started cooking as she couldn't smell anything except for some floral waves from her bed. That was something!

After some  more cooking, I had to let out some steam by getting the exhaust working. Wrong move. The aroma had escaped from our kitchen to the landlady's floor. I could hear the lady ask from two floors above where the stench was coming from. I was alarmed. I sprayed quite a bit of the new spray in the kitchen area and five minutes later, coolly went to answer the door. The bell had started ringing. After all, we were the obvious culprits.

The landlady and her daughter stood at the landing. The lady was quite red in the face, fuming and demanding to know what we were cooking and why there was a funny smell coming from our flat. 

She had a look of triumph on her face as she spelt out that she had warned us not to cook non-vegetarian stuff and now that she had caught us redhanded, we would have to get out of her place minus the security money. I got a bit worried for my cousin but decided to hold my tongue.

I put on my most nonchalant face and said I had no idea what she was talking about. What smell? 

She demanded to be let in and I ushered her in. She suspiciously walked from room to room and to the kitchen and back but there was no hint of the offending smell here. Rather, the flat smelled like a garden. "Mamma, it's not from here" her daughter finally said and they went off sulkily. 

As soon as I had the door closed, I couldn't help letting out a whoop of joy and a prayer of thanks to Ambipur. It had totally saved us by transforming the flat from smelly to fresh and happy and thus averting a disaster. 

What a happy day! My cousin wanted to know how I had pulled it off. I was more than happy to share with her my Ambipur Hero of the hour story. Now my cousin can cook whatever she want and spray her flat up right after. Post lunch, I went out to the store again and bought an entire range of room sprays and fresheners, half for my cousin and the rest for me. When I said thanks to the sales boy, he could only beam and say, I told you so. 

As for me and my cousin, we have decided to make Axone with pork accompanied by Naga King chilli at her place this weekend and we have our Ambipur room fresheners handy. Always. And they are supposed to last and last. They do linger on lovingly, instantly refreshing you and your home.

This is a true story recounted for "The Smelly to Smiley" contest.

The many scents of life.

Image from the Internet.

I think it is amazing how memories are kept warm and alive by the scents that are associated with them.
I always feel a keen sense of nostalgia when I smell oranges. It always takes me back to happy saturdays from my childhood when we would accompany a dear cousin to the paddy fields and while the grownups worked, we children would pick the ripe orange fruits off the trees surrounding the resting hut. There were oranges, guavas, pears, pomegranates, passion fruit, cucumbers, peaches and cherries, all ready to be picked at different seasons year round.

Smoke would be billowing from the tiny hut where delicious smoked beef galho (a Naga dish of meat, vegetables and rice cooked together and served with green King chilli chutney) would be stewing over the fire, for lunch. We would collect dry twigs for the fire in the morning, on the way to the fields; fetch water from up stream of the canals irrigating the fields and spend the afternoon chasing dragonflies until we had to return home, carrying baskets of fragrant oranges and guavas. Those were the scents of my happy Saturdays of my childhood.

Another favourite memory would have to do with my mother's scent. Mother has always been fond of perfumes and as a child, I would lovingly gaze at the pretty bottles on her dresser until she would spray a little on me, on Sunday mornings as we got ready for church. Over the years, I have come to recognize her unique scent in a bottle of Chanel No. 5 though what she owned wasn't quite the real Chanel. But I feel like a little girl whenever I get a whiff of the scent. While Mother would be busy tying my hair into a pony tail, I would revel in the warmth of her presence and scent. It makes me feel loved and special and I get flashes of us dancing to ABBA songs while her colourful skirts would be swirling around me.

Home. So many happy thoughts and scents. I love the scent of pine and  firewood at the family hearth in Kohima. Christmas, my favourite time of the year is defined by the happy carols and the wonderful smells of baked goodies and fragrant sticky rice cakes being fried in our kitchen. And how can I forget to mention the sizzling aroma of meat being smoked or roasted for the festivities? There is such a happy buzz all over the place. All the scents and noise makes you feel like all is well and nothing could ever go wrong in life. Makes me long for Christmas and home all the time.

Another homey ritual is hot cocoa for the kids and coffee for the grownups, with cookies and cakes on Sunday nights when the family gathers for the evening prayers. I am not big on drinking coffee but my head is filled with images of my Dad making coffee noisily in the kitchen and serving everyone. I love waking up to the scent of early morning coffee in winters when holidaying at home. I miss my Dad whenever I smell coffee while away from home and I often give him a call then and there. There is this New Years Eve tradition of gifting assorted cakes and cookies to neighbours at midnight while exchanging warm wishes and blessings. Excited kids that we were, we would feast on the goodies from the neighbours at midnight and be put to bed, and later wake up to the unique smells of New Years Day - more cakes, meats and yummy treats.

 My happiest times in adult life have happened often in the winters of Delhi, a stroll at India Gate or Lodhi Gardens, the evenings thick with the scent of jasmine as little boys ran around at traffic stops with strings of jasmine flowers for sale. I am a generous customer to these precocious sellers. They are often generous too and give me a good deal. I hang them near my bed so that I can get a teasing whiff as I sleep. These are new scents that I love, besides all the other smells I associate with the home I grew up in. I now realize that this is my journey of life, punctuated by distinct smells at different intervals. Moving from the scent of fresh grass on the lawns, after the rains back home in Kohima, oranges, roses, guavas and fresh air of the hills to the wafts of drying jasmine, potpourri and room fresheners that help me create a comforting and cosy world here in my room, in the big bad city of Delhi I now call home, it's been quite a journey.

My new world is now a mix of new and old scents. Of coffee from the vending machines, the many human scents on the metro, a whiff of expensive perfume at the malls, in the office, a hint of cardamon, sometimes garlic and other times, the strong stench of the City reminding me of the struggles of life beating down on you when you are on your own. But when I get back to my room, I'm enveloped by happy scents. Back in the midst of familiar scents - of loved ones, some new but dear and all the little things in my space that I have come to love and call home. And I can only smile and wonder how a whiff of air can turn your world around and take you from place to place.



This is an entry for Indiblogger.in & Ambipur's  "Smelly to Smiley" contest. Find out more by clicking here.

sunday picnic

sunday picnic by mercy-tetseo featuring cole haan flats

This is what I am feeling. Something yellow. Some peachy romantic lace. Nude flats. A little black. Kitty love and shorts. Yeah. And I have to learn to ride a bicycle ASAP.

Slim shirt
$23 - thehut.com

Mossimo shirt
target.com

Martone Cycling Co gold top
$1,150 - avenue32.com

Rag & Bone cotton shorts
farfetch.com

Cole haan flat
colehaan.com

Buckle handbag
$20 - newlook.com

Materia Prima black vintage jewelry
luisaviaroma.com

Enamel jewelry
$4.56 - newlook.com

Rut&Circle round sunglasses
$18 - nelly.com

Nothing

www.favim.com

in my darkest moments

i know you have deserted me

you have made up your mind to forget me

you refuse to allow me in

i cannot find my way in

and my pain is strong and raw

i want to be inside your flesh

running in your veins your blood

be the air that passes through your nostrils

the morsels on your taste buds

that your saliva engulfs 

and draw into your depths

how could you give our love away

and bind yourself to someone else

you called it magic

what we had

and that is what it has become

in the past tense

i am the dust 

you swept under your door mat

bitter is my heart

to know this the harsh truth

i never meant much to you

not half the things you meant to me

i am nothing

less than dust

no trace of me on you

nothing

Accidents of time.

Will anything fill up this emptiness?
The words unspoken.
I am trying to be strong.
But I don't know how to be anymore.
Should I grieve and mourn?
My heart is heavy and my tears ready.
Collateral damage of an inconsequential life.
It just wasn't your time or mine.
And here we go, smiling and eating and cooking
Like nothing ever happened.
But life has come to a standstill.
Something has died in me.
Your being became a momentary blip.
A faint flicker on the canvas of my space.
A part of my soul I gave up on.
In a universe that doesn't care.
And has made me equally uncaring.

Forgive me.
The crimes of my time.
The blood and the tears.
The folly of my age.
Accidents of recklessness.
My inability to be who I wanted to be.
And yet this is who I am.

Set me free.
From regret.
Heartache.
Fear and nightmares.
Grant me peace and another chance.

Apo and me

This one is for the one man who has always been there for me.


Apo!Apo!
Lift me up again on to your shoulder
And show me the twinkling lights of Kohima.
Seat me under the pear tree and bounce me on your knees.
Sing me the song about aeroplanes and trains you saw in Dimapur.
Get me an ice cream from there too and not just papayas and litchees.
Tell me again about the big buses that ply in Kohima.
When are we moving to town to our new house?
Did you hear the song I sang for your from the balcony last week?
Why did you come home looking like a stranger and make me cry?
I love the black hat that you brought home.
And the big umbrella I can sit under and play.
Sing me some hindi songs again please?
Can I try my hand at your typewriter?

Apa! Apa!
Let's go for a ride on your noisy bike please.
I swear I won't fall off, I will cling to you like how you showed me to.
Please take me to the river again and teach me how to catch a fish.
Let's go check the bamboo grooves and catch some frogs.
I chewed so much gum today, we can glue many cicadas for sure.
Show me how to lift the latch and launch a catapult.
Now I know how to dress a chicken and cut wood the right way.
Help me lift this basket to my head. Oh! So that's how it is done?
Let's go buy a radio and some jeans.
And can I have some singaras too?

Apa! Apa!
Take me to town to eat chow and momos.
And say hello to the azaleas at the War Cemetery.
Or maybe have chai and puri at your office canteen.
Those aunties might give me a piece of cake again.
You have so many friends at work?
We have to fill up my forms and please sign this for me?
Thank you and now please let me go to the class picnic?
Where should I go to attend college?
Followed your footsteps and this is awesome.
My holidays begin soon and I need you to pick me up from hostel.
I should have done better and made you prouder.
No. I want to explore my options.
It's okay. I'll be gone for just three years....five years.
I am a big girl now. I know what is right for me.
Why can't I be with this boy? I'll be just fine.
Leave me alone. Why don't you understand?

Apa! Apa!
You were right. I should have listened to you.
Now I will. You know better.
I just want to be your little girl.
Don't send me away yet! I don't want to go.
Apa! I'm unhappy. He doesn't want me and I can't do this anymore.
Can I come back home please?
Thank you Apa. You always have my back.
I am sorry for embarrassing you.
I will try harder.

Apa! Apa!
Please stay awhile. Let's watch a movie.
Discuss the books you taught me to love.
I know you are bored and tired these days.
Can I do something to help? Come stay with me.
Let's go on a trip.
It's my turn to show you something fun to do.
Let's fry dal and chicken and some pumpkin.
Like good ole times.
While Mom watch us amused.
Daddy and his little girl.

Bye-bye Blackbird

Image @Internet

Bye-bye Blackbird! 
Tonight I fly, into the unknown.
The night is thick and laden with emotions.
Lights blinking in the distance.
Misty eyed, I grope in the haze.
Guide me home twinkling stars.
The moon hangs like an old man.
She's tired. 
Like me.
Ripe litchi, sweet on my lips.
My throat is parched.
I need my sleep.

Tomorrow I will hum a new tune.
Bye-bye Blackbird.
Another crow will take your place.

Don't.

Source: Internet

No.
Don't go making me weak at the knees.
Your eyes say things I can't let my ears hear yet.
Your wild kisses make me fly.
I am in danger of falling.
Falling deep.

No.
I am not afraid of loving.
I am afraid to be blue.
Alone after knowing your warmth.
Call me a butterfly.

Yes.
You make me dizzy and sway.
Don't make me change my mind.
I know how to make you melt.
Like you know how to make me shiver.

Yes.
Let's keep it intense. You and me.
Warm and sweet.
But.
Don't make me fall.
Let's grow with love.
With friendship and golden companionship.
In the end, only kindness matters.

Black

Image Source: Internet

I know there is a hole in your heart

That feels like you are being swallowed

Your world is sinking and you are drowning

Grief and pain so sharp

You sweat droplets of blood

Crushed, bruised and torn

The tears in your eyes blurs your vision

Your head echoes with thoughts

I know you are afraid and shaky

There seems no end to this night

Why is this happening you ask

I'm sorry I have no answers

I cannot save you anymore

Let me sing you to sleep and dream

My sweet, we shall find peace soon

Borrowed Time

Photo by RN

A little piece of Heaven. 

A day in paradise. 

A stroll in the mist holding on to you.

A flight up into the clouds and above.
You showed me a world of dreams.

Memories for a lifetime and more. 

Wish I could have it all and then again, a little more time. 

And Kelsang be our haunt in the hills we discovered

Winding roads to the abode of the deodars

We found our little chalet.

For a little while on borrowed time.

Thank you all the same for I am transfixed, 

Frozen in a surreal moment but the warmth says 

I'm alive and that I'll live on forever in your heart.

Melancholy

There you are, my constant companion.
I was beginning to wonder.
If you had left me too.

I am tired tonight.
My sagging spirits refuse to be lifted.
Unanswered calls.
I know the answer to that already.
Pick up the phone and tell me you still care.
Is this my destiny?
To wait into oblivion.

You steal away like the clouds on a sunny day.
I sit under a tree and trace the shadows of its leaves.
My life is spinning out of control.
Like fallen leaves tossed about by a broom.
And find their way to ashes.

All is lost. Meaningless.
We walk on.
With a weight on our hearts.
Melancholy, you are a dull companion.
Like a bag no one wants to carry.

Storm

A storm rages outside,
Like the one inside my head.
On nights like this, I think about you.
How you enticed me to sell you my soul.
I don't blame you at all.
I wanted to believe your lies.
'Cause for a short time, those lies were my only joy.
But the truth did set me free,
When I finally saw through the mist.
And my tears they flow endlessly as do your silly excuses.
I am not over you yet but I will never be under your spell again.

Running.....

Sometimes it feels so much easier to run away from it all than to face it.

And sometimes, you can't run even if you want to.

And sometimes, you have to keep running to keep it going.

Right now, I am keeping it running.

For reasons I know best.

I have stuck to my guns and faced my demons.

I will do it again if the need arises.

People around me are running too. In the way they know best.

I don't judge them or blame them.

That is how they are and the only way they know perhaps.

Life is all about running things.

Keeping it running. Sometimes running away and sometimes running home.

And we all need to run to keep our sanity on some days.

I just need us to keep holding hands as we run this stretch together.

Don't let go of my hand. I won't let go of yours.

And we keep running this race we found ourselves a part of.