Workaholics too have a Love Story

This post is a part of the Gillette Satin Care contest in association with BlogAdda.com

I was busy juggling with some priority tasks at my work station when I was interrupted by a deep voice. It was him. The tall, the not-so-dark and handsome Vivan.

"Folding up the blind at your desk can help you see something amazing" he said while folding them up. I hardly had any time to look up and talk but my heart skipped a beat whenever he was around. Vivan wasn't someone I could ignore and as I turned to my left, what I saw was breathtaking!

The sky was overcast with swirling black clouds that almost touched my window on the 11th floor of our building. "Wow! That's so beautiful. There is going to be a heavy rain today and I have so much of work to finish before I can leave" I said while realizing that they were not joy alone. The horrible nagging with auto wallahs was something I hated to do after a tiring day at work. Lost in my thoughts, I did not realize when Vivan had left.

"Poor guy! I did not even talk to him. Mean me! I should have been good to him!" I thought to myself while getting back to work. Another 45 minutes and I was finally done.

As I stood up and turned around, I could not believe what met my eyes. Vivan. Waiting for me. Aaah! What a moment it was!

"Hey Miss Workaholic! I can sense that you are now done with your work for today, so may I walk out with you?"

"Oh yes!" I replied promptly smiling at his superb way of asking me out.

As we stepped out on the road, the drizzling raindrops made everything beautiful. The sky, although dark seemed happier than usual and his company, of course was little more delightful today. We crossed the auto rickshaw stand but neither of us bothered to take one. We kept walking through the street, splashing through the water logs of the evening rain. We were now walking closer. A little closer than usual. A little happier than usual. And then we walked into the Cafe Coffee Day at the end of the street. As we sat across the table, he leaned forward and held my hand in his. Loosened by his gentle touch, my cellphone slipped off my hand and fell onto the table. But who cares?!

He took my hand closer to himself and touched over my nails playfully as he kept looking at them.

And I wanted to pull them off! No Vivan! No...Please don't! Don't look at my hands, was all that I wanted to scream. How I wish I had opted for my hair removal.

Vivan kept looking at them and suddenly kissed my hand as he moved his chair closer to mine and said those most beautiful words in this world. For the heart of a true lover he had, he probably never noticed those imperfect things. For the Man he was, he found his Love the most beautiful and I couldn't ask for more!

All that I could utter in that moment was, "I so wanted this to happen! I am glad it did".

As we walked back , he held me closer. Wrapped in his arms across my shoulders, I felt how beautiful and strengthening Love was!

I am the Santa

Never before had this happened. Never had I felt someone else's plight so deep...so real that I was myself hurt.

The chill in Delhi's air is on rise and it's the time when those steaming dumplings won't let u go away unless you have relished few of them. After a tiring day at work, I was casually strolling down the street with the utmost urge of eating away a plate of dumplings. Lost in my own thoughts, I had hardly ever noticed people who passed by.

I was about to reach my favourite dumpling stall when my thoughts were interrupted by a sudden and scary touch on my hand. Realizing it was rough, my worst fear came alive. As I turned frantically, I saw a little girl standing right beside me.

I would have been pleased to see a little girl. But I was not!

Probably I would have liked her if she wore a cute dress...but she wasn't.

Maybe I would have liked her if she wore a pretty flowery hairband... but she wasn't.

Chances are that I would have loved to say a hello to her, if she carried her doll along..but she had none to hold.

She was dressed in rags. She hardly had anything on her body that could keep her warm. Her hair was unkempt and appeared almost like strands of jute. Her face had patches of mud and she stood barefoot.

"What is it? Get lost!" are my words for any beggar I have ever come across and she got her share of it as well. And there was a moment of mismatch between my mind and my heart. She looked at me with her eyes wide open and showed no fear to my words.

I knew the way she would start begging. They have this habit of calling you in names of Bollywood stars and as soon as you decline to offer alms, they call u a witch or something even worse. I truly hated that part of interaction with beggars and therefore, I started to walk away so that I won't have to hear that everyday drama.

"Didi..! kuch pehenne ko de do." I turned back and looked at her again. Her eyes gleamed with hope. I walked back to where she stood and asked her where her parents were. They lived in a slum nearby.

"Hum bheek nahi maang rahe didi. Koi purane kapde ho toh de do. Ma aur baba majdoori karte hain." I was taken aback. I smiled at her and she smiled back. For that moment, I could not see her unkempt hair. Her smile outshined the dirt that stuck to her face like a native. Now, I could not see her that cold on a winter evening. I was suddenly growing fond of her. She appeared cuter than my neighbor's kid who is always decked up in nice clothes and has a fair, bright and chubby face.

I unwrapped the muffler that hung around my neck aimlessly and wrapped her in it. Funnily, it almost worked like a shawl for her. The little soul beamed with happiness and I felt content... this time from within. It was different from the way I felt after eating away a plate of dumplings. It was better. It was deeper. And most importantly, its making me smile even two days later.

We don't fail to call India a frustrated country. We take pride in discussing our short falls. Talk of one problem and others will help you make a list of them.

Ever tried doing something that would change things even at a very small scale? Talk of it in public sometime and find out how many join you in making things better.

I just did...are u in?

Why not become a Real Santa and help those in need of our compassion this Christmas? :)

No Walls... Only Bridges

"Dad! why are they building a wall? How will I now see their lovely Sunflowers every morning?" said Ann pointing towards their neighbor's boundary wall being constructed.

"They need to protect their house, honey! Its their property and they have to take care of it", John said in a plain voice while struggling through the work on his laptop. Not convinced with what she heard in reply, Ann moved closer to their gate and asked inquisitively, "how many of my drawing rulers do I need to join to connect our gate to theirs?"

"Will you please finish your breakfast Ann? We are getting late for school and your teacher is going to give you that stern look again! No tantrums please. Finish your meal fast!", said John like any father of a 5 years old.

On their way to school, Ann asked the same question again. "I am a good girl today, Dad and we are in time as well. Please tell me, how many rulers?"

"Almost 20 rulers Ann. Now can you please share your secret idea with me?"

Ann smiled lovingly on finally getting her answer. "Can you please help me in joining all the twenty rulers and create a secret path to those Sunflowers? I love them, dad! And am sure, they love me too! They wait for me every morning and stand waiting for me. Please dad! can we?"

John was delighted at her innocence and said, "Its called a bridge, honey! But am afraid that our neighbors won't really like it. Its their choice to block the view and we should let them. Don't you think so?"

By now, they had reached Ann's school and the happy goodbye took place like everyday. On his way to office, John was subconsciously thinking about Ann's question. On reaching office, he got busy with his work and Ann's question had totally escaped his mind until one of his colleagues showed up during lunch break.

"Hey Smith! How have you been? Didn't see you for long."

"Aah... my plights don't find an end, John."

"Is it Smita again?"

John could see the pain and anger in his eyes but could not decide if he should say what had just come to his mind. What if he finds it interfering and feels like I am invading his privacy, John thought to himself. The urge to speak up got stronger and the words almost rushed out of his mouth and before he knew, they stood tall and loud on his lips.

"Smith! You should talk to her. There is only this silence between you two that's ruining your lives.No mistake is too big to be forgiven when your relationship is at stake."

Smith stared in blank and John desperately wished if ctrl+z would just work and things resume their older version. Breaking the silence, Smith said, "maybe you are right, John! Maybe I have not put in the appropriate effort that Smita's broken heart deserves. But what if she declines to talk to me?"

"You will at least know where you stand. But for Smita, I know, she isn't that tough at heart and definitely not in your case!"

Smith stood up with double the energy he sat down with as if it was this moment that he was waiting for and those words of John were sent from heaven for him. "I must see her now. Can you please take care of my work post lunch?", said Smith winking at John.

"Do I have an option, Smith?"

As Smith hurried out of the cafeteria, John shouted,"Hey Smith! No walls..only bridges!"

The Winner

"Good work my child! You make me proud. I am sure each one of us will be proud of you one day." Those words said by Sister Delina some 18 years ago were still fresh in Naman's ears. Their echoing sound made him smile like a seventh grader.He kept flipping through the pages of his Art file. Each page had bundles of memories, some clear like crystals while some faded like the dry leaves that lied scattered on the ground in autumn. Some sketches were even signed by him with unmistakable professionalism that reminded him of how eager he was to grow up!

Naman grew up, like everyone does, into a teenager and then an adult and now of 30 something, as he sat there holding that file in his hands, his mind experienced tides of uncontrollable thoughts.

Somewhere admist his thoughts,he recalled his friend Sultan who was always his admirer, although he too, was equally good at artwork like him. Brilliant were those days when Naman and Sultan participated in Drawing Competitions together. The winner was always one of them and irrespective of who it was, they used the prize money for buying new cricket equipment. There was no envy in the name of competition and it kept their bond of friendship growing unless they parted their ways for the sake of pursuing promising careers.

Still flipping through the pages, Naman stopped unbelievingly. "Genius!" was all he could say. "How could have I been so good?! How the hell am I no longer the same?", questions hovered over his mind like the houseflies surround a ball of jaggery left to its fate.

As Naman walked up to catch a gasp of fresh air in the balcony, still holding his file, he could feel the pump in his feet. He could feel a wave of energy rush through his head. This was similar to the one he used to feel while making all those sketches. It wasn't a deja-vu. He was actually reliving those moments, those feelings when he believed he was a champ,a winner and so was he!

"What do I think of myself now? I am.. I am...probably a struggler.. things don't happen for me right away.If there is anything about me, it cannot avoid complications. Yes! that's me, that's what Naman is today! And everybody knows it. But does everyone really know of it or they have just got used to seeing me like that?" Naman struggled hard from within seeking answers while gazing at the sinking Sun.

The breezy November sky whispered magical spells. That sight shiver of winters that always made Naman feel good was right there and he, undoubtedly, was giving in to the charisma. Allowing the breeze to find its way through his face, he said to himself.. " You last a winner only as long as your thought..!"

Celebrating Life... in togetherness...

The cool October breeze was playful and made uninterrupted passage through Nalin's face. Stoned in his thoughts, he sat on the bean bag he had always loved. It was stuffed with all the memories from the day he earned his first salary till today.And especially, the memories of that special day..when all things wonderful conspired to gift him Love...

Things changed, people around him changed but the bean bag did not!

Fair, Slim & Beautiful

Thank God! My fair skinned mom married my fair skinned dad and i was born fair in skin. Alright, One criteria matched.

Time for second one. I am not sure if I am slim, but yes! I fit into the smallest size of clothes available in market and I am fit & healthy. So, am I slim? Well, not sure! Because then I have chubby cheeks and a round face which doesn't let me look slim in my photographs. So, that remains open ended.

Next and the third criteria of being beautiful. Aah! None of my subjects that I studied till my MBA taught me the meaning of Beautiful. The best thing I ever read about beauty was that it lied in the eyes of the beholder. Beholders!!

Ever since I remember, I thought flowers were beautiful. Butterflies were beautiful. My mom was beautiful. Although i did not have a reason to call them beautiful except that they made me happy and bought me smiles. But then my thought process suffered a set back as I grew up. No! I did not stop thinking the way I did but because I came across too many people with whom my thoughts could not find a pace.

There were friends getting married and before that, there were those hunts for a suitable partner. The most dicey word was "suitable". No! not because I had my own definition for it but because the parameters of suitability were sometimes weird and most of the time hilarious!Irrespective of what the guy was all like, be it his personality or choice or whatever you can think of, he wanted a Fair, Slim and Beautiful bride... and what for? The prompt reply from his family would be "He will have fair kids"..again..what for? So that the kid would grow up to be beautiful and attractive and find a suitable partner.

I wanted to show them that I would be the same person whether i grew fatter or darker. I can't be suitable for you unless we are on the same Frequency. And there was the catch! "Frequency" is an alien word for our society that is supposed to be an aftermath of westernization. Hell No! Who spread this rumor? Have no idea about whom to hang till death for this.

The craziest of things happen when you get to see the guy's photograph or meet him in person. Most chances are that if he emphasized on having an all-criteria-matching type of wife, he will turn out to be someone who doesn't meet any of those criteria himself... But that's okay! When you interact a little more, you get to know that according to his official DoB (which is not original), he happens to be younger to you and therefore, chooses to marry an officially younger wife! I cannot help myself from calling him a fake. Is he really not?

I want to reach out to such people and tell them to first decide what does a spouse mean to them? Whether they need a partner for life or an arm candy?

For me,Honesty in a relationship is the fairest thing to do, Slimmer the misunderstandings, the better and Love is the most Beautiful...and I choose to fall in Love and be someone's "perfect match for Life" and beautiful forever!

There is, of course, someone who can see beyond my physical appearance and fall in Love with the Heart I have for him...

Good Luck to all of You for finding your "Perfect Matches"! Stay Blessed :)

Amma's Wisdom

"Amma!!Can I take all of these? My friends will be waiting for it when I join back at school", said little Akshara with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Not only these, I'll give you even more laddoos. You take along for all your friends and neighbors as well. Akshara's Amma isn't an old lady yet!", said Amma cajoling her grand daughter with affection. "The only condition is that you will not tell your father that all the boxes have laddoos in them. He gets cranky about the weight of luggage. I don't understand Bitiya... what problem does this aeroplane have with my laddoos! And you can always give away a laddoo or two to the Pilot Babu and he will take care. Here in the village and even when I go to the city, all babus do my work for these laddoos...", said Amma thoughtfully.

At the age of 73, she is still an epitome of energy and positive attitude. Although she has hardly seen life outside her small village but she speaks of wisdom that her co-villagers fail to understand. Some ten years back, when Raghav, Akshara's father, announced that he wanted to marry Manjari, a girl of her choice who belonged to a different caste, Amma agreed despite of her society calling it the end of her relationship with them. She stood strong to support her son's happiness and Raghav and Manjari never let her down.

With time, Amma's society was proved wrong when twice an year, Raghav and his wife visited her in the village and even took her along in an aeroplane. Amma remembers how she was treated with garlands when she came back on an aeroplane. For months, the story of aeroplane was the hottest topic anybody could think of in the village.

"Ammaji! you are now a celebrity in the village. After all, you have flown in an aeroplane. This time when some netaji visits our place, you should welcome them. They too should know the standard of our village", said the Panchayat Mukhiya twisting his moustaches with pride while nodding his head expecting appreciation from onlookers.

Amma knew the Mukhiya was not a man of his principles. He was an absolutely sugar coated guy who could change his stand in fraction of seconds. Although Amma believed in letting things go but Mukhiya did not happen to be in the list and Amma said sarcastically,"Which standards are you talking about Mukhiyaji? You still announce punishment for the children who decide to marry someone of their own choice. Had Raghav not been so educated and in a powerful position with the Government of our country, you would have not spared me, either". Mukhiya was surprised with Amma's words but did not know how to react. "Amm...ammmaa jee! What are you saying? I am here to look after your welfare", said Mukhiya with his cunning smile that spoke volume about his personality.

"Let it be Mukhiyaji... everybody knows who announced the boycott of Shanti's family after she married a lower caste boy from city. I know, nobody speaks about these things in public. It isn't that they don't care, but they are afraid of you and your power. I am not! Look at my grand daughter. There are so many girls like her who are born in our village but are thrown away or killed even before they are born by your doctors in the Primary Health Centre", as Amma went on, the villagers had already gathered around both of them and stood listening to all that was never talked about in their village. As they stood together, they felt a sense of togetherness for a cause. A cause that was their very own. A cause in which they believed and always wanted to stand up for it.

As the noon descended and the evening took over, petromax lights lightened up all the houses. As Amma moved inside her house, she felt a sense of pride within. She hugged Akshara tight and felt the joy of standing up for what she believed in.

Just then, some neighbors came over to her place. "Ammaji! you are the real hero for us. Had you not been, nobody had the courage to speak up on Mukhiya's face. We have had enough and it's time we also get along with the progressive world. Unless we decide to progress and create better future for ourselves and our children, no one else can help.. we are with you Ammaji..please guide us!", and Amma stood up in tears. Today, she felt like she was responsible for carving the future of hundreds of Raghavs... and she surely would!