If

                  - Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master; 
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings 
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, 
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son! 

When Hell broke on the Roads!!!

That day we crossed the DND Toll bridge at ten minutes to Seven. I saw my watch and thought; we are ten minutes ahead of schedule. As we proceeded, I realised today we definitely are not going to be *on time*.

I take the famed DTC, Delhi Transport Corporation, bus from Noida to Dhaula kuan every day at exactly 6 in the evening. I still have to get familiar with Noida, where I am currently interning. Half walking, half running from office I reach the nearest bus stop. The sight of a bus with its digital display showing 392 Exp, gives me much relief. With anticipation of a safe ride, I board the bus and pay the conductor the fare. With the constant pushing and pulling of office- goers, it definitely is not a pleasure ride on most days.

That day also I followed the same routine, and fortunately by the time the bus reached Noida Sector 18, I got a place to sit. And the previous days rains had removed the heat from the wind. Peering through the large glass windows, I was looking at the setting sun. Usually, the bus reaches the DND Flyway at 7. But that day, we had already crossed it at by 6.50. And suddenly what we saw in front was nightmarish. The entire Ring Road was jammed. Our bus lost its speed. And we were moving at a speed of less than 5 kilometre per hour! The traffic on the Ashram Fly-over was still moving. But within seconds, it too came to a stand-still.

Ring Road, or Mahatma Gandhi Road as it is known officially, being the main traffic artery of Delhi, is always full of vehicles. And Delhi the city is definitely the city of car lovers. It has more vehicles than those in Mumbai, Kolkata and Chennai put together!! The rains had caused water logging on Ring Road. All you could see was cars, cars, and cars. As more people entered the roads, the chaos on the roads only grew. We moved, though at snail’s pace, till Maharani Bagh. Managed to cross Nehru Nagar stop. And then a complete stand - still. It was already 8.30 by this time. . Everyone made their phone calls at home, telling their family of the delay. And then our bus started crawling. More brakes than accelerator. Actually, I would say there was hardly any acceleration. Only brakes. And no movement. We were on the Lajpat Nagar Flyover. Totally stuck in the mess. From the flyover I saw the neighbouring roads. What I saw will remain in my memory for some time. There was the longest jam I could ever imagine. Cars, Jeeps, SUVs, Motor cycles, Buses and people, a never ending ocean.

People had started panicking. Everyone in the vicinity was on their phone. The phones lines were getting busier and busier. The passengers were reassuring their families that they were safe. But, what was the most unnerving of all was the uncertainity. We had already spent two long hours on Lajpat Fly-over. The ride which usually takes 5 odd minutes at the max, had taken us TWO HOURS...!!!!. All of us were hungry, and exhausted. After the day’s work, all you want is to get back home. And here we were stranded, on the road. Without food, without water, without any hope of moving further!!

I called home. Staying in the hostel only adds to the confusion, as you can’t explain the situation to someone not witnessing it live. I had two sets of people to keep informed. My parents and my friends in the hostel. Hence, I made a series of phone calls. In the middle of all this, there came a moment when I felt the fear. I was alone. All by my own. And there was no moving. During one of the phone calls I informed my Sister, "We all are sitting in the bus, and the bus is standing." This grave was the situation.

Finally, our bus moved. Not at a very great speed. But yes, it did move. Gradually picking up. The *Jam* was at last clearing up. We reached South-Extension and felt some relief. The watch was showing fifteen minutes past 9. The traffic wasn't moving at its usual speed. All we prayed for was reaching home safely. At last, after an ordeal of four and a half hours, our bus reached its final destination, Dhaula Kuan stop, at 10.30. I got down, ran towards my Campus gate. My friends were waiting to receive me. The relief I felt on reaching my hostel room is hard to describe!!

As I write this blog post, I still wonder how can I few inches of rainfall flood all the roads of Delhi. The city authorities claim of flawless arrangements for CWG. But the reality looks much much farther than that. And the agony of the common man going through all of this is unprecedented. What if I didn’t have my cell phone, what if I didn't have helpful friends, what if some mishap occurred?? I was fortunate. But were all of the people on the roads this fortunate??
I saw one family with three kids sitting on the road, the mother exhausted was not able to stay awake. There were many many girls on bus-stops waiting for the next bus to arrive. Children, families, women, all stuck in the situation.

However, there is always Hope among the Chaos. All passengers in the bus had started a lively conversation. It looked as if they knew each other from ages and as if nothing big had happened. We all shared the same concern, but still found humour in the happenings. The connect was very strange but after all the connect is all what we need!!

THE MASTERPIECE

It was a fine February evening. Winters were withdrawing and spring was onsetting. The orange setting sun, a light breeze which still carried some chill in it and the sweet scent of the blooming flowers, all were contributing to make it a perfect evening. Delhi looked at its prettiest best. Standing on my doorstep, I was admiring the weather.I felt the urge to go out, out of the confines of my home, out into the city to savour the wonderful weather. I dressed up, hired an auto and landed up in my most favourite Connaught Place. With its multitude of shops surrounding the Central Park, CP is always sprawling with people. Nonchalantly I was strolling through the crowds...

All of a sudden, I saw something. And it hit me. Deep within. Hit me like thunderbolt. It was a face. The face. In the crowd it stood there. He stood there. I wanted to scream. I screamed. I screamed the name. But no words came out. I ran towards him. Cutting through the enormous crowd, I ran. I shouted the name again. This time some voice managed to come out of my throat. For a second or two he looked towards me, turned away and started walking. I ran for life after him. Piercing the crowd, trying to reach him before he was lost. But he kept walking away from me.Away and away.He disappeared, vanished. Out of my reach, away from me. Again!

I stopped. Dejected, loss-stricken, I walked, towards where, I didn't know. Where was I going? I didn't remember. What was I doing? I didn't know. All I could think was, him. I had lost him once, and now lost him yet again. Everything else lost its meaning.

I quickly took an auto and returned home. Silently, I sat on the sofa. My eyes were streaming with tears. Did I actually see him? Was he there? Was I imagining? Hallucinating? Was he for real? Had I lost my mind? Had I become insane? My heart was pounding and I could faint anytime. Something was breaking inside me. Shattering into pieces. I felt like breaking everything. Destroying the world. I couldn't comprehend anything. In the desperation, exasperation, I went to my table, picked up the brush, dipped it into Prussian Blue and started painting...


* * *

Many years have passed.

I stand at the same door step, thinking of the same face. Tears roll down my cheeks. I never saw him again.

I turn towards my room. A painting hangs on one of the walls. Behind the glass and golden frame it stands precious and secure. That day he gave me my most cherished possession. He gave me, my Masterpiece.

MADE IN *INDIA*

"Where are you from?"

"uuuuhhhhh...... I....am ...from Varanasi"

"Oh! So you are from the Holy City? I love that city, the temples, the gullies, and universities. "

"Aaaccttuualllyyy, I have not stayed there ever."

"So?"

"My Grandparents and relatives stay there."

"Then, where are you from?"

By this time, I am already confused as to what answer I give to the most frequently asked question of my life. God! It still is a puzzle. "From where I actually am?" Everytime anyone asks me this, I start with "uuuhhh", think, blink, wait for a minute or two, (mind it: not a second or two), I smile and give an answer which I contradict in the very next sentence i say. The answer dwindles from one place to another. Sometimes, I say I am from Delhi. Sometimes, Chhatisgarh. Many people think that I come from Bangalore. And of course, my ancestral Varanasi. My confusion regarding this only persists . And in all this dilemma, there was a time when I even answered I am from Allahabad!(The place which is not even remotely related to the places I have stayed, even my close friends are not from there!)

The reason of my identity crisis is that I don't belong to one single place. I belong to all those places I have stayed. Papa and Ma being in transferable jobs, we changed places. Not as often as people in the armed forces do. But yes, more often than many others do. I have stayed in the very interior Dantewada district of Chhatisgarh, before it acquired all the wrong reasons for being featured in national headlines. I have stayed in the National Capital. Was born in a small township called *Nayagaon* in Madhya Pradesh. Did my secondary schooling from *Donimalai* in Bellary district known for the enormous Iron-ore deposits and also the Sonia Gandhi - Sushma Swaraj electoral battle. I have also lived in *Yerraguntla* in Kadapa district in Andhra Pradesh for some 5 odd years...... I wonder how many people will even be able to pronounce these names, let alone know about them. And yes, I have done one year of my schooling from Bangalore so stayed in a hostel there. Last but not the least, I will be eternally connected to Varanasi for my pedigree.

Has it been a pleasant thing to happen to me... and i would say yes, definitely!

I studied from 4 different schools. Know many many people , made a thousand friends, know some innumerable acquaintances, some I still retain and the rest were lost as time passed.Know the life and cultures of different peoples of various states. In the process I learnt many languages. Now I can understand Telugu and Kannada to a large extent , some Bengali, Oriya, Punjabi and Bhojpuri. I have developed an amazing ability to gel with complete strangers . Have seen some of the most beautiful places of India which many might not have a chance to visit. The constant change of setup has made me look forward to newer things in life.Though the loss of the previous sometimes makes it difficult.

However, there WAS one time when I wasn't perplexed by the question at all. That was when I was visiting Ma in Moscow (well, Ma stayed there for three years) . We had gone to see the Kremlin. There was a photographer from US who was also taking pictures of the beautiful place. He asked me,"From where are you?"

Without a thought I answered,"I am from India."

DADU!!

I have known her from the time I was a bundle of cells in my Mom's womb. I have known her for every second, every moment of these 21 years. I have known her from very very close quarters and from miles away. She has been with me day and night, twenty fours hours a day. We can go on and on and on, on any topic, jump from one to another and still find matter to talk. We have seen these the ups and downs of life together. Have made the most significant decisions of life together. We share the most amazing bond I have known on this earth.

I have hugged her an innumerable times and can do so for as many times again. Have cried and laughed with her. Spent futile summers watching TV. Sung songs with her together for hours . Experimented with a new dish in kitchen. When had nothing to do, lied down next to her and felt the ultimate happiness of being loved. . Cribbed about various life's complexities and hated the set up just because we can't stay together. Fought on trivial issues, beaten each other and then wiped each others tears. We have our own secrets and personal conversations which we never share with anyone else. There are many people who wonder how we share what we share. The answer is our *Love*!

For the ones who haven't been able to figure out who she is, she is my only sibling. I call her Dadu, for God knows what reason. I have been asked by many a people why I call her so, and I have no reason. Actually, we never had to find any reasonable logical answer. So I just call her , DADU! She is a sister to me, a parent, an elder guiding me in my rough times, a friend who knows when I am happy and when I need a shoulder to cry on, she has been my first teacher of the finer details of life. Some times she is a kid who requires to be pampered, sometimes a narcissist demanding self appreciation. There are times when she melts in her emotional fury, and in others she can be rock solid.

What I feel for her can not be put in words. Is it love, respect, gratitude or something else? Actually it is a concoction of everything i just mentioned. I can not imagine even a single day without her. She is the pillar on which I stand tall and proud!

DADU LOVE YOU!

Girl in the New city

When I arrived in Delhi 4 years back, I was very apprehensive.

Not scared but yes apprehensive. The national news channels have tainted the image of the city so much that you can hardly see beyond the crime, the thefts, murders and rapes.

However, in these 4 years of my stay here, I discovered a whole new character of Dilli. I used to wonder why it called Dil Walon Ki Dilli? And I have the answer now. I still remember the day me, Ghazal, Raman n all had gone to a college, I told Ghazal how I dont like the attitude of people in Delhi, that their rudeness does not go well with me. That was when I was only looking at the periphery of the vast city. When you come to know this city from inside, you discover the colours of it, the real people who make it and the bonds you establish with them.

One summer afternoon, I was walking past the Dhaula Kuan bus stop, going back to my hostel after seeing someone. That was the time I realised how much I owe to this city. I was a little school kid when I joined DU. And today a brave woman. This journey could have been possible in any other place, but I am sure it would have not been as much fun. When I came here I never imagined myself to call it my *Home*. But , YES, today I know it is my home!

It gave me people whom I can call Mine for the rest of my life. It taught me lessons which will stay with me always. It made me a *Reader* and I am so glad it did. It re-established my passion in Dancing and Painting. It made me value human feelings, actually all human beings. I let go my reservations of many sorts, I let go any inhibitions that constricted me. I literally acquired Wings to fly.

Delhi is not a place for the weak hearted. It truly believes in Darwin's survival of the fittest. It wont let you survive unless you adapt and adopt to it. The enormity of the city, the travelling you need to do, the traffic, congested roads, pollution and population, are all to be fought and won over. And once you are through with all these trivialities, you get the true taste of this place.

This place defined what I call *Mine* today.

Delhi gave me my type of people, my liking in food, my kind of music, my dressing sense, my expressions and emotions, actually it molded me as a person.And above all it gave me my "dreams". The larger dreams of life!!

Sneha and the bond I share with her, Ghazal and her hugs and smiles, Kashika's car and tiffin, Agatha's obsession with bikes, Raman and her gossip, Kari and her unsaid love, the JMC basement, Nirmal Nivas, the Birthday Treats, the fun and gossip, Dilli Haat and Saboo Dana Wada, Karol Bagh and the myraid memories attached, the ride in Delhi Metro and pushing in DTC, the everyday drive in Chanakypuri , the lanes of Rajinder Nagar, the beauty of South Campus, a walk on Sikadara road, India Gate and Raisina Hills, Shanti Path and the awe I have for it, Big Chill and the desserts, Aggarwal sweets and the Ras-Malai, the Ring road and its traffic, Moti Bagh Gurudwara and my faith it in, the numerous walks through the city, and everything else........

All of this is what Delhi is to me!

Thank you Delhi for making me understand who you are and who I am.

The Nostalgic Beginning....

Today I want to be back in Nirmal Niwas,

Back in the company of my friends,

In the times when we laughed on some stupid joke,

When we cried and fought on trivial issues,

Listened to random FM music,

Irritated Sr.Alexine with our naughtiness,

Vigorously argued on a national issue,

In the process, making it more a personal issue.

Today again I want to see Bihari uncle,

Talk to him and just say *Badiya Hai*,

Again I want to stand at Japanese Corner

and look at the new arrivals or just smile at Uncle back,

Wait for tea to arrive from Manoj's stall ,

And call little Sujit by name to enquire about his well being.

Today again I want to be in the hustle-bustle of Karol Bagh,

Go window shopping at Westside and Woodland,

Visit the small temple at the market place,

Walk down the street with the enormous crowd and forget myself in it,

Want to have a Softie at Mc.D's and walk back to hostel,

Eat the Super spicy Momos and return teary eyed.

Again I want to stand at my *Pak* window,

Feel the breeze on my face, touch the raindrops,

Or stand there just looking at the passers-by,

Again I want to have a bite of the very yum Rolls,

Have a walk in Rani Jhansi Park and hum some tune,

Again I want to see the Iron Man,

And listen to his *Aao ji aao*.

Today again I want to hold Sneha and cry my tears out,

Talk to Sonali on some random topic over tea,

Listen to Tripti sing a wonderful number,

Or just be with Sharon to give her company,

Sing and dance for no reason at all,

Or just sit down in my room to ponder.

Again I want to admire the zillion cars parked,

To be awe struck by the Audis, Mercs, and the like,

Again I want to count the cars with Meheras,

Or just sit at the window to look at the peepal tree,

Today again I want to relive those moments,

To have a walk in Rajindar Nagar all by myself,

And try to bring the broken pieces together.

How I wish I get all of this Back.