Romancing with Dance

Sweat and high adrenaline rush were there at  my outer crust, reflecting the condition of my heart which was pumping hard. the music was cascading as i was nearing the gates of dance hall. the moment i put my first step into it, the heat and the beat welcomed me. i bowed down and touched the floor in reverence. in a flash of a moment i heard my name resounding in the hall. it was the turn of my group to perform. excitement, fear, breathlessness and intoxication were juggling and bubbling in me. standing in the front of the crowd that had eyes all hooked on me that gave me goosebumps. but as the music began, i felt it flowing inside my veins, relieving me from all the shackles of unspoken miseries. the movements and the rhythm transcended my soul from my body and soared it above.
                                For a span of time, the feel of self was gone. i was enticed by the equation of me and dance. flirting with the movements, romancing with the music. as the the music slowed down i felt betrothed to dance. the loud applaud around me was blazing, the maddening crowd seemed to celebrate my marriage.

Khaana Khazana

Puchka

Cooking is my new hobby. From very childhood it has fascinated me. I
have seen many things boiling, frying and cooking on burner and the
sound of them has become a melodious music for my ears. For many years
I have been following the different cooking styles of different
nations. The decorations, style, cleanliness and presentations of
varied dishes in foreign countries have influenced me heavily. But,
being an Indian diehard foodie I love the food of my country. India is
a huge country and every part of it has its own delicacy. the other
thing which is unique and special of this country is the practice of
vegetrainism which is followed by many. So many dishes are prepared by
lots of spices and variety of vegetables. There is a burst of flavours
in mouth when one eats puchka, made of thin layer of white flour. The
water in it is made by mixing jaljeera, dhaniya, kaala namak. The base
of cooking any kind of vegetable is same. It consists of some
vegetable oil on frying pan, when it is little hot spices like
asafetida, bay leaf, cumin seeds, coriander seeds, little turmeric
powder and salt as per your taste. Indian cooking is very theatrical.
Lots of dances, noise and colors can be seen in one pan. To this
mouthwatering mixture is added our vegetables.
                              The substitute for meat in India is
paneer. It is a fresh cheese common in south asia. Varieties of dishes
are made by adding mixture of lots of spices into it. The rustics have
their own specialties. The earthen burner is used to cook the food
that has cow dung or wood as a fuel. This specific technique escalates
the taste and fragrance of the dish. The whole atmosphere is enough to
increase your hunger with leaps and bounds. Cooking is an art that
ties the whole globe in a tight knot and also its like a crazy lover
that stands on the tips of his toes to see you smile. All in all, I am
falling ion love with art or science. Everyday experimenting and
exploring the magic of cooking!!
- Devaditya Juneja

The GHOST of my past.

As the ring slipped into my finger, I realized that I have a new life now. When I looked at the smiling faces of my family and friends, I felt comfort. I was the centre of attraction with the man who was soon to become my husband. With all the flowers, food and celebrations my wedding was over. I knew that now the turbulent and testing times of my life have gone. I was on the road to explore new city, new people and new house. Soon, I was in my husband’s room, ready to explore him and me. But the moment I was in his arms I find that I don’t belong here, that I don’t feel anything. Shutting the door of my ribcage hard on the face of my heart, I put a successful show of pretensions. I let the things take place at their own pace, doing everything mechanically. Lying on bed, I found my eyes burning and felt a little tear rolling down. Slowly with laden foot, I went towards the mirror hanging on the wall; I looked at my face in the mirror and saw him staring at me and smiling. I saw my fingers resting on the lips of my lover and then the wings of memories grew at my soul that took me to the night when we were in each other’s arms, caressing each other and basking in the warmth of our bodies.  “Not again”, I said to myself. “Its all over.” but as I was draping the saree around my waist, I felt someone breathing into my body and whispering in my ear, “wear me with your saree”. Fighting back my tears, I went to the kitchen. Here, I forced myself to smile and talk, eat and drink. I was to cook the lunch that day, so I was doing it. Soon there was my husband, pulling me towards him, he said, “Let’s go to the movie today”. I simply nodded.

                                 In the theater, he held my hand. While all the time I was saying to myself, “why are you not feeling anything? Feel it, like it.” Nothing happened. All I felt was the sweat on my palm. Driving back to our home, I realized that there is no escape. I realized that I am going to be haunted by the ghost of my past till I breathe my last.

Twins..

“Twins!!...are they twins?” said me, a tiny girl of four years
bubbling to see my two cousin brothers. They were large for my little
hands to hold, one was like a small cute white rabbit and other was
like a pretty little Indian girl with long eye lashes batting at me
with honeyed complexion. I fell in love with both at once. After some
years when I came back to my maternal aunt’s house I found them both
sitting and playing with each other. They were grown into round cans
of pure butter, soft, round and cute. I was beyond me when I saw them.
I played with them whole day and night. I have no other thing but to
make them giggle. They were like cotton balls clad in cutest pair of
clothes. The most lovable quality of them was their notorious nature.
Once I remember I went to stay at their house for some days and at one
afternoon I was left in charge of them as everyone was out for some
work. Three of us were sleeping nicely and calmly or I guess I was
sleeping nicely and calmly when I felt a soft thud on my back. I
slowly turned to my left to find my two little brothers entangled in
fierce fight. I didn’t stop them immediately, instead I observed them.
They were strangling each other and that too very silently, who was at
death end and who was at winning was hard to make out.
                                They were cute in every manner. I
loved the way they used to pamper me. They loved me so much.
Everything was of me, for me and by me. They have given me so many
memories to cherish. Often I find myself looking at those little eyes.
Everything is so vivid, clear and dear to me. These are the only good
moments I don’t want back because what I have today is no less. I am
still the bossy elder sister to them who is loved and pampered even
more. Both are the strong and reliable pillars of our family as they
have grown up into two mature, responsible and loving boys..

Pottermania....

What makes harry potter so popular? Is it the magical world or Hogwarts or extraordinary in the ordinary element. I think every bit of these have contributed to its popularity. But the last one is the main ingredient that has grasped the hearts of millions. Harry potter is the name of that part of us that is weak and that craves for love. he is not a character that is a part of some far fetched imagination but  is the portrayal of an ordinary person that  like us is the victim of circumstances. It is the character with which one can relate. Harry has molded step by step, holding our hands, he has shown us his own inner self which anchors us with him. We experience what it is to lose dear ones, to be hated, to have good friends and to be in love. 

                                   I remember when I first met harry potter. Our friendship began with “harry potter and the chamber of secrets”. The first couple of lines were enough to glue me to it, till last. It was an amazing journey. Every line was punctuated with emotions. Characters were larger than life. Hermoine, Ron, Ginny, George, Fred, our own dear harry and many other. The whole canvas of characters seems to embrace us. Some characters are evil too which gives edge to the emotions. But the most admirable lot, Harry and his close friends, steals the show and the feature that makes them out stand all is their simplicity. When I finished the book, I wanted more and than I got all the books. And each book was highly gripping. I felt every lows and highs of harry. The more reality was poured by the visualization of the series. Like every potter’s fan, it was a gift to me. Watching your hero on screen which only lived in lines was amazing. Now as the end of this mighty phenomena called harry comes near, I feel my heart breaking. But as the end is inevitable, I have to accept it. But I know harry potter, my friend and my love is never going to die. He will live in my heart and in the hearts of millions of his fans. The books and movies have breathed into him and in his world an immortal breathe. I will continue experiencing the same thrill and fun by rereading   the books and watching the movies.

                     

Garden of Happiness...

Right now I am sitting between the shades of two huge plants in my garden and wondering why I left sitting in the densely green garden and hearing birds and reading books in the womb of variety of plants and trees, then the number of things stormed my mind. First it was a merciless break up and then the feel of finding no one to listen to me. After a long time, with the kind aid of books, I surged up from the well of sorrows. I was again me, who needs only nature and books for company and enjoyment. I realized that this world is not to be pitied. All human beings (leaving the exceptions ) are the most repelling. Lets not hop far away from the main point. close to my right is a tree which has a nest on which a pair of birds is busy gossiping about me. I remember when I was small, I used to sit under the shade of huge bougainvillea, on the green carpet of grass with books surrounding me, when my parents used to go for work. Enid Blyton was my favorite writer, then. Time to time, I used to look at the plants and trees and enjoy the silence, embedded only by the sweet chirpings of the birds. I loved the voice of whistling thrush.

           There are so many colors red, pink, orange, yellow with the dominant color being green. This is a majestic color, whenever I gaze at it, my eyes feel like resting on a soft pillow. The sky is now turning from blue to orange, at some spots its pink. The sun is slowly sinking. Birds are going back to their nest. My birds are already at home, sitting quietly and cuddling into each other, with an occasional glance at my stirrings. Children are going back to their house after playing cricket. My bugging neighbors have also come. Avoiding their eyes, I slip in my house. Everything is so still, so silent, so perfect that any kind of unwanted voice, that of humans and his machines seems to tense my nerves. At a distance, I hear a calf calling his mom. Each and every element of nature is retiring and saluting the sun who is bidding adieu with a promise of returning back.

ALEXANDER, the Great!!!

“Hail to thee great Alexander!” was the only sound resounding all around. All the warriors were in the mood of celebration. There was wine and food everywhere. Every warrior was rejoicing their successful entry to the Indian subcontinent. Alexander was sitting under the shade of a mango tree and was gazing at the nest of a bird, turning to his general, he said “Craterus, I want to meet the locals of this land because if we desire to make our hold strong on this country than we should first understand and know everything about this land. What do you say?” “Yes, this is a wise thought, so when and how do you want to start?” “Let’s go now”. He said and stood, his robes glittered and his eyes shone as the Indian sky up above them. “Peculiar country is this, so many colors on everything and fragrances in the air” said Alexander to Craterus as they were marching with the huge army , exploring the conquered land. To every face on which his eyes fell, there was fear. This was not new to him but he seemed to enjoy it. He knew that these people are captured in awe of his might and power. It made him feel above all, his chest seemed to double with pride. While riding on his horse and observing the lifestyle of the people around he went down to his memory lane and wondered how much he has conquered. In his mind he had the map of all the lands that were in his fold now. It has grown beyond all the measures. Suddenly his eyes fell upon an ancient looking man in deep sleep but seemed to be fully awakened, having a vision that felt piercing at the heart.

                                Alexander was amazed to see the serenity on the face of the man. There was no fear, but the magnificent peace on the old man that gripped the heart of Alexander. “Hey, ancient man, ask me whatever you want from me, anything”. Slowly, the man opened his eyes. “I don’t want anything from you, I have everything I want.” Alexander gaped at him. “Do you know to whom you are talking? He is the mighty Alexander, who has won so many battles, who have cut the throats of so many brave kings, who have acquired so many lands, including yours. Consider it to be your good luck that our greatest king is being so kind to you” Said Craterus. The saintly man blinked indifferently at him. “I know who he is, more than you or any of his close ones will ever know. you know the outer crust of his but I know his soul. He may have conquered all but his mind is beyond his reach which is the real enemy of man and should be conquered.” Stumped was the Craterus and Alexander. “Ok. If you are so much willing to give me than, side yourself, you are obstructing the way of sun rays.” Open mouthed gazed the Craterus towards the man and Alexander’s lips parted in a smile. “He is not an ordinary man” said alexander to his general, who was staring mutely at the man. “I have not seen a man like you, you have won my respect, I request you to come with me to my country.” Now it was the man’s turn to smile. “I would, if you had life long enough to go back to your country”.

The Touch of LOVE..

Completeness, freedom, solace and eternal bliss when resides in the heart than the life gains its long lost beauty and glory. This is the kind of feeling that is called love. The feeling that helps you to carve out your own world amidst the million people, where you are secured, taken care of and are fully pampered. You sail through the miseries of life and different relationships with ease. Love germinates a relationship where there is freedom in boundation, independence in dependence and love in love. It helps in bringing down heaven on earth. Everything appears cocooned in magic and fantasy, every speck of dust appears as gold.

       Love is a bond that is made when two souls climbs the stairs made up of trust, care, faith, compatibility and understanding and reaches to a pedestal where they stand in front of each other as one and forms an unspoken, unbreakable relationship which grows with time and together surpasses the stage of immaturity, egotism and solitude.  It’s a state where a person is witness of the other, observing each other,  there builds a bridge through which there souls merges and becomes one. The life is full of miseries and tears. We pretend to be conquering our pains n sorrows all alone and to an extent we win but in the end we are left with the smothered soul that stands alone amidst the sea of fake admiration n relationships. But when the tested times of life are faced, holding the hand of the person u love, every misery or incident or challenge becomes an adventure. You start giving a try to yourself because you know even if you fall, there will be someone, in whose eyes you will find the unaltered love that will be a buffer between you and the sufferings of the world. The touch of love in life is an exclusive blessing which very few gets and deserves

       

Monsooooon

It has finally rained. Everywhere there is coolness accompanied by

silence. The only sound is of clouds moving and raindrops beating on

Earth. it seems as if everyone is deliberately quite to enjoy the

music of rain. its a lullaby for all. its night, still everything

looks picturesque-the land, the sky, birds in the nests or under the

shades and everything. my heart is also hopping in joy, splashing in

thought of rains and praying hard to let the rain come without any

obstacle. every feature of monsoon is full of splendour and charm.the

thunderbolt produces a sound that is so melodious, sometimes its

frightful but nature has its style and its way to show it. my heart is

also rejoicing, it dragged me into the rain and i was breathless, i

was one with the nature. those drops of rains on my face anchored me

to the spot. every cell of my body was awakened and was speechless. i

am in love with the monsoon. the way it has embraced me, there is

nothing in return to give it, but my heart. the mornings of monsoons

make the earth look more colorful-the bathed trees look more green,

fresh and full of life. the birds are more chirpy and are playful. in

nutshell everyone brims with happiness and contentment. all the

wrinkles and worries seems to wade away with this wash. my heart is

fully gripped in its magic and is gaping open mouthed at the unfolding

beauty of nature. oh! and the fragrance of the wet earth gives me a

pleasure that is beyond any dimension. like everytime, I have fallen

in love with monsoon and with god who has pitied on the scorching

earth and its creatures and has finally brought down his mercy over

all of us in the form of rain. the world is intoxicated and is lost in

the celebration of this amazing climate- "monsoon".

City of Lakes

Udaipur, the city of lakes as it is called, never fails to amuse me. You might think that obviously it is known as one of the most beautiful cities and is a great tourists place but the truth is far from all your imaginations. Still some of them are true like there are lakes, few inches above the ground thanks to the recent rainfall otherwise one could have easily played cricket with the kids there.  So, there are lakes with city garbage swimming over them. Instead of fishes or birds you will find variety of plastics, bottles, food materials on them. If you choose not to see this and turn your face in other direction then another  view comes up  of a rustic old woman frowning to see you and washing her clothes in the same water where your boat corners. Ok, you can close your eyes to this too and move forward in the garden. Ah,
the garden, you expect it to be blooming with the beauty. Rub your eyes, yes do it, because what you are seeing is true. A family of seven is sitting in a circle and is throwing more not in the dustbin but all around it and eating less. This is disheartening, heartbreaking, please open the dictionary and find more words to describe my feelings. How dearly I love this city, nobody can imagine and how much it hurts to see this situation of one glorified city of Maharana Pratap none can imagine. From the very childhood I have been hearing about its kings and beautiful surroundings. My memory has been enriched by the varied stories of my father’s escapades in its jungle. Everything is gone.  Now, Its green in patches, its overpopulated with the people who don’t give a damn about it, they all want to go abroad kicking beside the place which is so rich in culture, beauty and love. Even if it’s all brown and dirty, even if its lakes are getting dirty and people are misusing its resources, I will love it. I will love it for what it was once and what it is now. And I don’t care if government is sleeping or the people of this country are sleeping. I will take up this challenge to clean it. Even if it’s going to be a meager effort, still I am going to do it, for my own satisfaction.