Friends. Marriage. Need I say more? All my friends know I tend to be rather possessive in nature. If you don't know it, I'm sorry but, you probably aren't a very close friend of mine. I feel like I owe all my close friends an apology for not being more understanding. I still don't like it but, I am more willing to accept driftwood's choices. No more bitterness for me..

Wind, oh wind, you are more than my enemy
More than that which I call my destiny
And I, the sea, live my lifeBy your whims,
I flow where you point
So, I thank you for my friend, the driftwood
You brought to me once upon a day
As I flowed and she floated
For miles and miles, we talked
And shared, she her tales of glory
And I mine, of immortality
An unlikey comradeship perhaps
Yet one nevertheless that passed our time
And flowered till we could no longer imagine
A life without the other
We rode out storms and torturous weather
Everything you could throw at us
We buffeted and bore,
You could bend but, could not break
Us, our spirit, our dreams
And, I thought, at last I was no longer alone
I should have known better
Driftwood and sea flowed on and on
Time passed, seasons changed,
And driftwood grew restless
She talked about the land, the shore
Where her people dwelled
Not so restless as wistful
I, friend that I was, promised her the shore
And, flowed towards it fighting the wind no more
Lo behold! I brought her to a sandy beach
Where she lay and soaked up the sun
We both laughed as though we'd achieved
All of our dreams but, for me there was a catch
Her dreams were not mine, her land but a obstacle
In my journey. Yet, for her, I stayed
By the shore. I, the mighty sea.
She made new friends, her kind of people
And, she'd tell me about what I couldn't see
What she didn't see was of more moment
Without realizing, driftwood drifted away from me
I'd fight with her then, and rage at the shore
For taking all I treasured. She'd calm me,
Tell me that while we would remain
We couldn't be all there was.
She moved on, to her greater things
And, though I stayed for a while
For her to return, I soon tired
And moved on. As I flowed away
I heard her calling but, didn't turn back
What was the point? We'd come to pass
And, you can't hold the sea forever by land
I'll always remember her, and I hope she me
But, we aren't anymore just driftwood and sea
She's bound to her kind, while I am free
At least as free as a sea can be

Wind, oh wind, who are more than my enemy
You betrayed me but, you also saved me
You showed me life holds more than memories
That you can't fix what's broken
Or win some things that are lost
I long now for my next adventure
And all I'll meet along the way
I trust in you, you'll guide me till the end
So, onward wind, goodbye driftwood, my once-upon-a-friend.

My favorite and one of my earliest. I was all of 14 years old and I scribbled this one during a lunch break, having stuffed a thepala into my mouth. I had promised I'd write a couple of articles for the student section of the TOI which was profiling my school that week but, had completely forgotten. Had 40 min to come up with my masterpieces, and this is one of them. I remember the moment so clearly, I had forgotten to chew, as usual. Our seat was near the window, on the third floor. The weather - slightly cloudy, I could smell a hint of incoming rain. My muse, a great gulmohar tree, just as tall as my school building. I can't tell you how many classes I spent staring at this tree, imagining its life and the stories it could tell. I was happy that day, in myself, my talents and my potential. The future held such promise. Which is why I'm not sure where the discontent in this poem came from. What did I want then that I didn't have?

Why I'm posting this today? I'm waiting to hear a certain piece of news which may change my life forever. Bad news. I feel like today I understand what I wrote about all those years ago. Right now, I wish I had a little room to fly...

Flowers fall from autumn trees,
Birds fly across distant seas,
Waves rush down on stony sands
In time turning stone to sand,
Life is short, I cannot wait
I want so much, who knows my fate
The world is round
My feet touch the ground
When I want some sky
'cause I need a little room to fly.

Time is passing yet is frozen on me
The wind beats my face, I long to be free
I can feel the sky, I can feel the clouds
Life suffocates me though, it holds me down
I long to feel the rain,
No memories or sad refrains
The ghosts of the past should leave me alone
The life behind me should all be gone
The world is round,
My feet touch the ground
When I want some sky
'cause I need a little room to fly.

Waltz

So this is somthing I wrote almost an year and a half ago. The inspiration was a friend. Or rather, someone I was never sure was a friend. The words just came to me, during a conversation with said person. There's supposed to be a second part to it, to bring closure to that relationship. I'm still waiting for it, I guess. Have you ever felt that way? Where things which seem so simple and direct can be so unresolved in our minds. My waltz will end someday, I am sure. Can't be too long now and whether it will just be a graceful fading of the music or a dramatic flourish, I hope it insipires a brilliant piece of song:D

Brilliant summers and endless nights
Or just one summer, its steamy nights?
We waltzed away for what seemed like days
Danced our brilliant summer away
And who would have thought a season could end?
That it would come to this someday, my friend
Summer bloom dies as fall creeps inside
Our steps falter, our waltz no longer synchronized
We lose trust, give way to fear
So tell me, where do we go from here?

Drive

Driving, speeding faster than light
I'm on this crazy ride again
You're outside, feinting, I can never tell
Which way next, so our journey begins
Each turn a movement, each brake a sigh
Each time you taunt, a cold hand on my mind
Heart, what heart? It just burns to survive
Streets fill with smoke as you pass me by
I can see you ahead, breaking all the rules
Breaking my heart, it's all the same to you
You run another light and I plan to do the same
Just to keep up, to stay in the game
But this time, I won't. This time I brake
This brake a sigh that will end my mistake
My tyres screech, I jolt back in my seat
Hands on the wheel, shaking with defeat
I slump forward, and look out to see
Rain, no wait, tears, just my tears and me
Dimly in the distance I hear you call
Your voice, the angel, the devil, my fall.

Cultural Chop suey

There are many things about the City of Angels that stand out in my mind. The sheer vastness of the landscape, the movie stars I often get to see down the street, the smog that decends ever so often, the beaches with their freezing water. And, of course, the insane enthic mix of people around. At least if you're like me and you study at UCLA. My friends range from Indian (every desi is my brother/sister:)) to Chinese (from China, Britain, American, Canada) to Greek to half-Norwegian to, of course, American. And places in between. I have always been culturally curious. I need to understand why people act the way they do and trace their behavior back in history as far as I can. I'm sure many of my friends find my constant barrage of questions quite annoying. That has never stopped me from asking though:-) A Chinese friend and I argued about the label 'Asian'. which is commonly used to refer to people of East and South-East Asian origin. I insist that I, though Indian, am as Asian as she is. So we discussed what would be least offensive - oriental (which she likened to furniture but, which another friend insisted merely meant 'from the East') or mongoloid. We still haven't reached a consensus. We Indians like to fondly refer to ourselves as brownies or desis. Then there is White America. They don't get any cool nicknames though. I don't mean to leave out any of the other groups but, right now, my story is going to be about two of my mongoloid-origin (oriental?) friends and me. (Note: As it turns out, Mongloid is an offensive term. Should probably stick to Oriental!)

It all began when we decided to do an all girl movie night. The movie - Slumdog Millionaire. Being the only Indian in L.A. who hadn't seen the movie an year after its release, I felt left out. It's true. Social pressure was on me. And my friends thought it would be more fun watching it with me so that I could explain the finer nuances. Explaining the nuances of your culture to someone outside of it is hard. And it's also illuminating. Thinking of your world from the outside instead of merely accepting it from the inside opens your mind and helps you understand yourself better. So we set the date. Now that the movie and the date were set, the next step was deciding the menu. Here's what the plan was - E & S would whip together some vegetarian Chinese food to prove to me that a. tofu had taste and b. that tofu had taste. (This seems like a good time to mention the obvious - I don't think tofu has any taste). I was going to make the one Indian dessert I can make - Mango Srikhand. I was then forced to put together some Indian curry. I decided to go for mushroom masala, one of my own favorites. Lucky for me, my mom had just been down to visit and had refilled my spice cabinet. There was no need for a trip to the Indian grocery store (phew!). So I tagged along to this magical place with my friends. R..99, a Chinese supermarket. It was like waking through the strip mall gates and entering another world, one of rice and meat. Where bread is called toast and buns are made of rice. I can honestly say it has been one of the most interesting places I've been to in my time here. I walked down the aisles in wonder.. some things were familiar of course - Del Monte stuff and tofu and soy sauce. But, it felt other-worldly somehow. Watching how these brands had adapted themselves to the Chinese palate. There were aloe drinks, and pork rinds and a LOT of sweet stuff. I couldn't find anything that was savory and vegetarian. But, I did find Indian curry powder:P The vegetables were different too. I saw so many, well, pastaries, with red beans in them. In my mind, beans are supposed to be salty. Well, not anymore. Chop sticks. Tea. So much tea. There was this one dessert - a mochi. A small ball with a whopping 485 calories in it! I came to a few conclusions about Chinese cuisine while I was there - the flavors they like are sweetish, fish-ish, and far more subtle than I am used to. Green tea is a popular flavor. They have something called seaseme crunch and peanut crunch, similar to our own chiki. But it tastes different. Bean curd is not a 'curd' at all, at least not the way we think about it. It's just harder tofu. Grains are not really dominating the dinner table in this culture. Manchurian does not exist :-( It reminded me of an Indian supermarket but, with some deliberate mistakes. Maybe a store from another dimension. I wondered if they would feel the same in an Indian store. All an attempt to preserve Chinese culture and flavors in a far off land. Some people shopping there had never even been to China! My friends were finally done with their shopping and we headed back home - each to her own kitchen. While I was cooking, I tried very hard not to make the food too spicy. As it turns out, my friends tried very hard to make the food as spicy as possible:D And there we had it, a table laden with goodies. A warm green tea-red bean muffin had started my day. De-lish. Very interesting. Sweet corn soup (something I do know and love:D) and some stir fried green stuff. And tofu. Which I tasted. It looked red but it still had no taste. My friends were shocked. So finally, they tried my mushrooms. And both burst out laughing. They understood what I was talking about at last. Now, it was my turn to be surprised. To us Indians, the curry (sabji) is something to be eaten with either rice or a bread of some sort. My friends used chop sticks and were eating my curry as a stand alone dish. Because it was too spicy they thankfully added a slice of bread to the mix. Brown bread, mushroom masala and chop sticks, in an apartment in Los Angeles, with Jai Ho playing in the background. Some things can boggle even me. They loved it though. I have never seen 2 girls eat that much curry before. I was beginning to worry about the after effect of the spices. They seemed fine though. And I was enjoying my soup:D While watching the movie, I saw their looks of alternating horror and puzzlement. We discussed whether I would call the hero good looking or not. Whether all of India was like the slums depicted in the movie. Looking at my home from the outside, I felt it was impossible to explain India, the beauty, the history and the million other different things that are a part of its being and have been for millenia. And they couldn't explain their tofu to me. Or their sweet, red beans. I like my water at room temperature. They drink warm water. In America, people drink ice cold ice water. They envy my long legs (??). I envy their small frames and straight hair and awesome skin. But we're friends. And that is the miracle. What it took, how many wars, how many lives and scientific discoveries and defining moments in history, how many forgotten sacrifices and dreams before an Indian, a Taiwanese-American and a Chinese can sit together and not feel out of place. We drank to it all, a proud salute our people and our world. Cheers, with green tea and masala-nimboo pani.

Never say never

It's funny, the things you take for granted as a kid. My first passport was full of stamps. A testament to the 8 different countries my litte feet had walked on and my wondorous eyes had beheld. Over time, I stopped noticing the little things - the way the leaves were different in each country, how everyone dressed differently. They even drove on different sides of the street. Not belonging anywhere became a second nature to me. And then,I moved to India. At the age of 9, my mind could not really fathom the meaning of 'never'. I remember on my flight to India, my brother told me we were never going to see those places again. What does never mean? To me then, it meant running to mom in tears asking if that was true. And my mom just said - remember the song, 'Never say never'. I didn't quite understand what she meant but I calmed down. And stopped caring. This was just another plane ride. Another new place and another adventure. But, it was never. That was my last plane ride in 15 years. Time just passed by since then. I grew up, got a job, started work. And I never felt at home. I had amazing friends, an incredible life. But 'contentment still I craved'. Over time, as the novelty of being alive started wearing off, I started thinking about my future. My friends were moving forward. Many decided to study further, even more were in serious relationships or getting married. They had a vision of their future. I had only blankness in my vision of mine. That's when I decided it was time to leave. I couldn't wait till I was 'grown up' anymore. I was grown up and this moment was all I had. Before I 'settled down', before I could sanction my happiness, I felt like I had to find myself. Discover my own beliefs and dreams. If I was bored and discontent when I had everything, then what did everything mean right? I decided to go back to school. But in a different country. In as diverse a population as I could find. There were many, many obstacles to carrying out my plan. I needed to do well in exams, apply to schools, finance it somehow, deal with relatives. I had to accept that I really did not want to get married any time soon. That the contentment I saw in my friends' faces would never be mine. These were the easy hurdles. The hard one was what I love absolutely more than anything in the world. My mom. I had to accept that I would leave her behind. And that decision took an year to make. My best friend, my strength and my inspiration. And I felt like I was betraying her when she needed me. When I told her I wanted to leave, it was in tears. She was in tears too. My brother had just moved to another country. And now, she was losing me as well. Why I love my mom so much - because she has never stopped me from doing what I have really wanted to do. She knew I wasn't intersted in the MBA or in the career that would follow. It was just an escape, an adventure. She let me go. She knew that all she had to say was that she wanted me to stay and I would have stayed. Made everything so much easier. But she didn't. And here I am now. Thousands of miles from home, 3 new countries on my passport. Not content yet, not happy. But alive and excited. The future is no longer blank, it has shadows taking form. I have been on the emotional, physical and intellectual rollercoaster of a lifetime. I'm not sure what happens next but I know that despite the fact that I've aged five years in one, I wouldn't have traded this for the world. Never say never.

Was this inevitable? Were 25 years of my life leading to this moment, when the allure would become too strong and the thought of seeing my words in print become so appealing that I would no longer be able to resist the sweet taste of paltry fame and glory? Or am I just at work bored? I'll leave it to you to decide.

Actually, friends and family have been asking me to blog for years. I think it's largely been to get me to direct my opinions to a channel where they would not be forced to have an opinion to debate mine. First clue about what kind of person I am - argumentative.

I don't really have a clear idea about what the purpose of my blog is going to be. It has to have a purpose though. But, what? Right now, I feel like I'm at an important juncture in my life and the next one year will decide so much for me. In my mine, the next year encompasses my entire life. My past, present and future will merge. So this blog will be my secret retreat. A secret from my present and my future. This blog will belong to my past.