Reminiscing the Past

I was watching “Just Dance” Mumbai auditions and was left absolutely mesmerized by Ashish Patil’s impeccable performance to the song Breathless. Delivering such a graceful performance with perfect expressions and that too without any formal training is definitely commendable.


Reality shows have certainly changed the way dance is looked upon now. It has emerged as a passion not only in youngsters and children but also in housewives and businessmen alike. Earlier, learning dance used to mean a hobby course for kids in summer vacation. But now, parents no longer mind their children learning different forms of dance and opting dancing as a career. As a matter of fact, in the last decade or so, dance classes have mushroomed overnight which was not the case when I was a kid. I remember when I used to learn Kathak, there was no good dance school in vicinity and my father used to drive me all the way to Connaught Place which is approximately six miles from my residence.


Since childhood, I have been extremely passionate about dancing. There was a time when I could feel dance in my veins. Considering my passion and my talent at that age (I was barely six by the way) my parents enrolled me in a dance school to learn Kathak. Honestly, learning Kathak was the most boring thing at that time because I always enjoyed contemporary, western and other forms but later I realized it was easier to adapt to other forms when you know classical. It also gives you an edge if you are able to mix classical with contemporary.


With time, my passion for dancing grew to an extent that I wanted to pursue it as a career. I delivered various stage performances not only in my school but also at district level and won almost all of them. My parents were very proud of my dancing until…


It was 12^th year of my stage performance. I was standing on the stage amidst thunderous applause after rendering my last performance to the song “Satyam Shivam Sundram”. I vividly remember how deeply absorbed I was while performing that piece. It was one of my best performances and why would it not be, I spent countless hours perfecting my faltering steps. It was no cakewalk. When I try to replicate the steps, I can’t do so now. Perhaps because I have been out of touch or I have lost the flexibility but hey no! I am not aging!


When we got home, I was told to take my mind off dancing and focus on studies. Not that I wasn’t doing justice to my studies, I was doing fairly well and I always thought that my parents adored my dancing but I couldn’t figure out what made my father utter such a statement right after an out-of-the-world performance. It was more of a command than a request or a suggestion. It felt the world was crashing down on me. I inquired about the reason. I also stated my ambition to pursue dancing as a career. With all the love, he sat next to me and said that dancing may not earn me as much respect. I argued that dancing is an art and God blesses only a few people with this art. Should it not be respected? I do talk stupid sometimes. He replied that the world doesn’t share the same perspective on dance and it will take some time for this art to be respected in this part of the world so I should look for a something else for a career and pursue dancing as a hobby. Thereafter I was strictly prohibited from any public performances.


A couple of years later, I learned from my brother how a stray guy was trounced over a comment passed by him. I recalled overhearing an affray outside the auditorium that evening but I didn’t realize it had anything to do with me. Of course such an incident will make any father take such a decision. That evening I hugged my father and silently told him that I love him and respect his decision.

My Million Dollar Princess

“The child must know that he is a miracle, that since the beginning of the world there hasn't been, and until the end of the world there will not be, another child like him.” Pablo Casals

My five-year old niece is here in India with us for a few days. Though every child is unique but I have never seen a child as different as she is. She started to show the signs of her individuality when she was as small as three. She knows what she wants, why she wants and how she wants. She is brilliant at whatever she does.

She is sitting next to me in a chair talking incessantly as I get ready to a party. She is quite fond of me that ways. It surprises me how a small kid like her can remember every detail of the time we spent together when she was only three. She often talks about those times whenever she calls from the US. Her little sister doesn’t know much about me. As a matter of fact, she is far too shy to pick up a conversation with anyone outside the bounds of her close family members.

She minutely observes every detail of my wardrobe and verbally makes a note of the changes it has gone through over the years. She is also fascinated by my stash of accessories. Her greenish purplish eyes sparkle as I take out a turquoise blue beaded necklace and put this around my neck. “This is so pretty!! May I please try this on once?” She exclaims. Since this is too big and a little heavy for her, I promise to get her a smaller one.

But she replies innocently, "Bua (father’s sister), how do I know whether it will look as good on me without trying it on?"

I said, "Hmmm! Makes sense honey, but be a little careful. Okay?"

She says, “Okay."

She puts on the turquoise blue beaded necklace, slips on her shimmery Cinderella shoes and catwalks around the house; I mean, literally placing one foot in front of the other like you see those models strutting the runway. Picture a waxen complexioned five-year cute little girl draped in an emerald green dress, her left hand is on her waist, her little handbag is dangling from her right forearm, she is looking straight ahead carrying the expression and the unfaltering attitude of a supermodel, of course with a naughty smile dancing around the corner of her lips, isn’t it too much for a five-year old?

“From where did you learn walking like this?”

“Duh! What’s there to learn about it?”

“Yea! that's your signature walk, huh?”

And she coyly scampers away.

*  *  *

She likes my strawberry pink lip balm, the one that resembles a red lipstick. She looks for it in my drawer but can’t find it so she gives in and finally asks me if I could let her see my lipstick once.

“Baby I don’t wear any lipstick generally, which one are you talking about?”

“The one I saw in the morning. It’s in red and you twist the base to open it.”

“Oh! That’s my lip balm. Here you go. But what will you do with it; your lips are pink already?”

“I like it. May I open this bua?”

“Let me open this for you. You might break it.”

“I will not. I promise. I didn’t break your necklace either. Remember?”

“Okay Honey! Take it.”

She opens the lipstick-looking lip balm, scrutinizes it to her satisfaction and then puts the cap back on. When she puts the cap back on, a feeble sound comes, “Kadak!!!”

She sticks her tongue out in embarrassment but she recovers quickly and utters “Happens bua!!”

Rendezvous with a Schizophrenic

I happened to meet him at a Rotary Club Meeting. He is an ex-army officer in his late seventies. Presently, he is a Reiki grand master and has been healing people for over 25 years. The fact that he cured many schizophrenics and treated other mental disorders piqued my curiosity. Did I mention that I am a Reiki practitioner too but not a grand master and I am learning this art to help the needy, and not to make a profession out of it.

So, I inquired about the duration it takes to treat an average schizophrenic and the kind of challenges he generally faces.

He replied, “Honestly, Schizophrenia is not a mental disorder. It is a condition wherein an evil spirit possesses human body or soul to serve its purpose that it could not accomplish in its human form.”

“What!!” My jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Yes! You may not believe me but that’s the truth. In the beginning, the spirit attaches itself to one's aura and if corrective actions are not taken then the spirit takes over the body eventually.”

“Really? What are you talking about?”

I could see where this conversation was going.

“Yea, it’s my experience of 25 years. The moment the spirit is thrown out of the body, the person gets back to his normal life.”

“O.K.A.Y… And how do you do that?”

“I connect with the spirit and force it to leave the person’s body. It usually takes approximately 11 sessions. It is a risky job I must tell you because I have to risk my life, my house, my family, everything.”

“Uh huh! And the spirits listen to you? You have to be really powerful to be able to do that, isn’t it? How much do you charge for such a session, if I may ask?”

“It depends on case to case. Generally the charge is USD100 per session due to the risks involved you know.”

“I understand. What if the spirit is more powerful than you? Has that ever happened?”

“Yes! It happened once. The spirit tried to attack on me but my spirit guides helped me.”

“Oh! My God!”

“Just wondering if you watched my program on India TV?”

“Oh! No! When was that? I guess I missed it. But let me tell you, India TV is the only authentic news channel we have in India now.” I replied sarcastically.

“No worries! You can catch the video on my website. You will also find many testimonies there. Here is my card. Let me see your aura. I hope there are no evil spirits attached to you.”

(Are you demented? There is nothing wrong with me or my aura.) “Don’t bother please. I got what I was looking for. I'll take your leave now. Been a pleasure meeting you.”

“Wait. It’s no problem. It'll take only a couple of minutes.” He took out his dowsing rods.

Oh lord! Please help me. This is not what I signed up for.

He directed the dowsing rods towards me and the rods crossed.

Now, as much as I know about dowsing, the rods point ‘straight forward’ for the ready position, they ‘cross’ for a positive response and they ‘swing outward’ for a negative response. In this case, crossing of rods meant that the device found my aura. There is nothing good or bad about anyone’s aura because the vibrations keep changing. What the gentleman told me about my aura was:

“Your aura is not negative but it is significantly weak which means evil powers can impact you easily. But don’t worry, I can fix this. Give me a minute.”

“It takes a minute to fix the aura?”

“Just watch.”

He made some symbols in the air and whispered a few words which I could not comprehend. When you encounter such a situation, cross your fingers, the other person's energy will not affect you. Simple cross-legged position is an exception to this. That’s what I did. I crossed the fingers of my feet so as to keep his energy from affecting me. Since I was wearing shoes, my feet were not visible to him.

After he was through, he checked my aura with his dowsing rods again, and this time, the rods flung outward. I could clearly see him putting pressure on the rods. He said, with that magical look in his eyes, “See the difference!”

“Wow!! You’re a magician.”

“Yea! I get that a lot. But this is temporary. Your aura can be cured permanently. Why don’t you join one of my healing courses?”

“I will certainly ponder over this sir. But before that, I have a question for you. If someone has been meditating for quite a few years and is a Reiki healer too, is it possible for that person to have a weak or a negative aura? I have also heard that Reiki attunement changes the aura drastically. Isn’t that true?”

“Yes, certainly. That’s why I am asking you to join my course. I will give you Reiki attunement.”

His response made me chuckle. “But sir I am already second degree certified. Why do you think my aura will be weak? And I truly don’t think schizophrenia has anything to do with evil spirits. You know, energy healing has become a business nowadays. No one wants to help; people rob in the name of God. What a pity!”

A Memorable Journey

I have to travel from Dehradun to Delhi via train. My ticket is not confirmed, it is Reserved Against Cancellation (RAC). "You should have taken a Volvo. But nothing can done now. You have a flight to catch in the evening. Better get your ass on this train." I tell to myself on my way to the railway station.

It is 0600 hrs. I have reached the railway station when I realize that I don’t have a hard copy of my ticket on me. I assure myself that the confirmation message on my phone may help convincing the train ticket examiner (TTE). I purchase a platform ticket and board the train.

After a few minutes, the TTE arrives with grim countenance and furrowed brow. He must be in his early fifties. He is six feet tall with a strong build, curly hair, big droopy eyes and walrus moustache. Overall, he doesn’t look the ‘easily-convinced’ types. I show him my platform ticket and explain my predicament. He listens to me carefully. I request him to make a fresh ticket for me. I also tell him that I am ready to bear the fine that I am liable to pay. He takes the platform ticket in his hand, then looks back at me and says, maintaining a straight face,

"On this ticket, I will have to make a ticket until the last station and you will have to pay the fine as well."
"Oops!! What do I do then?" I replied worriedly.

Meanwhile, the train has reached a small station and waiting for a signal. The TTE picks up his walkie-talkie and talks to the train driver, "There is an emergency. Don’t move the train until I ask you to."
"I have asked the train to stop. Go and get a ticket for yourself quickly."
I spring into action and rush to the ticketing counter.

When I return, the TTE says "I have a seat in the 2nd AC; why don’t you sit there until the train reaches Haridwar. I will see what I can do after that."
I lug my stuff and move to his seat.

It’s calm in here. I make myself comfortable, take out a book from my handbag, and start to read. I am totally engrossed in reading when the train reaches Haridwar and the TTE comes again.

“The XYZ passenger is not boarding the train. I am allotting his seat to you and also making a confirmed ticket, so you can travel peacefully.”

“Thanks a tonne.” I give him some money to express my gratitude. He smiles and steps out of the cabin only to return after a minute.

“Don’t you think you have been overly grateful?”
“I don’t understand.” I look at him in bewilderment. “Should I have paid him more? Is he being sarci? I have been never good at it anyway.”
He takes out a hundred rupee bill from his pocket and returns it back to me. "Have a safe journey."

I am completely dumbfounded. I pinch myself to check if I am dreaming. Heck! No. It is real.

Matters of the Heart

Of late, he started to complain of shortness of breath. I was with him when he was gasping for breath and I rushed him to the hospital. I was told that his heart has been damaged and has very little regenerative capacity. He was immediately placed on several cardiac drugs to help him stabilize. Over the next few weeks, he continued to have episodes of shortness of breath and extreme tiredness.

After he had been admitted to hospital once more, the cardiologist said that his heart was beginning to fail and heart transplant was the only cure or else I may have to face losing him completely.

I faced an anxious wait during the complex operation. I pondered over the factors that might have led to his heart condition. I understand that men are at a higher risk for heart failure than women but he is not that old. He doesn’t smoke, only takes alcohol but that too on rare occasions. He has always been active and energetic. But I admit that he has been leading a sedentary life for a while now. He has also been a little disturbed and isolated which may have caused a little depression but I never imagined that he was so stressed.

I was pleased when the medical team told me that he had come through the surgery very well. He was kept in the intensive care unit for 48 hours for close monitoring. Initially his immune system rejected the new organ but a few measures helped him accept the transplanted heart.

I knew that the heart transplant would make a big difference to his health and it has. He regained some of his old energy and he doesn’t get as tired any more. He is getting stronger all the time and I am so pleased that he is doing well.

Welcome back my dear Stefan!!

Edited to add:
To read more about Stefan, Me and Damon, please click here.

Open for (Mis)Interpretations

Misinterpretation is a pervasive phenomenon of social life, sometimes with serious consequences. It is especially hazardous in high-stake events, for instance in the legal system.

When we read a book, we hold a person’s life in our hand. Though the author tries to put his/her thoughts and feelings into words, it is not always possible to see into the emotions and thought process of the other person; hence the words are likely to be misinterpreted.

Even though we explain ourselves in simple words, the other person may have a different interpretation of what those words mean. For example, when a man says to a woman after a date, “I’ll call you later.” he is speaking very plain and simple English, but what he meant and what she understood could be two completely different things. The man “knows” what he means and the woman “knows” something else. We misinterpret because we assume that another person has the same meaning for words that we have, but they don’t.

She suffered from a similar episode when he figured out that she was in love. He also learned that she has known him for three years but during this time, they never met. They spoke a few times and she felt that he was a wonderful person. He gathered a few more hints but he never tried to relate them to himself. Instead he kept looking for the signs around him.

On his birthday, she designed a beautiful card for him but he didn’t acknowledge. Perhaps, he didn’t like her gesture of designing the card for him.

He kept to himself mostly but one fine day, he decided to leave a message for her.

“Isn’t it plain common sense that getting emotionally involved with someone who does not reciprocate and with whom one has not spent time developing a real relationship is stupidity?”

She had a mighty laugh. Then she realized he seriously had no clue she was in love with ‘him’. She didn’t know how to react.

“Yes, I think you’re right! It’s insane to love someone who doesn’t reciprocate. I shouldn’t be loving you.” She thought. She had lost her mind or was she coming back to her senses. I bet on the former. She wondered if she had the right to kiss his forehead before giving up on ‘the insanity’.

PS. The purpose of my blog is not to glorify my love or for him to read, it is just to express my feelings which I can’t really share with anyone because like you, none of my friends understand how I feel about him. I can’t even mention his name to anyone. Perhaps they all are right, including you.

Cruella de Vil - You are saved already but I am not coz I haven’t found ‘you’ yet. If you still don’t get it, you're the one I'm in love with... you're my ‘wonderwall’. I can identify your writing style in a thousand scripts. And your constructive feedback is welcome, anytime.

My Beloved - II

His endless accommodations elicited her trust in him to the extent that it was so easy for her to admit one day that she was having an affair. He felt bad and held himself responsible for her to look outside the relationship. He wanted her to stop seeing the other man but held back thinking that it would hurt her. Instead, he asked her if she planned to continue the affair and wanted him to leave.

One might have thought that this would have touched her heart and made her feel that she was married to an angel. Instead, it infuriated her.

She asked “Ain’t I worth anything to you at all?”
He just looked at her.
“Wont you say anything?”
He replied gently, hoping that it was the right thing to say, “Do you want a divorce?”
“Divorce!! God damn it. What the hell do you want?”
“I want your happiness. That’s all I ever wanted.”
“Don’t you think I deserve the happiness to make someone happy, too?”
“I don’t know.” Tears filled his large brown eyes and he stepped out.

He stayed at a friend’s for a week. When he returned, she had left.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks when the nurse came and shook him before giving him some medicines. For a moment, he wanted to believe what he saw was only a nightmare and that his real life was still good.

My dear beloved wife,

Marrying you has been an expensive affair and divorcing too. I must have disgorged 6 millions to you in alimony and you still play on my mind! I feel like a lost addicted gambler who continues to gamble despite knowing that he will never win for losing. Sometimes I get so agitated that I want to slap you, and sometimes pine for you. Since I no longer understand my mood swings, I decided to write this letter to you. I remember I wrote my first letter to you about 20 years ago. You were so beautiful back then. I wish you had never sat next to me that day. Neither would I have lost my heart to you within five minutes, nor would you have betrayed me; and I wouldn’t also have been trying to take my heart back from you. Now that you’ve taken your heart back, please return mine; I will make better use of it, perhaps will give it to someone else.

My beautiful witch, you have always been self-centered. Remember the day you came to the court for our divorce, how beautifully dressed you were as though it was our divorce party. And poor me, I thought I still mean something to you. I so wanted to request the judge that I won’t divorce you. But then your cold eyes revealed that I don’t mean anything to you for a long time. I am just a stranger to you who used to be your husband and you want to get rid of me. But you don't worry, I am not depressed without you. I listen to happy songs and party with my friends. All my friends 'here' know what kind of a woman you are and how much I hate you.

I am at home today, haven’t gone to work either… collecting your stuff which you left behind. Do you know how much space it occupies in my house? On top of that, do you know how much space you occupy in my head? Never mind. Tomorrow is the anniversary of our broken wedding, I have decided that I will murder you tomorrow evening. I have taken out your wedding dress and all your jewelry. I want you to dress like a bride again. I will divorce you again. I have booked a taxi and ordered flowers. So what I am going to murder you, I am a gentleman and I haven't forgotten my etiquette.

Today I was so furious that I decided that I will complete the letter before going off to sleep. We are anyway not allowed to step out of this asylum but don't worry, I will rent a helicopter or ask my friends to arrange a ship for me so that I can tell you that the day you left me, I was moved to this new house and since then I have been thinking about you. I can do anything for you my beloved but I don't want to think about you anymore. I am totally worn out. Please release me from your grip. Didn’t I tell you that I am 'mad' in your love… I am m.a.d.

Your ex-husband