Life is a journey and well, we all love being travelers. The whole idea of finding your destiny not only appeals to us but also excites us. Enough of philosophy, eh?! So, I was almost between three cities-or to be more accurate between two cities and one town- Delhi, Chandigarh, Simla…

The good news is that I am a post graduate finally, for those who consider degrees as education and the bad news was I had no job. Even though I call myself ‘gypsy’ and as much believe in the free-spiritedness, trust me I do need to earn as well.

Anyhow, coming back to what I essentially meant to write about. The first job is the hardest one; and when I say that minus all the part time jobs you’ve done, no matter how boring they were, the first full time job is the HARDEST. Here are a few reasons why…

• You’ve to get up almost the same time everyday. EVERY SINGLE DAY!
• You can’t bunk. No bunking. It is not your college or university where you can access how much of attendance you have and then go to sleep thinking ‘ah, all right I’d cover up next week.’
• Also, even if you’re to make an excuse, the pleasure of sharing it is all gone. Like in college you can’t text your group at the eleventh hour saying, let’s bunk today or say see you in the second lecture-am sleepy.snooze!
• The fact is there are no second lectures-it is a full day!
• You are in a strange world with stranger people around. Lucky you if you’re around home, but for most of us it’s the other way around. We’ve to find another home which comes closest to being at home. And that takes a lot of time.
• You’re apprehensive about the job, work, and culture of the firm you’re working with.
• You don’t know how to react to jokes of your colleagues and maybe which is why silence is the best policy was ever said.
• You wait for the weekend like anything and on the weekend you don’t know what to do.

Here are some of mine, add on yours

It’s like a movie, where there is a co-centric movement to a specific scene. You might go to and fro, I might move around in circles, but we have to come back to the moment-again and again.

There is lot more to this moment, which our eyes can see or our minds can make out of it; a lot more that our hearts know and feel. We might not even feel the same about this, ironically, but it is inseparable now. We rather depend on it-this moment-more or so. It is one thing that connects me and you. One thing, the only, that is and shall always be common between us. Like a pact, its mutual and its silence is more than comforting. You watch it-replay this moment, muted, while I give in to the blaring sounds, deafening every other thought.

It’s like a pause, if not a full stop. It gives us our space, like a breather, it lets us accommodate better; it leads to a decision- a better one at that. We do and we shall remember each other, for this moment.

We would always remain, forever, in our lives stuck in a moment.

The heart’s broken, soul withered, mind disillusioned. Happiness is pretence like the smile, to mask people away, to wall you in. Soon, the moss takes over the wall, thick in nature; it grows until the walls are no longer visible. But you always know, you always feel, you always remember that this wasn’t what you wanted.

Another moment, it’s the bloodshot eyes and you cry-everything you had even longed for, ever known, your emotions now fragile, your love now forgotten, your dreams now crushed, you cry. So much comes out at that moment that you feel your stomach being empty churned by the dread of loneliness, nausea drives you weak along with memories, and the vacuum is created.

it’s that one, but it is that moment.

Friends-she mused over the word as she watched familiar yet different expressions on his face. The laugh, the aura, the style, the chivalry-all was intact yet things had changed, the world had changed, she had changed or was trying to. For good or bad, was the question she thought she heard.

Couldn’t we talk, she thought of asking him-talk about all that I’ve been through, about times I really need you, about the bitter facts of today, about you and me, when we don’t remain us anymore.

And there were things she missed-small-stupid-silly-funny-but at the same time there was nothing better than the fact that they could still share a laugh, or coffee at times…

‘And it’s satisfying, well beyond it, the realization of the fact that yes; there -was-is- a man who loved you. It is a mean thing to do, to compare the part of love you’ve got with other things in the world or love itself-to weigh it-it won’t be a good choice, I feel’…she wrote down in her diary…

The shade of the evening got darker, the silence stronger and the taste of the coffee was wearing off. She combed her hair into a bun and wished she had let them grow.

The lost echo of the last sound

A reverberation at the distance

A strung in the guitar, lost and found

Then it could happen, life waiting for me. And I could act silly and take a chance again. But my brevity lies in waiting, even if it gets longer and the silence is at times too much of a distraction.

I want a word, a sound, a sigh, a whisper…

P.S-Whenever Wildflower writes, I just know that I wanted to put words to the same things. But where I fail miserably, she does it with excellence.

I plan the beginning as unimaginative as it could be. Maybe, a simple exchange of phone numbers in which none was interested, or could it be an unintended festival greeting and later, a phone call in return.

Summers are too hot for anything, you just sweat. Winters get too cold to have warm feelings, rains bring in a flavor but autumn suits them the best. Autumns, when the circle begins and ends, the season in which they meet and depart.

What would the time be like? Would the time fly by when they are with each other, or they’d talk and talk of love and longing. There would be coffees, sighs, cheers, kisses, songs, mischievous ideas etc.

And then the question-how to give them a perfect happy ending?! Anyways, are happy endings for real? Or maybe a twist would do so much better, just one twist and the romance turns bitter, maybe a hideous affair, or some secrets, a lover from the past, or a fight against parents. So many reasons but I still wish somewhere to keep it plain, to keep it happy.

And that all would go into this unwritten story.

A story-a love story, a ‘short’ story!

Or maybe, some stories are as ‘endless’ as this one!

You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more.

You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you.

When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement.

Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful.

You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life.

-Bob Marley

(Tonight, the words sound so right! Thanks to Americanising Desi for introducing me to these!)

I miss my coffee, books along with it. I miss the cocoon which I’d around me which made me feel safe. I miss the comfort of a knitted quilt and the white noise of the loud blaring TV even when none was giving it an ear. One can just talk to it endlessly. I miss the window from where I saw the world, outside, the rains, the storms, the hills and its natives.

I miss the warm hugs, the concerned scolds, the tantrums I threw, the look that I got for missing food, I miss the nights when I slept and slept without a worry.

I miss-Me. I miss-Life… I miss life in me or maybe I miss me in life…

Now, this family consisted of a husband, his wife and their son. The room was fine, the loo we had to share, food was good, the metro station was a few minutes away and me and A was happy yappy and all excited to see the office life…

I was interning with GH, an ‘I*dia T*day’ publication and my office was at Jhandewalan-yes, the Videocon towers. Now, that’s not important, inne? But yes, wherever you are in the world, there are things which would make you feel like you are at your home town only. Like the taxi drivers, who would always whistle, smile and giggle, turn the music loud, or honk at you if you pass such a place. Moving on, the building was definitely impressive and as soon as I entered I started spotting news readers and faces which by that time I’d only seen on TV.

Soon I got introduced to the lovely receptionist was given a station to work at, having been introduced to the assistant Ed*t*r.

Now, I can’t really account for the whole month and you’d really not like to know about the work part. But I’d like to let you know that the same floor also housed offices of I*dia T*day’s other publications like Cosmop*litan, Harp*r’s Bazaar etc. And here is what all I remember of it

• I hated waking up one hour earlier than A. I hated that totally.
• I loved Saturdays and Sundays-they meant a lot of sleep. A hated me on weekends for I preferred sleeping than roaming.
• An accent-oh yeah! I wouldn’t have realized that I was speaking like the assistant Ed*t*r, had Rushabh not pointed it to me.
• The canteen served good food. It was always full of people with made-up faces but I loved sitting there and watching Delhi under the sky.
• One section of the office was always on fire. Ok. Joking. All I mean is that the girls of that section were very chic and modern. They dressed in latest fads, they walked in high heels, and they looked like they just jumped out of a fashion magazine. So, in short I was Bird watching. And how I loved doing that!
• There were some nice, handsome guys in the same section. Hmm. I thought one was real cute. One day he walked up straight to me and asked where the assistant Ed*t*r was…And I knew he was a gay. Poor luck!
• A lady, at a very good position, wore the same clothes to the office for all the 18 days I went there. Gross, no?
• There wasn’t much work to do… I was real busy only for one week, thus, I would suggest people not to intern with lifestyle magazines.

So, Delhi aka dilli in all was a fun, lively time I had. We stayed the last two days at the savior’s home, his wife is an amazing cook… saw movies like Dev D, Katha, had fun, had prawns, had fun, had chats, had fun and returned back…with loadsa memories…

Yeh dilli he meri jaan…

It was around 9.30 and we enter the room only to find that the bedding promised to us hasn’t been provided and instead of two beds there was only one single bed left. As expected, we moved downstairs and to talk to the land lady.

I can’t really tell you how many times we rang the damn bell, how many times we knocked the door, rather in the end we had actually started kicking the door (which was only hurting us ) but no one opened the door. Now, we would have managed on one bed, but we could in no case sleep on a plank of wood without any cushioning. So, me and A spent 2 hours knocking and banging the doors, planning and thinking what should we do, hoping and praying that least someone would help us but only to the extent of futility. Thankfully, there was a small swing there, where we sat.

By now, it was 11.30 and someone in the adjacent building was playing loud music which at that stressful, point of time helped us relax a little bit. We both had a few suggestions like

*sitting there through the night

*sitting on the plank bed through the night

*going out to the market and booking a room in some hotel

*call savior and tell them about the situation

*freak out and call anyone and everyone in Delhi to help us out

I was more bent on the first one and her on the third. We both out rightly rejected 2, 4 and 5 option. Now, at times like these sometimes you know what ‘Luck’ happens to be. A friend of A’s whose home was in south Patel Nagar calls up and gets a peek-a-boo into our situation. In half an hour he and his younger brother come and take us to their home. Aunti ji, a very lovely lady, welcomes us. Now, we finally knew where we were for the night and we laughed with misty eyes. We realized how small a help might be, how much it may mean to someone in need!

At 5’o clock next morning we were again out on the streets, trying to find a place to stay.

Next part would definitely see close of the room-hunt! Promise!

Delhi Diaries-the home-search

Delhi Diaries-the five heavenly days

Delhi Diaries-the Preface