Tag Archives: Relationships

The day after tomorrow….

Ah yes, not today, but the day after tomorrow…interestingly, the most awaited day after the New Year ( minus the b’day celebrations and anniversaries in between). At last, it will be the V-Day soon!! Unfortunately, I shall be in the rural area and forget about posting from there. The reception is quite bad, for most of my incoming and outgoing calls go as “out of range” and as for internet services, don’t mention it….why do I always wish for flying horses !!

And so in the leap month of February, it’s going to be “the Valentine’s day”….yes, especially meant for the couples, but also for all loved ones. I remember in mid-school, we had to make cards and candy for all the girls and guys in the gang. Fast forward to college and post-university, cards for some or most, and candy for few !!

And how do we define love ? Yes, there is the original text from the Bible , which goes as,

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.”

And putting it in the more simple terms, in our day-to-day language, love is like this…

Though, this time I want to share something about love, which goes beyond mutual love.

In reality to love someone, means to give  a part of your day or existence to share it with another person. And many a time, things may not work out and each time, we get more bitter and betrayed. And that’s when we lose our hope in love and life.

To love truly, means to get a “perfect heart”, which never happens in reality. And what is the story behind the perfect heart ?

The Perfect Heart (Author: Unknown)

One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.

Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said “Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine.” The crowd and the young man looked at the old man’s heart. It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn’t fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.

The people stared – how can he say his heart is more beautiful, they thought? The young man looked at the old man’s heart and saw its state and laughed. “You must be joking,” he said. “Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears.”

“Yes,” said the old man, “Yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love – I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren’t exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared. Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn’t returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges – – giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?”

The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man’s heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges. The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man’s heart flowed into his. They embraced and walked away side by side. How sad it must be to go through life with a whole untouched heart.

Another thing that I can say about love, is that it is persistent and many a time, silent. A Silent Love. It’s up to us to recognize the silence and then accept it to be a part of our life and destiny. Sometimes, the more silent the love is, the stronger it will be.

And last of all, love doesn’t need a reason. What “If Love needs a reason..”  No, it doesn’t need one. If it ever does need a reason, what happens when the reason to love is gone ?!! Then it won’t be love anymore …And that’s the truth of real love, many a time, you don’t have a reason to love someone, you just do…and that’s true love.

And that’s always true, for real love never fails. It always finds you and becomes a part of your life.

Happy Valentine’s Day !!



Let’s talk about online dating !! Top reasons you should date a…

Well this post is about dating, both online and offline. Though the hype about the former is sometimes far-fetched, it’s been on and off depending on the direction the wind blows by.

Personally, I would risk any dating, on- or off-line; only if I know that I am really on sure ground.

Funny,when you come to think of it, It’s kind of impossible. You actually don’t anything about the person on the other end until you meet them face to face.

Photos, can be morphed. Profiles can be created. And scams and hacks, not to forget the dreaded “v'” for viruses can crop up faster than you can say, “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” ( remember, Mary Poppins, and no it doesn’t take an hour to spell it !!)

Still leaving aside all that, sometimes it may click. And no one knows till they try. As the great thinkers, philosophers, poets, writers, the common man say… ultimately in the end, it’s love which binds us all. It’s the one thing that any person would move mountains for. (In doubt, ask Shakespeare or maybe, Wordsmith!!)

What prompted me to talk about this was this Internet find (actually, it was via FB) !! It’s not only about online dating, but dating in general. I know every profession has its own glory, but hey some one has to talk about mine !! Maybe it could inspire you to start the poster, for top ten reasons’ to date….you !!

And so here it goes…

Interestingly, may be that’s why juggling professional and personal life from my professional point of view is, kind of difficult. Though some of the reasons, are over-rated !!! So feel free to disagree.

So, what are the top reason’s to date someone from your field ?! Let’s hear them…

Of weddings, photo lockets and connections.

Well, here I am; back from last week’s sudden weekend trip back home. It was a totally unplanned and refreshing trip. The sudden trip was due to my cousin’s wedding and no way in the world, would I miss it !!

And it was a weekend of photographs, videos and the garden gatherings…not to forget, the Halloween plans, the autumn harvest and the rolling in the hay. The three-day stay this time was more or less of travel, though I did get to spend time with my grandparents. Which is when, we, i.e. gran and my cousins were bitten by the “photo lockets bug”.

Frankly, I have seen a number of those small family tree stands with the photos of the members hanging from the gold-plated branches. But, not a photo locket. Some how I have always associated them with the Victorian Era or maybe of the days of the 60’s when it was a necessity. There’s a little poetic streak in the quaint little thing. So why not get my own ? I wonder what Gran must be planning on it.

And so post-weekend trip, it was back to work for a week and here I am, blogging; off-call for the weekend and so back at my quarters. Well, what I really feel like is just dozing off. But one thing I have realized from my flash trip is that, no matter how busy I am, taking a second to re-connect with the family is really important. With social networking on full swing mode, staying in touch with my cousins is easy; but I really can’t expect my gran or great aunts and uncles to log on to FB or Twitter. Getting them to view emails and video chat is a miracle indeed. So, it’s back to the old network of land-lines.

Though on a more serious note, it’s important to stay connected. No, it doesn’t only mean always logging on and giving a “poke” or tweeting. It involves hearing someone’s voice and thoughts, once in a while. It involves about asking how their day was. And in a way, actually hearing from them ( not scraps always, but a proper conversation, even if it’s through a series of messages) makes my day better. It’s about keeping the connections secure and strong, and not only about swinging by, once a while. My schedule itself is so tight that most of the time, I am on the run. Yet, a few calls a week won’t be that difficult. Would it ?

“Free to be me?!”..trying to…

I have been in a pensive mood of late. More of self-contemplation, I guess.

When was the last time, I had put my hair down and danced to the music? (Not literally, I mean here!!) It’s been a long time.

Why do have to conform rigidly to certain rules of the society? Like not go for a walk in the middle of the somewhere, in broad daylight.
I mean I’m just walking; I don’t have to explain why or where I am from. Nor does anyone have to focus on me using a telescope; I definitely am not in league with anyone’s conspirators. I barely have time to sleep. I assure I am not paranoid. If you haven’t experienced it, all I can say is welcome to the “small town life!!”

Why do I have to paste a smile on my face when really that’s the last thing I want to do? No I can’t just get up and go, I have to do this social nicety else my Mom is going to clobber my hearing.

Why can’t I sing at the top of my voice when I am alone at home? And why can’t I hog myself on pizza and beer once a while. (Alright, minus the beer and add diet coke.) It’s very unladylike, says grandma. And no madam, no T-shirts and jeans at home. (Tsk, tsk and more unladylike sighs!!)

Well, that’s me. I am clumsy at times. And I love to do crazy things especially hollering at the top of my voice, in the college and freaking the hell out of my lobby mates. Or sitting on the terrace, with my legs swinging out (the matron had palpitations, I wonder why!!). Or fooling around on with my nephew’s Lego set and spraying water colors around (it’s washable, the clothes and the walls!!).

Looking down the lane, sometimes I wonder, why is it that we try to fit the role of a “perfect” lady or gentleman. I mean do we really have to be perfect 24 x 7. Why can’t we just say “no” once a while and just dance to our own tune. All we have to keep in mind is not to step on any one’s toes. Technically, there is no one holding us to the rope and telling us to do this or that. Yet there is silent need within all of us to conform to certain rules that we really don’t have to. Why? Why are we trying to fit into a certain type of mould? Why do we have to be stereotyped into a certain behavior or mode of conduct?

True, society demands us to adopt a code of conduct for living. But when it starts to get on my own nerves and question my own sanity, all I really want to say is why we have to let ourselves get strangled by perfection. No one is perfect. In fact, to err once a while at least, is human.

Sometimes, I think freedom is technically an ironical concept. We are all free as per the different laws in our societies and lands? Yet are we free to be ourselves. Are we free to make mistakes? Are we really free to follow our own mind and heart?

I’ve heard it’s not a crime to be perfect, but is it criminal to be “un-perfect” or rather different and yourself?

Who decides about perfection anyways?

Mistakes. Regrets. Acceptance.

It had happened. It was a long time ago.

Whose fault was it? If either of us asks that, it was nobody’s.

It shouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have – given another year, place or time.

Yet, the mistake happened.

It was beyond correction. Then and even now, it is too late.

Looking back, for either of us, there is only one option.

To forget it, seems like a task impossible.

To live with it, is the only option left.

Weary is the mind, of bearing the burden alone.

Memories still linger on, difficult to be completely wiped off, leaving traces behind.

Forgiveness is an option says the mind. Forgiveness of one’s self is what the mind says.

Though it is difficult, it is what will give the self, peace.

Forgiveness will remove the regrets.

 Forgiveness of one’s self will change the guilt to remorse; to acceptance; acceptance of a lesson well learnt.

Acceptance. To accept one’s mistake, the consequences and the teachings of the experience.

For some things can’t be forgotten, but forgiveness is possible.

And that is what, gives the self another chance.

Life is all about chances and taking risks. For no journey can be travelled without taking a few wrong turns.

And if there were no wrong turns, it means that it was never your own journey to begin with. It was somebody else’s journey with instructions and directions at hand.

Making your own directions takes time, courage and plenty of mistakes.  Acceptance and changes is what makes the mistakes worthwhile.

Life is simply not about a bed of roses, but of fields of a variety of flowers, each with its own story to tell.

And that it is what I believe in.

Hey, I’ve got mail !!

Today, while doing the morning chores in the backyard, I heard a trin-trin and the churning of wheels. Wondering who would be the visitor at this very early hour, I scrambled off to the front. Surprises of surprises, I saw an evelope peeking from the gray box next to the gate. Whoa, I’ve got mail !!! As in not e-mail nor courier, but actual proper airmail. Wow, I thought both the postman and the envelopes were extinct !! I havn’t seen them for quite a while, so they must have definitely on the endangered list at least.

Excited, I reached for the envelopes and oh, there were three of them. And nope they were not the brown ones but the air-mail ones, with stamps of various colours pasted on the front. One from Granma, one from my best friend and one from my sister. Hurray for sending the letters. It still feels exciting to slit the letter and to run your fingers across the writing. Kinds of lets you see the person who has written you the letter face-to-face.

Getting the letter brings back memories during childhood, of sitting in the porch at home eagerly awaiting the post during the long summer months or rushing from school to check the mail, letters from Gran, from pen-pals, from cousins. Sometimes, there would be a dime with the letter (only, if it’s from Gran), or maybe a couple of pressed leaves, my Aunt’s dog, Brownie’s paw-prints or a drawing from my three-year old cousin, but the anticipation was there.

Though, recently maybe ten years or so; the Internet revolution took over and mail became e-mail, post became snail mail !! You have something emergency to post or even magazines, try the courier services or registered post. But who ever sends letters via registered post !!

Letters, somehow no matter how much the ink may fade or how old they are; I still take them from my trunk, where I have kept them and read them once in a while. The sentiments, the expressions, the poignant moments; they still are treasured. The X’mases celebrated,or Ro with this fracture in the hospital, our home-coming, Granpa’s hospital stays, how my pen-pal spent her summer hols and many more events are there in those folded stacked papers, priceless as faded they may look. Taking the time to write or even read them brings you back to those times, those days, and no matter how busy the day might be; going a trip down memory lane while reading a letter or penning down one is a good way to perk up the day.

Though it was not just about the letters, but about the envelopes as well. Stamps, of course. Trades were done mostly in school and around neighbourhood. Those who had folks overseas were the lucky ones. They could get two local stamps exchanged with the foreign ones. Recently, my younger sister took over the collection. Unfortunately, she does buy stamps intermittenly ‘cause the stamp exchanges were not how it used to be.

Personally speaking, the e-mail is definitely ultra-fat and quick and of course, it doesn’t get lost in the process of sending. But consider the language, the part of writting, of connecting with the sender, of putting in the mail-box after attaching stamps and the joy of receiving a letter as well. Somehow, a bit of both does work wonders. Regular communications, yes I would have it e-mailed, yet  once a while writing a letter, good old snail mail, would be fun as well.

Now, on the list things to do today, to buy envelopes and stamps. Definitely can’t miss the latter. And then to get started of penning down a reply. Hope my handwriting will last through the legibility phase.


It’s been a long time since I could type down my thoughts. Now that at last, I have laid my fingers across the keypadFor the story behind this post, I want to take you all back to the fourteenth of December, last year.

It was the baccalaureate day, the day where the solemn acknowledge that we would soon leave the nest was taken. The day when close friends said promises and exchanged addresses and reminders to keep in touch and echoing the years of fun and craziness. That is when I ccame across these words in a bookmark, taken from an old prose. Unfortunately, can’t quote the name of the original poet.

 Life is like building bridges…

A part of the landscape…

Arches that the wind so often plays on….

Don’t go on separate ways…

 Start on each side and continue on…

This is how they were built…

Two beautiful spans that meet in middle…

2 hands in concrete greeting…

Go both ways…

Road has 2 directions…

 One day…

Look for something as simple as an open door…

A handshake…

N that is how we will know…

How we cross these bridges that we share with others…

Which then becomes twice as large…

Winter bridge by Steve-h 

These are the lines that I want to emphasize on. Around five hours post-Valentine’s day ( nothing unusual about the wrong timing, but as they say better late than never), I need to share these lines. Life is like that, I guess. Bridges built in different places, across various waters, some deep, some calm and some troubled. But at the end of the road, it connects us all. Even today, miles apart from most of my friends, it’s the memories that make each day spaciel and also, the promise that someday we’ll meet each other on the bridge.

Happy Valentine’s Day to you all out there.