Random Ramblings

Some half-neglected friendships are sometimes meant to stay connected or at times disconnected, through space and time.

Growing in the wild, facing many a storms-they remain untended, spreading roots in any direction they choose...whether they will wither, bloom, wilt or strengthen is to be seen!

...and then again, there are those relations that wither even before they are put to the test, rendering us helpless and wondering whether everything in life comes with a 'best before' date...a shelf life...an 'enjoy it while it lasts' period.

Apparently the world doesn't have time to stop and cry with us when we are feeling blue.
But what about 'our world'? The world we have created for ourselves...the people who make up this small make-believe happily ever after unit of ours.Is it just a figment of our imagination that is bound to crash someday?

then again, arn't we being selfish?
...being selfish in expecting our friends to stick by us all the time.
Arn't they being selfish?
...being selfish in allowing us to cry alone because they have other things to cry about.
Isn't everyone then being selfish?
so why then are we complaining?

Perhaps selfishness is a virtue, really!

Perhaps we shouldn't expect...
Perhaps we shouldn't complain...
Or maybe, like a close friend told me yesterday---perhaps I think too much.

But then again, old habits die hard, don't they? :)

Book Review---"Truly, Madly, Deeply" By Faraaz Kazi

Title: Truly, Madly, Deeply

Author: Faraaz Kazi

Publication House: Mahaveer Publishers

Genre: Fiction

Price: Rs 150/-

About the author: Faraaz Kazi is rated amongst the top romance writers in India.
He is the founder and CEO of 'DigiImprints India' (India's first exclusive promotional agency for writers and artists) and operates his own academy in Mumbai.He is also a certified soft skills trainer and a three times post grad degree holder and a fellow member of the esteemed 'Film Writers Association of India' with a 'Nicholas Sparks of India' award to add to his kitty This 'Young Marketer' has a revolutionary blog by the same name and writes for major media houses
"Truly Madly Deeply", his debutant novel is the only Indian novel so far to have seven category nominations in the good reads 'annual readers' choice awards and is also the only Indian book in the 'Top 100 YA Global fiction' list.
His website: www.faraazkazi.com

Amidst the busy humdrum of life, who would not but once in a while love to be carried away in a whirlpool of nostalgia?
"Truly, Madly, Deeply"  by Faraaz Kazi takes us down memory lane...to look back and smile on how simple life would be in those days of young glory (our teenage years) and how complex we made it out to be.
A simple love story churns between Rahul---the pompous all rounder at school who exels not only in academics but also in singing, elocutions, music and extra curricular activities...and his female equivalent---the somewhat timid yet equally smart and good looking  Seema.
The characters are well described, the scenes well sketched and the story progresses in an entertaining manner.The story twists through a series of interschool, interhouse competitions where both Rahul and Seema learn from and about each other and like what they learn.
All until, an old admirer gets in the picture and decides to skew the equation...
All until, ace rivals and competitors decide to play dirty...
All until, a trap is laid and fallen prey for...
Will their innocent 'puppy love' triumph over all misunderstandings? Will Rahul and Seema manage to overcome all distractions and achieve their goals and ambitions?
or does loving someone truly, madly, deeply come with a price (too high) to pay?
 Faraaz Kazi's novel is a subtle answer to all these questions.

Written in a simple narrative is wrapped a not-so-simple-love-story set in the simplest (retrospect'ically speaking ofcourse) phase of our life-our teenage years.

However, I also thought a few sequences to be a little over the top for a 15 year old protagonist---like Farha (another 15 yr old) playing seductress and seducing Rahul, a few bollywood 'dishum-dishum' fight sequence  and not to forget the epic 'rakhi' scene which scares Rahul away (that was hilarious though)...but I guess, one always faces a little drama in those hormone dominated years, eh?

The romance begins on a fresh note but dips a little towards the middle, with a lot of unnecessary fillers---though i must admit, I quite liked the debate competition  bit.
But somehow all empathy was lost for Rahul towards the end (wherein he goes on and on 'lecturing' Seema about his love for her while she just stays dumbfounded.) though I am not sure that was what the author had in mind.
But then again, perhaps that's just me!

That apart, I particularly liked the open end which leaves scope for a sequel. I think the author has great potential and going by his fan following, has already captured a lot of young hearts with this debutant novel of his.

Personal Rating: 3 out of 5


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(This book review is written on the request of the author, though the views above are entirely mine and are not subject to obligation of any sort)

"Once Upon The Tracks Of Mumbai" By Rishi Vohra---Book Review

Title: Once Upon The Tracks Of Mumbai

Author: Rishi Vohra

Publication House:  JAICO

Genre: Fiction

Price: Rs 175/-

"Once Upon The Tracks Of Mumbai" is the innocent story of the life of Balwant Srivastav.Being a resident of Mumbai's Railway Colony, his day pretty much starts and ends with the rattling of the trains along the tracks heard from his bedroom window.
The story slowly unfolds with the hardships and struggles of day to day life that Babloo has to face.
Being autistic,he is slow at grasping things and suffers from family neglect as compared to his so-called-able brother Raghoo, the apple of his parents eyes.This causes Babloo to remain more socially withdrawn and befriend the imaginary voices he hears in his head, thus bringing an element of paranoid schizophrenia to his personality as well.

The story picks pace when we are introduced to Vandana, the prettiest girl of the neighbourhood whom Babloo is madly in love with.Vandana's empathic attitude towards him makes him fall deeper in love with her, all the while trying to prove himself worthy of her love.

The plot twists and turns with various other characters and subplots like the sleazy Sikandar who fools babloo into believing that he will help him woo Vandana (while carefully laying a well planned trap for her),  Manjeet singh---the happy sardar who meets Babloo along the way, Vandana's and Babloo's parents who bring forth an alliance which somersaults its way in and out of Vandana's life causing fragile emotions to go awry now and then and hence a lot of misunderstandings to surface.

As one reads on, one cannot feel a tinge of sadness for the blissfully oblivious Babloo who is so busy trying to prove his worth and finding an purpose to life before proposing to his lady love , that he forgets the cardinal rule of love "Say it right then or the moment will pass you by".

Does the career oriented Vandana have a heart?
Does Babloo finally prove himself despite of all his shortcomings?
Does he manage to confess his feelings to her on time?

The book blurs the line between what is considered 'normal' and 'abnormal' by society.It shows Babloo's strength of character.It emphasizes on how a little love (if taken positively and in the right spirit) can go a long way on the path of motivation and make him a superhero.

Rishi Vohra's writing is fresh and crisp.The  story is a little slow to begin with but then it gradually picks pace.One can see glimpses of Bombay life on every page, incidents encountered in everyday life and people met randomly on busy streets and this enables the reader to paint a better picture with words (the attractive cover page would help too).
However there were parts wherein I felt that the author should have researched a little more into the subject of mental illness to get a more accurate representation.But then reality can hardly make up such an entertaining story.

To sum up, a story with the potential in the reel world.
But 'RailMan'?? Yes, he is someone the real world needs.


About the author: After completing a green MBA from San Fransisco State University and a masters diploma in environmental law, Rishi Vohra relocated back to Mumbai.Prior to this he had a successful career in the indian entertainment industry.
Currently writing for delWine, he also holds the title of a certified wine specialist to his credit.

He is also a guest columnist for various newspapers in India. "Once Upon The Tracks Of Mumbai" is his debutant novel.

Personal Rating:  3 out of 5

(This book review is written on the request of the author, though the views above are entirely mine and are not subject to obligation of any sort)

"Rainy Days" By Samarth Prakash---Book Review

Title: Rainy Days

Author: Samarth Prakash

Publication House: Good Times Books Pvt Ltd

Price: Rs 125/-

Genre: Fiction

About the author: Samarth Prakash works with the engineering team at Amazon.com.He is passionate about writing. Be it ardently melodramatic to vividly romantic and quietly philosophical, his nature is reflected in the way he writes.
To read more of work, you can read hiim at his blog space "Misty Reflections"

"Every journey begins with a chase.We chase success. We chase happiness.But what happens when this chase is suddenly interrupted by a long wait? Will love endure that wait?" ...goes the book blurb which first allured me towards this book.
Being an old school romantic, I have always associated love with long waits, heartfelt poetry, a deep sense of realisation kicking in every now and then...and last but not the least, rain!!!

Samarth Prakash has amalgamated all these quintessential elements in his debutant novel---'Rainy Days'.
The story is a first-person account by Raghav, a smart, charming, young entrepreneur with an intact set of values and honest ideals, co-founder of RS3 (a website founded by Raghav and his friends Shantanu, Sandeep and Sachin which centres on the main stories they publish and feedback from the general public who can narrate their own stories in turn-ranging from corruption issues to political scandals to personal injustice-with their only motto being to support and reveal the truth) whose life takes a dramatic course when he falls head over heels in love.
Introducing Megha, an average girl from a middle class Maharashtrian family who leaves the reader confused and pondering if she is really in love or just in an equal state of confusion (as the readers).

The story progresses in flashback mode as Raghav tells us about their first chance meeting, their first date, the long drive to their favorite spot and finally Megha's abrupt departure from his life with the promise that she would meet him again after five years and still be in love (with him, of course).Having no means to contact her, a heartbroken and shattered Raghav takes up to doing what all smart charming wannabe entrepreneur with an intact value system and honest ideals would do...(no, not alcohol, you bonehead!!).He immerses himself in work and takes RS3 to new heights.
Unfortunately, life has not been that kind to Megha and when they meet as promised after five long years, Raghav is in for a shock.
The story then takes us through a series of twists.A murder case, an acquittal, hopes of a reunion and more importantly the one factor that sums up our entire life---the choices we make.

There are decisions to be taken...
Love over ideals?
Love over truth?
Love over friendship?
Love over life?

"Rainy Days" makes one ponder about these choices.
There are times when you feel the story getting too dramatic, but then again, who said life and love isn't?

So as Marilyn French said and i quote---

"Well, love is insanity. The ancient Greeks knew that. It is the taking over of a rational and lucid mind by delusion and self-destruction. You lose yourself, you have no power over yourself, you can't even think straight."

and so...
Megha's superstitions are justified...
her confusion is justified...
her impulsiveness is justified...
Raghav's risk is justified...
his passion (at the cost of seeming a tad bit selfish at times) is justified...
his approval to the fabrication is justified...

and just like that, love always seems to justify so many things which otherwise would seem unjustifiable.
However on reading how the story concluded, I was a tad bit disappointed.I guess the twists and turns of events had built up too much anticipation and expectations.
Megha's character is a little sidelined despite of being a protagonist and that left me wondering what reaction it would have evoked in the reader, had the story been told in third person and not by Raghav.Even the end has a tinge of bitter maturity, which kinda leads the reader into feeling that Raghav is the victim and yet a martyr.

However the memories of a lost love are always rekindled by the rains and with every monsoon, the bitterness (at least some, if not all) gets washed away.

To conclude, "Rainy Days" by Samarth Prakash is a refreshing read.The language is simple and the story has a easy flow.Written in first person, one can more easily relate to Raghav.The book is interspersed with random inferences and realisations, moments of introspective questions and reflective musings which help progress the story in an interesting manner, making us stop, smile and think about what relevance it has in our lives.
For a debut novel, 'Rainy Days' is an interesting piece of fiction with promising 'motion picture' potential.

Personal Rating: 3 out of 5

just a "yellow" note...

It feels like ages since I visited this space.My regular haunt was getting neglected and although I am unable to cite one particular reason for my being out of the loop, I can quite surely say that I missed you all.
So today, when i opened up my dashboard to post in a draft, I was flabbergasted.It was the same uncanny feeling you experience when you leave behind a friend only to return after a while and find yourself staring into the eyes of a stranger.Yes, blogger had changed its design...its look...and i felt cheated.
The sense of betrayal lasted only until i figured that all my posts were intact.So was my followers list and template design.
Everything seemed pretty much the same except for the fact that I would need to get used to the idea of a new dashboard avataar and a few nitty gritty changes in draft settings.
 In a way, it was a new improved version.

Then what was it that made me panic?

...and then a totally unrelated thought got stuck in my head---Is the familiarity of the old so comforting that we fear to adapt to the vicissitude of the new???

Book Review---"Its Your Move, Wordfreak!"

Title: "Its Your Move, Wordfreak!"

Author: Falguni Kothari

Publishing house: Rupa Publications

Price: Rs 250/-

Being an ardent fan of crossword puzzles and word games, the cover page of this book beckoned me towards it.Besides being bright and colourful, what pulled me into reading the overview were the small scrabble tiles strewn randomly around the pretty 'Jasmine' (from 'Aladin' stories) lookalike which constituted the cover page of Falguni Kothari's debut novel "Its Your Move, wordfreak!"

The book blurb only managed to heighten my curiosity fruther and shoving off the tad bit irritating phrase about a cat who somehow got killed on similar lines, I decided to find out for myself.

"Its Your Move, Wordfreak" is a feel-good-feel-liberated chicklit set in contemporary India...modern day Mumbai to be precise where life revolves around page three parties, alimony matters, aspiring models and deep but not-so-apparent psychological problems.
Yet, somehow Madame Fate has it planned that the protagonists, Alisha Menon aka WordDiva and Aryan Chawla aka WordFreak meet under the most unique and suspicious of circumstances...not at a party..not at work...not randomly in one of bombays huge shopping plazas...but over a game of  online scrabble.

Just as Lee-Sha (as her super-diva friend Diya calls her) keeps away from a social life, so does Aryan (the same high profile 'Save the planet' architect who appears on the topmost google page ranks).

As they flirt their way through sensuous chat sessions over word games, they realise a connection and soon decide to meet up for real, only to find out that they are perfect for each other.
"The anonymity that type of communication afforded had given them a false sense of security and an unreal level of comfort.” Thus gets validated their perfect virtual relationship---a bond where the past does not matter and the two faceless and nameless identities finally form an integral part of each others lives.
The sexual compatibility bit goes a tad over the notch with pages and pages devoted to descriptive intimacy.

Comoe in the two families, we are introduced to some extremely amicable individuals exuding sweetness with their extremely good natured behaviour and genuine concern.
While Alisha's mom Savitri Menon is a woman with a golden heart (and surprisingly no maternal warning signs and i-told-you-so's despite her daughters relationship highs and lows), Aryan's Nanu (grandmother), Sameer (uncle), Neeta mami, Aryan's father, step mother and everyone in their whole little world seem totally high profile and at the same time, utterly selfless.

Just as the relationship gets clawingly sweet, reality intervenes and differences between Alisha and Aryan raise their ugly heads---differences which reveal their own insecurities springing up from some deep secrets of their past.
The story unfurls in rather a predictable Yet interesting manner as to how Alisha takes the few extra steps in bridging the differences...how fate intervenes in their favour...and last but not the least how love triumphs all odds.

"Its Your Move, Wordfreak!" is quick paced and simple which makes it an enjoyable read.The vocabulary is easy going and day to day which renders it fir for a lazy afternoon or on a trip.
A book which will be liked by flutter hearted romantics and bollywood fans, "Its Your Move, Wordfreak"  would evoke quite an interesting response in motion cinema.


Rating: 3.5 out of 5

About the author:  Falguni Kothari currently lives in New York with her family and one utterly spoilt dog.Born and brought up in Mumbai, the author plays multiple roles in her day to day life which have won her esteemed titles like domestic goddess, soccer mom and canine companion.Despite her busy schedule, her faithful laptop keep her updated with the latest scandals in the online world.
"Its Your Move, Wordfreak!"  is her debutant novel.
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BOING!!!

If everything that appears real is an illusion then perhaps everything that feels like an illusion is real...

The Butterfly Effect

I'd give all wealth that years have piled,
The slow result of Life's decay,
To be once more a little child
For one bright summer day

.
~Lewis Carroll, "Solitude"

Childhood, the most cherished phase of our lives is a topic most of us find reason to fondly reminisce about from time to time.
Be it the time spent playing hopscotch with friends or the bruises we gained by climbing trees to pluck fruit, be it the way we danced in the rain until we got sick or be it the long hours we played in the scorching hot sun, there was a little bit of magic in everything we did--the magic of simple joy and true happiness, one that lit our face with a smile so broad that people saw it travel right from our hearts till it reached our eyes.

But the glory of childhood is often realised in hindsight.
As age catches up, memories from the distant past allure us into stepping into that world of lost glory.
As for me, I have often lost myself to these nostalgic moments.They seem to be the only way I can hold on tight to the times I loved...the times I would never want to let go of.

But reflecting back, how many times did we (as kids) wish we could grow up fast?
Life as a grown up sounded so very cool in those days.Going to work like all grown up's did, not having the elders boss over you, no restrictions on the things you ate and no time limits on the hours of play---how much fun it would be to grow up...or so we thought.
Little did we know that soon enough that wish would come true and set us wishing we could be kids again.

When I first read about the Kissan '100% real blogger' contest on Indiblogger, I was flooded by a sense of nostalgia which overwhelmed me to such an extent that i spent the entire day reminiscing about those days of yore.
More heart warming was the feeling, because Kissan jams and me go a long way back.

As a child, I used to almost live on Kissan jam sandwiches.Since i would often suffer from acidity, I would be extremely picky about food and complain on eating anything too spicy. So the safest bet was jam sandwiches---something I would eat without complaining before or after.
My breakfast and school tiffin would mainly consist of small triangular butter and jam sandwiches.

As i grew up, the GER (Gastro Esophageoal Reflux) like symptoms gradually lessened on its own and eventually vanished...but the love for jam stayed on.
I remember my hostel room had a stock of kissan jams which made up my lunch and dinner on many an exam nights.While my colleagues thought it was the medical exam pressure that made me choose an easy-to-fix meal, only I knew that it was actually the comfort of my childhood that I sought in the act.
Hitherto, there would be a 30 minute phone call back home from the hostel phone booth before I returned to my textbooks.

Old habits die hard, they say.Even today, whenever i feel blue, I make myself a mixed fruit jam sandwich and one bite is all it takes to transfer me into that world of unadulterated joy. Not the best cuisines in the world can match up to the simple taste of that magical wonderland...the memory of my childhood.

Back then, there was one other person who loved these jam sandwiches as much as I did---someone who my childhood memories cannot be complete without...Mrs Sumitra Kamat.
She was my neighbour back then and a close family friend.
My mom tells me that Sumi aunty had been the first to see me outside the delivery room.So overjoyed was she on seeing me-the 3.7kg bundle that she almost forgot to tell my dad who was pacing nervously down the hospital corridoe.
Apparently, Sumi aunty loved fat kids and I soon became her favorite.All through the nine months of pregnancy she had been the only one to take care of mom and attend to her needs---sending cooked meals for our family, seeing to it that my mom got the needed rest and attention during the frequent spells of morning sickness, showering motherly love and affection on my mom and the yet-to-be-born me.

Sumi aunty had a teenage daughter of about fourteen.Ruchi had been born after 10 years of their marriage and had been the apple of her eye.
If it wasn't for the flashes of her smiling face in faded memories and birthday pictures, I would be hardly able to recall much of her now.But i do remember her coming to play with me when she would return home from school.

The Kamath's were a close knit family and with time our friendship with them had blossomed.

The earliest stamp-ink memory I have of Sumi aunty was however when I was around 8 years old.I still remember that day clearly.
We had gone to visit her---at the hospital.Scared to see her lying on the hospital bed, with a IV needle in her forearm and a bandaged head, I asked her where Ruchi was.
The tension in the hospital room was palpable, I remember clinging tightly to my mother's saree as Sumi aunty burst into sobs.My dad quickly took me away as my mom consoled her in a tight embrace.
After that day, Sumi aunty always wore a white saree.The vermilion mark on her forehead had also disappeared and there was no sign of Ruchi and Vineet uncle anywhere.
It took me a while to understand why this cheerful lady who always laughed and doted over me no longer laughed or got out of the house anymore and how an unfortunate car accident had converted our closest family friends into an incomplete family.

As the days went by, my mom would take me over to Sumi aunty's place often.
It was the only time she would showed some sign of life---sumi aunty would braid my hair, listen to my stories, answer my silly questions and cook new recipes for me everyday.
My parents hoped that she would recover from the shock and they thought that I could perhaps help her with that.I was oblivious of their hidden agenda and often thought they no longer liked me anymore.
"Shona, Sumi aunty misses Ruchi right now and she is sad.You should talk to her, play with her, go out with her.But keep in mind not to mention Vineet uncle or Ruchi ok? At least not right now." my mom said.
I promised but i still thought they loved me less than they loved di.

As time went by, Sumi aunty started laughing again.When she saw me getting bored indoors, she started stepping out of the house with me. We would go to the park where i would sit on swings and see-saws.
She would take me to the beach where we would build sand castles together.
I remember her telling me stories.Stories of ogres and demons...stories of kings and queens...stories where the prince would save the princess and live happily ever after.Every story telling session would end with us competing for 'mixed fruit jam' sandwiches---she knew I loved those.So had Ruchi.
I missed Ruchi's presence but would never mention it to Sumi aunty.I knew she missed her too.Losing her entire world like that was the most unfortunate thing that could happen to her.
I might have been a little too young to understand the seriousness of the matter back then, but I knew enough not to utter any past memories to Sumi aunty because they made her cry.

On coming home, I would be sleepy but would enthusiastically narrate the fairy tales she had read out to me, to my parents and di.
Di would sulk that she did not get such loving treatment from Sumi aunty and that would make me feel proud of myself.
My mom and dad would hug me and praise me for being a 'good girl'.Dad would reward me with a chocolate everyday and mom would be filled with genuine concern for Sumi aunty.
I would tell them about the days events.I would feel like a winner and every time Sumi aunty would laugh, every time she would joke like before--it would be a victory.

Of course, I did enjoy my day-outs with her.I could not climb up and pluck mangoes from trees, play tag and hopscotch or attend doll marriages with her, like i could with my other friends.
But I could listen to wonderful stories, discover new places, ask her the silliest questions and get a loving hug for every one of them, sulk and get my way with things and be pampered with different variations of jam sandwiches.My favorite version was when she would apply home made butter with kissan marmalade on sliced bread and place in cottage cheese, sliced grapes, a sprinkling of pomegranate seeds and slivers of seasonal fruits with just a dash of cinamon powder and some 'secret' spice before topping it with another slice of butter and marmalade applied white bread---all of which which would assemble into the yummiest sandwich in the world.
We would both enjoy the same things.Thinking back, perhaps she compromised a little for my sake.But I had begun to adore her.

My friends would awe at me when I showed them my pebble collection, the necklace of sea shells that Sumi aunty had taught me to make, the doll house of candy sticks I had constructed.When I would brag about my nature trips, they would not believe me--until I showed them the wonderful pictures that Sumi aunty clicked.I remember the class bully being exceptionally sweet to me thereafter, as bribe for taking her along on my next day-out picnic.

But friends of your age rarely know any better than you.Parents are always a little too careful.For all the fun filled adventure, I needed a best friend.
Sumi aunty had become my best friend and yet someone who knew so much more than me.She was an inspiration...a motivation.
We had a soul to soul connection and the jam sandwiches competition just reaffirmed our bond.

As days changed to months and years, school and academics started keeping me busy.My teenage years were tough on family and friends.As for me, in between all the rebellious tantrums and impatient mood swings, one thing always remained constant---I always made time for my best friend and even if I could not, she always understood.

I used to live very close to the beach back then.
Living in Goa, I grew up to be someone who has always found peace in the music of the waves.
Right from a tender age, I built castles in the sand and confided in the sea.
Sitting on the rocks and gazing at the waves always brought along a strange sort of calmness in me--the kind of calmness that is much needed after a bout of guilt or self loathe.
Overcome by one such an episode, I tried what every child has tried at least once in a lifetime---I decided to run away from home.
Of course realisation struck as soon as I crossed the lane with an inadequately packed school bag (which contained a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb and a pair of clothes and a purse which had only Rs 55/- in it) and saw the ice cream vendor selling candies for Rs 11 a piece.That meant I could get just five more candies with what I considered enough to run away from home with.
I could not go back home as the note I had left behind would have been discovered by my family and that would only mean utter embarrassment.Besides i was seething with anger for having being yelled at.So I kept walking till i reached my favorite spot.

The temper tantrum fizzled out in a while but 45 minutes of gazing at the sea had made me hungry.
As couples and tourists gave me suspicious looks as they strolled along the beach, I nervously hoped someone would find me.
I scolded myself for not having brought some food along.

And then i saw her...my best friend!!!
She had known exactly where to find me.
While my mom was crying her eyes out from panic of discovering my runaway note and my dad had worried himself searching for me in all the places a 13 year old could think of to run away from home, Sumi aunty had told them to calm down and headed straight towards the beach, but not before packing a small surprise.

As my eyes twinkled on noticing the transparent plastic tiffin in her hand, my joy knew no bounds.While the fruit sandwiches served as a catalyst to enlightenmentin the rickshaw ride back to my home, she scolded me in soft yet stern words.
"Your family is the only unit you can call your own and don't you ever forget that" then taking my hand into hers, she added "Promise me, no matter how far you go you will always come back."

All through my childhood and early teens, she was there to guide me with timely advice and words of wisdom.She was almost like family but always called herself my 'best friend'.There were times when i felt misunderstood even by family.That was when I would call Sumi aunty and talk to her for long hours telling her about what was troubling me---We would always go to our favorite spot, the beach...and she never forgot to bring her special fruit sandwiches along.

Sumi aunty will always hold a special place in my life.She thought me to fall in love with nature.She taught me to listen to the chirping of birds, the gurgling of springs, the rustling of trees.
She gifted me my first binocular set on my 14th birthday.Together we would spend hours watching for birds in their natural habitat---places which were not known to many but only by a few nature lovers like herself.
She had a passion for photography while I would scribble some words of inspiration in my diary.
Everything I wrote would first be read out to Sumi aunty and then to my family back home.While family would praise my attempt, Sumi aunty would often tell me where I lacked.
"Write down your memories" she would say.
Then looking wistfully at her camera, she would add "Pictures will capture moments..but words will capture your emotions."

That was Sumitra kamat, my best friend during my childhood and teenage years before her health started detiorating and she moved to Bangalore with her brother's family.
That is how Sumi aunty will always be, in my memories.
Sumi aunty---the lady who left behind in my life, a beautiful legacy through her thoughts and actions.Her words and heart warming advice which crafted my childhood into a spectra of beautiful shades, still echo in my mind whenever I think of her.

Today, she is hardly able to recognise us.The family that she was so fond of is now reduced to a bunch of strangers whom she stares at without any reaction.
Being affected with the cruel wrath of the dreaded Alzheimer's disease, it is indeed painful to see my best friend in a state of increasing memory impairment and unable to perform usual day to day activities with normal ease.
As a doctor, I am aware of the consequences of her condition and know the futility of the situation.
But the heart of a best friend has still not given up...for it is bound by a promise made long ago--no matter how far I will go, I will always come back.

Every time I visit her, I try to evoke any slight flicker of memories gone by---the binocular she had gifted me, her unattended camera which now lies in one corner of the room, taking her out for evening strolls and trying to evoke some sort of reaction to her love for nature, I have tried it all.
The birds still chirp their merry tunes.
The trees still rustle in whispers.
The streams still gurgle the way they always did.

Nature seems its usual best.But my best friend responds in silence.

The only hope is when I open the packet of fruit sandwiches---the one constant reminder of my marvellous childhood memories with her, she looks at me and smiles............as if she knows it all.




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The above post has been written for the contest '100% Real Blogger Contest' organised by Kissan on IndiBlogger, thanks to both for opening up the floodgate of beautiful memories which will always remain with me as part of my reality.

If you liked reading this post, do vote for it here.