Chasing the Monsoons

So I got engaged.. I mean formally, with ring et al. Our engagements don't really have rings, in fact the bridegroom isn't even supposed to be around at the engagement! I gate crashed and we exchanged rings at the end of the so called bridegroom-less engagement :D

All said and done it was a great event, and I have a ring with a huge rock in it. I had wished for a gold band as that is more comfortable, but it didn't work out that way for me.

Dusty brown boots in the corner
By the ironing board
Spray on dust is the greatest thing
Sure is the greatest thing
- Beta Band, Dry the Rain

I feel like life has taken this turn from which there is no turning back (is there ever??). I miss old friends, am shy to make new ones, and am more than looking forward to life with my wife :D

I saw a movie called Baran. It has been over month since I saw it, but whenever I think of it, it brings tears to my eyes. Now I'm not one to cry often or even get so emotional out of hand, but this movie strikes a chord in me like no other.

The socio-economic aspects in the movie are very well researched and portrayed. The movie is set in 2001 Iran, where there are a lot of Afghani refugees. These refugees work illegally at construction sites to earn bread and butter for their families.

I woke up to a call today morning at around 5:15 am. My father, being the elder in the family, received the call. It was from an uncle (mama) of mine, informing us about the demise of another mama based in Mumbai. This mama had been fighting cancer for almost a year or so, and succumbed to it in the early hours of today morning.

My parents and a couple of uncles left for Mumbai immediately. I desperately wanted to go, but couldn't for various reasons. The first realization that hit me when we got the news was that mama would never read that email I wrote him (but never sent it since I didn't have his email id).

I decided to blog that email, so that it remains with me through the times, and serves as a reminder that it is best to do today what you would have done tomorrow, and do now what you would have done today...

Dear mama,

It was a great pleasure to spend those memorable hours with you a few weeks back. It was nice to hear stories from your heydays. The stories about your life in college, and how you came across various opportunities to work on mega projects were full of wit, and hope about how one could rise above the odds through sheer hard work.

I especially remember the story about you having to visit a place down south, which in those days were inaccessible by anything but buses, and bicycles. You had just arrived all tired at a guest house and the bellboy/waiter had come up to you at around 8:00 in the evening and asked you if you wanted to have dinner, only he used a word that to you implied something else, causing you the blow your lid. Those were good memories. :)

I do hope you remain in such great spirits and get well soon. I shall try and visit again when I come to Mumbai next.

Love,
Bunty

This is the second time this has happened to me... I hope it never does again. Two times is twice too many for me.

To an old friend...

I like it how there is a symbolic end to the video, and the song is true to it's word. Rabbi Shergill is now in music my hall of fame.

I'm finding my way back to sanity, again
Though I don't really know what
I am gonna do when I get there
Take a breath and hold on tight
Spin around one more time
And gracefully fall back in the arms of grace

Lifehouse has been the music of choice for every turn in my life, ever since I heard Jason sing Hanging by a moment on the radio while in Dubai for a break during my first year at IIT Kharagpur.

It's just another manic Monday
I wish it was Sunday
'Cause that's my funday
My I don't have to runday
It's just another manic Monday
- Bangles

I just feel like lying down and relaxing for the day. Instead I've decided to head out and tackle the unknown. I think I need to get back in the game.

Footfalls echo in the memory,
down the passage which we did not take,
towards the door we never opened,
into the rose-garden. - T. S. Eliot