Her.

Sai. Just three alphabets, yet, the name weighs tonnes.

As far back as my memory takes me, I remember her going out of her way to take care of me. Apparently. when I was a year old and she was three, she'd try to hold me in her arms and shush me like my mother did. Barely any taller than a potted plant, she nurtured her motherly instincts from the day I was born.

Over the years, we've fought like animals. Pulling hair, scratching, biting, punching, kicking, anything you can think of. But at the end of it, either of us would come crawling back and

apologize and we'd cry our eyes out and hug and make up.

She's always been the innocent one and I always had the mischievous streak. Every time I went "Saiii listen naa", her eyes would go wide and she'd say, "What's it this time?"

There's nobody that can understand me as well as she does. She'll disapprove of my choices, but she'll stick nevertheless.

We've always been told how strikingly similar we are. But what you see is just the outside. She's the person I can never be.

I've never seen a person so giving, so pure and pristine. If I can get myself to be half the human being she is, I'll consider myself lucky.

I've never seen her sit still. She's the world's fastest and most efficient multi-tasker. 

She's juggled TYBA, an exchange program with Germany, a French level with Alliance, and number of things I can't even remember.

She introduced me to Classic Literature. If it wasn't for her, I'd still be sitting in a corner reading Tinkle and Archie's. No kidding.

She's protected me from my parents every time I messed up. She'd yell and give me a piece of her mind later, but she'd never let anyone else scream at me.

My sister is my best friend on earth. I know I can fight with her and behave my worst, but she'll always have my back.

Today we've come to a point where the fragile, dainty little lady needs me to be her bodyguard cause she's so delicate. I'd do that for you for life, Saiyu.

It surprises a lot of people how close we are. Sometimes it surprises us too :P

There's so much I can say about her. SO much. I'll always fall short of words trying to tell you how much it is that I love you.

I love you to the moon and back, and yet a little more.

Wish you a very very happy 21st. Not that you look like it at all, not even close, but well, happy birthday anyway.

If there's anyone I'd take a bullet for, it's her. It'll always be her.

Reality Check.

The wounds may heal, but the scars will stay. And what caused the wounds will always be despised. A second look at your scars will always bring back unwanted memories. Those will never really phase out. Learn to accept them and live with them or accept the fact that it'll never be okay again. 

That's all you need to know about this phase. Acceptance.

Waking up to Reality.

It's only after the worst of the storm has hit, does it finally settle. 
C'est la vie, Cherie.
That's what every turn in your life is like. Good, followed by bad, followed by the worst, and when you're at the brink of giving up, it starts getting better again.
She was there, at the edge, jumping off the cliff. 
She could look back only to find demolition. Bits and pieces. Scars and wounds. She was so busy looking back that she overlooked what lay before her. There's always sunshine beyond those dark clouds that haunt your present. But a distraught person has every reason to not believe. She didn't either.
She gagged as Fear enveloped her heart. She choked on self pity and spat out her confidence. 
She believed that there was nothing left to believe anymore. Nothing.
A whisper in her ear and a hand at her waist, pulled her back into the realm of possibility.
Was it possible? Was it real? Reality was too harsh and her dreams too unreal. 
Fighting against reality, soothing herself by her dreams, she refused to open her eyes. She wouldn't dare see the world again. She wouldn't dare to believe again.
Faith and Belief had failed her.
Her eyes twitched, Hope prodded at her heart. One eye at a time, she opened her eyes to see what stood in front of her. Her feet gave away, she fell to the ground.
This couldn't be happening.
Love stood tall in front of her. No, it had to be an illusion!
He reached out to her. But was she brave enough to take his hand again?
Patience embraced him as he smiled, waiting. Who could fight against those two? And for how long?
He sat down next to her, ignoring the whimpering noises she made. 
He took her hand in his and wiped her tears. "Come" he said.
Almost as if he'd given her strength, she stood up again. Silhouettes of Fear and Pity lingered as they were drawn out of her. She took a step forward, testing new waters.
How was this happening? She closed her eyes tightly and opened them again, expecting to see herself in a dark corner. But she was out there. Hand in hand with him again. Smiling after what seemed like eternity.
Embraced by Happiness. Backed by Hope. Blessed by Faith. Guided by Love. 
It was unreal, but true.
The sunshine had fought the darkness away. And for once, Reality was better than her Dreams.

Band Baaja Baarat!

Winter chills. Wedding bells.
As a hardcore Indian who sweats profusely under the blazing sun, and one who loves the smell of mehendi, this is my best quarter of the year.
Come November, invitations start flooding in by the dozen every week. Beautiful sarees, heavy jewelry and dark mehendi starts overpowering the Hindu households. Long lost cousins are placed awkwardly next to us and we're expected to make small talk which generally begins with "we met at *insert random name* didi's wedding last year, remember?" and ends with, "yes yes we should meet up". Next December, repeat.

Weddings are important to every member of the family for different reasons. The kids, because they get a day off from homework and their cheeks pulled by a hundred people. The women because they get to gather up and give and take gossip about the who's whos at the wedding and subtly show off their sarees and jewelry. The men, for it's more often than not, an open bar and temporary freedom from the endless clatter.

Growing up, I've fallen in love with the concept of marriage. The wedding ceremonies starting ten days prior to the D-Day, the attention paid to intricate details, the sanctity of the institution and the family reunions.

My grandmother whispered in my ear before we went to a wedding last week, "Carry yourself well. You're a woman now. People are always looking for matches to make at weddings." It made me laugh. But it made my heart flutter. What if the guy I'm going to spend the life with is at the next wedding I attend? What if he's out there looking for me and sees me doing something weird like choking over a PaniPuri or guffawing loudly? Will he fall in love with my weirdness or will it repulse him?

At my cousin's wedding last year, they clasped hands and smiled deeply at each other when the mangalsutra hitched them together for life. "I want that", I thought immediately. Not just married, but happily married.

Drape that saree, put on the heavy jewelry, let your hair fall over your shoulders, curl that eye liner and smack those red lips. He's somewhere out there, looking for you, waiting. Waiting for the Band to play the Baaja at your Baarat!

Didi's Wedding, December '12.

Balls-ywood.

Final Scene:

Girl runs from the villains who are convincingly slower than a girl wearing stilettos. Bad guy catches up with the heroine and Kaboooom! Macho Man is here!

Twenty odd minutes of blood curdling screams and swishing of every weapon from guns to swords. With two bullet wounds and a torn T-shirt, the hero kills the villain with one stab of the blunt knife. Hero and heroine reunite. The End. They all lived happily ever after.

Remind you of anything? Every other Bollywood movie perhaps?

Don't get me wrong, I'm a sucker for all the drama Hindi movies feed us.

I believe that one day a man will love me as much as Shah Rukh loves his heroines. I believe that it's okay to be standing tall after having two beer bottles broken on your head etc.

But Bollywood puts realism to shame. A conversation between Bollywood and Realism would probably be limited to - "RIP, Realism."

What pushed me to write this? Chennai Express. Hands down.

So, you decide to chuck the ashes of the man that raised you in a random creek and skip off to Goa? Okay.

You're taken to Chennai instead, by one girl and her Sumo wrestler brothers? Okay.

She says you're her husband to be and you accept it ever so gracefully despite knowing her father is the Don? Okay.

You get one chance to save your life from the underworld family and you choose to get drunk and do an item number instead? Okay.

You do flee and then you waste petrol worth thousands and come back to the Don and the creepily tall man, both of who want you dead? Okay.

You fight the creepily tall man and his never ending minions for hours on end, have stab wounds, should have a couple of fractures and yet, you can stand on your feet and give a speech about how you love her and run to her and embrace her? You wake up the next morning with nothing but one tiny Band-Aid on your forehead? Okay.

You expect the audience to believe it all and appreciate your cinematography skills? Not okay.

We've grown up. Bollywood needs to too.

Where the ever so long fight scenes maybe entertaining to some, most of us are looking for something that won't put our brains to shame. It's time for Bollywood to stop playing on the emotions of it's audience and create real, believable art that sets those brain cells churning.

At the pace at which the Hindi cinema is going, we'll have the British taking over us all over again.

Bollywood moments in Life.

Come on Bollywood, show us what you got.

The Three P's.

1. It's Three P's, Not Four.

2. This isn't about a Marketing Strategy.

I'm a middle class citizen of India and this is my story.

I wake up every morning, take the train to college, attend my lectures, take the train back home, do my chores, sleep. Sounds simple? Not if you look closely.

On my way to the station I often come across men who believe that every woman is theirs to stare at. I live through that every day. The overflowing trains are merciless to one and all. Train travel conditions you to swim underwater for a couple of hours at least, if you know what I mean. I thank the Lord every time I get off a train in one piece. On my way back, repeat.

Still sounds simple? Look closer.

I don't belong to that strata of people who spend money for a living. We're the people that don't spend every alternate night in clubs or throw parties that can afford to invite random strangers too.

We're the people that prefer kande pohe over pancakes and puranpoli over...well, you get the point.

When I come across a sticky situation, I don't say "Tujhe pata hai mera baap kaun hai?" cause I know that the guy in front of me will know my dad just as well as the PM knows the people of this country. Making 'one call' doesn't get me three cars full of people to solve my situation. I can't commit a crime and be rest assured that'll my father will make a few calls here and there and I'll get away scott free.

We don't have celebrities, politicians or the underworld dropping in for chai-biscuit. Nobody in my extended family has ever seen a gun, except in movies, or Diwali.

My father doesn't sport a red tilak on his forehead and wear white clothes and fold his arms to the public. He doesn't stand on a stage and make promises to them. Nobody's life depends on the direction of movement of his head. Nobody hangs on to his every word and hitch hopes to it. We can't have a car with 100% tinted windows and get away with it. I wasn't given a swanky imported car with a VIP number on my 18th birthday. 

I'm an Indian citizen. And I face situations where I'm forced to shut up and gulp down my rights because my life is dear to me. 

No matter how much you want to stand up for your rights, you can't. Cause you fear for life. And as girls, for our dignity.

A wad of notes in their pocket, a gun at their belt, a couple of contacts in their phones and the backing of an influential man is all it takes for these scoundrels to do what they like and get away with it.

India is my country. But all Indians are not my brothers and sisters.

To feel safe, secure and peaceful in this country, you need three things. 

Power, Politics and Paisa.

Happy Birthday, HeartBreak!

If you can relate to the title, you're either as crazy as I am or you have serious issues in life. Or both.

What is it that makes a person hold on to something that hurts for this long? Lolisms. Had I known, I wouldn't be writing this.

Getting used to a heart break is probably worse than having your heart broken. It's like burning your hand accidentally and letting it flame for a long time. I know, ouch.

But you know what the real issue is? The fire does tend to die out at a point, but you've gotten so used to living like this that you add kerosene to it to keep it that way. You're afraid to try again. The comfort of someone having ruthlessly broken your heart is too convenient to start over. You're scared to start over. All the ifs and buts come flooding back to you. No, it's better to drown in self pity.

Nothing is as disgraceful as self pity. You're really going to sit in a corner, eat tubs of ice cream, become anti social, let go of yourself and become a hippie, all for the one person that never cared? I don't pity you, I despise you.

Till a couple of days ago I was just like you. Conveniently shying away from the world because he was one of them and it didn't turn out so good. Then I saw what a lump of shit I was being. Did he deserve this importance I was giving him? By cutting everyone out, avoiding all those things we used to do together?

Shame on me if I let someone divert me from my way of living my life. That's right, MY life, not his. About me, not him.

It's okay to have your heart broken. There's always people surrounding you with the glue and tape you need. What's not okay is to hold on to it. Don't turn your back to those who're offering to fix you.

I'm proud to have had my heart broken. It opened alleys to so many other people who really cared.

This day last year, I was sobbing. Today, I'm smiling from ear to ear as I think of every person who's here with me.

Happy Birthday Heart Break! You did me good! 

See you around... Not ;)