...and meanwhile the world is in chaos, one Olive writes to her Popeye.

Dearest Popeye

It's now been more than a year that you have left with your ship. While waves after waves you conquer the mighty ocean and taste the salt flavoured air of many different countries spread across the continents, I, your Olive, still miss you, remember you, and wait for your mails, calls, and precisely your comeback with the same eagerness and desperateness that was there in me exactly at the time when you disconnected the call and your ship sailed away leaving the comforts of my embrace and the safety of the harbour behind. 

I still lead a plain and simple life and the world still continues to do what it was doing. Rising-Falling-and like a phoenix, again Rising up. Against my will, I have finally donated those dog-eared old books to the neighbourhood library. Surprisingly, I feel good about it. I wonder why not I did it all these while! Guess what! Your wheedling was not forceful enough! Damn! How could it be not! 

The fuchsia plant finally is in full bloom. And it still carries the smell of McLeodganj. Crisp and fresh. This season it’s after a long wait. Isn't? And I still continue to make lemon cheesecakes even though it’s that time of the year when carrot cakes are made. And I have not yet finished that maroon pullover. But I am sure you will be happy to know that the matching muffler is long done. I wanted to add some woollen snowflakes in them but I messed the pattern and now those weird shapes look straight in my eyes and make funny faces to me. But boy! Do I get teased! I totally do not. What a win it is! Isn’t?  By the way I have asked Dorji to arrange for a second hand recipe book on soup. He said he will get it post Diwali. I cannot wait for six long months more for you to get me a soup book. Or should have I?

Without my knowing my eyes still tell stories to the people around me and very curiously once in a while they ask me, who is he for whom your eyes are longing for? I stumble and then fumble but all I give them is an answer in return that consists of a silent pressed smile. In your words, the Olive signature smile. The answer also consists of a pair of eyes that blinks as a result of certain surge of something called tears or the like. And my heart, it slows down, beat by beat. 

कुछ मद्धम सांसो के दरमिया 

तेरी यादों ने डेरा डाला है.

आज चाँद भी कुछ इस कदर इतरा के आया

के दूब की घास पर ओस की उस धुन्द्लि सी बूँद ने

कुछ पल और जीने का फ़ैसला लिया है.

इन यादों में तेरा कुछ इस कदर बसेरा है

के मैं भूल भी जाउ तो तू चौखट पर आ के 

मुझे हौले से आवाज़ दे जाता है.

चंद पीले फूल और उनमे वो बैंगनी सी छटा

उलझी उलझी सी ज़ूल्फ़ो में उन पंखुड़ियो का उलझना

तेरी आँखों के वो बदमाश इशारे और तेरा 

तेरी उंगलियो का मेरे बिखरे ज़ुल्फ़ो में पिरोना

और दूर कही सूरज का मेरी आँचल से फिसल जाना.

कभी कभी फ़ुरसत के नर्म छादर में

बेतरतीब तेरे बिना जीना भी-शफ़ाफी है.

दूरिओं में भी महकी नज़दीकिया है.

सच! उम्मीद कितना खूबसूरत है

उम्मीद कितना खूबसूरत है.

Bublé is growing fast. The bone you have bought for him is already finished  I have clicked a photo just now and am about to attach it. But wait, let me not send you any photographs as I am afraid your almost no net connectivity would not let you see it. I better not clog the server.

If time and network finds you, take the ordeal(pleasure?) to make a call. Lemon cheesecakes are in the oven and they now need my complete attention. Will write to you soon again.

With much love
~Olive

We are a FAMILY!

We- the Indian bloggers- together are no less than a Family and hence very aptly justify the punch line of our beloved Indiblogger that goes as ‘No other place I would rather be’. Calling Indiblogger just a ‘group’ is downright offence to our emotions and attachment towards each other. The only world that describes us precisely is FAMILY.

Because it’s in a family only where there is an amalgamation of every kind people and yet we never fail to accept and love each other completely. Where else a shy and reserved girl like me would be accepted so wholeheartedly? I have always find it difficult to find my own space amidst a large crowd and hence was a bit terrified to be a part of this amazing Pantene Nature Fusion Women's Indiblogger Meet even though it was going to be my 2nd meet.

As I have already tasted this vintage wine by attending the Meet sponsored by Dove hence this time the fear was much less but the jitters were still there. But yes then again the excitement to be a part of such a wonderful event never left me alone.

Inside my mind the ‘Reserved Me’ and the ‘Excited Me’ were going through a tough battle. Even though the ‘Excited Me’ won the battle, the ‘Reserved Me’ was not ready to let it go that easily and hence I decided to be a part of this Meet only after the ‘30sec of Fame’ part was over. The partner in crime in this atrocious act was none other than my blogger BFF Akanksha. Instead of heading the venue on time we both decided to hit Select City walk instead. After a satiable amount of window shopping and sulking over the fact that we can’t buy anything because of the Shrads, we decided to make a move to ITC Shereton that too only after gorging on junks available in McDonalds.

We were already late by an hour or so but were basking in the glory of skipping the intro session. Giggling all the way we finally entered the ‘Ballroom and Dynasty’ and were mesmerized by the breathtaking beauty that was awaiting inside. Large round tables surrounded by comfortable chairs were welcoming us. It was truly a grand affair with beautiful satins and fresh flowers in earthen pots adoring every table. Shades of green and white soothed my eyes and soul instantly. But the excitement that rushed through my body when the blogger friends whom I have only known virtually till then recognized me and asked me to join them, was matchless. I mean I am just an ordinary blogger who does not even blog regularly is recognized by these famous bloggers! And not only that they immediately showered their immense love on me. I was truly touched. Where else this happens? Nowhere else other than in a family called ‘Indiblogger’.

Mahisasuramardini- A Tale of Idol Makers

Dilli has been through the hands of many rulers and they say, Mughals are the creator of this COLOSSEUM. Like a newly wedded bride, Dilli had been decorated by the hands and hearts of the Mughal Emperors and others alike. Be it Eid or even any Hindu festival, emperors like 'Akbar The Great' had always accepted and celebrated them with equal aplomb. The mighty emperors are all gone and their empires are in ruin now but still the charm of those merry making festive colours are as fresh as the first mist of the season. That’s what life is! Nothing remains but the memories associated with it.

As a Delhite Bong, this seems to be a déjà vu. Durga Pujo for me is like 'The Nectar of the Gods'. Like a skylark I patiently wait for the essence of 'Kaash flower' buds to bloom, the hermes of autumn. Just a soul is needed to hear the melancholy of the celebration and to view the riot of colour which Dilli is holding tight in every nook and corner.

I frequently miss the beats of DHAK and the 'Nilanjana' of a maiden here. But, far behind, what we really pass over are those who are the actual impressionist of all this essence, the clay idol makers, a small community fighting for their existence. I've made a little effort to present them with, if not the lime light then at least its shadow. I visit them every weekend and see the idols of 'Maa Durga' slowly coming to life. A visit to the backyard of C.R. Park, Kali Bari, New Delhi, this weekend, has finally made me ask some heart touching, self-rendering questions, intending to feel the depth of their hearts, as deep as possible, their challenges and their struggles.

The idol of Durga has already taken shape in the backyard but is yet to take colour.. now is the time to ask what then is this Durga - the central figure of the Bengali heritage? After giving it considerable thought I came to the conclusion that Bengalis are schizophrenic and simultaneously exist in parallel realities.

Celebrations live long. Generations after generations.

This work is dedicated to all the Idol makers who are in the dark side, far away from recognition. It might be God's blessing that motivates them to keep doing their job with undiminished pride. 

Let’s listen to them ...

When there is nothing much to say.

My search for solitude

Stops at the threshold of your eyes

The ethereal peace swims there

For a split second I am revived

The search goes beyond

And rests on your lips. 

~*~

Up in the lonesome mountains there was this shanty tea stall. Rain, fire, old kettle. And two wooden stools...still robust. Rain drops dripping in. And Chai in some cheap paper-cups. :)

काश ऐसा होता के तू

मेरी इन् अँखियो को
पढ़ पाता.

कहने को तो कुछ भी नही है
सिवा दो चार बून्दो के.

तू ढूंड तो ज़रा...
और कुछ भी नही है.

सिर्फ़ तेरे
सिवा तेरे.