ghum toh bohot hain zindagi mein...
parr aap jaisa ghum kabhi kabhi milta hai...

Ignorance

After exactly two years and few weeks more, today I bumped into the control panel and all other features of my camera. Heights of ignorance ! Wait then, what were all those 200 odd pics todate about ? Photography someone said ?

Feeling as if I rode a car miles together without it's engine connected to a propeller shaft.

Now that my patience has been tested and my endurance limit just about reached and breached, I can rightly feel vindicated by claiming that there is no such thing as 'true love'.

I will settle with this fact now. Both mind and heart can happily co-exist. One knows there isn't anything for real, the other will hallucinate. Fine as long as they are at peace and as long as I am not disturbed by their activities.

A million thoughts and a zillion doubts fabricated my mind during childhood. Genuine, genius and silly doubts co-existed. Lack of intellect gave birth to half-baked ones while complex thoughts to doubts of complex order.

Unanswered questions lead to restlessness. A chain of queries turned it into a consuming affair. Looking back, I smirk at the way thoughts manufactured doubts. My plate was full of complex queries and equally silly ones. Am using these three terms interchangeably at some places.

Once, during my childhood, after much self-debate I came to a conclusion that all dogs had same faces and features. Every time I looked into a dog's face, only one question popped up ~ do they hold the same sentiments towards us ? Meaning do they see all humans with same faces too then ? Self counter. Now when I look at Chinkus, a similar question replays. No, this is not to belittle their race as such.... but I feel they are tough to distinguish. Later I wonder if its equally tough for them to differentiate from a group of Indians.

In another instance, I use to look at objects, stop and take my eyes off them. Then question myself if they put still without making faces or giggling at me, for I always felt everything around was a mere pretention.

So how do these examples fit into the theme of this post you may question. I am not exactly sure either. May be its a demo of how our minds work as a kiddu.

Childish stuff ;) . Everything is more or less the same. I still doubt, question and get restless. But on topics a 'grown up' ponders over. Not on what a dog thinks, a mosquito feels or emotions of some lame object towards you and me. Ages have gone by and now I extend the same doubt theory towards people around me. I feel everyone is pretentious.

Doubts, questions or queries of childhood are sweet and evoke laughter and love. That of an old mind can prove dangerous - breaking ties and severing those threads of belief.

In whatever magnitude doubts strike an old mind, they always possess a strong potential of damaging the strongest of foundations called trust and faith.

If It's Meant To Be, It Will Be!

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.

The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline -1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago.

It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a 'Dear John' letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael and said that the writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah.

It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.

'Operator,' I began, ' this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?'

She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, 'Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number.' She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. 'I have a party who will speak with you.'

I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, 'Oh! we bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!'

'Would you know where that family could be located now?' I asked. 'I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago,' the woman said. 'Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter.'

She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living. I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.

This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old?

Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, 'Yes, Hannah is staying with us.'

Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her. 'Well,' he said hesitatingly, 'if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television.'

I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.

She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, ' Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael.'

She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, 'I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor.'

'Yes,' she continued, 'Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often and,' she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, 'tell him I still love him. You know,' she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, 'I never did marry, I guess no one ever matched up to Michael.'

I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, 'Was the old lady able to help you?' I told him she had given me a lead. 'At least I have a last name. But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet.'

I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, ' Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that right red lacing. He's always losing that wallet must have found it in the halls at least three times.'

'Who's Mr. Goldstein?' I asked as my hand began to shake. 'He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks.' I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.

On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, 'I think he's still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man. 'We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, 'Oh, it is missing!'

'This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?' I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, 'Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward.'

'No, thank you,' I said. 'But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet.' The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. 'You read that letter?'

'Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is.' He suddenly grew pale. 'Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me,' he begged.

'She's fine ... just as pretty as when you knew her.' I said softly. The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, 'Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow.' He grabbed my hand and said, 'You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her.'

'Mr. Goldstein,' I said, 'come with me. 'We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her. 'Hannah,' she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. 'Do you know this man?'

She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, 'Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me?'

She gasped, 'Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!' He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces.

'See,' I said. 'See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be.' About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. 'Can you get away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!'

It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man. The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.

A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years!

(source courtesy : http://www.colindunbar.com/meant-to-be.html)

".....and in the midst of the zillion complaints I have about life.... I have the biggest Thank You to God that you are in my life.....
I Love you...
More than anyone &
Always... "

To be told: " you are fun to talk with ", is a beautiful petite compliment. I was told this yesterday and it made me feel proud. More importantly, the timing was wonderful ~~ when I am a bit unsure about myself and what is to unfold in the months to come.

To know you make a small difference to someone's life is an achievement. Something to be content about. Hope this feel-good state of mind gives some kind of impetus I am looking for...

When I failed for an year and more in racquet ball I compared myself to the Sehwag of 2007. Off late I was attempting some copy paste efforts on blog since I turned into an (depressingly out of form) R.Dravid of the bloggers community.

Now I can identify myself with another star cricketer who has the reputation of standing up to expectations in only one format of the game. Our own Yuvi ! ...

Life in a cricketing parlance ;)

When at 11:15 pm in a snow storm hit -10 deg chilly night, you walk out with a pair of gloves, a thin monkey cap, a 3 yr old over coat which is trying hard to ignore your bulging waist line while still trying to warmify you, and wearing a loose misfit jeans through which air blows in and out as if it passed through a newly dig tunnel, you haven't done yourself any good.

More so, when the motive behind this supposed, proposed and self- imposed adventure (turned mis-venture) in such demanding conditions is to just take snaps shots of our beloved Stankowski Field dressed beautifully in snow; I should have been well equipped with clear cut plan before hand.

Instead, I reached there with a chilly camera, frozen fingers and more than anything else ~ a half baked idea on going about my mission. For once, I lost the plot completely. I didn't know what to shoot at or how to handle my petite camera. A foolishly conceptualized and awfully executed plan I tell you. Looks like I have to settle for abstract subjects for my photography. Can't I handle different subjects and sensibly ? No variety, no good ! ...and then I dream about SLR cameras, ehh ?? Hurrr....

... hence that Yuvi correlation.

Wait, it didn't end there. How can my stories have happy ending ? If they did, they wouldn't be mine in first place. From Stankowski, I rushed into Dominos on St-9 and waited for a good twenty minutes only to be told I haven't placed my order ( which I was sure I did on line). Needless to say, me walked back grumbling. A fitting end ! ( 'doola teerindi ' is one good phrase - a mocking, ridiculing statement you can add in the comments section, if you like :P )

The only consolation during this outing were those hot pancakes being served at Brady's. With a strawberry syrup topping, they smelled and tasted yummyyyy !!! :D :D

Ooooonly Yoooou

People are only complete
when they have a true friend
to understand them
to share all their
passions and sorrows with and
to stand by them
throughout their lives....
And that is you Su :)

I disappointed myself again. Over the same issue. Not good. Just one more time and I will tag myself as a choker !

:(

I'm thinking of you again;
I do it often,
sometimes when I am hurt,
but mostly when I am having
the most fun...
wishing you were here
or wishing I were there
wishing anything in this world
we had still be together !!!

-Hiba