Go Goa in car!

It’s real. It really is. I traveled to Goa in car from Mumbai! The journey was like it is in films, where they show a particular character traveling over a particular map with a dotted line which progresses and then stops at a stop.

The journey was like it is for a cloud floating away in the sky at his own pace. For me it was like revisiting my yesterday. I have spent about 8 years of my childhood in a place which is very close to some of the places we passed on our way. We crossed Satara on our way. The sugarcane farms reminded me of the neighborhood kids who ran behind loaded bullock-cart, pulled sugarcane sticks out, and savored it with nothing but their milk teeth.

Every big town on the way was like a milestone. It was like a life packed in those 11-12 hours. We rejoiced at every significant stop. It gave me a back-ache. It also gave me a big grin.

NH-4 the highway was the road taken. It has fields on both its sides. In the middle of the road, the island is pink, white, yellow and amber with flowers. After a while as the car raced and kept racing I felt the thrill of a wild horse racing away with his full force.

The landscape looked so familiar to me. It wasn’t a very clear image, it was a blur memory. At times so blur, it felt almost as if I was remembering my past life.

The roofed houses, as we went off the highway, made me wonder who lives there and what kind of a life she leads. The small lane crossing a small village must be someone’s routine walk back home. How it must feel to walk on that road everyday? I wondered. Maybe I know the answer to that. I know how it feels to wake up in a house where you have birds building nests in your garden. I know how it feels to walk on a mud road.

I was seeing it all closely again.

At the speed of the wind

When I was a kid I believed that a time would come when I would need to ride a cycle. The time would come. Then I would know how to paddle, without any prior experience with the cycle. I would visualise myself ride at the speed of the wind, behind something I really needed to chase.

The knowledge of something that is deep written within you, you don't feel the need to touch those words everyday like you do to a scripture. The pronunciation is not a sound,it is blank with information. Like a paper with inkblots, so many of them at one place.

It's like visiting the old structure and knowing where every staircase would lead. You never ventured there, but in the depth it reflects, like a blue plan an architect drafts and knows the building with the blue lines more than the walls that grow old.

Always a train it is for me :)

It's 2 years that I was in pune..I came home many weekends. Not a single time in car/bus. Always a train it is for me :) I like the whole feeling a lot. Going with bags to the station, seeing a train there..It feels like a journey in train. It feels you are travelling far. I like checking the sheets and figuring my name on it and then going and figuring my seat. I like the feeling of giving myself up to the train to take me where she wants to take me. I am not at the wheel, the train is.I sit carefree looking out of the window. No passenger gets to decide the route. I like that feeling a lot. My hand on the window, my cheek resting on my palm, my eyes to the horizon. I love it.I love walking in the unsteady train.

Train makes me feel it's taking me somewhere wonderful. I like looking at the stations on the way. I like to observe people a lot. When I was a kid and when we would travel from Phaltan to Mumbai in train I would always make a friend end of the journey. I would love the train to wait at Karjat and see the Vada Paav guys running alongside the train. I had loved it when the train waited at some station and everyone said the place is known for its shreekhand and rabdi.I had loved it when the train got delayed when we were going to Lucknow. In the middle of nowhere, in the night we waited.

The 2 kids got off at some obscure station just for the thrill of it. Their parents were sleeping. The three of us were awake, taking in every moment of the journey. I was relieved when they returned just as the train was about to start.

Behave like a kid

Kids are amazing when it comes to being patient with us adults. They never give up on us. Happy Birthday to you ..happy birthday...he sang it for me today (on phone). At six, my nephew he is really going in the right direction when it comes to making a woman feel special. I will not be surprised if he gets flowers for one of us one of these days.

We discussed important things once he was done with his singing. I told him I had some stuff for him. He asked me the names. Kunfu Panda, Wall-e, Toy Story, Finding Nemo. Wall-e!- I have the Cd already. Now I wanted to sound up-to-date so I went on and told him that Wall-e toys had come to malls. He very patiently told me that he had seen them already. I told him I found Wall-e toys very interesting and we needed to go shopping for Wall-E toys.

Then he checked on my progress. Last time we had met he hid his disappointment from me as he had thought it to be too cruel to show it upfront on my face. He had said it was pretty okay to not be able to drive straight on those roads. It happens to all first-timers. And then my car had jumped into that lake only just twice. It's understandable that everyone is not a natural driver. He would teach me. He would work on me, so that next time I drive our vehicle it would be on the road and not on the footpath.

"married women dont blog awhat???"

They do blog. I got married on 9th dec, 2008.

As a kid, when my older cousin sisters got married, I had believed marriage had changed them into people whom you cannot talk to like you did before. I always looked at it as if it was some line you cross and when you stand that side of the line it’s like those olden day Amitabh Bachcan films where he is running and in a couple of strides he is suddenly a 6 footer.

Now as I have crossed the line I have realized the difference. It’s not like those films. It’s like that fairy tale when the ducking wakes up to realize it’s become a swan. It’s like the swan’s first graceful steps. All the years you had before this day reflect in your eyes and you see your childhood as clearly as nothing before. The tear of happiness and the tear of leaving your home behind become one.

The love you see in your parents’ eyes make you go so weak and yet so strong. Its only love that makes you so strong that you feel ready to walk those steps into a new life. The kid I am is still a kid. Yes, I feel more like woman now..with the way I touch my new home. But the kid I am is still a kid. As this kid feels cherished so the woman feels loved.

Before the wedding day I would tell myself that I am not leaving anything behind. It’s just that my heart would grow in size. Now as I stand this side of the line I know it’s like that actually. Today as my younger cousin sister looks awkwardly towards me I smile..I reach out to her with ease.

Special Thanks to Revathi the friend who said, "married women dont blog awhat???"