Sunday, November 27, 2011

Bike rides

This love affair of mine started when I was probably four, my Chachu in Roorkee was a crazy-for-motorcycle-teenager and I was his little Miss India so he would always take his Miss India on long bike rides and even let her accelerate once in a while. It is such a beautiful memory still. In fact, I distinctly even remember him once getting scolded by my grandmother because we came home drenched after a ride in the rain.

Like many other things that one forgets and moves on, bike rides were one such thing. My Chachu grew up to be a responsible husband and father and his Miss India grew up to be a sincere and non adventurous girl and so life went on without any thrill, any wild romance.

Then one day, it came back, out of the blue. I with my friends had gone to Mt Abu for a trip and thanks to a few biking enthusiasts, we took 3 motorcycles on rent and went round n round in circles around the Nakki lake. It was refreshing to the core and I loved each nanosecond of those rides, the trip was over but the love for bike rides was renewed.

From that day till today, I have been looking out for opportunities and people so that I could get a ride and what wonderful rides I have got. Only yesterday, a colleague took me for a ride to India Gate. His bullet makes this ear-drum-breaking-noise which I lovingly call soulful music now, the sheepish me also told him, be a tad bit fast so that I could get a jump on the speed breaker and whoa what a kick I got! I mean it was just out of the world, by the time my ride ended I came to realize that I love bike rides, I love the wind kissing my cheeks and blowing my hair, I love the feeling of being free, of being uninhibited on the roads and that I Wish I could do this more often and by myself K

Thursday, November 24, 2011

I endearingly call her my favourite aunty for she is beautiful, affectionate and my mommy’s close friend. She and her husband looked like this picture perfect couple, handsome, stunningly dressed and flamboyant. But my mommy said, they aren’t half as good as they look for they don’t have any children of their own. It was sad as both of them wanted to have kids but infertility and its lack of acceptance for a long time had put age behind them. Adoption, I thought in my head, can’t they adopt a child, wouldn’t it solve everything which entangled them, wouldn’t it make their lives happier, wouldn’t it give a new lease of life to someone somewhere. But I couldn’t ask her, when the question continued to bother me, I asked mommy. She told me that favorite aunty wanted to adopt but uncle wouldn’t ever agree, but didn’t he also want a child, yes he did she said but again to love a child like you would love a child of your own is not as plain as it sounds. He would rather lead his life without knowing the joy of being a father than trying to be a father of someone else’s child.

One day a few years later, favourite aunty called mommy and said “Alka, you are a maasi”. My mommy couldn’t get the import of it and it took her two minutes to realize what that statement meant. Soon, there was a smile in my mommy’s eyes, yes the favorite aunty and uncle had adopted a child. An infant had come in their home, from a faraway place. But I didn’t understand, why now after twenty years of marriage, why now when all these years he wasn’t convinced about adoption, when did this change of heart happen and why. What favourite aunty told was an unbelievable fable to the ears. She and uncle were holidaying in Assam at her sisters’ place, the sister casually mentioned about a young couple getting separated and leaving an infant under the custody of an old woman (the child’s grandmother). The sister lamented for the child and left it there but the favorite aunty didn’t. Surprisingly, even the uncle didn’t leave it there, didn’t he always want a child. In no time, favorite aunty and uncle met the child’s grandmother, the legal formalities got completed and when they returned from the sister’s place, it wasn’t just the two of them but a third one, who through his big eyes stared at his new house and parents.

Mommy told us this and we rushed to meet her and the child, oh what a bundle of joy he was. Fair complexion, ruddy face, thick hair, everyone said he resembled uncle and he really did. In a few days, he also started managing their lives, sleeping pattern, eating ways, all of it was dependent on this little boy who was their son. He is now a naughty boy of five and the darling of his father who once thought that all that mattered was his blood and his wife’s womb. When I remember all this today, it forces me to believe something which my grandmother says with all the conviction she has: the people we meet, love, lose, cry for are the people we are meant to..

Friday, November 18, 2011


Oh I love the winters chill

But sadly some they kill

While I get cosy in my soft quilt

They shiver in the cruel wind

When I bathe in the luxury of hot

Sometimes snub at the dirty lot

I sleep in the cold; carefree like a queen

But for them it is an elusive dream

For I have a house, a room, a bed

And the other side just a rickety shed

A small thought and a share of your wallet

Is all that’s needed to give needy a blanket

For that poor might also sleep

And we smile at our lil good deed

So, come one and come all

Let’s make this winter as beautiful as fall!

Genesis - I got to know about the Blanket Distribution Drive in Delhi being spearheaded by a group of IIM Ahmedabad graduates and that is what triggered me to write the above poem. Please get in touch with me at in case you would want to be a part of this drive.