Pursuit Of Happiness

The last week has been hazy, with exams approaching, the Clasico fever burning right through my head, the World Cup in its final stages, and with words flowing after a drought of posts as though the dam just collapsed all of a sudden! In the past week, I’ve written about optimism and hope, about family, about food, and the list goes on and on; and to sum it up, I’m happy. Not happy, that’s just a highly downscaled impression of what I’m feeling right now, so I’m going to use words like elated and exultant and blissful (I went on a bit too much).

We all know that family is one of the most important aspects which builds happiness in a person’s life, and it does in mine too (on the lines of optimism and hope). A personal favorite of mine is food, which you will know if you know me enough, and I must say that now I’m quite bored of writing about food. (I just can’t handle the hunger which goes into the post.) Being a fitness fanatic, I’m a huge fan of sports, especially cricket and football, which are quite the trend these days. Being a fan of both playing and watching, sport makes up quite an integral part of my daily timetable and also of my happiness.

It’s said that a blog is quite the epitome of the author, and his words echo his thoughts. It’s quite true when it comes to me (blogging is the most helpful stress buster), and I had a phase in between when songs were all that I wrote about. Free verse poetry based on my interpretations of the songs, and I did get some comments about that too. To be honest, music is another personal favorite, and if you visit me, be prepared to have your ears blown off ‘cause music is what makes me think, move, and run.

There are those songs, those moments which take us back, and push us into the maze of exhilaration, of acceleration, by bringing a grin on the face. But is that all? People and things? Are these the only ways to bring a rainbow of cheerfulness into life?

Not really. Not at all.

There is one last bit in my life, which has slowly set in and has got itself a niche in the corner of my heart, and that piece is what usually clicks; allowing me to get lost in the labyrinth of delight. Writing and my blog- the sure shot which works to raise my mood to heights nothing has ever done. Being together for over two years has been quite a task, but we have managed to live by very peacefully, and I must say that I am extremely elated to have it in my life.

This is the list of things which make me happy. To add a dose of cheer to your life, click here (http://cokeurl.com/96jnc).

The Show Must Go On

A tear dripped down his face as the flames rose high into the sky, taking with them the one important person he had had. The heat enclosed him, and he wiped away the lone drop, standing glassy eyed, trickles of sweat flowing generously down his brow. She had been the one who taught him all he knew, and he was all he was because of her.

He hadn’t been able to thank her ever, nor had he told her how important she was to him, he had just let her go. Following his dad’s footsteps, he had gone on to become a joker in the same troupe, but he had improved the act, and with his mother’s help, the same mother who had just left him all alone, he had taken his performance to a high such that the audience wouldn’t leave without experiencing his presence on the stage.

There was a hole now, in his heart, and in his life, something irreparable, a wound which couldn’t be healed, a loss which couldn’t be sustained. His eyes intently gazing at the rising flames, he lingered for a moment longer, as though waiting for a miracle, and then walked away, a bent silhouette outlined in the darkness of the fire.

The silence highlighted his presence as he walked down the street, a shadow in the dusk. The sky rose to greet him, a conflation of hues, blues and purples and reds and yellows, as the orange ball dipped, and with it dipped his head. He fell to the asphalt, unable to hold his emotions inside for even a moment more. He rocked under the pressure of his heart, and his eyes let it all out in torrents.

Suddenly, his sobs were broken by the ring of his phone, and with a deep breath, he received the call.

“Yeah, I’m on my way…no, I’m fine…I’ll handle it…I’m just coming…”

Wiping his face with his sleeve, and halting the flow instantly, he walked away, with a purpose, with a reason to go on, to strive. He would have to do it for her.

An hour later, the audience laughed, holding their guts, as a clown danced around the stage, making fun of himself, mocking people in the audience, playing with animals, and in the end, falling in a heap, and crying. The painted smile had turned down, and the enjoyment of the crowd was mirrored in him, as he lay on the stage.

They did not know him, nor did they know how n who he was. They laughed on his tears, and he cried for her, he longed for her. As he bowed down to the audience, he flashed them his smile, and for once, his heart smiled, after long, before disappearing back into the abyss of absence, and loss.

This was just an act, for them, not for him.

As he walked off the stage, he murmured to himself, “The show must go on. It never ends. That’s with life too.”

Happy Forever

Today it is,

The day it all started,

When you both came together,

And never ever parted.

Standing hand-in-hand,

You are made for each other,

Be whatever situation,

You always stood together.

18 long years shared,

In blissful unity,

May you remain like this,

Till the date reaches eternity.

Wishing you both, Mom and Dad, a Very Happy Anniversary. May you both obtain more happiness with each other, and may you remain together till eternity.

PS: There must be a huge party as your bond is now an adult…;) :P

An old image of the lovely couple together...:)

Nostalgia

The truck purred down the lane towards the tiny building at the end of the rocky lane. There I stood at the top of the stairs, waiting for the vehicle to come to a halt. This was the day my life changed, forever. I walked down the stairs, the heavy bags in my hand; and behind me followed my dad. In tow were two more burly men, carrying the television set, and the queue continued. Into the truck went all our belongings, and our stuff; but there was one thing which stayed back, memories- and they were what we couldn’t take with us.

This was an event I had gone through a year ago, when I shifted to a new house. Today, I sit in my room, staring at the walls, reminiscing the past, and trying to piece together the past I left back in the form of memories. But all I get back at the instant are the blurred images, and I hope that I can get those happy images I couldn’t carry back with me.

“Karan, come for dinner! The foods almost ready! Complete your writing work after eating,” my mom shouts from the dining room, breaking the trance I am in.

Reluctantly, I get up from my place in the corner, and walk away with a glance at my puffed-up face in the mirror, holding back a grimace. The kitchen is next to my room, and as the food sizzles on the stove, its fragrance captures me. And it all returns.

There I am, sitting next to the stove, with a book in hand- dangerously close to the flame, yet feeling so cool. The onions simmering in the hot oil in the pan, with their succulent smell enticing me away from ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’. I turn, in my usual weird kid style, with mom staring with wide eyes, scared to the utmost level, to face the hot oil with its delicious looking onions. I put my hands into the dangerous cavity and start gobbling the onions, as mom looks on, fear along with a tinge of red in her eyes.

As though kicking off a chain reaction, they all return. Those wonderful moments spent gorging the food as it cooked on the hot flame. Alone in the day, and with dad at night, this used to go on whenever the delicacies were prepared- eating the fried potatoes made for ‘Alu Palak’ and the Pavs for ‘Pav Bhaji’; the papdams for the staple ‘Sambhar and Rice’, and the other savories. The moments pass in front of my eyes, and I smile. But there still is a large portion which remains blank. I walk ahead.

As I wash my hands at the washbasin, the pungent smell of hand wash burns through my nasal cavity. My hand travels unknowingly to my elbow, where stands the great scar, a reminder of my fall as a kid. But that is not what simmers in my eyes. With the water lapping up the lather on my hands, I slip back into the past.

My hisses permeate the room and so do father’s sighs. The gash on my hand stings under the influence of the sanitizer. Dad blows air on it to soothe the pain as I hiss with my jaw clenched and hands closed tight. At this moment, I can feel the same pain, the same love and the same care of my dad as my hand rubs on the oddly smooth skin. The image clears.

Mom standing over me, watching me apply the sanitizer on my elbow, again. Shouting about not taking care while playing, and all of the rest which we all hear as kids. She takes the cotton from my hand and dabs deftly at the wound, making me yelp in pain. It had all seemed like torture at that time, but now, the memory presents me with a reminder of the love and the care. And I smile.

The sweet smell of incense burning in the dining room wafts into my nose as I walk into the chamber, a smile decorating my face. Grandma calls out to me to continue our latest discussion about the story of her daily soap opera, her voice drowns into the backdrop and the chants return.

Grandmother, with her long silver hair, praying with a volume so high that God could surely hear her voice in Heaven, and me down next to her. In my blue pajamas and matching shirt, I lay on the floor, playing precariously with the burnt incense powder. Grey soot, yet hot to touch, it burns my skin as I touch it and at my soft whelp, grandmother turns to me.

I don’t know how the conversation turns, but I am made to stand in the witness stand again. A criminal, a culprit- all for the fact that I detest bananas and do not eat them (I still go through these conversations, but it’s lighter now). “You should eat bananas. If you do not like them, then eat them as a medicine, one a day. You stay awake so late into the night, and eating bananas will give you the strength.”

The spark glitters in my mind, and I return to present, I realize the conversation has reached the point it always ends at. With smiles, and a new glow on my face, I make a hasty retreat, now furnished with various memories, old, happy and joyful.

The emptiness in me is replenished as the smells trigger the time machine of my brain and bring back those moments which I could not remember normally. And I am happy, and I smile. It is truly a ‘Smelly to Smiley’ moment for me.

This post is written for the Smelly to Smiley Contest by Ambipur. You can get more information from their Facebook page by clicking here: www.facebook.com/AmbiPurIndia