One day, I suddenly realized that I probably write a lot more on my blog when I'm sad. And not at all when I'm happy. So here's a new resolve - write when I'm happy too.
So let's see. I'm happy right now - decently happy. Have fought my way to happiness over the past few months, and I'm enjoying it while I can :)
Today, I'm in a town close to Boston, at my client site. Have been travelling to this part of the world pretty frequently over the last few months - this is my 4th visit in the last 4 months. But this time, there's something different about my trip. I'm here without any of my seniors travelling with me; I'm almost here on my own. Now that - is a lot of responsibility when you are working from the client site. Till now, I have had zero client interaction (usually seen as a tick mark you need to have as you grow in a consulting career). But this week promises to be different, and challenging. It's a little scary, but I'm enjoying it.
Anyway, looking forward to the next 2 weeks. Also, I'm spending my weekend in downtown Boston, so excited about that as well.
Also, I've another reason to be happy - I finally wrote my 1st restaurant review, and it got posted on the Foodiebay blog. For people who are interested, here it is:
http://crunch.foodiebay.com/city-of-joy-delhi/
And finally, we are moving into a new house soon - and I'm excited about that. I will miss my current home a lot, as we had done it from scratch during my undergrad days and converted a bare shell into a home. But I'm also looking forward to shifting soon, doing up my own room, sipping coffee sitting in the balconies, and being closer to that part of town where I grew up...
Till the next time!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Change...
It's raining again, and I remember the weather in Delhi exactly a year ago. Around the time I wrote my last post. Life was so different then. And so much has changed.
Yet, the rains have come again, telling me that they are here to stay, no matter how much things change in my life. They have come to tell me, that they're one constant thing in my life. And you know what?...It feels good. It feels good to have some things constant in your life.
I know that I like change - a lot. Changing hairstyles, changing furniture setting in my house, changing projects, changing sectors to work in, changing routines right through to changing my earrings. I used to change them everyday, once upon a time (my earrings I mean). My hairstyle used to change every 3 months. A haircut always meant a new phase for me, a change from the old, mundane life that it would become in just 3 months.
But, as the days go by, I have started realizing the need for something constant in life. Something that doesn't keep changing. And yet, is not boring. Or mundane.
Like the rains.
Yet, the rains have come again, telling me that they are here to stay, no matter how much things change in my life. They have come to tell me, that they're one constant thing in my life. And you know what?...It feels good. It feels good to have some things constant in your life.
I know that I like change - a lot. Changing hairstyles, changing furniture setting in my house, changing projects, changing sectors to work in, changing routines right through to changing my earrings. I used to change them everyday, once upon a time (my earrings I mean). My hairstyle used to change every 3 months. A haircut always meant a new phase for me, a change from the old, mundane life that it would become in just 3 months.
But, as the days go by, I have started realizing the need for something constant in life. Something that doesn't keep changing. And yet, is not boring. Or mundane.
Like the rains.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Of rains and me......
The first winds, the dust on the roads starting to move, being pushed out of the comfort of staying still, changing directions, not knowing where they are headed to. The leaves fallen from a tree strewn all over, starting to fly, having wings of their own - yet, like the dust, not knowing their destination. The trees, in all their glory, have only one direction to lean towards. The first drops of rain move at an almost impossible angle, and being light, get swayed away with the wind. It feels like someone's put on a sprinkler in the garden, and light, leftover drops fall on your face.
Then the smell hits you, the golden smell of the wet earth, reminding you of the beauty of nature, of the fresh fresh rain. You want to be engulfed in this smell, want it to penetrate you so deep.....you stand there, your feet refusing to move. The rain starts to pour down upon you, first gently, then with increasing strength. It tries to push you out of its way, and you resist. Eventually, you move to a more covered area, your eyes still riveted by the drops of water falling onto the ground in front of you. You walk alongside the rain, with the rain - till you find just the place you are looking for.
In a few minutes, you are a very happy person. Sitting with a cup of hot coffee, with the best company you could ask for. You look out of the window, the rain still pouring with all its force, you sip your coffee in the comfort of a closed, warm place, look across and smile. Heaven! :)
Then the smell hits you, the golden smell of the wet earth, reminding you of the beauty of nature, of the fresh fresh rain. You want to be engulfed in this smell, want it to penetrate you so deep.....you stand there, your feet refusing to move. The rain starts to pour down upon you, first gently, then with increasing strength. It tries to push you out of its way, and you resist. Eventually, you move to a more covered area, your eyes still riveted by the drops of water falling onto the ground in front of you. You walk alongside the rain, with the rain - till you find just the place you are looking for.
In a few minutes, you are a very happy person. Sitting with a cup of hot coffee, with the best company you could ask for. You look out of the window, the rain still pouring with all its force, you sip your coffee in the comfort of a closed, warm place, look across and smile. Heaven! :)
Monday, December 22, 2008
Silence...
There’s no song any more….no music. The cosmos has come to a standstill, like a muted audience, coming together to watch you in your silent world. There is no music for you anywhere, anymore
Not when you wake up in the morning, to listen to the birds chirping. But are they chirping? You can’t hear the sounds any more…
Not when you go to sleep at night…You don’t hear the moon singing a song for you…
Not when it rains… You don’t hear the rhythm in the rains anymore…
Not when you are happy, if you are… You don’t hear the song in your laughter…
Not when you are sad…You don’t hear the beat of your heart…
Not when you are trying to reach out to something, someone…You don’t hear the cries of desperation…
Not when the box of sweet memories you have gathered, tried to preserve, falls open….Not when you are surrounded by these memories….You don’t hear the music in those memories
It hurts…It hurts to be a part of a silent world, to be silent spectator, to be a silent actor. To be just a puppet in the world someone else is creating for you, and is calling it your destiny. Is it right to give you so much pain, just in the name of destiny?
Not when you wake up in the morning, to listen to the birds chirping. But are they chirping? You can’t hear the sounds any more…
Not when you go to sleep at night…You don’t hear the moon singing a song for you…
Not when it rains… You don’t hear the rhythm in the rains anymore…
Not when you are happy, if you are… You don’t hear the song in your laughter…
Not when you are sad…You don’t hear the beat of your heart…
Not when you are trying to reach out to something, someone…You don’t hear the cries of desperation…
Not when the box of sweet memories you have gathered, tried to preserve, falls open….Not when you are surrounded by these memories….You don’t hear the music in those memories
It hurts…It hurts to be a part of a silent world, to be silent spectator, to be a silent actor. To be just a puppet in the world someone else is creating for you, and is calling it your destiny. Is it right to give you so much pain, just in the name of destiny?
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Poems & Me....
The earliest memory I have of ever having written a poem was maybe when I was 10 or 11 years old and had written a poem called “A Clown”. It was a 4 line poem, which talked about how a clown makes us laugh. And then came the next one, in a couple of days. This one was called “Seasons”. A longer poem this time, it talked about the 4 seasons and what I liked about each one of them.
The next memory I have of any connection to poems is when I had to learn a Hindi poem written by Atal Behari Vajpayee in class 7. It was called “Pehchaan”. It was a long poem but I fell in love with it. Today, even after 13 years, I can recite the 1st 4 paras of the poem from my heart and a copy of it hangs on my pin board now. I got it the last time I went home.
But in these 13 years, I have had no connection to poems other than a few ones I might have read. Until last year. When I started writing poems. The 1st one I wrote after this long hiatus was a hindi one, my 1st hindi kavita. :) I was quite proud of it. will probably post it some day. Then came a few more, some of them I have posted earlier. They might not be a true poet’s poems but they reflect what I feel or the way I imagine certain things. They might not be very polished, but then I’m not a poet. So I guess it works. :)
The question is: “Why such a long gap?” Or rather “ Why poems now?”. I think it could have been a result of the fact that I had been hanging out a lot with people who wrote shayaris and poems in my 1st year. Maybe some of it rubbed onto me. Or maybe I got the right inspiration and felt deeply enough to write. Or it could have been simply the right moment. Whatever it is that inspired me to write, I’m happy about it. It helps me put down thoughts, thoughts which I couldn’t have written otherwise, thoughts which were just a part of an imagination and could only have been communicated through a poem. With that, I think the right way of ending this post would be to post my latest poem. I still haven’t named it. Maybe you can help me find a title for it. Its not among the better ones of the lot, but what the hell. :D
You sit in front of me,
Sometimes oblivious of the way I look at you,
The way I trace your face with my eyes,
The way my hands reach out to you but fail,
Sometimes you look back,
With an expression of surprise, to find me looking at you
You think you can ignore it, and look away
But you look back, and find the same stare
I know it unnerves you,
More so now that you know, what these stares mean,
More so now, when you can read my eyes,
Eyes that want a lot, but don’t expect anything
It affects you, I know
You wish things weren’t like this, that they were like before,
And I apologise for the changes, for the mess,
And can only hope to make things easier for you.
The next memory I have of any connection to poems is when I had to learn a Hindi poem written by Atal Behari Vajpayee in class 7. It was called “Pehchaan”. It was a long poem but I fell in love with it. Today, even after 13 years, I can recite the 1st 4 paras of the poem from my heart and a copy of it hangs on my pin board now. I got it the last time I went home.
But in these 13 years, I have had no connection to poems other than a few ones I might have read. Until last year. When I started writing poems. The 1st one I wrote after this long hiatus was a hindi one, my 1st hindi kavita. :) I was quite proud of it. will probably post it some day. Then came a few more, some of them I have posted earlier. They might not be a true poet’s poems but they reflect what I feel or the way I imagine certain things. They might not be very polished, but then I’m not a poet. So I guess it works. :)
The question is: “Why such a long gap?” Or rather “ Why poems now?”. I think it could have been a result of the fact that I had been hanging out a lot with people who wrote shayaris and poems in my 1st year. Maybe some of it rubbed onto me. Or maybe I got the right inspiration and felt deeply enough to write. Or it could have been simply the right moment. Whatever it is that inspired me to write, I’m happy about it. It helps me put down thoughts, thoughts which I couldn’t have written otherwise, thoughts which were just a part of an imagination and could only have been communicated through a poem. With that, I think the right way of ending this post would be to post my latest poem. I still haven’t named it. Maybe you can help me find a title for it. Its not among the better ones of the lot, but what the hell. :D
You sit in front of me,
Sometimes oblivious of the way I look at you,
The way I trace your face with my eyes,
The way my hands reach out to you but fail,
Sometimes you look back,
With an expression of surprise, to find me looking at you
You think you can ignore it, and look away
But you look back, and find the same stare
I know it unnerves you,
More so now that you know, what these stares mean,
More so now, when you can read my eyes,
Eyes that want a lot, but don’t expect anything
It affects you, I know
You wish things weren’t like this, that they were like before,
And I apologise for the changes, for the mess,
And can only hope to make things easier for you.
Monday, October 6, 2008
What’s in a name??....
The day I signed up for my blog, I was in a deep dilemma : What was to be the title of my blog? And what was to be my display name? The first one was a bit challenging but not difficult. It was fun to sit during a class and brainstorm over various names with my friend who was sitting next to me. We tried everything from the simple “Surobhi’s” to wackier ones like “Random Thoughts”, “Something fishy”, “Sleepy Surobhi”, “Stars and Fishes”, “Grey Scale Fish”, “Miski’s thoughts” and even “Miski’s fish bowl”. For the uninitiated, MiSKi is my dorm name (a nick name given to every student in WIMWI; will post about it in detail some other day). And my friend, who was sitting next to me, has (for some reason unknown to me) started calling me ‘Fishy’. Hence, so many combinations with “Miski’ and ‘Fishy’ in them.
But obviously, these didn’t sound very convincing to me. I wanted something which explained something about me, or the way I am. Or maybe, something which I believed in. And that’s when this name came up, “Nothing Grey About It”. It was perfect, coz that’s just the way I am; no greys, its either black or white, a person who sees the world in extremes. Donno if that is a good thing or a bad thing, or if it is neither, but that’s just the way I have been.
So now that the first problem was over, I had another bigger dilemma: my display name. There’s something I had never realized/accepted before: that I don’t like my name so much. ‘Surobhi’ is an ok name, but not very nice, or atleast that’s what I felt. Nicknames were used, though didn’t like them as much. I have always felt that it is of utmost importance to have a good name, and there are times when the first impression I have of a person is through his/her name. It isn’t a judgmental impression though. But yes, the name is important.
Miski ain’t a very bad name, in fact, I quite like it. I guess that’s also one reason why it got stuck. Indeed, almost everyone on campus calls me that. But I never wanted to have my display name as Miski, the reason being simple enough: Miski is just what I have been known as for the last one year or so. And this blog was about me, not just the past one year of my life.
So that was when I eventually decided that the display name had to be ‘Surobhi’. It was time I started liking my name. Infact, I quite like my name when it is spoken with a Bengali accent, ‘Shu-ro-bhi’. :)
But obviously, these didn’t sound very convincing to me. I wanted something which explained something about me, or the way I am. Or maybe, something which I believed in. And that’s when this name came up, “Nothing Grey About It”. It was perfect, coz that’s just the way I am; no greys, its either black or white, a person who sees the world in extremes. Donno if that is a good thing or a bad thing, or if it is neither, but that’s just the way I have been.
So now that the first problem was over, I had another bigger dilemma: my display name. There’s something I had never realized/accepted before: that I don’t like my name so much. ‘Surobhi’ is an ok name, but not very nice, or atleast that’s what I felt. Nicknames were used, though didn’t like them as much. I have always felt that it is of utmost importance to have a good name, and there are times when the first impression I have of a person is through his/her name. It isn’t a judgmental impression though. But yes, the name is important.
Miski ain’t a very bad name, in fact, I quite like it. I guess that’s also one reason why it got stuck. Indeed, almost everyone on campus calls me that. But I never wanted to have my display name as Miski, the reason being simple enough: Miski is just what I have been known as for the last one year or so. And this blog was about me, not just the past one year of my life.
So that was when I eventually decided that the display name had to be ‘Surobhi’. It was time I started liking my name. Infact, I quite like my name when it is spoken with a Bengali accent, ‘Shu-ro-bhi’. :)
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
"You"
Another of my poems...wrote it a few weeks back...Enjoy!!!
It may seem I have forgotten things, even you,
And this was a lie I believed in, and made it true,
Moved on with my life, to never remember the past,
I never thought one look at you would break it at last
There you stood in a queue,
Oblivious to how my eyes pierced you,
A feeling of love and hate rose in me,
And that is when I forgot to see
That you should have been just another face for me,
Just another face in the crowd,
With your ego in place,
And nose high, in vain and proud
But you were special, as I had always known,
You never let me control feelings of my own,
Every time I thought I had forgotten you,
You reappeared, making my worst fears come true
How I tried and tried, day and night,
And still I do...., with tears I fight
One day, I will let go,
And maybe that day is sooner than I know,
Till then, you stay on in my thoughts, and my mind,
With a force that is difficult to unbind.
It may seem I have forgotten things, even you,
And this was a lie I believed in, and made it true,
Moved on with my life, to never remember the past,
I never thought one look at you would break it at last
There you stood in a queue,
Oblivious to how my eyes pierced you,
A feeling of love and hate rose in me,
And that is when I forgot to see
That you should have been just another face for me,
Just another face in the crowd,
With your ego in place,
And nose high, in vain and proud
But you were special, as I had always known,
You never let me control feelings of my own,
Every time I thought I had forgotten you,
You reappeared, making my worst fears come true
How I tried and tried, day and night,
And still I do...., with tears I fight
One day, I will let go,
And maybe that day is sooner than I know,
Till then, you stay on in my thoughts, and my mind,
With a force that is difficult to unbind.
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