What lies in a name!

"What lies in a name,?" a note ironically  undersigned by Shakespeare and underrated by the inhabitants of this nasty world. This phrase may have little repercussions for those with "socially acceptable names," but a life-long stigma for those who were forced to dislike theirs --courtesy, the ever tormenting race called the 'homo-sapiens.'

Born in the laps of unadulterated hills, my name Reshma, always evoked a sense of pride for me. The genesis of the same being that my father chose to name it naively with the thought that the attached 'ma' syllable would remind him of his mother. Whether it really suits the purpose, I know not for I now know a quite lot of other "so-called-societal acceptable-fancy-names," which could have served the same purpose. Yes, like every household my name was distorted to get a pet name and I have since then forever remained, Reshu for my family and Resh for my friends. I remember fiddling through my father's old dairy and coming across a note dated, 22 December 1989: "My dear daughter Reshma turns 1." The name held so much weightage for me and it instantly evoked a smile on my face. Being academically proficient I was always my teacher's pet and loved it when they took my name in the classroom. How happily I stepped onto the stage, every time one of my favourite teacher -- Miss Eugene -- announced my name to felicitate me with academic/non-academic certificates. I particularly remember Class Xth, when I came home with 10 certificates and my mom joked if the principal had been too fond of my name to have it across so many certificates. 

Soon, I had my first ever experience in a co-educational institute. There was a plethora of mixed feelings. Being from a strict convent school, initial interaction with the boys always brought a sense of nervousness. The usual exchange of friendship/proposal letters fluttered us girls (the ones who had switched along with me) with lame giggles. But one thing remained constant, letters always addressed me with my first name. Never an awkward moment there! My ex serenaded me with several poems which always had a sweet description along with my name. 

However, when destiny and my stubbornness planned to send me to Delhi, my name no longer remained an asset to me. I was ridiculed the day I landed the city by my cousin's friends, who giggled the moment my cousin introduced me to them. I could not get it and later when I naively confronted my cousin, she told me and I quote her exact words, "Arey yaar, tera naam to ek b-grade film ka hai..."Reshma ki jawani".. tu to yaha already famous hai." That is probably the last time I met her friends as I was just too embarrassed to meet them again but then I thought to myself may be it's only them.. I wouldn't have to face similar situation again but my self-made assurance was short lived. A week later I moved into the hostel and during the dreaded hostel ragging night, I was once again ridiculed by my seniors due to my name, with one of them even telling me,  "kya yeh movie dekh ke tera naam rakha hai?." I was the butt of some really nasty jokes for a long long time, with my roommate even changing it to "Reshmi Kebab" for it suited me better. I was happy to be called that as long as no one associated it with that defamed movie. My graduation college too had similar incidents and I vividly remember visiting a friend in her college and then feeling literally teary eyed when later a male friend of her's texted, "Yeh Reshma ki Jawani cute si hai." Was that even supposed to make me feel happy? My name became my stigma and everywhere I went I felt awkward to introduce myself. The only place I could openly feel comfortable hearing my name was with my school friends. The rest only made me feel suffocated. The first time I came home for holidays I fought with my mother over my name and so much so that I even told her I was contemplating on getting it changed. She was shocked and in turn rebuked me over my silliness. The negative city life had started showing on me. The same followed me during my post-graduation college however by this time I had matured to laugh at my own name. Everytime I introduced myself to someone, I would wait for them to ridicule my name and at times I too joined in saying, "Oh, yes I know what you are thinking." I found it awkward when people called me by my complete first name and would find solace in just being called Resh. I still carry the abbreviated name as the registered username for most of my social accounts. It gives me a false assurance that I won't be ridiculed here atleast. I have been made to feel embarrassed even at my office and have successfully been able to put up the brave demeanour that it does not affect me. I am fortunate to have my family and close friends, who when call me by my first name, call it with a sense of belongingness and a sense of pride. Times have changed me where I feel more comfortable hearing the curated names but it has also made me stand up against the discomfort caused by rude comments. The stereotype jokes now sound boring. Acceptance and peace with self sure does provide the tolerance level. However, I really wish people were a little sensitive with their remarks but the way the world is heading, I am unsure if this would really be a reality! 

Till then, hoping some Reshma really shines bright and her feat overshadows the embarrassment she would otherwise face! 

Maze

Sometimes the journey of life feels like I am caught up in a maze trying to find the only route to reach my destination. With a multitude of people trying to outbeat me, leaving no trails behind, I often feel like a loner. At times I stop and look back to see what I have left behind.. But things seem discerning and obscure..As if trying to mock my situation and warn me of the dangers ahead... But at times they look at me with a glistening charm as if trying to me tell me that it is a journey worth taking for..  Strange how we all set forth to open the same door of happiness but chose different routes that ends up defining and at times also dictating our lives.. Lost and confused as we may seem.. We know there is no escaping this maze.. What awaits us we know not.. We end up finding strangers in one section of this entangled path who befriend us and then we no longer find ourselves alone.. Some accomplish the journey with them by entering doors that can accommodate two people to move on to the next section of this maze.. While some lose them when there two alternative doors that can accommodate only one.. How we end up reaching there, we know not! Perhaps the creator of this game can tell us better....

All I know now is that there are alternative routes to reach the same door of happiness.. While same make this journey worthwhile with the company of a matching wavelength.. Some make compromises and move ahead... But I am left questionig.. Will the door to happiness take me to another maze? I know not.. For I am yet to reach my destination!!


P.S: yet another attempt to write a happy post.. Yet another failure!

For she knew...

Off-late life sure has been a roller coaster ride, the discerning fact being that the ride has only befriended gravity and is yet to go against it...

Felt like lightening my heart a little...

With her feet buried deep within the wet sand,

She held her head soaring high up in the sky..

Clinging onto an illusionary wall of faith,

She knew ‘the maker’ was still writing her story..

Shaken by fear of leaving her everything for nothing at all,

She chose to never let it pass her by..

Her heart sank with the weight of restlessness..

Bound by chains of conservatism she had dared to break free.

How far she had come through, she knew not..

For all she knew, that his love was all that she was fighting for..

For all she knew, that she would make through..

Life.Hope.Reality

Often disjointed words come together to give a new meaning, that otherwise would never have been though of. Life, hope and reality- is how I chose to name this unplanned and irregular out-pour of thoughts. Listlessly browsing through the past posts, I wondered why did I chose to name it so? How do life, hope and reality find a connect with each other?


Life, a continuous process interrupted only once, when the time deems fit.

Hope, an array of yearning wishes and desires.

Reality, a mirror reflection of how things really are.

Perhaps in this daily pursuit of a new tomorrow, I yearn a small packet of happiness that is forever there to stay. What seems a sparkling splash of water, turns out to be a mere mirage.

 And here's what a hopelessly in love had to say one day :

"I want a life where dreams come true, the sun-kissed sand covers up my naked feet, my physical being meets my shadow-in-guise, a small raindrop falls on my face and smears me with its holiness, love sustains my existence, I get to watch the beautiful play of sunset as close as I can from the horizon, the moon beams its light upon me and awakens that long lost dreamer in me....."

And so I feel .

The clouds of self doubt encumbered her,

Her shadow; now a long lost friend.

The feeling of emptiness choked her all night,

Days of peace, now an enigma.

What she set out to achieve

had left her astray:

"Hello darkness", she whispered:

An accomplice in her struggle to break free.

The chains of denial began to rust,

Leaving a mark of age old submissiveness.

Love was now a mere figment of imagination

Acceptance, now a setting sun.

A look look into her eyes gave away

what her lips struggled to deliver.

Caught in the abyss of solitude,

Escape, now a long lost friend.

Ever wondered how it feels to completely switch off from the earthly affairs? To completely submit to one's own being and let the course of life move ahead without you.

Attachment is a fragile string that keeps you hooked onto a deceptive reality. When the string breaks, you find you own being to be your only saviour in disguise.

At times no words seem comforting,  no excuse seems workable.

You feel like a hollow pot, sucked out of happiness

Hello , says innocence.

30 days of homecoming!
Boredom started taking  a toll on an otherwise boring self. Here, where I was defying impatience by saying to myself " This is a much needed break, such a chance won't come my way again", someone else taught me the real virtue of patience today.

9.04.2013.
Meet Mrs Arati Bajla: An effervescent lady in her mid 30's. The most voracious reader I have come across, a repository of interesting tales about the quaint little town, a fashion enthusiast, a keen lover of arts and crafts, a traveler and a truly a lady of substance.

Meet Tushar Bajla: A young lad, unfortunately suffering from acute Cerebral Palsy but possessing the ability to charm any lady around with his banters, his innocent ways and with his positive outlook towards life!

Kabir Bajla: A young 6 year old miscreant,adopted by the family, who wonders why is he the odd one out with a darker complexion! To which his mother replies: " Lord Krishna was born with a similar complexion and you my child, are the Krishna of our family" . Words which will make sense someday, for now he perhaps buys this as a genuine conclusion.


Not knowing, what the experience would be like, I set foot into Greenwoods, the residence of the Bajla family alongwith my sister, who was keen on me meeting them . Having been led straight into their garden, I met Tushar, painting on a canvas and his mother engrossed in reading a book. "Hi Tushar", I said. He didn't seem to respond. When my sister said the same, he cheerfully looked at her and broke into a smile. Having finished with his painting, he asked his mother to clean the canvas, so that he could start anew. She ensured that he cleaned the painting on his own. After coaxing him hard, she finally managed to get him into doing so.

Kabir had been using dark colours to bring to life figments of his imagination. It was 3 days back, that he told his mother " I cannot see completely. I can only see faint,dark outlines." His mom was shattered and devastated, as this is the first time in years he told her he couldn't see. The doctors told her, that apparently the nerve connecting his eyes to his brain was dead and he had not been able to see anything at all, throughout the years! He according to them had been imagining figures, a claim that perhaps cannot be substantiated. Imagine the plight of his mother, who through home tutored classes, promoted him to class 8, oblivious of the fact that he had not been able to see anything at all, only the verbal lessons had so far made sense to him.

Coming terms with reality, she has now discontinued his schooling, but is now looking for novel ways to teach her son, what a normal class 8 scholar should be knowing. Tushar is yet to be told this, till then he is enjoying whiling time in the company of his pillar of strength, his doting mother. He has never seen television, but loves listening to music! His younger brother has joined violin classes and perhaps, this supposed fire cracker of the house, will someday turn the sound of melancholy into symphonies of cheerfulness.

While leaving, he did not say me goodbye! But, he said some of the most inspiring unspoken words!

The patience with which he cleaned the canvas, the child-like way in which he finished off his melted ice cream and the whimsical way in which he answered his mother, has surely left an indelible mark in my heart!

I have no sympathies for him, as he is way above needing any! I only have utter respect for his being and the way his family has made him lead the most amazing life, he could have ever imagined.
I have some inner guilt for most of us seem to be living in a make believe world, where impatience is the call of the day!

Inadequacy of oxygen, at the time of his birth, is perhaps the reason for his plight, but he is the one who is breathing life into  this family.

I have not been able to put across exactly what I experienced today, and this definitely is one such instance where words have failed to be by my side!

Life sure is beautiful is you deem to see it that way!.

Tushar and his shades of optimism

And Sometimes..

Seldom do we get something the second time around! And when we do, we know its for eternity. (Well, that’s what she chooses to believe in). Every effort of her’s goes into making this thing last for real.

She challenges time, so that good times are there to stay.

She fights the wind, so that the memories of togetherness aren’t flown away.

She illuminates the dark so that a new tomorrow is born again.

But at times, she asks “Is it really worth that effort?”

At times she questions, "Am I dreaming to big?"

Some questions we always seek.

Some answers we never get!