MIRROR OF MIND

It was around 1pm, as I headed towards a restaurant for a family lunch. The occasion was Rakshabandhan. After parking the car on the opposite side of the restaurant, I started crossing the road. I was still half the way when I felt something tickling my feet. I stopped for a moment and started flipping my saree from left to right. Before I could realise that I was doing this awkward act in the middle of the road, a tiny grey thing quickly hurled and took a shelter near the road divider. Oh! It was a baby squirrel; caught on the wrong side of the road, trapped in the busy traffic. Though it was a baby, it was quick, restless and clever, just like its adult counterpart. It cleverly tried to climb the divider, but unfortunately the sides were too high to climb for this tiny creature. The poor thing was almost stuck in the hustle-bustle of the traffic. And I just could not leave that cute little creature all by itself. Before it could run away, I carefully caught it in my hand. I waved my

If you are a woman and happen to see a series of hoardings screaming 'SALE' or '% Discount', on every cross-road of the city, I bet you can't ignore it. And believe me, I am no different. I don't know about rains, but sale is definitely raining cats and dogs in Ahmedabad. Crossing umpteen similar hoardings on my way to office, the conscience of a shopaholic, only grew stronger. Even during hectic work, images of 'upto 70%' and 'Flat 50%' flashed in my mind. In this situation of crisis, colleagues always come to rescue. Thanks to like-minded colleagues, they accompanied me to a shopping spree, as they too were going through anxiety about the entire 'sale' hoopla. We explored many retail chains and malls. At one place, only a small section in a huge store offered discount, while in the other store, though they promised discount upto 50%, what they offered on various clothing lines and accessories was not even half of it. Slowly we realised

It was yet another boring day at office. After completing my quota of work, I decided to entertain myself with some 'breaking news' or 'gossip columns'. No sooner I clicked on one of the news sites, second to the most important breaking news read: Top model Viveka Babajee commits suicide at her Bandra flat. I was stunned. And shocked. The name rang a bell not just once but many times. Looking at her picture cleared all the doubts – I had seen her, met her and conversed with her over a glass of fruit punch. I go in the rewind mode <<<< and pause the button at the appropriate event; I push the play button. It is 30th October, 2007. I have completed one month as a trainee journalist with DNA Newspaper; but the newspaper is yet to launch in Ahmedabad and it is going to launch tomorrow – 1st November, 2007. I am all excited for two reasons: For successfully completing one month at work in a city which is totally new to me, and secondly for the launch of DNA. The

If you happen to pass through The Gujarat University in Ahmedabad, you cannot miss the sight of an old, rickety table, loaded with books. One evening, when I was on my way home from office, I came across this banner which read 'Patel Typewriting'. As I was on my two-wheeler, I slowed down a bit and on a closer look, I found a sexagenarian hidden behind the tall towers of books, sitting with a black machine. “Looks familiar,” I thought. Ah! It's a typewriter (I saw it nearly after a decade). And immediately my mind slipped into flashback. Going down the memory lane, to my 10th grade, TYPE was considered an easy and scoring subsidiary subject. Naturally, I chose an the easier one for me – Type. Then was the time when 'Type Classes' raked in moolah by taking up space in every nook and corner of the city. I could hear the 'thak thak' of the type bars, the moment I parked my vehicle in the parking area of Vijay Typewriting Institute, where I went for my c

Switching homes especially after marriage is a Herculean task. While you want to take every treasure that belongs to you in the past 20 years, you realise that your second home can only accommodate a part of it. In the dilemma of what to take and what to leave one often leaves behind some important stuff and the same happened with me too. I misplaced my ATM card of the account which I frequently used earlier, before I opened my official salary account. Recently when I went home – my maiden home, for a day’s visit, I planned to search it at few particular places were I usually kept it – like the upper two drawers of my study table or the book shelf. The moment I opened the first drawer, I discovered it was a complete mess. Being a cleanliness freak I could not believe that I hadn’t cleaned the drawers in years. However, I had to anyway ignore the mess and move ahead in my mission. Amidst all the confusion of where possibly can my ATM card be, my mind was screaming to tell that it has to

I felt as if a ‘time bomb’ was ticking in my handbag. The moment anyone came to know about it, I was in a soup. Yes! That day I was on my way home from a bank and the ‘time bomb’ what I thought was a huge five figure amount I was carrying with me. After a sabbatical and paying off the dues, I decided to close down my salary account with a reputed bank. After going to the bank and completing all the formalities, I learnt that the final amount in my account will be handed over in cash right then rather than transferring it to another bank account. A chill went through my spine hearing this… a cloud of fear surrounded me. My mind quickly went in a flashback mode where the headlines of that day’s newspaper screamed: ‘Ahmedabad: Gujarat’s underworld HQ’. Yet another incident I recalled was an article about a businessman being robbed from a bank near Mithakali. I tried to calm down and caught hold on myself. After counting the amount from the teller, I carefully put it in my handbag; zipped

Those were the days when bicycle seemed the most exotic vehicle on earth. It was the time when you were graduated to senior class and it was the time to flaunt you cycling skills. Evening time was mostly spent learning and balancing the bicycle; sometimes with balancing wheels on either sides and sometimes without that extra support. When these wheels were removed, there was always someone ready to provide that required support from behind by holding the carrier of the cycle – your Papa. With each push to the paddle you knew your confidence was growing and that was due to the security given by someone who cared for you more than you did for yourself. The open sky, the chirping of birds, blooming flowers and green lawns, all seemed to congratulate you as you almost learnt to ride a bicycle. Feeling happy you looked behind and suddenly… you discovered that the person holding your cycle had disappeared. You were too nervous to even call out his name. Within a fraction of a second you real

And this time it was dogs. All these years I looked upon dogs as cats’ enemies, though I had no personal grudge towards this faithful breed, I stayed away from them being over-protective for my cats. But now that I have shifted to a new place, and have no cats around me… I became quite friendly with the stray dogs of the building. Frisbee, a female dog, often visited our neighbour who pampered her with rich diet and cozy blanket. White in colour, she shone like a pearl but only when given a bath. She had lots of fur on her body and fallen ears; her eyes were naughty and expressed more than a man’s eyes usually would. Even a sight of hers would light up my face, after a tiring day. First thing in the morning I would do was, go into the balcony and call out her name from the fourth floor. And there she would show her face on the ground floor with wagging tail and tongue. As soon as she turned three, she gave birth to six puppies. Just out from mother’s womb, they were still curled up on

Having pet animals around you is always a delightful experience! (Only for those who love animals). Besides being good entertainers, they can be good listeners, companions, and even family members. I can very well derive that from my personal experiences. Though totally different when it comes to characteristics, cats or dogs start belonging to your family from the day they enter your family; and you wont even realize that. As a kid, I always heard an adage: Dogs have masters and cats have slaves. And after spending 20 years with cats under the same roof, I have started believing it. Right from my childhood I have been surrounded by not only one but two-three-four and even seven cats at the same time; so much so that I have lost count of the names of my cats in the past and running short of names in the present. I still remember how I missed my cats during lengthy hours in school. My first activity after I retuned home, was to look for them in every corner of the house. Sometimes a sno

It was 1am, as me and Falgun came out of the cinema hall after watching yet another ‘time pass’ flick on the run. Our eyes were drowsy as we managed to fit ourselves in an already overcrowded elevator to reach the car park in basement. As we cross the dead, cold cars in the basement to reach ours, Falgun is busy cursing the filmmakers. ‘Chance Pe Dance’ the movie was yet another chewed subject of struggling actor trying hard to find his footing in Bollywood played by Shahid Kapoor, whose love interest is played by Genelia. The haywire script left the audience in confusion. “Such movies are just another chance for the producers and filmmakers to dance with our money,” Falgun said and I agreed. “This is not we look for when we give up on our time, money and sleep,” he grumbled again as he turned the car key to open the door. ‘Thuck’ went the door twice as we closed it and I curled up cozily in the car on a chilly, winter night. We slowly drove through the way to reach the exit where a se

After a heavy dose of IPL match, I was surfing channels on television to cheer up my soul on an otherwise boring Sunday evening. Suddenly a ticker flashed across the TV screen on one of the news channels. It said the ATS had nabbed a terrorist suspect from a posh residential area in my city, Ahmedabad. In a country where glamour and cricket were the only two TRP grabbers, lately terrorism is the third and regular limelight-hogger. And today after cricket, yet another terrorist had successfully managed to hog the limelight, I thought. After zooming in the camera on the suspect’s covered face (God knows why do they cover the faces of such shameless creatures) and showing pointers on him, the footage shifted to the residential apartment where the culprit lived since past couple of days. My heart skipped a beat when I read ‘Parishram Apartments’. That’s exactly the same place where my uncle’s family lives. It definitely came as a shocker to me, while my other family members panicked. As we

Those days I stayed as a paying guest at Judges Bungalow. Though the house was a bit over populated with nine girls in one apartment, the feeling of being independent and totally on my own thrilled me. It was for the first time that I was out of a cocoon, my own home in Baroda. Never having experienced a hostel life, this place and experience in a metro city – both were fantastic. My flat-mates were either college students or freshers in the job set out on a new journey with hopeful eyes. One evening when I returned ‘home’ after a hectic day of meeting celebrities and filing interviews, I came across a new flat-mate – apparently the 10th in the apartment and also seemed a bit out of place. She must be in her late forties or early fifties, but anybody can be mistaken by her lean and fit body. However, the streaks of white hair and wrinkles near her eyes gave up on her age. I hurriedly went into my room and animatedly asked my room-partner about her. “Guess what? Gupta Aunty just gotta n

These days it has become truly essential to mention about our ‘status’ while conversing with somebody; weather we are talking about our real or virtual world. The other day when I was talking to a male friend on a random topic, he suddenly interrupted: “Hang on, what’s the time?” “It’s 5’o clock,” I replied “Gosh, I burnt all the recipes in the kitchen…” he thumped his head in disgust. “Finally, you started cooking,” I said. “No re,” he gushed… “I am talking about my virtual Café World.” OMG I wondered. How easily can a consciously random discussion be engineered into a subconscious Café World! It’s sometimes even more amazing when we become so real in our virtual world. How our characteristics reflect our virtual ways. The other day Falgun was playing Happy Aquarium, (a game on FB that includes feeding fishes and cleaning neighbours’ aquariums). Being back from tour after a long time he was liberally feeding his starved fishes. On seeing a huge dow