A Lethal Drop...

No its not about poison... but this drop is even worse... its the verb... drop... Drop of the phone....

so here i am... a typical mobile user... who sometimes suffers from the butter fingers syndrome... that means.. everything slips out of your hands... that includes your precious cell phone....

my previous phone had taken the beating pretty bad... it had fallen from my hands on various occasions... yet it bore on patiently..... i had dropped at least once each month for the 28 odd months that i had used it....

it soon showed signs of the damage when it failed to recognise the SIM card for an entire day... then one day the back light failed.. but on both occasions it returned to normal without any intervention...

the lethal drop happened... few weeks back... i dropped it when getting out of the auto.... and it was gone forever.... chivalry no longer exists... the auto driver was quicker than me in realising that i had left my phone in the auto....

why this post now? that incident was two weeks old... shopping was the best healer of the wound and i immediately shopped for the next phone i would use....

this post comes now... for yesterday.. was the first time i dropped my new phone.... unlike one time where my previous phone slipped out even the sim card... i only managed to get the phone into 3 parts.... luckily no permanent damage...

i hope i don't carry on with the trend of dropping the phone that often... the dread of losing it in an auto still exists... for now i am enjoying my time with it...

long live mobile phones and prayers that i don't lose it....

Baby in the cradle..

It was her first pregnancy. And looking at her face it was obvious that it had been a mistake. The face of a 17 year old but pregnant and single. A failed love affair which had left her with a broken heart and a baby in the way.

The pregnancy had reached point of no return before she had the guts to tell her parents and that left her with the little choice in life. The solution they sought was simple. Move away to a foreign country to avoid the shame, wait for the delivery and give away the baby soon after. Life would never be the same. But then someone would adopt the child and their daughter can move on and she can live a life that her society would approve of. The chapter was closed.

Savithri held her latest pregnancy test in her hand. The look on her face said it all; it was negative, once again. Married for 7 years, they had postponed children for the first 2, and ever since regretted the decision. The last 5 years had been a painful ordeal, trying to conceive. She had been healthy all her life and even the doctor felt so. But her uterus was a little weak after the 3 miscarriages she had suffered. And ever since, anxious to have a child, every effort had been made.

Temples, medicines and advice from elders came in the hundreds. The anxiety was the villain the doctor opined. But then nothing would cure her of that. Vikram, her husband, supportive and understanding, bore on. He did certainly want a child of his own, they loved each other and it seemed perfect to have a child that would bear witness to their commitment to one another.

The decision was not easy, but was finally made, adopt a child. Vikram's uncle had suggested it. Her friends thought it was a good idea, her family felt otherwise, her husband wanted time to think. They thought of all the reasons they could not have one of their own. Present day and science had all the solutions, but they didn't appeal to her as the right thing to do. The rationale was simple, "Lets give a child a loving home". That helped her make up her mind.

The procedure was long, they had to register with only one children's home, multi-registration was not allowed. For a new-born baby they'd have to wait and it may take over a year, a waiting list would now include their name also. The income criterion was not a problem, as Vikram enjoyed a successful career and Savithri herself was making good money as a computer instructor at a nearby IT institute. Another requirement was for a minimum 5 year long, childless marriage. That was easily accomplished as it was the very reason that had brought them there.

The waiting began.

The young 17-year old, just celebrated her 18th birthday. It was not a very happy celebration as she was due for delivery in another couple of months. Something had changed in her. Repenting the folly of her thoughtless act and wondering about what lay ahead of her, wondering whether what she was going to do was right.

Her parents had been supportive, lucky girl. But they wore the scars of heartbreak and shame. Life as she had known had turned upside down. Her new school was good. People did not ostracise her nor did they stare at her. Her student counselor had ensured that she did not feel left out. Life was looking brighter than ever.

The cramps had started. The baby was not yet due and with a few weeks left, she had taken the chance to picnic with her new friends. It was shocking, not like any pain she had felt before. Her friends panicked but soon gathered nerves and called for an ambulance. The next few hours were the fastest, the speeding ambulance, the rush to the operation theatre, the decision for a C-section and the crying baby.

Savithri had been waiting for a call. The waiting list had been long and she had hoped that a baby boom would shorten her wait and end her anxiety. Her routine had changed; the doom and desperation she had felt had also vanished. Though at times she pondered about her fate, the thought of a baby cheered her up. After all, the idea of giving a good life to a child appealed to her as the right thing to do. And a child would giving meaning and purpose to her life. A mutually beneficial arrangement.

Neetha was recovering from her anesthesia. Her hands immediately traced her flat stomach and scanned the bed for the baby. When she opened her eyes, it was her mother looking down at her with concern. The baby was in the incubator as it was 3 weeks premature and underweight. It was a boy.

The next few days she spent on her bed being told that the child was still in critical care and cannot be disturbed. She yearned to see her new born, but the tubes and monitors she was herself attached to, refrained her from doing so. It was only after a few more days that she realised what had happened.

The phone call that came stirred up the anxieties in her. It was from the children's home. A child was available for adoption, a one year old infant girl. Cold feet was something Savithri had not even felt on her wedding day, but today she experienced the icy chills running down her spine. The idea of adopting a child and the hustle and bustle associated with it had kept her in high spirits all this while. But with the d'day staring at her, second thoughts felt unavoidable.

Vikram was driving rather slow, and that gave more mileage to her thoughts. The preoccupation was something that cannot be missed easily. She wanted to turn back and head home, adoption was out of her league, she was just a regular lady, and she cannot love another's child as her own. But by the time she could talk Vikram to make the u-turn; they were already inside the children's home.

The administrator had worn a skeptical look the whole time; last minute change of mind was not unusual. Despite wanting the children to get adopted, they wanted to also ensure that the children reach the right homes. In-decisive parents would only hamper the child's progress. The year long wait also served as a test for the parents.

Savithri held the picture of the toddler in her hand, the bright eyes and rosy lips and cherubic face would appeal to anyone. Her hands trembled as she passed it on to Vikram, the turmoil in her mind could be easily read by him. He had secretly visited the sleeping child the previous day. The decision from his side had already been made.

The baby was gone; her parents had given it away while she was still unconscious. The anger she felt coupled with her helplessness allowed her to react only with an angst filled scream. Her world crumbled, she had been denied even the joy of seeing the face of her dear one. Life had been unfair to her and had been mean too. She lunged at her parents and wanted to tear them apart. Her weak body wouldn't co-operate and she fell on the floor in a huddle.

The crying of the child woke her up, it was right beside her. It had been a dream, her baby boy lay screaming beside her. A normal child, kicking and wailing while he waited for his mother to wake from her anesthesia. Her fears had become monsters in her imagination. Her parents stood beside her bed as she stirred up, they had been waiting by her side all the while. The tears didn't need any prompting to form; she was filled with some remorse for doubting them and joy at the sound of the child.

They were now a family of four. Neetha had decided to keep the baby; she would live up to the challenge of being a single mother. She could not punish the child for her mistakes. As she left for college, her parents waved goodbye holding their grandson in their hands. He was now the joy of all their lives. A happy ending to a bitter experience.

Savithri was busier than ever, the cradle had been decorated and all the guests had arrived. It was merely for fulfillment of her whim that she wanted to put the toddler in the cradle. Even at just one, Ananya was a handful and putting her in a cradle and keeping her there for a few minutes was a mammoth task. The initial few days with her had been difficult, but as the days wore by she accepted the two new people as her parents. Ananya, unique as she was, completed the puzzle to a home and the happy family celebrated her arrival in the company of all friends and relatives. The cheers and laughter rang through the walls of their home, their hearts now filled with joy. Savithri was beaming joyously as she held Ananya in her arms.

A Dark Dream..

Waking up is something normal. But not for me. I woke up from a coma they said. I remembered nothing.

"Anita you will have to stop being so silent. I know that this has been a very traumatic experience for you and that it all feels so unfair. Are you listening to me? Why are you so keen on wasting your second chance." Dr. Rekha was my therapist. Ever since i woke from my coma, she had been counselling me. The depression that set on me after realising that i had lost all memories, drove me insane. It was only through her that sanity was restored. "Anita", she went on,"listen dear, life is lying ahead of you, you have such loving parents and a caring husband. Atleast for them you will have to move on. Old memories are great. But life is full of new ones. Get out there and start living. Start creating new memories for yourself. Don't waste this second chance. Do you know how lucky you are?"

There was a lot of truth in what she had said. It was extremely painful to be unable to recognise your loved ones. My parents had broken down when they saw that i could not recognise them. My husband was more strong at heart and reacted in a more matter of fact way. I had fallen from the stair case at home and hurt my head. I had remained unconscious ever since only to wake up after two months with a clean slate for a brain. It wasn't entirely clean though. I remembered my languages, sights, sounds, whatever was required for normal life. Except the most important thing, all memories of the people i Love.

The house seemed so strange and new despite all the photos i had seen of it. Sanjay had taken all steps to ensure that i would not be surprised by anything or anyone. It was a crash course of who is who in the family. No memories does not mean that the people i forgot are out of my life also. Nothing had changed, except for me.

He was my husband, but i couldn't feel it. But yet we shared the same bed, for i did not want to burden others for my fault. It was my carelessness that i tripped off and rolled down the stairs. Everyone had suffered enough and i wanted to be the Anita that they all knew and loved. Tyring to be myself without even knowing who i was. The thought haunted me.

After spending almost a week with me at home, Sanjay finally left for work. I was home alone, not frightened but thrilled. I could finally explore the house that i had lived in and maybe find something about myself in turn. All i heard so far was that I was a sweet person, always helping and forgiving and liked to be quiet and enjoyed being at home. A wonderful cook and a perfect wife. I still felt that wasn't the answer i wanted. More than the roles i played and how i played them, i wanted to know how i thought and felt about the things i felt. And that's when i started searching myself.

The kitchen was the first fort, i scanned and scourged and ended up tidying the place. Apart from finding money hidden away in cookie jars, i could find nothing. The living room and bedroom too yielded nothing. I had noticed that my wardrobe was neatly stacked, maybe i had a penchant for neatness, as even in this search i couldn't resist cleaning the kitchen.

Finally i reached the attic, the darkest and most neglected place of the house. With a light at one end, i had to use a torch light to rummage through the things there. In contrast to my cleaning abilities, this was a mess. I was now confused. Who was I?

There in the corner i noticed, a small space hidden behind some stacked cardboard boxes. Felt like entering a cave that showed signs that early man once lived there. I had signs that someone had been there before. A reading light lying there stood proof to that. I felt i was edging on something.

Sitting in that corner gave me some peace, a rush of emotions seemed to surge from within. I turned on the reading light. There lay strewn on the floor some doodles and torn bits of papers. Then it caught my eye. Tucked in the corner between the wall and a box was a black book. I knew it was something that belonged to me.

The first few pages were all dreamy, it was me as a 17 year old penning some words on love and friendship. Then there was a break. Then there was a note about first day in college. A few erratic notes on how boring the lectures are and about the bad canteen food and the spicey pani puri that had upset my stomach. Again a break, a leap in time. It was a note on the grand engagement and how Sanjay was the best man on earth. It was all hunky dory.

But deep inside my heart was troubled. A bad feeling about reading the book kept devouring me. Suddenly i realised that it was late, time to stop reading and get moving. Instinctively i put the book back to that same corner and re-traced my steps back, leaving no clue as to where the sanctuary existed. For a strange reason i felt that it had to remain a secret.

That night at dinner he noticed the change in my face. I had to explain that I was trying to remember things. He took my hands in his, looked into my eyes and said in a soothing voice, "You don't have to be so hard on yourself. The past is past. Lets make a new start. Stop trying to remember." That is where i noticed. His voice was soothing but his eyes looked mean. I didn't know what to think of it and resorted to small talk till dinner got over. That night he held me tight in his arms till i slept off.

The next day was a frantic rush, a rush to be alone and be able to read through the pages of my journal. It was sweet, it was a poem that Sanjay had written for me while on our honeymoon. It was stuck to my journal for it was love. Some entries were scored out and some incomplete, they were the usual stuff of how the day went and how speaking to an old friend had been fun. Then i noticed the change. My handwriting had changed and so also the nature of things i wrote and then the page had a few wrinkly spots. It was dried tears.

I was shocked, what i read i could not believe. He has been the sweetest and most supportive husband and yet my journal said that he was a monster. As i read on, it became evident that i was fooled once again by his demeanor. The guy was just faking it, being nice and sweet to hide the viciousness he hid inside.

"Jan 15, 2010. Today Sanjay slapped me for no reason at all. He was watching TV and i called him for dinner. The rage in his eyes frightened me. This is not the man i married. He has changed so much. Every day the torment increases. I don't know why i am unable to stand up to him. I hope this ends soon. But why is he so violent. Mom and dad will be very upset if they know this. But how long do i go on so? I don't know what to do. I am scared. He is scary."

It was now very confusing. Why had i been such a coward? Why did i not stand up to him? The pieces started falling into place. Maybe i didn't fall accidentally off the stairs, maybe i was pushed. Had i been bolder this day would never have come. I could have had all my memories and my life back. Not like this, with no memory of a past, with no identity.

"Mar 23, 2010. I have had enough. I can't take his slurs and insults anymore. I am a good girl. I deserve a life better than this. I am leaving him. I have decided. I am going to MY HOME tomorrow. Goodbye Sanjay. Hope the devil takes you. I hate you. Rot in hell."

Guess what, Mar 24 i was admitted into the hospital, unconscious. Piecing the puzzle together was not difficult. Surely he was there when i fell down. He sure was capable of it.

Maybe i was a coward then to stand up to him. But then today i was a stronger woman and I had no intention of wasting my second chance. I had made up my mind. There was no looking back and no postponing. It was time to put an end.

It was not difficult to locate the nearest police station. The journal did all the talking. The rage in his eyes was evident when he was being taken away by the police. I had nothing to say to him. All i could say was "Rest in Peace Anita".

Super hero...

I wanted to be a superhero....as a child.. but realised that there are few requirements to be fulfilled....

1. Must love tights.... i mean from almost head to toe u will be covered in something tight... and u must learn to be comfortable with that...

2. Have flashy underwear..if u have to wear it outside it better be good...

3. Have a hot-bod.... seriously.. if u have to strut around in tights you'd better have a six-pack abs / good curves...

4. Secret boring identity... u have to have a boring name and a boring job.. and seem like a coward... that's the best way to hide away all your super powers...aka be a regular guy/gal....

5. Super fast changing ability.. step into ally and step out in different clothes.. step into phone booth and step out in your costume... etc etc.. u should be able to change clothes in the blink of an eye... least anyone catch u whilst changing..

6. Locomotion... pertains to means of transport and not anything else regarding digestion excretion... ability to fly most preferred.. u can avoid traffic... tele-porting is even better as u can save lots of time... but if u have a Bat-mobile kinds... ensure it can fly too... it's even better if it can convert into a boat...

7. Invisibility.. its a cool power to possess... other preferable cool powers are Super-strength.. super-hearing.. super-sight.. super-speed.. laser-eyes.. fire body... but i wouldn't prefer fire much... u can burn anything.. and if all your clothes are not fire-proof... you are gonna be fined for indecent exposure in public...

8. Super-name.. you need to have the right one... Super-man/woman already taken..Batman/batwoman was a click but then RATman is not a good idea... so are Pig-man and Chicken-man... Postman is another bad choice for superhero.. would work for a boring identity though.. the name should go with who you are... Shakthi-maan was a good choice....

9. Formidable villain.. a bad villain is to a good super hero like thick milk is to good cheese... always have a villain whom you can ultimately overcome... the hero should always be victorious...

10. Side-kick... this is optional... having a side-kick of the opposite-sex / sex you are attracted to.. will only hamper your super-hero work.. avoid company of such people when on a mission...

When all above conditions are satisfied... a Superhero / heroine is born....

Its a true copy..

Yes its true... a movie and director that i was going crazy for and ranting about... has turned out to be a copy...

worse still is the fact that the director did not give any credit to the original...

i was so appalled knowing this as i was a big fan of his movies.. i have seen each one of them and have loved them all....

though the movie is his baby... he should have given credit to the original...

surely Woody Allen would have been pleased to see his movie Annie Hall in an Indian version... Tamil, Telugu and now even Kannada in the talks...

After all paying a sum for the copyright and giving credit to the original would have been the honest thing to do....