It usually happens with me, everytime I set to clean my house, I find junk, I find interesting papers..sometimes the letters my aunt wrote to dad in days when only telegram existed..or my dad's report card..Ah how I wish he was alive now, would have told him how bad he was in studies and how he kept chiding me to study well..
Today was yet another day. Last couple of years, I saw a transition in the way my brother relates to me. Maybe, he understood and realised the compromises I made in my life for him..bore every little thing, his behavior, yet I remained silent like nothing happened. What I found:
A card he gave me last birthday:
A birthday thought for my sister
From letting me have the best of toys, stickers, goodies,
to letting me have my way each time...
I might have taken the pampering for granted in all these years
but never your love behind it all
Wishing a truly special birthday to a truly special sister,
I remember the moment when I saw this card. He just casually thrust into my hands and walked away. My face changed as I read these words, it was really apt, it really defined the relation we shared and the fact that he realised what was happening with us. Today, when I looked at this, I just remembered him.
I have this thing of treasuring pieces of paper..I think they are priceless. As I was sifting through paper junk, I found a beautiful poem written for me by my best friend, well wisher and guide, Anurag Mathur. There can be no one really to beat him and come close to understanding me and what and how I am as a person. We lived a few apartments away in Chennai, and we caught up at poetry meets, and we became such good friends. He would sometimes sing out the songs he wrote in his college days and we would sit together and try composing it over many cups of coffee...I would play guitar and he would sing..we had many arguments, many fights. We even sing for each other, sing together, over phone..small joys..he tells me about how men are..when we met in Mumbai, I took him out for a drink at Fluid..Over a drink, I told him I was breaking up with someone and things aren't working out. He saw my forlorn face and said "This is not the Shar I know." Where is your smile lady? That did made me break into smiles..He makes me happy in the worst conditions of my life..I can write a book on him..
Here is the piece of poem he wrote for me:
To Dear Shar,
Your little corner and mine
I waited at your little corner
Until the moon rose high
And the traffic had began to fade
And people slowly stopped passing by
And then your thoughts came back
Along with the smell of the brew
As I wondered what you were thinking
While the moments flew
I watched curiously as your face
Turned from worry to despair
A slight shift of position
A subtle movement of the chair
Suddenly the sun was
No longer in your eyes
But your slowly spreading smile
Was lighting up my skies
And then you turned and rose
And glided on your own way
Leaving me in my own corner
With memories of another day
August 17, 2005.
That does say a lot about me, my tears don't stay for long, my depression does not, shaky mood swings, but I bounce back and find my own corner, alone, yet happy, in the world of my own...
Found pictures of me with my dad and my grandfather. I was maybe 2 yrs old then. Diya just looks like me, there is no change. I will treasure these pictures, some of the most admired men in my life.
Found a card from my childhood friend Mithila. We used to cycle and go to Ganpati Visarjan at Marve road as kids, hopping and jumping in the streets, with no worries..She has hand painted a card for my brother. She is now married and lives in Pune. How time flies..
Another day fading as the sun is set to hide behind the clouds?