Recently I read this book named "A Long Way Down" by Nick Hornby. In this book one of the guys, named JJ, who wanted to commit suicide by jumping off the roof of a building, said "I had wanted to kill myself not because I hated living, but because I loved it. And the truth of the matter is, I think, that a lot of people who think about killing themselves feel the same way. They love life, but its all f***** up for them. We were up on the roof because we couldn't find a way back into life, and being shut out like that...... It just f******* destroys you man. So it's like an act of despair, not an act of nihilism. Its mercy killing, and not murder."
Now now now...... what I understood from the whole statement was that he was just trying to justify his act of committing suicide to himself. At the end of the day we all are answerable to ourselves and nobody else. So we try and convince ourselves that every act of ours was for an adequate and acceptable reason, and he was doing just the same.
Tell me why would one want to die if he loves life so much? Why wouldn't he try to sort things out? Why would he want to kill himself and leave behind his family and friends, whom he loves so much?
One is not shut out from life, one deliberately shuts himself out of life. We all are quite capable of finding our way back into life. Its definitely an act of nihilism and murder.
People who say they wanted to die because they hated life are at least being honest to themselves but I really wanted to know why exactly would any one who loves life want to die.
If any of you think the way JJ does, do explain it to me.

LOVE.........

"The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved, loved for ourselves, or rather loved in spite of ourselves" - Victor Hugo

Imagine a world where you get up in the mornings but nobody wishes you good morning, a world where you fall sick and nobody prays for your speedy recovery, a world where nobody shares your joys, your sorrows, a world without birthday wishes; basically a world where nobody loves you.
Would you like to live in a world like that? At least I wouldn't.
The power of love is immeasurable, be it the mother's love for her child, the man's love for his lady or a friend's love for his fellow friend. In all its forms love is beautiful. It is the belief, that we are loved, which pleases us and gives us a reason to live.
Get up every morning and thank God for giving you the privilege of being loved and don't back out when you get an opportunity to love someone.
When was the last time you told your mother that you love her for being awake during your exams, when was the last time that you told your girl that you are madly in love with her, when was the last time you hugged your brother and thanked him for saving your a** whenever you were in deep shit?
Let people know that you love them instead of assuming that they do, and do that before its too late. You might regret your assumptions later.

A Mutilated Soul or a Happy Life? - You Decide!!!

Few years ago, my friend Akhila, or Akhi as we call her, came across a bunch of college going guys, in their early twenties, encircling a 12 year old girl. The girl was in her school uniform, a white shirt and a navy blue skirt which almost touched her ankle, her hair was oiled and braided and she obviously was too scared to move. Akhi walked up to her, held her hand, walked out of there and dropped her home. Those guys watched in silence.
Even we come across such incidents in our lives, what do we do then? Do we gather the courage and are human enough to help the girl or we pass by, just like others do?
Every 3 minutes 4 women are raped in different parts of the world. Akhi did not contribute to these statistics. In spite of being alone and belonging to the "weaker" sex she confronted them. She could have been their victim too.
Even we can prevent a case of eve teasing from being converted into rape. We can't go and hunt for these events, but we can definitely prevent them if we come across them.
Every human being has the right to live, live happily. A rape mutilates the soul and leaves scars which hurt for the rest of the life. Nobody deserves this kind of suffering.
So you decide - a mutilated soul or a happy life?

P.S. While you were reading this, somewhere in some part of the world 2 women were being raped.

The Ladies Dabba

From the time I became a regular on the Mumbai locals, I wanted to pen down something about them, specifically the ladies coach. That is because I believe this is the only place where you get to see drama which holds your attention more than any saas-bahu soap ever can, pure action without any fake special effects unlike the Hollywood action flicks, jaw dropping adventure better than the adventure shows on National Geographic and comedy which will tickle your funny bone more than F.R.I.E.N.D.S did. In my daily commuting on the locals totaling to 2 hours I get to see all of this - LIVE and EXCLUSIVE.
I never understood the reason behind the chaos created for getting onto the locals. One of my friends rightly said that people struggle so hard to get on, as if every train is the last train from India to Pakistan. The generally quiet, saree clad, middle class working women suddenly become superwomen. They actually jump into a running local, struggle past the entire rush, fight with other such women to secure a seat for themselves, and all this is done in a saree.
People run to get a window seat, if not that then the second, third or the fourth seat, if not that then a place to stand between two parallel seats, in the aisle or near the doors and finally if not that then just any place to stand. So in conclusion, they are always running.
Once settled, the various activities include gossiping, knitting, celebrating birthdays and festivals, singing and many such other activities. But the number of people settled is much smaller than the ones still struggling. Now if by any chance one ends up touching or mistakenly hurting another lady, then the profanities these ladies use can put the goons from U.P to shame. Amongst all this, vendors sell various articles and occasionally you may also find a lady with a basket full of live crabs, which are about to fall any moment.
But it is in this very same ladies dabba that you find, the same girl who had won her window seat gives it willingly to a pregnant lady or an older woman. Its here that you find the same loud and quarrelsome ladies rushing ahead wholeheartedly to help anyone in need.
Traveling in the locals has become a way of life for these women, whether they like or hate it. Still they smile, celebrate and thank the very same chaotic, crowded, sweaty local everyday for the service it is providing to them. Loud, funny and little loony, it is only them who can enjoy a long and tiresome journey in a jam packed local.

Good Ol' Days

This is dedicated to all my wonderful friends. They are the most amazing bunch of people you will ever get to meet anywhere in the world.
They are lunatic, broke and extremely irritating but they are the ones who make my life absolutely rocking.
From conspiring against our teachers n fellow classmates to running away from school by telling creative stories to chedofying guys in the parks to standing in the middle of the road and shouting at the top of our voices for no reason at all, we have done it all.
Man those were the days, the good old days.
Its been four long years since i parted from them but believe me life hasn't been the same. Made a lot many friends since then, who are good, but something essentially is missing - the masti, the bindaas attitude, the ability to laugh at ourselves, the innocence, the pure, unselfish and undemanding love and most essentially the freedom to be ME.
Today I can eat at any god damn fancy restaurant but I miss the hardships I had to go through to get one bite of a pastry which was meant to be eaten by six persons.
Today I've the money but I miss searching my entire bag to arrange 5 bucks to eat, the now horrible but then delicious, MTR ice cream.
I've slimmed down and look much better but I miss being the fatso I was, being teased by them and their act of pulling my cheeks with so much of affection.
One day we all had to move away from each other but my turn came too soon. But when I look back I really feel glad about the friends I've been gifted with.
I'm glad that in this ever changing world our friendship has remained constant.
Those guys are something.
Love them all and miss them a lotttttttttttttt.

My Best Friend

In the thirty five years of my life I made quite a lot of friends. Anybody would have, thirty five years is rather a long period of time. However, ever since i can remember I've had just one best friend - Buzo. Buzo was tall, had very soft hair, four legs and a long tail.That's all I can tell you about Buzo's physical appearance, that's because I had never seen Buzo, that's because I'm blind. People said he had beautiful brown hair and brown eyes.I didn't know what brown colour was like, however I still at times imagined how he must have looked like. I think I had the correct picture of him in my mind.Its not necessary to see someone to know how he looks like, you sometimes know it inspite of not having seen him.

My parents had brought him home when I was eight.He felt like a little, soft ball of wool. From the moment my parents gave him to me, we stuck together forever. We played together, ate together, slept together and grew up together, although he grew much faster than I did. He never treated me differently like others did. Neither did he make fun of me nor did he pity me for being blind. He loved me for what I was.

I remember talking to him for hours. Oh yes, it is possible to talk to dogs. They understand you. Buzo could make out when I was sad or happy. He knew all my secrets. The best part was that I knew my secrets would remain with him. He listened intently and never had any free advice to give.

He would sit by my bedside for hours when I fell ill.He didn't give me any medicines but he did something that helped me recover faster.I still wonder what it was.

I met Alice when I was eighteen and Buzo was ten. I think I had bugged him a lot at that time. I had so many stories to say and he heard them all and never complained. He was very happy for me. I knew it.

I moved in with Alice a year later and so did Buzo. One evening when Alice and I returned from walk we found the house frighteningly quiet. Buzo was not barking the way he usually did. I got very scared and asked Alice to call the doctor. He said that Buzo was aging and these things would happen more often now.

It was then that something struck me, all my life I had thought that we would be together till the rest of our lives but the truth was that we would be together till the rest of his life. Somethings in life are very difficult to accept and this was one of them.

I had never realised that he was aging and that one day he would die. I just wasn't prepared for it.

Days passed by as Buzo became more quiet and less active and one day it happened. I got up in the morning to take him for a walk but he didn't. I didn't talk for days. I t wasn't about losing a pet, it was about losing a friend. It was about losing someone who loved you unconditionally. He never asked for anything but love. Only if humans could love each other the way Buzo loved me, world would have been a better and a happier place to live in.

Today I live with my wife Alice and my two wonderful children, however I still miss my best friend. It's been almost fifteen years since he died but no one has ever been able to replace him in my heart and I wonder if anybody ever would.........