Bin tumhaare jee lenge, iss baat par koi shaq nahi
Usey magar jeena kahenge, iss baat par yakeen kam hai
Dil mein kisi aur ki mohabbat ko jagah denge, shaq nahi
Uss mohabbat ko shiddat se lauta dein, iss baat par yakeen kam hai

Love.. and after

When the first flush of  romance  passes,
when the need to dress up always ceases
when long hours of chatting trickle to minutes
when roses sprout a few thorns
When you question will it be so soon gone

Then you look up at a face and your morning lights up
U still miss a heartbeat when you get that smile
U still blush to the toes when u get that stare
and you know that you are at peace with the mundane

U feel belonged to the routine
U feel cared with just the daily greeting
U feel trusted in the eyes
U feel respected for being you

That is when you know ,
you don't just love,you are being immensely loved
you don't just have them, you belong to them too.....

                                                           I Love You too!!


"Khuda jaane main mit gaya hooon..........."  sang the new alarm tune of Sargam. She had changed it from "Chak De India". It had rung some different sort of alarm bells in Sia's(Sargam's kid sister) brain. Anyway, it was a usual day. Nothing special or out of ordinary considering the sinusoidal mood swings Sargam was facing lately. She patted her dog, Baburam ,fished for her slippers which were under Baburam's bum and went out for a whiff of fresh air.   


With Baburam in tow she got ready for her gym and left. But something just didn't feel right. Restless, thrice she contemplated taking a detour to where she knew she would find solace. But that idea today brought fear rather than the usual naughty excitement. She vented out all the frustration in the gym. Anything to calm her jangled nerves and hyperventilating heart. But this was no ordinary flutter. It was serious this time and she knew she won't be able to maintain her facade of  nonchalance even if it brought hurt and rejection.


Sargam usually had a packed schedule - household chores, Baburam's tantrums , studies and some party usually left her little time to spare. Usually she craved for some idle time so that she could introspect but today she welcomed every task. She dreaded giving thought to the meandering feelings spiking through her whole being.


Sargam met Karan for the party. She was in no mood to go but couldn't talk herself out of it.They stayed for a while and then she coaxed Karan to skip the rest. It didn't require much effort, the party was dead anyway.Sargam had to drop Karan . but she didn't , she didn't want to. Her thoughts were troubling her again. 


Sargam met Karan an year ago at graduate school. She was all defensive, emotionally closed with a hardened facade of nonchalance. She maintained a happy composure and substantiated it with her vivaciousness and confidence. They got talking while working on a class project. Studious, reserved , serious and down to earth, it wasn't long before Karan became her closest friend at school. The project discussions on phone went on till wee hours of night when they had diverted far away from project. Karan's crazy stories made Sargam laugh and laugh so much that tears would well up in her eyes. Without her realizing, her defenses were lowering and real happiness was seeping through.


No longer lonely, she was rediscovering herself. Karan was becoming a habit. And then one fine day when Sargam was reveling in the rainbow hues of this new found friendship, the colors started getting smudged. She had fallen in love and hard. To make matters worse. Karan was happily oblivious. He never even showed any inclination. He was caring, humorous, but then he was that for everyone. All this filled her with fear of losing a friend and love in one go.


Valentine's Day arrived so conveniently during this dilemma. She didn't know what to do. She had always folled the tradition to give all her friends yellow roses. Today she was thinking of taking a risk of rejection and go for red ones for Karan. Chicken as she was , she played safe and went for yellow. But Karan brought her gerberas - her favorite sunrise flowers. She was stunned, overwhelmed. but she maintained her composure, she had good practice at that. 


That moment she decided she would take the risk. She won't let it go without a fight.


And today after three months and twenty seven days, she wanted to put an end to that war between Sargam, the friend and Sargam who loved Karan. She had realized it fully that she loved him and no less than that she would say.


A car parking, a black Santro, 8:30 pm, 11 July , eyes welled with gears and face smudged with mascara :-(( , a girl confessed her love for a guy with a heart so scared that she shook from inside with fear. OF ALL THE FEARS , FEAR OF REJECTION IS MONSTROUS.
But that day Gods smiled and while it seemed forever, magic became the moment when she heard karan say " I love you too"

Tsunami

Fringes of sun appearing,
Shadows of the moon blurring.
The incessant chirping,
the cool breeze flowing.
Its the advent of the new morning.

The moisture of dewdrops beneath,
or night rain's glistening remains.
Hope of new success to be found,
and finding opportunities abound.
Its the advent of the new morning.

The wrenching cries of shattered worlds,
the screaming sounds of silent wounds.
The unwanted color of single red...........or is it blue
the drowning of lives in tears unshed.
BUT this too is the advent of new morning.

The unflowered rosebuds blown away,
the love of labour washed away.
Both mornings are today,
just a few moments away.

Unwanted

Screaming true lies
Everyday a new feeling dies
Unwanted,unloved, uncared
The burden of being so is still there

Every gesture rebuffed,
none reciprocated.
Fountains of sorrow,
drenching the happiness.

Some emotions are still left,
all tears haven't dried yet.
But that won,t be for long,
I fear the time of being stone cold.

Its not over yet,
dewdrops still fall fresh.
Birds still sing every morning,
let me doubt and trust again.

I do this every time,
with a hope, its the last time
pray this is it.

meethi saunf !!!!!

I love food. Thats no surprise considering the diameter of my tummy. But love is not all that I feel for food. Its not just something that I eat to give nutrition , satiate hunger, give energy blah blah. Food means much more. It depicts culture depending upon the cuisine, its a slice of history depending on the origin, it tells stories of our evolution. So when it comes to food, its serious matter.

Meethi saunf!!!!!, is not a catchy title but its expression of incredulity that escaped when a multi cuisine restaurant, Barryo Fiesta served it at the end of an Italian meal. As a guest if I am not ordering for a dessert that is my choice but to be served meethi saunf is harakiri. Please don't serve me any complimentary dessert, that is not what I am asking for, granted that eating saunf is my choice but the sheer presence of it at the end of my meal puts off the whole experience. Chandigarh is evolving in terms of cuisines being offered and also in terms of people becoming more experimental. That makes it even more important for the proprietors of these eating houses to be responsible about what is being served and how. Because its the appreciation for various cuisines, is what we are developing here.

But not all is lost. There are few amazing places which have upped the standards. Rio-43 for instance does the Italian beautifully. The perfect appetizers, the creamy risottos and to die for pastas. Same can be said for The Orchid Lounge which has perfected the art of Thai Cuisine. Every single mouthful opens us to deep yet subtle flavors and aromas of various ingredients.

There is so much more to be discovered in terms of flavors and scents. The journey is on. 

patiala...the city of maharaja..the birthpalce of patiala peg and patiala salwars
and also the inspiration behind patialalogues....


the junta of patiala wears on its sleeve its sense of pride for three of the four above...and another being State Bank of Patiala..Bank of India and Bank of Baroda are same for a lot many. Aunties and uncles love to get girls and boys get married as soon as dey reach the legal age. A nagging doubt : that they start dreaming and preparing about the impending wedding as soon as the kid reaches puberty...hmmmm.
everything closes at 9 pm or maybe 10 pm..but don't even dream of getting something to eat if u re hungry at midnight..drink some water and sleep.


patiala has really fascinating names for their residential colonies and market places - sheranwala gate, jattan , jooran, leela bhawan,...some royal and some embarrassing...
people are great most of the times...specially the older generation....the only trouble being they love to get u married...if u do some work for someone old, u can expect an invitation for lunch at their house or an offer of fresh vegetables from their farm and even better - makki ki roti and sarson ka saag in a dabba....with a dash of elderly love..and all we can say is wowwwww.


now the younger generation....guys think dat they can hit on any gal they lay their eyes on...if you talk to them in english with them, a phenomenon is obeserved without fail - suddenly their accent changes and dey start speaking ameriacan english!!!!!!!!!!. there is another set - rajma chawal...now these are guys who have gud looks most of the time ummm...sometimes not...but their girlfriends are absolutely awsum...pataka dey call em...now rajma chawal will go to CCD, order a kaaappuuuchino in american accent and den go to any college canteen and yell  "ik rajma chowul dayiiin oyye " (its not a spelling mistake...d pronunciation of rajama chawal is a bit like owl) .


to be continued.................