Often I am faced with a strong urge to turn back time. Go back a few years , to a moment in time that did not go exactly like I wanted it to and do things differently. Say something different, make an alternate choice.See through someone's deceitful charming exterior or embrace someone's apparent aloofness that shielded real concern.Be there for that loved one in their moment of grief, or make that first call to end a tussel.
Can we really say that we have lived a life of no regrets?I am not too sure.As the clocks tick and pages are turned on the calendar,I pick up on so many mistakes I made, which at that time seemed the absolute right thing to do.
That's when I realise the power of NOW. NOW is all I have. Yesterday is now just a memory, tomorrow is a hope , but today is what I have.All that I want to do, my heart's true desires have to be worked on NOW, because when the sun sets on the city skyline today will begin say to good bye and retire.

While grocery shopping the other day ,I picked a jar of mango pickle at the local Indian grocery store. At lunch that day I happened to try a piece.Taste buds can spin their own magic, cause as soon as I had placed the first piece in my mouth, a million memories flooded my mind...

A lazy Sunday afternoon at my home back in India.It is lunch time and my mother has asked me to fetch some home made pickle from the large poreclain jar we store under the stair case.I find the jar,it is white with a brown base.The lid is brown and is covered with piece of cloth,held in place with a cord. It has been in the house ever since I remember.I untie the cord and remember to use a dry spoon to remove some pickle that is safe under a layer of oil.Just looking at it my mouth waters. Before the pickle reaches the kitchen, I quickly pop a piece into my mouth...That taste,will always be special. Home made pickle,made painstakinly each spring by my Mom. She would carefully shop for raw mangoes and pay the vendor extra to have them cut into the right shape. Without measuring spoons and recipe books my Mom,would manage to make pickle that tasted just like the previous years batch. Summers brought with them opportunity for more home made delicacies.Papad,potato wafers ,dried stuffed chillies.

As the years pass, packaged and ready made pickles have made their way to more and more kitchens, mine included.Unfortunately I never learnt to make them...I might never be able to pass this knowledge, this tradition to the next generation.I do not knit, sew, embroider, things that kept my mom busy on many an afternoon.

As malls jostle for space, and as the market is ready to serve you with all you need as long you are ready to shell out a few bucks, I wonder if these arts are dying out with our generation.. Will our kids have fewer "home made" things than we did.Wouldn't it be sad that their taste buds would remind them of a store and not home...

Recently ,a good friend died tragically.The reality of the incident took a lot of time to set in.To fathom the loss ,will take much longer.Our minds are tuned to think of tragedy ,as something that strikes elsewhere. Someone else's loved ones die in bomb blasts, someone we don't know dies in a plane crash. Quick breaking news on television and the world moves on.When tragedy strikes close to you though or to someone you care, the eventual and inescapable mortality of our existence makes it self apparent.

Gone, no more. No more phone calls from this person. The contact number that you had on your cell phone will no longer be picked by anyone.Mails will never be replied.This person in flesh and blood, that you knew ,laughed with , fought with is nowhere around. You could search all you want, scan the world a million times, but return empty. the feeling is crushing.

It makes you want to lead your own life differently. To be kinder, more compassionate, more willing to listen,more willing to give, ready to say those sorrys.A need to leave a impact,make a change do whatever you can to leave a better place behind.

Forgive and forget.

An idea that I have struggled with ,quite often. Forget..it’s doable..one would imagine.When someone wrongs you , over time, the pain of being wronged does not bite you each day. In the mundane grind of life ,the memory almost becomes dormant.You may not want to move on, but life does.. and you do too ..with it. But whenever that distant memory flashes back, the pain you feel , the tears that roll down,are still as real as before.

So,the question is .. have you really forgotten?

Forgiveness on the other hand ,is something I cannot seem to comprehend. The image of the person who hurt you, wronged you, changes in your mind for ever. Outwardly we might pretend ,but deep within we know that the he or she is not the same person to us any longer. We exercise caution with that person, we do not trust them and we really never forgive.

What’s done is done. Nothing can reverse it. We never forget it, and I think we never forgive. We initially struggle and then adjust to the fact that we judged someone wrongly, placed trust in the wrong person.We learn.

Is learning ,then, like forgiving? Does it symbolize our effort to move on and take something away, change a part of us, from that experience of being wronged. I will strive for these answers always.

Often while going through some really old snaps,I am left terribly embarrassed.First thought that comes to my mind.."What the hell was I thinking, what's with that gawky smile, those bushy undone eyebrows,those square shoulder padded ,puff sleeved dresses!" Din't I have any fashion sense!

And then sometimes I wonder," What if ,what I wore, or the way I was, was really the way to be at that time. Even if it seems atrocious now, what if, at that time it all made perfect sense."

I am tempted to draw analogies with decisions one makes in life.Often there are times when I am frustrated over the fact that somoeone's " not getting" my point.I wince ,and wonder why the person cannot see that what he or she is doing is so obviously wrong.What's clogging this person's rationale!

The truth is that not many people take wrong decisions knowing that they are wrong.They take them because for that moment ,under those circumstances ,making that decision makes sense to them, seems right to them.Be it the terrible relations that they do not give up on,habits like smoking that they don't kick, negative attitude's that they seem to harbour..all of these register and make sense to the individual at some level.

When the years have rolled by the same person looks back and is left aghast at the decisions he or she once made.One wonders" What the hell was I thinking".When faced with a very bad day, I often try this. To think of the situation in third person and wonder how I will feel about this day, 5 years from now. The burden is reduced by half the moment I do this.

5 years from now, I might wince at this terribly philosphical blog, but hey, right now it is making a lot of sense to write this.

Often I have met the rebel.Those who defy rules,live life on their terms.Touting that it

takes courage to live that way.Does it?I have often thought quite the

opposite.Living life on terms others laid for you,in my opinion is far more courageous.

To agree to live by social norms is courageous.Growing up it takes courage to stay course,to believe that the at the end of unglamourous well trodden path,their dreams are waiting for them.

As an adult it takes character and courage to commit to your life partner. Does infidelity need courage?

It takes courage to remain honest at the job when the "rebels" all around are making a quick buck by dishonest means.

It takes courage to have kids and be their caretaker, when the way out is so easy.

Simple boring things, courgeous?

Water has always enchanted me.Quite oddly it also scares me.I feel drawn towards the sea ,awed by it's magnificence, belittled by it's expanse. The peaceful sound of waves has always managed to calm the storm brewing inside me.I think of the sea as a different world, with different rules ,where nature overpowers everything.

It is mystical,magical.Essential in sustaining life,water possess the power to take it all away in one sweep of a tidal wave.Matter, caught in a vicious circle, rise to clouds,pour down as a torrent,seep through the soil, make a journey to unite with the sea, only to rise again.

Many years back I had a close encounter with the ferocity of water.A few friends and I held hands to form a chain and ventured into sea. The water was about chest deep.Out of nowhere this huge wave came crashing at us.I panicked at the sight of this wave and broke the chain.The wave lashed at us.I stumbled.Those were the worst few minutes of my life.One is caught offguard by the energy of the wave. While stumbling ,almost by reflex action one tries to find something to hold on,and you find nothing but water.

You try to prevent youself from falling while water has gone into your ears, nose , mouth. You can't breathe and you feel," This is it,I am dying". The body is confused because it's in completely unfamiliar territory.

Fortunately for me the once the wave broke down, I was able to get steady and get out of the water.

I may never have the courage to venture deep into the water ever again.