Hi Pandey,

Yesterday kept replaying the song from Rang De Basanti- the one called Lukka Chuppi...bet you can sing it really well , plucking your guitar! Saw the film again
and realised how much more there is to it - 2 years is a long time! So much more innocent, holding hands with Mauri and Ian -walking back in the dark- their lives still uncertain-
on hold! Of course things changed that night- it was 5 th February , Mauri's birthday.
Ian did the unthinkable , disarmingly barged into Mashi and Mesho's flat and has ever
since been a part of their lives.
Your love story didn' t quite fall in place like theirs. There is always some who doesn't make it for all the others who do! It's the luck of the draw, Pandey.
You and Rakhi never quite made it .You would have known my friends as I would have yours in case you are wondering who the hell are these people?! Impatient as ever.
But we always had excuses for not accepting you exactly as you were- the speed, alcohol, craziness and talk. Much too much of talk which ended just there. More talk.
We all knew years back it would never work. And we all played along.
But I must tell you this Pandey, I shot you down - 10 years back.
I wrote you off. I was privy to all your letters.
Guess, fears coloured my reactions!
Well before your time- self righteous and know-it-all.
That you wouldn't do for Rakhi was finalized years back.
I was protecting my best friend you see. Women are supposed to stand up for women,.
We learned to be people much later. Individuals even later. too late for you. sorry for that,
old chap. But you never asked for appologies or explanations. They were way too alien.
'Course I told her ever so often -decide- one way or the other.
You wanted simple things. Family, sentimental dreams.
While she had plans- bigger , better, beautiful? Who knows now-whose was bigger, better or more beautiful?
But she was ever unbiased - by anything we said or you did.
I don't need to tell you that she was rock solid, ever there -and still is.
Through each stitch, cloth, weave , paper, brush, letter you live on.
I know for a fact-and she knows that I know
The thing is - she never ever thought of blaming the world, the system or anyone
Acceptance seems to be as natural to her as breathing. Makes it harder somehow the
simplicity. Of not wanting to give her pain a name.

You never really fitted in.
We never let you- that's the truth of it.You proved all of us wrong though. All of us .
The mail you wrote me - the one I did not preserve? Dark and raw like an open wound. With a copy to Rakhi. Forgive me, Pandey , for all my weaknesses -you were so open about yours -you were desperately hoping against hope-some one had the answer. And you thought that I did. How wrong. If only I did .

But you were too proud to quit. You left with a flourish and style - trailing clouds of glory , as they say! Like the hero you never quite believed you were. But you are -don't you know? Laugh away!You surprised yourself too, no Pandey? Fooled ya- is what you'd probably say.
Yes, I have been feeling sort of foolish of late.

Even now you are creating -through me, all those you left behind!. I believe you also left a young wife who gave you the peace you always wanted- the simple unquestioned adoration.
Fodder is what we provide for each others lives long after. Nothing is wasted.

So many times we'd exchange looks Rakhi and me-so much like my kid bro, really Pandey. You envied him. We teased you. Rakhi specially- he was , still is, so fair and you? Dark...
There is nothing to fear there anyone. You've won this round, dude! Overshot yourself maybe?.
Nothing new!.

They say , you were a true sahid saved the lives of an entire village and chose to burn alone in a forest near Bagdogra. They also say there was not a scratch on your body. They say your papers were in perfect order. They say...they say so many things so many times and every time it sounds the same , Pandey. For every MIG that goes down and every boy who comes back home - eulogised in a film or song or an abandoned blog. And of course all the things they didn't say.

One day we'll met again. I want us to be friends . I swear I won't take sides this time.
The photograph of your girl...your bird...the one who betrayed you finally...I found it in an old trunk from my Baroda days.Uncannily around February last year- on my trip o Calcutta. And a keyring- did it read Sharks or Scorpions ? Can't remember now.
Betrayal of time and memories are the most convenient. Steel birds are mere excuses.

Trying to understand...

I've been a reluctant blogger for years now, but I hope to do a turabout right here and now! Ofcourse, words and pictures interest me.
I enjoy a good laugh -the piquant, quaint, whimsical really gets to me.
Tales from the heart, allegories, stories freshly told from the lives of people thrill me!
I love storyboards too and fresh -off-the-work-table drawings brimming with life ,
unfinished to some eyes-where the touch-of-life still holds its own!
And certain afternoons which stretch and unfortunately must end or simply run the risk of interruption with deep reading and making notes in my journals(one of many which possess me!).
Or watching a powerful movie late at night- alone with sudden revelations
( I still cry over lost love, reconciliations and betrayals!),
or when I suddenly find my voice, mid-song, the one I thought I'd lost!
Ofcourse,I love trees ( I am called 'Atree' by quite a few), the quiet and these neverending ambling walks-
especially the one taken right before work. I hit a spot which is dead quiet-surrounded by canopies, the wind, dappled sunlight and I simply pause to breath, recollect and be grateful! Surprisingly cities can offer all three-one ambles into these magic moments. They say when three worlds meet, magic occurs!
Magic happens on a traffic island in Parkstreet maidan or in a whirl pool of rust and golden leaves Agriculture College ground.There's no specific time or place, I do believe.
Also I hope to find my poetry which is hibernating at the moment and will flower at the right moment and touch. I do mourn it going undercover sometimes but I feel the time is near -when a lot of artifice will simply drop off from my life- borders between painting, poetry or posters; impossible but achievable dreams just around the corner waiting to be realised, the differance between a 9 to 5 life and the bits left over before and after - what's work and what is play; between family and friends; living close to the earth and open skies, travel wide and deeply: to make a pilgrimage out of journeys small and big; to make connections and watch the electricity of a smile light up eyes and turn a banal moment into something sacred...let's see.
To discover my purpose and redefine - between what you can/or should/should not atreyee do, be , feel and share. Who decides? The heart does.When ever the head and heart is in conflict- follow your heart! Old and true saying.
To find love- and to find myself waiting , patient , untouched-,even if all else fails.
To find my heart in big and small things- sudden dilemmas, split second decisions, demanding situations. To come back to my heart every time!
And to never know how big is a heart? It begins here at home, but where does it end!
Where , indeed?