I have been wanting to talk my mind for long. There was this new ‘wisdom’ that somehow dawned on me and I decided to peep in. I began to yearn for my “self”. I wanted to face this difficult, unyielding “somebody” within me. I had to tame her, establish harmony with this girl I hardly knew. And so I decided to talk here, through written words.

After all this blogspot is the dumping ground for all my erraticly tumultuous thoughts and rambles!

This blog is my reflection (so if this space bores you, live convinced that I am a boring person! :D). The myself that I see here sometimes surprises me. I see a positive, happy person, a keen observer willing to express, willing to talk..without bothering about anybody listening. There is no awkwardness, no calculated words; there's just me...and the flow!

What I feel, say, write and express here is not categorized into the correct and the incorrect. Everything is correct. Everything is incorrect. And still, it’s none of the two. There is no code. I don’t have to please. I can be me. This is precisely why it’s called “Soul scripted..”

And now the rambling I was rambling about!

CAUTION: Read at your own risk!

I am a reserved person. I make friends, but only one among them becomes a fast friend. This is not because I want it that way. But this is because I have not been able to create a comfort zone with too many people. I have not met too many people like me. I can exchange a sentence or two, but beyond that I am available only to a selected few; or very few.

I would rather walk alone than walk with a forced company. I do not talk unnecessarily. I would rather stay quiet than talk about something I shouldn't or do not want to talk about. I want true friends. Even one friend will do, provided the person is true. I know i will find some more as I live on. 

There was a time when I would pretend to be some other non-self. I wanted to make friends and so tried to behave in a manner which would please others. This way I made friends, but I lost the inner me, the true self that I was. Also, these friends I had were there only at their whims and moods. They were there only when they wanted to.

...

and the blah!-s go on..

phew!

Thanx for reading! I’ll buy you lemonade the next time we meet, I promise! J J  

My second holi with friends! Was crazy to speak the least. I was never a Holi-person. My entire childhood is full of only observations of people playing with the colors. I always liked to maintain a distance, and watch.

Earliest recollections are of my parents and a whole lot of their friends. They would all come to our place in a car. Dad, in white kurta-pyjama would go with them somewhere.  Couple of hours later when they returned , dad would look like a ghost! His white kurta-pyjama now with patches of red, pink, green and blue colors all over. His chappals and feet smeared in abeer, applied by his junior colleagues as a mark of respect.

Then came the tussle. Mom wouldn't let dad enter the house in his "ghastly and colored" state. Dad, in turn would pull mom out of the house and overturn a packet full of abeer over her. Other friends would join, as I watched, sometimes from the balcony and sometimes from a distance somewhere.

One of dad's colleagues (we called him 'tauji')  would live in the same building as ours. I very vividly remember how dad hurriedly took us (my sister and me) to the balcony one Holi morning, himself carrying a bucketful of colored water. Tauji, all bathed and beaming in his new, sparkling white kurta-pyjamas was standing downstairs just below our balcony.  With a startling splash, the entire bucketful of water was dropped onto tauji! Bewildered, and with water dripping from all over him tauji looked up, and we all screamed in unison, "Bura na mano Holi hai!!" With that, all our mischiefs were pardoned.

That's the magic of Holi.

Smeared in color, everybody appears the same. Nobody is rich, nobody is poor. They are all red and blue and green.