Hello Urban Life - The birth of hope within me!

Prologue:  Empathy comes to you naturally. I hear many of my friends say this to me. Stories I hear. At times from my friends, at times from the people I meet. All the little pieces of anecdotes I collected, all along, I have woven into small stories of fiction. Some where these stories may touch your heart, may make you smile, may make you think or may make you change. I'll be looking forward to hearing your feedback and your feelings about my stories and all the tiny comments coming from my readers mean a lot lot lot to me.

PS:  All stories are pulpy works of fiction. All pictures are taken from Google Images for representative purposes only.

This story, is dedicated to the depressed and Angry.

I tried hard to open my eyes. I could hear voices around me. Some familiar. "Dad, mamma will fine na?  Just tell me yes dad. When can I talk to her? Oh I miss her so badly."

I could hear Anju's voice in the background.

"Yes baby. I'm fine. Come here. Give me a hug" I tired telling her.  My lips were numb and my eyes wouldn't open. I felt nothing. Not even the fingers. I just lay there hopelessly. I didn't even know where I was. 

I had the same feeling of strangulation that I had 20 years years ago. On my fourth anniversary, to be precise. “Fourth anniversary?”, I thought to myself. It was few days less of my silver jubilee, for my 25th anniversary. I had been to the bank. And then, to the coffee shop. I came out crying. I broke down. And then I dashed into a speedy vehicle. Oh gosh. What did I do? Am I alive? What did happen afterwards? Why am I unable to move myself? Where am I lying? Someone please help me. I need to open my mouth. I need to talk. I need to get up. I need to talk my daughter. I can hear her sobbing. I can hear her. But all can do is think, think and just think. 

I lost count of the time. It just seemed ages. 

I could feel the prick and I guess I'm being injected with something. Mr Neeraj, I think we can take a deep breath now. Mrs Preet is responding to our medication. Her vitals are working fine. Let's wait and watch. I think that was the doctor. 

I kept trying to open my eyes. After what seemed to be ages, I managed to open my eyes. It was pitch dark. It seemed to at least. I could see the anxious faces looking at me. ...Neeraj, Anju. I sure gave them a tough time. 

"Hello. Preet beta. How are you feeling now? I'm glad you fought well and recovered so fast. It's a new life for you. Not everyone is blessed to get a second inning. Make the most of it and make your self proud and worth it. " Samir uncle was saying. "I'm glad Samir uncle you came over for dinner. I'm doing very well and recovered completely. Thanks to my dear family. They have been very supportive and encouraging. " I said as I looked at Neeraj with thankful eyes and a tear rolled down both our eyes. Neeraj came forward and kissed me gently on my forehead and said I love you. This never happened in 25 years. The accident changed things. My way of looking at things. It changed the way how, I from being too judgmental too often and how I misunderstood and basked in self pity at all times to letting go of things now; and also, Neeraj, who became more expressive, more communicative,  more loving and caring. God is indeed great I thought. 

Neeraj, I plan to start something on my own. I have much time at home and have nothing much to do with you and Anju being out most of the time. What I went through was a disaster and it opened our eyes. I don't want more Preets's to go and bang into the running cars or do something equally bad. Can I start doing something which can help people recover their loneliness and make most out of their time. Can I do something to bring smiles on the faces of the depressed? 

It's a fantastic move Preet! I'm glad you thought this way. I'll help you set up this help centre and will give you all the support you need. Let's build it together. 

Bindu was in tears by the time I ended telling her all this. She gave me a warm hug and in between tears, she said, "Preet, the best thing I did is to come to "hope within me". I'm glad you started this. I go back home with lots of strength and yes now there is hope within me. I'm the unstoppable now. 

My heart smiled and my eyes became moist when I saw a happy Bindu walking out the office room with a self-determination and head held high. There you go Preet! 

Yet another life saved. I patted my back. 

Hello Urban Life - Alone

Prologue:  Empathy comes to you naturally. I hear many of my friends say this to me. Stories I hear. At times from my friends, at times from the people I meet. All the little pieces of anecdotes I collected, all along, I have woven into small stories of fiction. Some where these stories may touch your heart, may make you smile, may make you think or may make you change. I'll be looking forward to hearing your feedback and your feelings about my stories and all the tiny comments coming from my readers mean a lot lot lot to me.

PS:  All stories are pulpy works of fiction. All pictures are taken from Google Images for representative purposes only.

This story, is dedicated to the depressed and Angry.

I was waiting for the lift on the 15th floor to go down. My mind was restless with thoughts playing a havoc. I knew I was irritated, frustrated, emotional, deep in pain. I missed. 

"The lift is taking too much time to come down. Oh it halted at the 18th. I wish no one gets in. The last thing I want to have now is a conversation. I can't force a smile. Not can I exchange any pleasantries at this moment. " thots were racing in the mind. 

It halted at my floor and yes there was Mrs Khanna as beautiful as always. Light and subtle make up, fresh fragrance of the delicate perfume and a sober outfit. She always had a classic dress sense.... another flood of thoughts in my mind. "Hello Mrs Preet. How do you do? It's been long since we met though we reside in the same building" said she. "Yeah. Have been busy. How do you do?" I managed to fake it with a smile too. "I'm fine. Very fine. Just waiting to be charred to pieces" I said to myself. 

I got into the car and checked into my messages the 57th time in an hour. No message from him. "Yes, he is very busy. Where in the world does he have time to even think of me?" I said to myself. 

I drove off to bank and felt accomplished reaching there. "Phew! Madam, you were supposed to come almost 6 months ago. We were waiting for you. Now even the account would have become dorment" said the manager. "  I managed a smile again and said yes " I have been busy. ". "Sorry". "Can you help me?" Yes he did explain to me the steps to recover my account. But not one word went into my head. I was busy. Busy thinking. 

"I was lost. " I told myself. "I was lost in my own thoughts. Days ran into weeks and weeks into months. I procrastinated works. I no longer wished to take up any works. I felt lethargic at all times. I felt hopeless. I felt weak. I felt worthless. I wish I died."

Not a friend, not an enemy, not a soul mate to depend upon. Family was there. Friends were there. The community was there. And so were people. Too many of them. But not a single one I can say mine. 

Whatsapp message popped on the lock screen - Prakash "what up?". I had a smile on face. I eagerly opened the message feeling glad someone just asked about me. I opened the message and checked- he was not online. "Nothing. How about you? Long time?" I typed. Checked for the double tick and waited a minute to be read. No Prakash did not come online. May be he was busy I thought. 

I messaged Asha - hey Asha how are you? She came online, read the message and may be she was busy and went offline again. 

I decided to close whatsapp and drive to a cafe nearby. While having coffee, the mind raced back to the conversation I had with Neeraj. "Do you even know how lonely I feel Neeraj?" "You are too busy at work. Children are settled in their lives. I have no one to talk to whole day. Do something for me please. I'm going mad. I'm getting depressed. " I said and looked at him. He was busy replying to a mail on his laptop. "Honey, can you get me some coffee please" he said. "This marketing head of mine. He is so damn crazy. He and his innovative thoughts. Crazy ideas and crazy stuff." Said he. I managed to make some coffee fir him and sat down. 

"Neeraj, I wanna talk to you", I said. "Yes honey. Please make it fast. I've got an appointment at 11."  "Neeraj. Do you ever have time for me? I'll die if I continue this way". "Oh there you go again. Will you please stop talking about the death and stuff. Please. I've got to go." Said, Neeraj and there, the door banged and he left. 

"What's the matter mom? Why did he leave in such a rash? Asked Anju. "The usual. I tried talking to him about how I'm feeling now a days. ". "Lol. Mom get a life. Do something. Take a chill pill. Go out and meet aunties. Or go and get your self a spa. I'm sure you'l feel better. Okay, gotta go now. I may not be coming back tonight. I stay back with Pratima for the weekend. Have some project deadlines to complete" said Anju and left. 

Tears filled my eyes while I stirred the coffee. I felt angry for the tears. "So what if it's been just 6 years now that I was feeling so lonely. Why in world I need someone to talk to. Look at that couple on that table. How happy and in love they seem. So what if I'm alone in the world. Why should I cry. I hate myself. I hate me. I wish I could die." I told myself. Yet again. 

I paid the bill and waked out the caffe. I started walking towards the car feeling miserable. Gosh I have 600 plus friends on Facebook, 2500+ contacts on my phone but not one person to talk to. This is so miserable. I threw the phone on the road out of frustration. 

I cried. I cried a lot. I wanted to tear me apart. 

I ran onto the road. Towards the speeding car. I ran with all my might. I ran into it. Yes I did. 

To be continued. .....

Hello Urban life - My Fourth anniversary.

Prologue:  Empathy comes to you naturally. I hear many of my friends say this to me. Stories I hear. At times from my friends, at times from the people I meet. All the little pieces of anectodes I collected, all along, I have woven into small stories of fiction. Some where these stories may touch your heart, may make you smile, may make you think or may make you change. I'll be looking forward to hearing your feedback and your feelings about my stories and all the tiny comments coming from my readers mean a lot lot lot to me.


PS:  All stories are pulpy works of fiction. All pictures are taken from Google Images for representative purposes only.


My Fourth Anniversary. 

I could feel a little pressure in the chest. A kind of stamping or a strangulation? I can't define. It was just some sudden discomfort. I woke from sleep, exhausted and grasping for breath. I stare at the empty bed l, for a while, trying to get back to normal breathing. In the darkness of night, I find my way to the kitchen. Pick up a glass of water and sip in slowly ....thinking. Ah there I am thinking again and again.

I know I can't go back to normal sleep now. It's been a regular pattern ever since .... ok forget it. I switch on the tv and quickly check out what's being aired. Not Interested in anything, I switch it off. I stare at the ceiling up, in the darkness and get back to my thoughts. Well, at least that's where I'm comfortable....in my thoughts.

Why did we fall apart this way? Why do I find the love in my life missing? Why are there so many unspoken words. No, not that I'm not cared for. We do have conversations. Don't forget to deposit that cheque in the account. It's been lying here since long, I remember telling him. "Well, I'll try to. I'm busy. And you can do that too for yourself. Go get a drive. Go out, drop the cheque, take ur friend along, have lunch at the cafe and then come home. You'll feel it a bit different and get sone fresh air. "Before I could answer, he told me all this in a ziff and headed for the lift, closing the door behind him.

I stared at the cheque lying on the table. Daylight was breaking in slowly and I could hear the birds chirping outside. I grab my mobile to check the time. I see the message staring at me on the lock screen - "sweetheart I'm not coming home for dinner. Work pressure. And I'll hv to take the early morning flight to delhi. So I'll go to airport directly. See you in four days. Take care."

In stead of the time, I see the date. 27th March 2017. Yes 26th is over. Just like any other normal day. No change. Nothing special. Raj, our anniversary is just four days away. We fight so much. I'm sure one day will come when we will not even be together on this special day.
" No. nothing like that will happen. And it's not 4 days away it is 5 days away. It's on the 26th of March." Said he. I kept quite. Yes we keep keep quite now a days. As often as possible. We learnt this new way of agreeing not to disagree. This avoids conflicts. Period.

I make a cup of tea for myself and try to read the newspaper. None of news gets my interest. I throw the paper and grab the phone. Check the Facebook. Check out some videos. And then realise it's already 11 am. Not a breakfast time anymore. I'll directly cook lunch for myself. ..I tell it to myself. And then there is some more time left for me to cook lunch. So there I grab my mobile again and play my favourite games. I start feeling empty. Empty within home. Within myself and within my stomach. I realise it's 3pm. I haven't eaten anything. I cook some rice. Grab some curd and gobble it down the throat.

Where did I go wrong. Is it wrong to expect emotions? Where am I heading to in life? What is it that puts a smile back on my face. Am I living? Is it called life? I breakdown and cry out loudly closing my ears.

I wake sleeping with head down on table where I was sitting. My face is all sticky. May be with tears or may be with sweat.

I get back to check my mobile. 120 plus messages from various whatsapp groups and some personal forwards too. Some motivational some humours. I don't check any of them.

I toggle from airplane mode to normal mode. I check if there were any missed call from him. I get 30 plus notifications about calls I missed from various unidentified numbers - trying to sell me what I don't want.

I get back to my game on the mobile. And then fall asleep into the darkness of night.

To be continued. Hello Urban Life.

Can I have a drawing board please???

It was a day that will be remembered for ever.

About two days before, I made a call to an orphange and an old age home, to enquire about their needs and wants. A list of items was given and the next day went off in shopping for those items. 

With bags of Diapers, Lactogen tins, biscuits, calcium syrup's, we, a set of four friends, reached our first destination, an orphanage. We were told that the kids taken care of, over there, were aged between just born to 6 year old. 

 Upon reaching, we were greeted with a friendly security who guided us in filling up our details in the entry register and a gate pass was issued. A huge, building with stone compound wall and huge gates, and tiny square windows with iron grills, at a first glance looked highly secured.

As we stepped in we were greeted by the friendly staff and one person inspected all the items we brought for the kids. He gave us a receipt for all those items and accepted them with utmost humbleness. It was sleeping time for kids hence we were asked not to disturb them. The gentleman took us around the building and we were awestruck at the cleanliness with which it was maintained. All the caretakers were females and were having a dress code. The rooms were secured with mosquito net doors and windows. A tiny window was opened for us to peep in and see number of just born babies sleeping innocently in their cradles while the care takers were busy organizing the babies clothes neatly. 

The next room was for slightly elder kids who were also sleeping peacefully. And then the kitchen, the dining room, the TV room and the play area were shown around.

And then the conversation started. He shared the stories, which moved our hearts. A drunken father killed the mom in a fit of rage and was jailed and the only child with no one to take care was shifted here. A girl who was born retarted and bed ridden, was left in the hands of these care takers as the parents couldn’t afford her. Kids born out of illegitimate relations, parents who were so poor that they cannot afford the upbringing….the list is just endless.

But these good Samaritans came together and with the guidelines from government have opened this center and help with basic needs and education for them. Not just this, the team also undertakes the upbringing of kids from the local slum areas in the city. Cases where in the girls as young as 6-8 years who pick up a fallen butt of the beedi and whale away their time to those innocent souls who for the sake of a small sweet, just go with any stranger to where ever they take them to, are handled by this team. They achieved 100% school admission to all such kids and now are tackling the challenge of minimizing the absenteeism from school.

What can you do for them:

1.     Call up the orphanage and find out the list of items required on a given day and take those items for them. (I’m giving the phone numbers at the end of this post)

2.    Contribute money (3k -4k for packaged lunch/breakfast cooked in house. They do not allow any outside food)

3.    Give your time by teaching them basic subjects.

4.    Spend time with slum kids in motivating them to have a better lifestyle and take counseling session for them to become ambitious in life.

5.    Take personality development, career-counseling sessions.

6.    Talk to them about adolescence, health care, feminine hygiene, nutrition etc

7.    Teach them vocational studies like music, instruments etc.

8.    Give your time. They are lonely and alone out there.

The next visit was to an old age home. Here, the visit was with friends & my kids. We were requested to get some teacups and biscuits for the aged. We carried samosa and sweets also and a carom board. While were parking our cars down and looking out for the old age home, we saw an old lady on the fourth floor, looking out of the window from her room. He eyes spoke so many unsaid words. There was a look of loneliness on her face. With a couple of call to caretakers, we were asked to come to backside of the building form where the staircase begins and as escort will be there. On reaching, we found the lift was out of order. So we climbed the four floors and asked our escort as to how the aged people climbed these stairs? “These people don’t need to go out at all” was the reply. It was very disturbing to learn that the rooms in which they live is their entire world.

We were greeted with smiling faces and namaste’s from each and every person in the home. They were more than happy to receive the food. Their hands were shaking and shivering as they held the plates. “ the food is very tasty. We love it. but you don’t have to spend so much for us. Just come often and spend time with us. We love to be loved”. These were the words from almost every individual in the home. A warm hug, a smile and a conversation is all that they wanted.  

There was a lady who was so good at drawing. She showed us all her drawings and was pleased to know we liked her drawings. “ TV 9, filmed a movie on us. Please see that on tube,” she said. As I was about to say bye to her, she nudged on my hand. I bent down and she whispered into my ear “I can do even more good drawings if only I had a drawing table. I manage to draw by keeping the sheets on my lap. It is very difficult” I could’nt stop the tears rolling down my eyes. I assured her a drawing table in my next visit. “ Forget about the table, but please come back again. All I want is to talk to people. Im lonely here with no family. Spend time with us” said she quickly.

With a heavy heart, I moved to the next room. “ Come beta come. This is my private room. I pay 15k a month to have this room. All my kids are settled in USA. There is no one here. So I shifted here as I was alone. The samosa was very tasty. I loved eating.” She managed to tell all in one flow. She held my hand tight while talking and I could sense hands shivering.

The next room had ladies who were bed ridden. They couldn’t move around nor talk. Their eyes spoke everything. They greeted us with smiles. 

Just as we were stepping out, we saw a young lady of about 20+ years. We asked her if she is a care taker. “ No. I stay here with my mom. We are alone in the world. Have no one to take care. I can’t afford a home and I cant leave my mother. So I stay with her here and take care of her and others too.” Said she.

With no more words to say and teary eyed, we moved to the third floor. Hello hello welcome to our home greeted an old man. He gave us a high five. And said “that was super food you got for us thank you.”

“Do you have biscuits? Asked another man. As we handed each one of them packet of biscuits, he held out one more hand seeking another. He was quick to tuck them away under his pillow and felt content with two packets of biscuits. A man lying down on bed, who could hardly move, peeped out from his blanket and said to my friend “ you look like Farook Sheik” every one started smiling and started saying Farook Sheik, Farook Sheik, Farook Sheik!

And when we put the carom board on the bed, their joy knew no bounds. They were clapping their hands with joy and murmured best gift ever, best gift ever. A game of caroms started and the entire gang was busy clapping, encouraging a strike and giving their tips. Time just slipped away.

We bid audio to them with a promise to come back soon.

What you can do?

1.     Spend time with them

2.    Take home cooked food for them and have a lunch or dinner with them

3.    Entertain them

Note:

1.     All pictures sown here are for representation purpose only. These images are from google search and we thank the artists who drew them and I humbly seek their permission for using their pictures here.

2.    The places I described are in Nerul, Navi Mumbai area. I’m sure such homes are there in every area, a google search will give list of such homes in your locality.

3.    The phone numbers and address of these will be provided on a personal request. Please message the author with a request.

1.