Rama Moondra

“Free? Wanted to say hello” The text was from an unknown number.  I finished my gym and went for already delayed, rushed dinner with Aniket and followed by dessert with my treasured couple Tapan and Shradha over a long chat, I forgot to respond.

Next morning on my way to work, I texted back that number. The mobile rang..” Didi..How are you?” Not many people call me this way..so was trying to guess, the struggle ended.. “Bhavin here”..I could not believe…the voice took me to memory archives of six years. Bhavin Kamdar…a shy, quiet person from Jamnagar had shifted to Ahmedabad for work and alone in a new city used to spend his time in Ahmedabad Management Association.

I met Bhavin in my Quiz event I hosted every month in AMA. The grand finale needed volunteers and he was one of twelve people . With everyone calling me Ma’am..I noticed him usually avoiding the word. I offered him to call me by first name only to hear his request,” Can I call you Didi?”  He smiled.

I was touched. For three years I became regular part of his life. Cities changed but his updates would continue. He brought Deepa to meet me and I knew she could have been the only one for my shy boy. I promised to attend his wedding but could not.

Never heard from Bhavin again. Life moved on but I remembered him though had no contact left. Three years later this was the first call.

“We both read your blog. I know how you felt bad about not being able to speak to Ratna..how much you are sorry about that lost chance. I don’t want to be ever in that position. Sorry, I was very angry with you, had my ego, you did not attend my wedding. But I treasure you so much. I am calling you today to tell you this. Don’t want to repent it ever to let you go without knowing it.”

I was spellbound..Getting him and Deepa back itself is great feeling and knowing that time does not change true love of any form is amazing relief.

I promised to see them soon. While finishing these lines, a part of me is so overwhelmed. I know if one is true to oneself, the love has to be true. If it’s lost, it never was. Life is too short to let people go, especially caring ones. It’s difficult to get them so keeping them close is even more important.

To Bhavin, for reaffirming my faith and for being the selfless, true and treasured person he is.

Back from an International assignment, I had a choice to extend my stay and live a little longer. “Give us a fair chance at least.  A month more or three weeks trial won’t hurt you.” Rishi, my coordinator was genuinely disappointed. “I will be back and that’s a promise.” I shook hands warmly before heading to security area. Sitting through a long flight, I kept wondering what it is that I missed so much this time . Travelling is an integral part of my life. So, what went wrong…well, for a moment I thought of blaming it on my aging as well.

Soon I landed in Ahmedabad and got my reflection. With two dear friends insisting on picking me up, I knew Cheryl will be there even if tell him not to. He had a placard,” Welcome back..” and I knew instantly what had gone wrong. I missed warmth of people around me. I was in a lonely studio apartment; very difficult counseling sessions and depression patients around me, days were heavy and evenings were lonely. It just did not feel me to be alone.

That’s what happens here too many times( I live alone in an apartment here as well), but by the evening I turn up receiving a call from some or the other friend for a dinner, coffee, kulfi ,movie, drive, sometime hour long conversation on phone and everything falls in place. I have friends here to share good times. I honestly admit never sharing my problems with any of them but just by being there they cheer me up.

I am blessed with a people oriented career and enviable public recognition. Precisely when I do not have anything of this around me, a longer stay with  similar environment does not motivate me despite oodles of money.

This entire episode made me realize that home is where heart is..

This is to a dear and non demanding friend Ani ..for standing next to me every time in crowded places (without even having to look around) on any staircase, knowing I need help to step down.

To silent spirit of friendship which has given me enough reasons to be able to live alone in a strange city and call it HOME…

My first day of International Assignment has just got over. Standing at the verandah of my studio apartment, I am overlooking the beautiful city of Middle East.

The funniest part of the day has been wearing a hijab to work today.

Not very open to female coach, my coached participant shrank deep inside his shell. I do not blame him either. The upbringing has made him so quiet and male chauvinistic.

Though I have figured a deep sexual disorder in his profiling, I do not know how to bring it up to him.

His quiet, reluctant nature is a barrier and I am not finding a way to break it.

For the first time in my life, how I wish, I was a male too. Sometimes, it’s easy to connect with same gender and a man to man chemistry is unmatchable.

The sun is setting slowly and making the city darker…deep inside I feel my heart is getting a dark and quiet black calmness of being alone. I am homesick today. Lost a close friend recently so may be those unshed tears are very heavy.

Goodbyes hurt most when you do not get to say them. Unvalued for all my giving so far…in grief today in an unknown terrain, alone once again in friendless world.

I am sitting quiet since 4 am today…Rajan, my friend from Atlanta called up to say something which deep inside I knew when I saw his number on screen. Ratna is no more. My dear friend Ratna has left me and a lot of people back in Atlanta, friendless.

My memories are not leaving my heart alone today. Ratna Bhushan, my friend from Atlanta days, M.S. brought us in one class but hardships of the course and life kept us tied up to each other.

She laughed loud always and that too was contagious. I always admired her for ability to take life lightly when she had only one leg intact. Her leg was amputated because of gangrene and heavily diabetic by birth, she just learned to manage life with it.

With infectious charm for life, soon she became my lucky mascot. If she was in class, I would score best marks in exams. We giggled on tearing my degree in half as the credit sharing award to her.

What is hurting me more than her going away is I could not…oh sorry…did not speak to her in last three months. Tied down with a lot at my end, she became a little less of a memory and I postponed it to next free time slot.

Now, I have time but not her. She has gone and left me with this sinking feeling of not been able to speak and now it’s never again.

How I wish, we realize people’s importance before it’s too late. We call them up and say that they matter…we value them when they are around. It may not be a lifetime for any of us.

If even one reader of mine picks up the phone, calls to an unspoken, unexpressed connect today, I will think, Ratna got her due.

We need to get this straight all over again.It too short a life to keep losing loved ones, even shorter life to tell someone “You mean a lot” before that person goes away.

“Marble, this is Steve . I am in last stage of Blood cancer. As my last wish,I am coming to India. Don’t you want to meet me? Please forgive me.” The voice from Sydney (felt like from next planet) sounded worried and painful. Steve…my memory curtains were open in a jiff. Do I ever want to meet Steve?

Steve Patterson and I became competitors for everything as soon as I joined my diploma of American Society of Training and Development. We competed for projects and awards. We fought tooth and nail for best performances on stage and better assignments.

Final nail in coffin came when he joined Scuba with me in the same batch. He was the reason that despite a bleeding foot, I continued my swim. I did not want to give up. My name “Marble Princess” was coined after this incident .

Scuba divers are not allowed to drink alcohol or do any drugs etc. 24 hrs prior to diving. It is only place where you can never mix water with drinks.

The night we were to get in dark water diving, the night before certification, we were asked to catch some rest in afternoon. I did so, got up, had large quantity of water with my pasta and went for kitting up (getting ready).

I felt a little drowsy, blamed it on tiredness and took the first stride in dark water of ocean. I had almost black-out. Gasping for breath, I tried sinking in more air from tank…had bubbles of water floating around my eyes…Something was wrong for sure. I signalled my fellow diver and went up.

I came out of water with great effort. Trying to breathe in fresh air I was struggling. My instructor Nick came running…I was sent for a blood check and the report was shocking. I had a little amount of drug trace. “Nick it can’t be..I have never ever done it. How can I let go my certification and get blacklisted.” I was almost broken with physical trauma and emotional burden.

A thorough check proved that it was Steve who mixed weed in my pasta that night. I came out clean of that mess. It would not have been possible if Nick was not there. He had tremendous faith in me.

Steve was asked to leave. I got through my certification and three months later, my diploma. Everyone moved on and over a period of time I almost forgot this incident.

Steve is coming to India now…He wants to say sorry to me…meet me one last time.Very few men have hated me as much as Steve.Should I meet Steve?

I will seek my reader’s view here.

My friendship with Adam Charaniya is from last birth. (The way we connect it almost seems so.)This was his first visit to India in 36 years, exact time that he graced the planet with his presence.

American by birth and Canadian by soul, Indian blood runs in Adam’s veins. His father was born here. A small village near Sanand, Ahmedabad was his home around fifty years from now.

So, when Adam wanted to come and search his routes, I never took it so serious. “Come on over… It will be fun to meet up.” My reaction was simple. He arrived for three days and after lunch of melon platter on first day, first thing; Adam expressed his wish to find out this small village.

The bug of enthusiasm catches me fastest always..history got repeated  and we left home in 45 degrees of heat at two o’clock in afternoon.

We could find the village and when we started video recording the village, walked on muddy roads and tried finding his ancestral home, people started gathering around. His camera was instant attraction and it amazed me so much that just 40 kms from city, it’s a remote, almost uncivilized village still.

We clicked pictures of almost everyone, jumped with joy of finding his village, rode on local transport and had our share of laughter.

Adam always remains a great inspiration to me. A cancer survivor, still fighting with it, he filled me with contagious spirit of “Never Say Die” again. It was touching to see his inclination to find his routes especially for his father, who is surviving a heart attack himself.

Life has the best lessons in store for us right when we need it most. Just now, when I m bleeding through my nose for loosing someone forever…it also beats for new hopes and horizons unexplored. It fills me up with determination to fight life once again…no matter who and what I loose, as long as I have ME intact.

This story is of dead dreams and live currents. I met Janna in Atlanta USA in 1996. Her life is made of pains and sorrows intertwined with hopes and fight of survival. A life threatening accident, bad marriage, miscarriage and lost love, she has seen life. Sometimes, she has surprised me with her solo courage but most of the times  with her capacity of no tears in painful times.

I met her again this time in Mumbai and a night long chat sent shivers down my spines. Janna has been a no relationship person for a very long time now. She lets life flow with people coming and going out of her life with saintly detachment. (I envied this though.)

But as they say, everyone gets their dues…sooner or later. She met someone and she connected instantly. Reeling under the fear of dependency and the joy of getting someone, she once thought of moving on.

Her new found source of joy too let her do it and the duo moved on in different directions. So, why does it pain her? Ideally she should have and story should have ended here.

My counseling version differs on this angle. She wanted to be stopped. She wanted to stop him too. Heart has no logic but  pride, false egos and enormous fear so they did let each other go. She is leaving the country now and her heart is bleeding under the silence of her connect.

“Did you tell him, how do you feel for him?” I asked . After a long silence she said,” No..maybe he knows.” “May be not. Why don’t you go and talk it out before you leave?” I said. Not sure if he would meet her now, she is going to see him.

I am baffled at human psyche. How much we want to get someone and when we do, we are so scared that we become reason to loose it. Amazing,. isn’t it..I hope, they meet and that she can hold him tight and cry, confess that it feels like love..but if not, the famous song of Platters plays on….for those who deserved love but did not know how to….

“They asked me how I knew, My true love was true’

Oh, I of course replied”Something here inside cannot be denied ,

They said someday you’ll find ..All who love are blind.

Oh, when your heart’s on fire, You must realize

Smoke gets in your eyes.

“Which is the most prominent religion in your country? Hinduism?” My next seat flyer of Cathay Pacific Airlines asked me. “No, our biggest religion is Cricket.” I said.

Well, 1 Lakh for a 10k ticket, 17 Lakhs for a 10 second advertisement, 22000 for a one way ticket to Chandigarh on Wednesday morning flights, Richest men in Asia fighting for jet parking space at Chandigarh airport, 1 billion hearts synchronized at the same level, 75% productivity of the most upcoming nation stopped on the final day of the financial year..It was the statistics of India- Pakistan match. Yesterday’s match at Wankhede had the same destiny including Press Reporters reporting misbehaved as well.   Reported betting amount was 10,000 crores. If so much is at stake after 11 men in blue, they invariably get elated to status of gods.

I was on the streets like entire Ahmedabad on the night of Pak-India match after victory and loved the frenzy crowd showed. My friends Tapan and Shradha had difficult time braving the traffic throughout but it was worth it. Every bit of it.

Yesterday when I hit the streets, it was past midnight, revellery was at its peak and for once again it made me sure that India‘s heart beats together when it comes to Cricket.

I loved the slogans of “Bleed Blue” being shouted, everyone rejoicing and smiling but the icing on the cake was twenty feet long Indian flag which was carried away along with a replica of World Cup…Dancing atop the cars or on roads was normal and when my friend was almost about to hit a biker, he turned back, showed a sign of victory and .zoomed away shouting. Sweets were being distributed as well.

It was the stuff, memories are made of…Yuvi’s moist eyes or Bhajji’s tears were creating waves in every Indian heart…With FM radios doling out best numbers of motivation, I think we all unite in one spirit called “One-Day Mataram…”

This post is for billion hearts beating together for one reason. This is also for an amazingly dedicated reader and newly found friend CK, for driving safe for three hours in mad traffic and me hanging out of window…for dancing mad with me and letting me shout as much as I could…

“Jai Ho…”