We'll always have Paris

black current wine in paris perhaps
gourmet
add baguettes and cheese
walking arm and arm
and a true french kiss over the seine
we could talk endlessly at some sidewalk cafe
while we look at the light fade away behind the eiffel
and then we could hit a jazz bar
sip more wine
snuggle
and then savour the late night sounds of the city as we walk (not straight by then) back to some corner that cannot found on a map
hot chocolate in the cold mornings, snuggled by the fireplace
wine on the balcony watching the sun set, before setting out to paint the town red
will read you a bedtime story, stroke your hair while you sleep
lazy mornings in bed, and wake up to coffee
its gently stroking the dark strands
its looking into the eyes, its breathing heavily, its whispering (trying to keep it low), its feeling the skin, and the sultry weather that makes is sticky

stop... no more...it hurts that talk is all that there will ever be...some stories just are, with no point of convergence...

You must remember this
A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh.
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by.

And when two lovers woo
They still say, "I love you."
On that you can rely
No matter what the future brings
As time goes by.

Moonlight and love songs
Never out of date.
Hearts full of passion
Jealousy and hate.
Woman needs man
And man must have his mate
That no one can deny.

It's still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die.
The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by.

shraadh....what does it really mean

"Pitra Paksha, also known as Mahalay, is a period of fifteen days. It is the time designated to give devotion or to offer respect to the dead and departed ancestors of the family. It is believed that only after performance of the Shraadh ritual, the soul of the deceased relative is at peace and attains moksha."

that's the word on the street at least.

What about peace for those who got left behind? Doesn't that count for anything?

How does going through a process that reminds you of the one you've lost and the way it happened benefit you and make it easier for you to live with?

It's hard enough that you think about it all the time, though you don't say it, but then you have to go out and do rituals to show the world that you really do remember?

Why do we need to display our sorrow to a bunch of random strangers in a temple, so that people look at us and go 'tsk tsk'? Arrrgh.

Is this Pitra Paksha business supposed to make you really feel at peace by making a show to the world you remmber and respect those who are gone?
or
Is is supposed to make you feel guilty that you are trying to carry on with your life without wanting to draw attention to the way it hurts like a bitch inside all the time?

one man's food is another man's poison....perhaps...

Found this buried in my pile of emails, that I wanted to do more with at some point. I suppose it's time to post it up here. I wrote this as a first-person piece for my first writing class. I got an A I believe, more for the sentiment, than my style of writing.

VARSHA NAIK, a Journalism & Radio-Television-Film student, has been interning with the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation since August 2004, wanting to give back to the CF community after losing her cousin a year earlier to cystic fibrosis. Varsha has found her work here very satisfying, especially having become “aware of the enormous effort that goes into caring for people with CF.” Varsha adds, “It made me realize that my cousin might not have lived as long as she did were it not for the work put in by the CF Foundation. For that I am grateful, and for the opportunity to do my bit for CF patients. I hope to come back every semester to work with the Foundation to add 'tomorrows every day'.”


It all began when my phone rang at around 2 a.m. on Monday November 10, 2003. I was catching up on sleep after studying all night for an upcoming test that was going to make me sorry for ‘chilling’ for too long with my friends. It was Minku Bhaiya’s voice I heard asking me for Papa’s phone number in Muscat. I didn’t think much of it, gave him the number, rolled over and went back to sleep.

Then the phone rang again; it was about 6 a.m. now and I’m wondering what in the world is happening. It was Mummy this time, crying on the phone telling me that Ruchi had been admitted into the hospital for what we knew would be the last time.

So, I’m sitting in the corridor outside my dorm room, tears rolling down my face with no idea what to do. I just wanted to drop everything and fly down to Cleveland to see Ruchi, but I knew that was almost impossible for me to do. Ruchi was sleeping when I called so I couldn’t even say goodbye one last time.

It seems so strange, I remember all the details so clearly as if it were yesterday. My mind just could not focus on school and work. In a way I was scared to call and check on Ruchi for what I might hear. I went to sleep that night praying that things would get better like they had in the past.

Then the phone rang at some 5 a.m. and I was trembling as I reached to answer it. I knew what I was about to hear, but the words still frightened me beyond belief. “She's gone Bo. Ruchi is no more."

My cousin aged 22 had lost the fight to cystic fibrosis.

***

My life changed completely. I spent days locked up in my room, crying, complaining, cursing, wishing it had been me instead. But there was nothing I could do. I had to move on. And slowly, very slowly, I did. But I stopped believing in dreams.

It was in February this year that I was watching television with my roommate in my dorm room. It was 'The Real World' that we were watching and there was a girl in it who had Cystic Fibrosis. I went onto the CF website afterwards to read up more on it. The symptoms and effects of the disease were frightening. Thumping on the back, inhalation, mucus-filled wheezing, and indigestion. All these brought back all the frightening memories of watching Ruchi being fed through a tube in her stomach. My sister and I always used to complain that Ruchi would get away with doing chores so easily saying she was 'sick'. How my outlook has changed now! I could give up everything in the world if she could just come back.

A simple display message on her cell phone summed up life as it was. 'Days Go By' was life in its ultimate reality for Ruchi Mahalaha, who passed away on 11 November 2003, aged 24 years. Daughter, sister, cousin, niece, friend, confident – she was all these things – and much more. She took with her a part of the lives of all those who knew her when she left this world for what seems to be a better place for her. One where there is no suffering and pain, one which we do not know well enough, one which we cannot speak of with great confidence.

It took 7 years to uncover the reason for Ruchi constantly being sick as a child. Trips back and forth between India and USA could not determine why she always had cold-like symptoms. It took one doctor who had a nagging doubt, who then conducted a test and was able to determine what the problem was.

Cystic Fibrosis.

Not known to be a common diesease in India this detection came as a shock to the whole family. A life-threatening disease cystic fibrosis affects the normal functioning of the lungs and pancreas and makes the body vulnerable to disease. It is a genetic disease and creates thick sticky mucus that clogs the lungs and causes lung infections. This leads to violent coughing spells and breathing difficulties. While affecting the pancreas, cystic fibrosis prevents digestive enzymes from reaching the intestines to help break down food. Weight loss despite excessive appetite are the prominent symptoms of this problem. Today more than 30,000 people throughout the United States, suffer from cystic fibrosis. The average survival age for patients is 33.4 years.

Ruchi was taken before her time.

Now began the period that was not only emotionally difficult, but also physically challenging for the family. All the different medications and daily exercise routines cause excruciating pain to all those involved.

***

Ruchi never let the fact that she was sick stop her from trying to lead a normal life. She did all the things an average kid would do in America. She graduated high school and attended prom, left home and moved to University of Cincinnati from her hometown in Cleveland, Ohio. She even took the time to join many organizations and played an active role in all of them. Seems normal enough… but after all this was the endless weekends in the hospital for check-ups and treatments while other 'normal' kids had drinking parties and watched college football.

Ruchi was physically weak, she could not work long hours or lift heavy weights like most of us, but the strength of her soul knew no bounds. Self-confidence and ambition was reflected in her every action. At 22, she was more focused and in control of her life - whatever time-frame of life she had - than most college students. She knew life was short for her, and so she took it upon herself to live each day to its fullest. She refused to sit still and just take in life, she was well aware that she was not blessed with the time to do so.

It was two years ago during her brothers wedding that a cousin had come in from out of town for just a week. She had barely arrived when Ruchi grabbed her and took her along for a shopping trip. After traveling for five hours she was tired and finally in exasperation yelled at Ruchi saying that they could have gone shopping the next day. All Ruchi said was, “What if I don’t have a tomorrow.” That was the first time there was fear and apprehension in Ruchi’s voice as she quickly reverted to her jovial self and sand loudly along with the songs on the radio.

Her drive to live, her compassion for all things living (except cockroaches), her hunger for knowledge and adventure made it hard to dislike her. The room livened up when she walked in chatting brightly and forever smiling. She was always caught looking her best. Seeing someone like Ruchi, who knew from the start that she got the shorter end of the stick in this life-race, always happy and radiant could make anyone feel selfish for complaining when things go wrong in life.

Sure you could complain, but what will you do when life goes wrong.

We had been preparing all our lives for the day when Ruchi would be admitted to the hospital for the last time, in a critical state. Family members all over the world were called and informed and they wept dearly as they said their last goodbyes. Those in the US flew down to see her. Ruchi was a fighter – she held on till everyone could make it and finally she stopped fighting and closed her eyes for the last. Ironically the only one who could not say goodbye was one of the few people who had seen an instant of fear in Ruchi’s eyes.

The pain of wounds healing comes after the loss of a dear one. You never really learn how to deal with tragic loss. A line from the famous musical 'Singin’ in the Rain' fits in well here “Come rain, come shine, come snow, come sleet, the show MUST go on.” Or rather in this case, life must go on. Life went on for Ruchi’s family and friends but it wasn’t easy.

College friends of Ruchi, set up a rose sale in her honor after she died, called 'Roses for Ruchi' which lasted for three days and sent the money back to the CFF to further their efforts to cure cystic fibrosis. They chose roses based of the story of 65 roses. A 4-year old boy suffering from cystic fibrosis and unable to pronounce it correctly once told his mother he knew she was working for '65 Roses'. As the CFF says, “making it easier to say, does not make CF any easier to live with.”

***

Life does some things to you. It teaches you, in a split second, lessons you may have never realized otherwise. From Ruchi you can learn that no matter how bad things are, you have to make the most of what you have. It’s a common lesson that is reiterated often, but its stories like this that make the lesson hit home.

Ruchi is no more, but her story and the legacy she left behind will live on forever, as will the void in the lives of everyone who knew her. The lines from the Michael Learns to Rock song come to mind now – “We will keep the faith between us, if we only try. We will keep the truth inside us, love will never lie.”
January 2005.

Note: the unnamed cousin in this piece...is me.
Miss you Ruch, think of you everyday!

pictures in my head...

When I close my eyes I see,

dancing on a crowded floor,
laughing and enjoying the night,
walking out on the balcony for a breather,
it was hot in there,

im wearing a t-shirt and jeans,
everythings clinging to my body,
he follows me out,
flapping his shirt on the way out

sweat trickling down my face,
i face the wind to cool down,
standing with my eyes closed,
smiling to myself,

he watches me as i breathe deeply,
taking in the night,
shaking my hair,
trying to dry it out,

i open my eyes,
look at him and smile,
"what you looking at," i say
he says "you" and steps closer to me,

he looks into my eyes,
smiles his crooked smile,
trails my face with a finger,
rests his hand behind my neck,

he leans in,
pulling me closer,
he hesitates,
and we both know why,

"i shouldn't be doing this," he says,
"then don't," i say,
he smiles, and closes his eyes,
"just once," he whispers on my lips,

i smile,
closing my eyes,
he kisses me slowly,
then pulls away gently,

i open my eyes,
he's standing away from me,
just looking at me,
i realise, he never kissed me,

i imagined it all,
"just once" ringing in my head,

and i think to myself,
what a wonderful world...

sometimes the pictures fade,
sometimes they just remain as they were, pictures in my head...

Carry me (like a fire in your heart)

There is an answer, some day we will know,
And you will ask her, why she had to go,
We live and die, we laugh and we cry,
And you must take away the pain,
Before you can begin to live again;

So let it start, my friend, let it start,
Let the tears come rolling from your heart,
And when you need a light in the lonely nights,
Carry me like a fire in your heart,
Carry me like a fire in your heart;

There is a river rolling to the sea,
You will be with her for all eternity,
But we that remain need you here again,
So hold her in your memory
And begin to make the shadows disappear;

Yes let it start, my friend, let it start,
Let the love come rolling from your heart,
And when you need a light in the lonely nights,
Carry me like a fire in your heart,
Carry me like a fire in your heart;

So let it start, my friend, let it start,
Let the love come rolling from your heart,
And when you need a light in the lonely nights,
Carry me like a fire in your heart,
Carry me like a fire in your heart,

Carry me like a fire in your heart,
Carry me like a fire in your heart.

Someone posted this to my blog, and I missed it somehow. Thank you, it is perfect.

lips of an angel

Honey why you calling me so late?
It's kinda hard to talk right now
Honey why are you crying, is everything okay?
I gotta whisper ? cause I can't be too loud

Well, my girl's in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on

It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak

And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

It's funny that you're calling me tonight
And yes I've dreamt of you too
And does he know you're talking to me?
Will it start a fight?
No I don't think she has a clue

Well my girl's in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on
It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak

And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak

And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

Honey why are you calling me so late?

three years already...

This time last year, I was a wreck. But this year is different.

I went out last night, salsa dancing with my friends. I wore your dress, (it's a miracle that it fit), did my hair like you, put on your jewellery and stepped out for a night on the town - just like you would. I danced and I laughed and I was one with the music. But there was more to it - I was one with the essense of you.

I wasn't sure how I would feel, but I was surprised that I was happy. Happy to be close to you in spirit and soul. Happy to keep you alive everyday in everything I do.

Love you hamesha dids, you will be with me always...

two years....

It's that time of year that I dread the most...the anniversary date draws near and I'm beginning to fall to pieces again. I'm afraid to see myself crumble again on Tuesday...will I be strong enough to pull myself up this time or not...

Is it because I laugh and joke and fool around all the time that people don't see my pain? If I'm happy and fine then why do I cry myself to sleep everyday? Why doesn't a day go by when I don't secretly wipe away my tears at random moments?

Someone sent me this poem a while ago saying that this is what Tuna wanted us to remember everyday. It couldn't be more perfect...

"When I must leave

do not grieve and shed tears

Nor hug your sorrows

to you through the years.

But start out bravely

with a gallant smile

And for my sake

and in my name

Live on and do

all things the same.

Feed not your loneliness

on empty days

But fill each waking hour

in useful ways.

Reach out your hand

in comfort and in cheer

I, in turn, will comfort you

and hold you near."

Fuck...will it ever stop hurting...