To Life!

Moving across the cacophonous lives of people displayed on the medium, I take a minute to adsorb in the many vagaries of life. In the frantic hurry to grab limelights, nurturing an implicit intention to be noticed in the crowd, aren't we knowingly or unknowingly forgetting the truest joys of mankind? To be appreciated is anyone's secret desire and it comes without say that there is indeed no harm in it. But, have you ever wondered that, perhaps, there exists an invisible fine line between a desire and greed?

Love Hurts, Love Heals - Book Review

The Title : Love Hurts, Love Heals

Author :  Sundeep Tibrewal

Publication : APK Publishers

Label : Non- Fiction

Price : Rs. 195

ISBN - 13 : 9789381791141

• Pages  : 154
• Year : 2012

The Story In Short :

 Love Hurts, Love Heals is a short yet stirring autobiographical account of the author Sundeep Tibrewal. The story begins with an interesting and absolutely enticing account of the author’s first meeting with his future bride Neha, every single slice of the event unfurling in the traditional Hindu pattern. After having exchanged mutual consents for marriage, Sundeep and Neha embark on their committed journey together, having promised each other to take care of their partner in sickness and in health. In the next few chapters the reader is taken on an imaginary ride through the many incidents of their married life – about Sundeep’s plan to enroll for one year of formal training in MBA at ISB, Hyderabad, how Neha accompanied him to the college campus and her compassionate deeds in company of the spouses gang to teach the caretaker’s kids during their spare time, their return to Kolkata, where they were originally based, at the time of Neha’s pregnancy, about Sundeep’s passion to make it big in entrepreneurship and finally, albeit most importantly about the marvellous time with their angelic daughter Jiya. Like a bolting from thin air, an egregious news shudders the very existence of Sundeep’s life and the later part of the book deals in length and breadth about the inevitable transformation in Sundeep’s life and how he finally came to terms with the unpredictable facet of  life. 

My Take :

The Cover :

The story Love Hurts, Love Heals, basically is a love story and as if to consolidate the goodness and purity of married life, the cover page is glossed with the shade white, exuding serenity and peace. I am not sure whether it was intentional, but after having completed reading the book, I felt that the cover, with the picture of the man and woman holding hands, was designed such that it would highlight the very essence of the story – love and peaceful existence. 

The Story :

The fact that the story is an autobiographical account leaves less space for minute dissections, however I would love to delve deep into the book nonetheless. Take this line on the opening page - 
' It was a very big decision afterall. I thought from the girl's perspective and realised that it would probably be a bigger decision for her since she would have to become a part of a new family ' .  
Doesnt it shout loud about the sensible nature of the protagonist ? Lines like these convince the reader, for they state the otherwise untended truth in its rawness and make him/her trust the author, making the reader feel at home going through the book.

Certain portions like the couple’s trip to Brisbane and Hayman’s Island, the hushed and zestful plans for Neha’s birthday celebration, the birth of their daughter Jiya and the overwhelming emotions engrained into the narration, all these were heart warming, for the author has sketched to life the very basic emotional undercurrents in any persons life. The part where the author describes the heart wrenching event that wrecked the smooth and enviable existence of his family is detailed in a poignant manner and one is sure to be left moved by the author’s mental turmoil. The author also contemplates in depth about the concept of Karma and after lives and about the probable explanations for the imbalanced fate curve of humans. 

The letter to his daughter that the author has knit to the story towards the end, speaks volumes about his love and concern for his daughter. The message that he tries to convey to his daughter is enriched with the lessons that he had amassed in his life time, mostly during the aftermath of the debacle. The revamping of the author’s normal life and the sequence of subtle changes in his routine subsequently, like his diversion towards spirituality and the heightened intense of his family’s care, depicts the resilient nature of humans and consolidates the meaning of the book’s title that ultimately, its love alone that heals the pain caused by its loss.  

The writing is lucid and the author has maintained an appreciable flow till the last page. In the afterword the author speaks about his wife Neha and the intention behind writing this book and the reader is sure to be left applauding the author for his commendable effort for upholding the cause. A fleeting thought on the whirlpool of emotions the author must have gone through while penning down the story brought a pang to my heart. The book serves as an eye opener for the malicious minds existing in our society who vye over trivial matters, for through his book the author proves that love is the sole meaningful expression and that love alone would bring sanctity to our lives. 

Recommended : To all readers who would love to indulge in two hours of evocative read. The admirers of books on subtle emotions of love would especially love this one. 

My Rating :  4 / 5

About The Author : 

Sundeep Tibrewal is an author and digital marketing professional. He completed his MBA from the Indian School Of Business, Hyderabad. He holds a Master of Science in Engineering from Arizona State University, USA. Currently, Sundeep is the Director of NeoBVM. He was the Chief Product Manager at 9.9 Media, managing thir digital ventures, before NeoBVM. He has also conducted 'Positive Thinking' workshops for school students in Kolkata. 

Buy The Book : 

Buy the book online at Indiaplaza.com

Get in touch with the author at Love Hurts Love Heals Facebook Page or on his email lovehurtsloveheals2012@gmail.com. 

P.S : My sincere gratitude to the author Sundeep Tibrewal for having sent me an autographed copy of the book for review. 

P.P.S : The opinions that are part of this review are entirely the reviewer's. This is not a paid review. 

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At The Bus Stop

Image Source : here

As was his routine for the past few weeks, he waited for her expectantly at his usual position near the bus stop. ' The month of March has always been the most grueling, ' he concluded, as a drop of sweat trickled down his temple. The scorching rays showered by the ever blazing sun, sans mercy, shrouded a needle sharp blanket over the earth. To add to the inconvenience,  a gush of sultry humid breeze would swish its way past the people at regular intervals of time.

 It was the busiest time of the day - the morning hours when people scurried fast in groups for their work. He registered in amusement that the events that unwound around him daily had an unerringly etched out pattern. The restaurant run by Kalaam, the one at the junction, which flocked the most number of customers, would be the first to signal its functioning. The deafening metallic shriek of the rotten shutter made sure that any one in half a kilometer vicinity were notified of the hotel’s availability, the first thing in the morning without fail. He was aware of this fact, for he was always the first customer to savour a share of food from the hotel.  

The telephone booth run by the raspy voiced man who reeked of alcohol any time of the day opened next. He despised the tone of  nastiness that outweighed that man’s sarcasm, whenever he called out to him and said, " Why do you keep focussing on this junction Raghu ?. I am sure that you are jinxed. My customers are dropping day after day! " .

Raghu coughed out loud as the smoke which was propelled out from the bus which came to a screeching stop at the bus stop choked his nostrils. 

‘ Where is she ? ‘. He felt a whirlpool of emotions somersaulting inside his head.

She was working as a sales girl at the nearby textile shop. That much he knew for once he happened to overhear that detail while she was talking to her friend. Every time she passed by her, his otherwise numb brain cells seemed to be blossoming by the mere fragrance of her scent. Her voice was mellifluous, sounding young and her speech, deeply enriched with the sweetest of notes. The fact that the wild clutter of her glass bangles soothened his ears much more than the innocent chuckle of a baby intrigued him for he was well past his prime in the ledger of age roll.  He never deserved to fall for a girl that divine as her. Yet, she mattered to him the most, he knew. 

His emotional connect with the girl started blooming one fine day when she offered to lend him a hand seeing him in a meddled scenario. Since that day, without fail, she used to pause at him to share a word with him in her usual enigmatic voice. The emotional chord that connected him to her strengthened as this daily routine of her's started intriguing him. Gradually, before he knew, she was everything to him. An affectionate mother, a playful sister, a loving wife, every worthy relation that he was forced to live without. She opened to him an enchanting world of never ending love to quench his parched life – all with those few words sprinkled with compassion.

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Meantime, a few kilometeres from the town, Sita was worried beyond limits. She checked her watch impatiently. “ I am late ! " Sita thought in utter despair.

 Being late for her job was simply something she couldn’t dare to do  , especially when she was offered a salary hike for her flawless service at the textile shop. The last few weeks had been strange. As if the angel finally decided to cocoon her with all sorts of blessings, luck had been approaching her from every untapped crevice of her life. Having tasted the bitter phase of life Sita never expected much from her life. With an ailing mother to look after, she weaved little dreams for herself. Quite unexpectedly now, with her shop offering her a promotion as the one of the heads of the sales section, her future was turning to be rosier, for once in her otherwise thorny life .  The employee whose position she was taking over, was expelled for being up in news for his nefarious deed of trying to trade his one month old baby for a lump some amount of money.  Hard to believe such monsters even existed, Sita had opined on hearing the news. But then, ‘ Truth is stranger than fiction ‘  isnt ?. She remembered recalling a proverb the next moment that she had learnt way back in her school days. Truth was definitely stranger. Miraculous at times, devastating at other times.

Fifteen minutes later, Sita scampered her way though the crowded bus, the travelers yielding away from their uncomfortable, yet unavoidable embraces, and alighted the bus when it paused at her stop. 

                                                                   
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To know the rest of the story, keep waiting. An improvised, altered version of this story is going to be part of an anthology!

Let Them Soak No More In Loneliness

What is the worst of woes that wait on age ?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow ?
To view each loved one blotted from life's page
And be alone on earth , as i am now 

                                                                LORD BYRON , childe harold



           
 THE YEAR 2007 ,KERALA

                          A bunch of medical students were guided to an old age home as part of their community medicine posting . I was one among them . For us the daily visits to such places as part of the posting was kind of a breather given the hectic clinical postings that we were supposed to handle otherwise . Giggling and passing jokes to each other, we entered the building . On our way we passed a dainty old man who was sitting crouched on a chair straining hard to scan the newspaper . There was a moment of absolute silence when it started dawning on our minds that this visit is not going to be mere fun . The assistant professor of the department who was at the helm of our group asked us to settle down . And then , he started speaking . He was so subtle in his content, painting before us a rather dark picture of the despondent , dejected people residing in that particular old age home . 

                    Much to my surprise , i noticed a girl who was seated beside me  trying hard to suppress tears pouring down her cheeks . Yes, the speech was poignant and it touched our hearts way too deep . The sir might have noticed it , because he started focussing on the girl , his eyes away from her . " I see young hearts wailing , at the mere narration of the loneliness and torture that people have to go through when they become old . Then why do the same young sons and daughters change colours and turn venomous to such extent that they discard their parents in some corner of a well  renowned vacuum of an institution years forward ? Are they too much to handle when they are old ? Werent you unbelievably hard to handle when you were babies ? Did they throw you away to indulge in the ecstasies of their married life ? "

              We left the building with a heavy heart . Atleast a couple of us promised in our minds that this would never be the fate of our parents .

picture courtesy : Google

THE YEAR 2011

                  I climbed the stairs of the very same old age institution which left me shattered a few years back . I had started earning stipend as part of my internship and i was here to bring to fulfillment a decision i had made a couple of years back, while i disembarked the very same stairs . Meeting the Mother Superior , i handed over whatever little the amount i could manage as monetary help . Right then while she was giving me a more vivid account of the working of the institution , an eldery lady of around 70 years came by . The topic diverted to her past . She belonged to a brahmin family , who had to elope from her tharavadu owing to the rejection and harsh treatment she had to bear from her daughter in laws . And now look at her , she was helping the servants there cook non vegetarian dishes something which she wouldnt have even dreamt of in those happy minutes of holding her new born son close to her bosom, years back .

             What goes wrong in the mindsets of people when they grow older ? what happens so much so that it destroys the innocence and care deep from the rootlevels ? Yes its true, life starts becoming an ordeal once you step into family life . But certain emotions   connecting two people are so deep and inseparable that they never deserve to be viewed differently by either anytime in their life , however far and high life takes you . Like the emotional chord that connects a mother and her kid and vice versa . 


                During my pediatrics posting i have seen sorrows of mothers who had to witness their babies passing through sickness which leaves them numb , motionless , with not even an ounce of energy to cry out . The unfortunate mothers would be yearning from their bottom of their heart to feed their babies atleast once, to hear their long hoped for bundle of joy cry out at the top of their voice like every other child . How does it end up in a situation where the same mothers cry out to their sons not to bully them infront of others , many years down the lane ? Pitiful isnt ? 


             If you can jot down a promise in the back of your hearts never to let your parents suffer when they are old , never to let them weep in the dark corridors of an old age home sinking in helplessness and desperation , that would be the most heavenly manner by which you could repay  all the hardships they had to suffer to watch you grow up ,all the  care and affection they showered on you all these years . Let no parent soak any more in loneliness . They deserve every bit of love from their children till the very last minute of their life . Dont they ? 

picture courtesy : google

 ' This post has been submitted for the Soak No More contest by indiblogger and surf excel matic . '

Fearless In The Sea

Life , like the tide of a sea
Tickle your feet ; the raptures entice you and me . . 
Before you it recedes atlast , inspite of your plea
Drenched in effervescence , for long remain thee .


Life , like the tide of a sea 
Taunt us with gory , you never expect such from thee. 
You wriggle from its clutch , you , but never ever me ;
Relieved to have survived , though its a pity you did flee .
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-soon to be part of an anthology-

Musings . . .

                                            The answer evades itself . . It presents more or less like a blurred mirage every time the deepest recesses of her mind poke at her the query - Why do you hope this hard ?! 


                                        She was reluctant to ponder deep on those implicit ones . . .because  She didnt know for sure the answer . . . or she is scared that her reasoning might let her down, reveal to her the stark reality looming playfully teasing her.  . . Which she chose to ignore otherwise wistfully . . . 

                                            The heart preaches - Hope everytime climaxes with a sunshine at the end of the tunnel ,the tunnel being the long dreary hours you drag wishing something . . dreaming for something . . . toiling for something . . . praying for something . .  Something purely precious .


                                         The head retorts -Try to think with sense dear . Doesnot hope stretch the whining period a tad bit long ? Especially when the situation presents such that you seem to have absolutely no control over the turn of events ? . . . Yes hope kills . . It has been busy strenghthening the basement of your defeat all the way . . The moment the despondent mind let herself adsorb this fact , it would be too late . . . Its always too late . . She thought . . .


                                         A shut door is believed to be  the pointer to an even promising doorway . We muster every ounce of courage dwelling though scanty in our bereft minds to run miles away from the dark alley . . Only to glance bak longingly at d closed door , wishing it would open . . Open wide just for us one day to leave us breathless in awe n joy . . Sad that mostly it never happens . .And  even worse when tht special sumthng wich ruled our lyf at one pt of tym ceases to matter nymore just like that , blame the healing power of time . . Or should we thank it ? We can brave the odds . . Or swear the Gods . . Either way destiny lies awaiting us sumwhere . . 

  
                                           The whims and fancies of her dreamy life has always pricked her back . . .For she was foolish enough to swim with the enchanting tide . . Only to realise ultimately that she has been smashed against the rock . .Was it worthy relishing the journey so promisingly mesmerising , when you gained simply torture and nothing else from the same in the end , let alone happiness ?  Her mind is testing her today , way too much . Yes it has always played the part of a modulator in her pain ! She sweared .

                                        But then only to pull you up from the ashes my friend . . . It whispered .But she didnt hear those powerful words . . . The turmoil of her inside was so shadowed with deperation that it made her deaf . . A tear drop smudged her black kohl . . . Another rolled down to her trembling lips . . The tears would flow all night drenching her pillow . . She would slide into a slumber sometime into the night. . Unaware . . 
                                          
                                      And like the clear blue sky shining with gust after a heavy downpour ,she would wake up from her sleep to welcome the day . . The quibbles would retreat to the recesses . . For its time to smile now . . .She goes on. . . knowing the brighter moment would hardly last . . 


                                    But for all the melancholy hours, for all the tumbling dreams , sure she deserves atleast that much isnt ?