Mumma, I really miss you!

Dearest Mumma,

A lot of people have been writing really nice things about you. Words failed me completely till now. It's after a week that I am writing to you because I need to pen these things to be able to breathe better.

It has been 7 days since you went away. Since then, 70,000 people have tweeted about you, including Shah Rukh Khan. Since then, I have spoken to 700 people who have told me in 7000 ways of how they will now see you through my smile. Since then, I have shed more than 7 million tears; sometimes to overcome the unbearable pain of facing the reality that I will never hear you again or have your hand lovingly caress my cheeks and look at me lovingly; sometimes through smiles, remembering all the goofiness we have enjoyed together and some of your solo antics.

In the course of the last 7 days, I have had panic attacks, sleepless nights and day-long sleeping sessions. I have binge-watched comic shows in an attempt to laugh without guilt. I have also sat with a Harry Potter book for hours trying to find solace. Completely out of character, I have gone on walks in an attempt to tire myself out before bedtime so that the images of your last days in the hospital would stay at bay. I have succeeded in some ways but I have a long way to go in others.

Even as I type this, I know when I share it on my blog and then the link of the post to Twitter and Facebook, yours will not be the first comment, RT, heart or like to the post. I know you won’t call me to tell me to stop crying and to assure that everything will work out for the best. I know you won’t tell me to come and meet you over the weekend and hug away all my worries. I know it all but I still hope against hope that I will get the notifications that always made me smile earlier and the phone calls that made the world better.

Friends have been calling me to check on me. But never again will I pick up the phone and say, ‘haan, mumma’ and never again will you reply, ‘haan beta’.  Vivek remembers this part of our daily video calls punctually at 8:30 pm everyday since you left.

Vivek is constantly on high alert trying his best to be strong for me. But he misses you a lot too. He has the right idea of coping with the loss though. He has decided that we will try our best to go through life thinking at each crossroad ‘what would Aruna P. Khot do in this situation’. In the last 7 days he has picked up after himself without a reminder from me. He has praised SRK thousands of times. I think he has already started implementing the new life philosophy. I hope you saw all this and smiled at us.

You know I am a crier. The frequency of tears is reducing gradually. But I can’t promise that the floodgates will close completely anytime soon.

Mumma, I really miss you!

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Trust is the operative word

When you are travelling, you need to trust. You need to trust fellow passengers, who have seen you working on your laptop, take money out of your wallet, put the wallet and the laptop securely back in your bag before you go to the washroom. Then before leaving the compartment, you smile and request the strangers to keep your luggage safe. You trust. Blindly.

You hire an autorickshaw. Knowing very well that the autorickshaw driver is charging you almost double the fare. Then you trust him. Trust him to not only take you to your destination but also drive safely. You smile at him, ask him his name and the next thing you know he is telling you how not to get duped, where to go, and how to commute.

Trust is the operative word. Once you begin to trust, suddenly the world seems nicer. Sadly, for me at least, trusting people comes easy only when I am travelling. Maybe this is the ‘one thing’ I’ll take back home (apart from the presents I am to carry if I want to lead a happy life).

I left Goa this morning. Carrying my bags to the station from the resthouse early morning was taxing for my shoulders but a major ego boost for my soul. Being independent is a high. And though I have never tried any other forms of getting a high, I still can bet my last cent that nothing can beat the high of being independent.

I was very excited about the train ride today. I had read online and heard from Jaspinder that this leg of the journey was magical. Fortunately, it was everything I expected and then some more. My co-passengers today were a German couple. A few seconds before the train was going to reach the Dhoodhsagar Falls the Ticket Checker came rushing through the compartment telling all of us to look outside the window and be ready with our cameras. I explained to the German couple why the Indians on board and especially the Ticket Checker was so excited about the falls. Even though they told me that they had never seen a Bollywood film, I explained to then that these falls have gained a special importance in our lives since they were a location in a very important scene in SRK starrer Chennai Express. So crossing the same place where SRK had been during the shooting of the movie was a total fan-girl moment for me.

However, I must admit that travelling solo is not all fun. You see couples in love, families mostly shouting at each other but surely in love to travel together, and then you see something incredibly beautiful and have no one to turn to, to share the moment. In the last five days I have shared a lot of moments and conversations with strangers. And while the novelty of that experience is something that I cherish, there were several moments when I missed having someone next to me, someone I knew. But I knew what I was stepping into when I packed my bags and left the cold grey skies of Delhi.

Once in Hospet, all the autowalas went rushing to the foreign tourists. I felt neglected and decided I would go to Hampi with the first autowala who asks me, and that too without bargaining. And so Sharat earned not only my respect for ignoring the foreigners but also awesome business from me. He will be taking me around the ruins of Hampi tomorrow as well. But this time I will bargain.

I decided to take it a bit slow today and just vegetated in front of the TV throughout the evening. More about the hotel, the staff and of course Hampi tomorrow.

Why SRK is my God!

Words fall short when someone asks me why I revere Shahrukh Khan. I have on many occasions tried to explain but in vain. Most of the times the words have failed to translate the emotions to ‘T’. On other occasions I was sure that the person I was rambling in front of just would not be able to comprehend from where I was coming from. So, in true filmy fashion I will try to pen down my reverence for the man, who I have on many occasions gone as far as comparing to the God almighty.

SRK is God by the definition that God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. This said, I believe that everyone has the right to choose their Gods. In form of human, stone, energy, Is, One. Circumstances in my life were such that only SRK came close to fitting the description of God, as I understood the Supreme.

To begin with, a self-confessed ‘maa ki pooch’, I liked SRK just because my mom liked him. Then some 11 years ago, in November of 1998, my father was admitted to the hospital for 19 days and he succumbed to Hepatitis B and passed away on December 7. Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, was released on October 16, 1998. Piracy was rampant and the cable wala had dutifully showed the film within two days of the release. I had seen the film on TV several times before seeing it in theatre.



The atmosphere in the house was something I don’t want to even remember. With death looming in the corner and the air thick with depression, it was dark and tense. Smiling was not an option that was even considered. There were days when as a 15 and a half year old I would cry my eyes red. Then there were days when tears would not come but grey tear marks on my cheeks could be spotted by friends and family from miles away.

The only time, I smiled was when SRK would tell Kajol, “ladkiyon jaise mat chilaoo” or “Excusez-moi”. I would feel “everything would be alright” when Rahul, played by SRK, would assure his eight-year-old daughter that "everything will be alright". I saw the sadness I was feeling in SRK’s eyes and by the end of the three hours he would give the scared teenager sobbing soundlessly late into the night, assurance of hope that something better would come.

I am no more a teenager but that positivity, which he still exudes through the screen, has the power to make me smile in the darkest hour. And thus as far as I am concerned SRK is God

As God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.