Zinda ho tum?

Have you heard this one?

Dilon mein tum apni betaabiyan leke chal rahe ho, toh zinda ho tum
Nazar mein khwaabon ki bijliyan leke chal rahe ho, toh zinda ho tum
Hawa ke jhokon ke jaise aazad rehna seekho
Tum ek dariya ke jaise lehron mein behna seekho
Har ek lamhe se tum milo khole apni baahein
Har ek pal ek naya samaa dekhe yeh nigaahein
Jo apni aankhon mein hayraniyan leke chal rahe ho, toh zinda ho tum
Dilon mein tum apni betaabiyan leke chal rahe ho, toh zinda ho tum

I'm going to be doing the blogging equivalent of thinking aloud in this post, so bear with me a bit, yeah?

I've been listening to the songs of Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara on loop for the past few weeks, and something's been bothering me while I listen to them. At least three of the songs talk about "learning to live again". I'm trying to understand why people need to learn to do this.

We're all living, aren't we? We work, we come home, we meet friends, we spend time with family, we spend some time doing things we enjoy. Isn't that living?

Sure, I haven't seen the movie, so maybe there's something that I'm missing. Yes, there are workaholics, people stuck in jobs they hate, people who have no one, and so on - but all of that is also living, isn't it?

I spent three years in a job that I loved. I was a workaholic. I hated a lot of things about it, but I enjoyed the work, and I admired my bosses, and that was enough. And when I was at work, it didn't matter what stresses there were at home - those would recede to the back of my mind for that period. And when I would come home - which, granted, would often be a lot later than it should have been - I was home. I was with my family, or with my friend, or with you guys, on twitter.

That's living for me. I've never had much of a social life, and that's okay for me. I'm not much of a people or a party person. So I've never had the desire to go out and "live", whatever that means.

But there are all these movies, and songs, and posters on tumblr, that keep telling me I should remember to live my life. So I want to know, what does that mean exactly?

I started this post a week back. Since then, I've read this delightful post by @localteaparty, and this morning, read this in my GReader shared items, which in turn reminded me of this one that I'd come across nearly a year ago. All of which are trying to explain the same thing to me I think, but I still want to know: what does go live your life mean exactly?
Tell me?

When?

When do things slow down?

I thought it would be after I took those exams.

Then it was going to be after that huge project at work got over.

When that trip finally happened.

When that subsequent project got done.

When my applications got finished.

When my mother came back.

When this project got done.

When the project wrap-up finished.

But there's always another project, another crisis at home, another agenda to meet.

When do things really slow down?

Do they ever?

Ice!

So the person using Bloglines came back to my blog after my last post, but didn't reveal his/her identity. And in case you're back again, whoever you are, please understand that this is a very blatant appeal for comments. I need more commenters. Just the Zig is simply not enough. And that goes for the person from down South who visits every few days too.

I was going through my unpublished drafts last night, and came across the following one. Seems like an interesting mix of thoughts, so figured I'll put it up. I'm just trying to remember what on earth I was up to in October 2006 that didn't let me sleep at night. And exactly which bus incident I'm referring to here. There've been too many of 'em for my liking.

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If you live in Delhi, and have never heard of Kake da Hotel, you're an ignorant fool, in my very humble opinion. So there.
My family has patronised that place for more than twenty years now, and it's amazing how unchanged it's stayed over the years. It's still in that dingy little corner shop opposite Nirula's in Connaught Place, with the same hustle bustle. And it's not just the food which draws you there (although that is scrumptious anyway), it's the ambience of the place.
Everyone's in a rush there, the refills keep coming without you even asking, everyone keeps chattering at the top of their voices despite their full mouths... It's brilliant! It's fascinating how people from all walks of life will share a table with utter strangers without batting an eyelid. I have seen the most snobbish of people walk in there and walk out completely satisfied. Ah... Kake! There's just something about that place.

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I love filling ice trays. There's something utterly mesmerising about watching how you can let the water fall constantly in just one spot, and then see how it flows from cubicle to cubicle to cubicle. Not the most interesting of things for y'all perhaps, but mundane things things like this are fascinating at times, if you just care to look around you.

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It's amazing how a normal night's sleep can completely rejuvenate you.

For the past three weeks or so, I have been surviving on an average of four to five hours of sleep a night, with maybe an hour in the afternoon if I'm lucky. I hit my all-time low since my class 10 Boards when I caught only three and a half hours the other night. My sadistic family (what can I say - it runs in the family) derived great pleasure from watching my bleary-eyed efforts the next morning to get from one room to another without bumping into something.

That night, I decided enough was enough, and made sure I got around six and a half hours of sleep (which is my usual average anyway) and voilà! I was absolutely fit and fine and raring to face the world the next morning!

Of course, since then, I've been averaging about five hours a night again, so I think I'm heading for another breakdown soon.

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So I had a rather unnerving experience the other day. No, I won't go into the details, but I would like to say this: I hate the buses of Delhi. More specifically, I hate the men who travel by these buses. I think they're frustrated perverts, who should all be hung, drawn and quartered.

This is home.

I swear to you, Bengalis are the only community I know of who, on being asked how they are, actually tell you how they are. Seriously.

Mamma and I spent a week in Kolkata last month, and it is just incredible how asking a person how he/she is will get you very comprehensive details of each illness/ailment suffered in the past week by not only the person you're speaking to, but by every member of his/her family as well. The trip was incredible though. This was the first time I actually went around the city on my own, and the first time we did more than just visiting various relatives. Most importantly, after years of looking for it, my mother and I finally found the shop in New Market she used to frequent in her college days for the purpose of buying silver jewelry. Apparently, I forgot the meaning of the word stinginess while there, because by the time I exited that shop, all the gift money I had saved for the past two years had been spent.

We also discovered, for the first time perhaps, just how exasperating and unprofessional doctors in Kolkata are. Doctors in the NCR may be mad and annoying, but at least they're in their chambers during their scheduled hours and at least they pick up the damn phone when there's an emergency! I still love Kolkata, but if I had to live there, I think I'd go quite mad.

The family also spent a week or so in Mumbai and it's nearby hill stations recently. Quite a lovely trip; the father took us around to his college, hostel, and haunts from college days. I also found the perfect bag while shopping in Linking Road; it is huge and everything I ever need to carry with me (which, as some of you may know, is quite a bit) and still have space left over. And those are just a few of the highlights of the trip.

We're now back home. Things are happening at home. Life is back to normal, or as normal as it ever gets with my clan. I'm back to disliking shopping with a fervour (although I do need to visit Fab India fairly soon). The princess of the house is getting used to having the whole family with her most of the time, and is throughly enjoying being taken for walks by the brother every morning (as much as I am enjoying the extra half an hour of sleep since that particular morning duty is taken care of for the next four months at any rate).

I have also come to realize the truth of something I have been trying to deny for the past nearly fourteen years - this city is my home. The NCR is where I feel most comfortable. Oh, I love traveling and visiting other cities. The people here are ridiculous, the weather is crazy, and the transport system is capable of driving me to suicide. I've got my whole life ahead of me and there's no saying where I'll end up eventually. But for now, this is home.