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One month down the line from this trip and the travelogue still remains tucked away in the draft folder ! what a shame. perhaps it was the postaweek prompt or the urge to relive the holiday .. am back here trying to finish this one. It’ll take a little while .. but well begun is almost done in my case!
Some of us feel the need to take a trip to escape from the daily hassles of life and some to explore what’s out there that we have been missing knowing about. A little about former but essentially about latter , travel for me has always meant a journey towards discovery.
A lesson in history well learnt , a legend that still lives on , a purpose that binds an entite community and its generations together and a belief that refuses to be taken over by our modern sensibilities .I was looking for a weekend getaway for my birthday and I came back with more than a bargain.
This trip was planned almost a year back in thought if not detail at least. The husband and I were drawing up a list for the perfect weekend get away sometime around july and we came across this fantastic travelogue on the thought express at a blog that I regularly follow .
A place that we had never heard of held a mystical charm and the descriptor “land of kings” made the prospect too tempting to resist. But like few things are meant to be , it all fell in place in feb this year and I turned a year older at orchcha.
Barely 20kms from jhaansi ( an overnight journey away from delhi) this small little town was once the capital of bundelkhand. Infact the entire city is built around what was once a lavish kingdom.
On the bank of river Betwa , spread across just a couple of kms , the kingdom was passed on as a legacy from one generation to another.
Of all the promises one makes , the ones made to oneself are the toughest to keep.
No one knows our million faults and apprehensions better than we do and hence our constant attempt continues to keep them that way , hidden from the world. The struggle to lose that flab , the resolve to make those long pending calls to relatives and friends you last met at some wedding, the continued yearning to get a better life over the weekends than just getting wasted as a couch potato.
But that dance class you’ve been wanting to join , or the morning walk or the catching up on communication keeps getting pushed aside to the next day/next week / next century! Another promise brutally broken. And no one got the slightest of hint of the damage that it perhaps caused , including you.
Agreed life is too short to regret but its too important to be wasted doing things you’d rather not do. Like break promises for starters?
So be more patient, a little more content, a little more health-conscious and go ahead and write that travel post/junk the junk and head out for a walk / call up your college buddy for something else than a birthday wish. Go ahead make some promises to yourself . And keep them for a change.
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Power dressing is the theme of the day. Was going to opt for a more ethnic attire perhaps but as a common dress code we girls are gonna wear white shirt with black trousers . And so it is, but apart from looking like a steward and feeling more masculine than feminine . Beats the purpose of a womens day , isn’t it?
I guess I feel more feminine when I am in a sari, it makes you feel elegant and pretty and charming and graceful. Everything we gods special creations are supposed to be. But more than just choice of clothes its perhaps what makes me feel more like a woman is that I drive my own car ( even though I may crib about the traffic and world may question our skills on the road , but hey , me got my car , me gonna drive it) . Or maybe I take mr husband to an elaborately planned trip/ date ( men love to get pampered and fussed over , take it from me) . Reading poetry and getting it. Or watching a movie and then discuss it from every aspect like we’ve known those people on screen for more than a few hours. Or pick my own bags , chase a deadline ruthlessly and plan a dinner at home to the last detail. Shopping may make me feel good but what makes me feel like a woman is looking at the men around and knowing I can do all that they can and yet some more . If not better maybe as well. If not as well but definitely with all my heart. I can smile and hum and hug and laugh out loud and throw a tantrum yet be considered completely normal. Sometimes its pretty damn awesome being us , women :-)
So here’s a very happy women’s day to all us women out there , who can fight their own battles and walk away with nothing but just a smile ! Sent on my BlackBerry® from Vodafone
I am heading out to mumbai and this would be my first pass through the phenomenal T 3 terminal that every one has been raving about. The little red light on my BB glows at 5 AM and I can’t wait to open up those messages and see what’s new. But the sleepy city is rushing past me and I can’t tear my eyes off the glitterring street lights and the early risers who are raising their shop shutters already.
Clearly this addiction or a compulsive disorder that some may call it is beyond those who don’t own this fabulous device , aren’t the ‘ blackberry boys’ so to speak.
Like yesterday , sometime in the evening , Mr husband was struggling to figure out his new blackberry. After trying out a couple of things he finally shoved it aside declaring it quite useless .
Looks like its the season of the ‘new’. Coz Just about then kat richter’s new post drops in . I read about her latest adventures about dating and writing and generally living it up.
Two ends of a spectrum. Very extreme. Very different. For some ‘something new ‘ presents an exciting prospect of discovery and for some ‘an unwelcome change’ . Somewhere between these two far ends is a place where I’d like to be every day. If only we could have right now and see what the future holds , the idea of something new would be a tad more reassuring. Sent on my BlackBerry® from Vodafone
The daily prompt threw this question at me , just about the time when I was turning a year older.
So here’s what I think…
Re-reading your favourite book a billionth time
Or fitting into the good ole jeans some years down the line
Memories captured in wornout photographs that no facebook album can replace
The promise of all-girls-reunion, every year , same place.
The bond you share with that special someone
When the older you grow the fonder they become
When an elegant composure takes over the young bohemian spirit
And the gramophone record brings alive old melodies so vivid
Relationships, beauty, songs, books and memories,
Get better like old wine , as time flies.
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