a love without any reason!!

She is making big leaps. Saloma is growing up. She is now 31 days old but looks as if my life knows her really well.
It appears as if she had always been a part of me and I dread the day she would leave Delhi, only to leave an abyss so surreal.
Children are like that. There is not even a single way that would suggest you not to love them. This is what people say about their children, but how true is it for the other children not belonging to their clan.
Will one love them the same way they would love their children? Will that love be and pure not touched upon by negative traits of a human being?
Having no Ph.D. in motherhood, I asked a few ladies of what they feel. Many were of the belief that it’s always special to have your own child. If you don’t get the wrecking aches, the love just cannot stay alive. The initial gestation period; synonym with pukes and the final hurdle synonym with intense pain, just adds on to the love for your own child.
As per them, it’s the blood running in the veins of the child that matters. If it’s yours, then that’s more than enough for love to blossom.
So the blood relationship matters, but what about their husbands. Do they marry their own cousin or brothers? They obviously don’t. But still they love them. So whatever factor guides their love, blood relation definitely does not appear in the picture in this case. But I still fail to understand why do the rules change for children?
I am no mother myself, but still I do love kids. A mother’s views and idea of love for her child is completely alien to me.
To me children are a means to the feel nirvana. There is nothing better that seeing them grow every day.
I love Saloma, not because she is my sister’s daughter but because she is the first child I am seeing from such a close quarter. I drool over her every time she gets up and makes faces to suggest that she is hungry.
The way she wakes up by punching her left hand up in the air, shouting out loud that she is a superman, is a to-die for expression. She pees on my shirt, she shits on my lap, and she vomits one on the whole of me, only to make my love for her deeper. I sing a song for her and she stops crying. I make faces for her and she starts smiling. She does not know who I am but makes me feel important. As a matter of the fact she makes everyone feel important. And I just hope that she remains this way and not start counting the blood relations as a measure of factoring her love.

women's special

It made a grand entry in Delhi by zooming into everyone's life, making long distance journey seem short. It then ventured into every nook and corner of the city wanting to change the city's mode of suffering..err..commuting. It was the hot favourite for long before its reputation started deteriorating thanks to many instances of passengers shoving each other for space, recurrent time snarls, line stoppage but mainly because of women's safety. Cases of women being misbehaved with were reported in abundance. And this ultimately led to what we call women's special. A compartment reserved for the ladies.
And this is what makes the voyage worthwhile all the time for me now. Not because of the comfort and the security that it gives us but because it gives you the feel of an all-women’s planet without actually going to Venus.
To give you an overview, the planet ‘Venus’ is surely going to be pink in colour. Well this is exactly what DMRC thinks so. A bed of pink flower awaits you at the platform for you to board the train. That’s life from a distance but when I go into a closer quarter, the life takes a complete U-turn. It is a bed of roses with thorns.
An all-women’s train is supposed to be safe. Well absolutely true. But in the process we forget that safety is universal, irrespective of the gender. Men boarding the women's compartment, beware. You might just get thrashed, trashed and abused for coming into their territory. It would not matter if you boarding the train for the first time. Stepping into the forbidden zone can be catastrophic for you. DMRC should seriously think of some safety measure for the men breed. What about an alarm which starts buzzing as soon as a foreign (read foreign as man) contaminant steps in the women’s compartment, along with a warning sign? At least this would be better than facing the women’s wrath.
This basic idea over formulating this women’s compartment concept was to create a secure environment, but what about the cold glares that women get from other women. There is indeed no comparison between getting ogled down by either men or women. Whereas lust is the reason for the former, I can’t figure out the reason for the latter’s existence. Maybe it is just the casual glances that they exchange or maybe it is something more than that. Well to remain in the good books of women kind, I would stick to the former opinion.
But what is it that makes women behave ignorant in the conditions that require just the basic display of human nature. What would a person need when he/she is about to pass off? A place to sit and probably some water. But this basic understanding lacks in most of the women I suppose. They would do anything to make a man give away the seat reserved for them, had he been sitting on it, but when it comes to giving the seat to a needy person, they would best turn blind to it rather than respond. This is not to say everyone belongs to the same league; am not generalizing, but neither do I want to turn blind to this fact.
Then there is the constant chatter causing destructive interference all around. Too much gossip is always too less for them. But when the train goes under-ground, there is nothing much that you can do. The sudden gloominess in the atmosphere is nothing like its usual self. It’s killing. But like they say , even the darkest of nights don’t last till eternity and it is such a delight for each one of us (yeah..including me) when the train comes out of the tunnel to see the light of the day, as it means getting back your lost sense, i.e. of being able to talk over the mobile. The ambience is nothing short of the when the plane lands, with everyone updating on the phone when to pick them up from so and so station. It is all cheerful, just the right kind of atmosphere to make you believe that everyone is busy, merry and gay.
Just for some business idea, the girls out there wouldn’t mind telephone operators giving a shot at some mode of communication where the connection exists even if you are underground. It is time for Vodafone to rethink and re-strategize their tag line ‘where ever you go, we follow’. While formulating it, I guess they forgot about the underground mode.
Ah..and when the destination finally arrives, it’s all so predictable. Everyone just rushes fast as if there’s no tomorrow.
As I step into the world which I had left behind before boarding this train, I realize that it is far far better place to live.
Earth is amazing and I feel no reason to move into either Mars or Venus.