Stones taught me to Fly!!

Couldn't help but borrow this line from Damien Rice. Stones did teach me to fly!

I was not born but was raised in Mumbai. My mother apparently brought me back to Mumbai when I was 3 months old. Mumbai is home. There's no other place on earth where I could be more at home. So much so that I could trade anything to stay here!

And this is where it starts...

Not long ago, almost 9 years i guess, in my teens, I was forced to leave this city and go stay with my grandfather in the place I was born. My native place, North India. See, it's a beautiful place, but for a person who had never been there more than twice before (just for a couple of weeks of school vacation, when I was not even a teenager), this was alien. The people, their mentality, transport system, the houses, the culture and traditions, even the cows and dogs. Everything! But I had no option, but to accept what was happening. After all, what was I, just a pathetic little tenth grade teenager.

What followed was a series of events that unfolded, which made me realize how important it is to dream. I fought (not tooth and nail obviously) with customs and culture and tradition and thought processes. I fought with the entire system of Purdah. I fought for my dreams. I fought for my independence (of thoughts!). I fought for me! (The entire episode would be there for you to enjoy, in my book. And when I say enjoy, I don't mean sarcastically. It was not all bloodshed, mind you, but quite entertaining. Hell yes, there was not a single boring day, trust me.)

So.. what eventually happened was a war of words and thoughts. (surprising how it is always about thoughts, with me. At this rate, I should have probably have succumbed to a brain haemorrhage! )

And I won! Yes, I did. I was told that only if I excelled in my academics, would I be allowed to go back to my love, my Mumbai. See, it sounds like a piece of cake. But to a person who disliked 'studying', I topped the Economics exam. I did score poorly in Finance/Accounting, but hey, the rest of those subjects were a breeze.

Mumbai welcomed me back with open arms and I ran into them! And I never turned back!

So, coming back to Damien Rice. Do you know why I like him so much? Yes, 'his voice' is an obvious answer. But I also love what he sings. The words, they melt my heart. Why? Because if ever I sing, the words would be almost the same. My songs would be similar. Of love, hurt, anguish, fear, freedom. The claustrophobia of thoughts and feelings, if you know what I mean. Like you are caged. And your only way out is picking through each and every bar of hope, fear, happiness, jealousy, death and out to your freedom.

I'm back, but not with a bang.

Prologue

11:30 PM (April 23rd).
Seema ran home from the hospital, in the pitch black night, battling the heavy rain and breeze. She was scared, not for her daughter, but about the wheat, that she had kept to dry on her terrace, under the hot April Sun. Yes, it was raining heavily in April, and it was rarely heard of. Usually the crops were half dead by the end of April, all thanks to shortage of water and bad irrigation facilities provided by the state.
She ran, inspite of the nagging pain in her joints. She ran like she never had before.
She reached home, ran up the stairs, two at a time, almost tripped over the cat. Her grains were washed out. That was the last of the stock, in the house. She cried.
She thought, not of her daughter, lying in the hospital, but of how she was going to manage the house with precious grains all washed away. She cursed, not her fate, but her daughter's would be child, all set to be born on this damned day.
12:03 AM (April 24th)
Meanwhile, at the hospital her daughter, Kaneez, gave birth to a tiny little baby girl, dark and skinny. And she was proud of her small bundle of joy. She named her pride, she named her hope. She named her Nazia.

Actually, i've changed my mind. i'm gonna start from the start.

I'm gonna start writing about myself.

The first chapter is titled: That stormy night..