Rail Tale: McLeodganj

Just about time when you say Good night, you could actually hop on to a train called Jamu Tawi which leaves from Old Delhi Railway station and reaches Chakki Bank by the time it's time to say Good morning. From Chakki Bank to McLeodganj is a two and a half hour drive and cabs are easily available. The other option you could look at is Dhauladhar Express till Pathankot, it takes about the same time. The latter is extremely comfortable, especially the first ac coupes and starts from Pathankot at 10:45 pm and reaches Old Delhi at 7:50 am for your return journey.


While there are more hotels in McLeodganj than things to do, I’d recommend Chonor House (book in advance – two months atleast) or look up a hotel at Naddi Point. The other options you may want to consider are available on the the Himachal Pradesh Tourism website.

There are several cafes and little eating places in McLeodganj and before you sit down to eat you could start your day with a visit to The Dalai Lama Temple, followed by The Bhagsu Nag Temple and Church of St. John post your meal.

You could spend the rest of the day walking around the market, exploring cafes and just relaxing. If you like adventure, this is the place – from trekking to paragliding, they’ve got it all – the tourism office is on the road to The Bhagsu and you could get all the information you need.

As luck would have it in the short trip, the second day was a rainy one. I had planned to go to Palampur, an hour’s drive from McLeodganj. It’s a must-do drive and extremely picturesque. I began by going to Norbulingka Institute and absolutely loved it. It’s a little bit of Tibet in Himachal.
You might want to stop at the Chamunda Devi Temple on the way or even say hello to the animals at Gopalpur Zoo if you can squeeze it into your itinerary. The cricket stadium – HPCA should definitely be on it.


Palampur is really as green as it gets and I quite enjoyed the landscape of the mountains and the tea gardens. The masala chai at Neugal Café was heavenly, I think more so because of the rain outside it’s glass walls. You would also want to stop by the Church of St. John in Palampur. The drive back was beautiful, with the sun setting and the sky changing colour, there are few other things that make the soul smile.

An essential place to visit is Naddi Point with it breathtaking views and beautiful surroundings. On the way up to Naddi Point you would see the Dal Lake, which to my mind is best seen from a distance.
Naddi Point, however with it’s snow clad mountains hiding behind the greenery and the sunshine adding to the hues of the landscape –is surreal.

The next day was spent lazing in the sun, reading a book and going to Tibet Kitchen, Jimmy’s Italian and McLlo, while there are several other places and I’m a foodie, maybe exploring them could be a part of my next trip to the Unforgettable Himachal.

Sanchita Johri

The Ocean in You!

The earth is no longer solid ground. What I mean by that is that nothing today is concrete. It is all in a state of constant evolution and since our environment is in a state which doesn’t believe that change is inevitable but looks at is as the very basis of survival, it’s time to break the mould and learn to swim.



So it’s no longer about standing strong, but being flexible. It isn’t about knowing but about learning. It isn’t about the hour but the nano second.

This Winter breeze has come as a messenger to wake many a sleeping man about the Winds of Change.



There must be a reason that sixty percent of our bodies are made up of water. Water which exists in all three states – depending on the temperature it is exposed to, however it retains its basic goodness. There is no form so defined that it cannot evolve, yet change is unnerving to and unwelcome by many.



The vastness of the Ocean has the same effect on several people however one of my favourite places and most peaceful moments is sitting by the ocean. It’s interesting to listen to the sound of the waves – the persistence of the ocean despite the change in tides. The ocean deals with constant change and yet also with the monotony of the mundane, however I haven’t heard of a day where it gave up it’s battle with either the former or the latter.



While it’s important to hold your ground, sometimes it’s important to learn to swim and as the wise men say that there are times in life we must stop swimming and just float…



Life like water is a compound of elements of change.



Sanchita Johri

The Eternal Swayamvar

Swayamvara (Sanskrit: स्वयं‍वर), in ancient India, was a practice of choosing a husband, from among a list of suitors, by a girl of marriageable age. Swayam in Sanskrit means self and vara means choice or desire (which also synonymous with bride-groom). - Source - Wikipedia.

This however isn't really about marriage at all - however in a way it is. If you're confused, then think about the bride-to-be who has to choose between so many suitors! Now that you've thought about her plight think about the suitors and their situation too. What a high pressure situation to be in!

However let's deal with the pressure together. Let's begin with the suitors. If you were one of them, assuming you did like the girl and wanted her to choose you over the others - what is it that you must do?

Here's something that Will Smith said in one of my favouite movies called Hitch - "One dance, one look, one kiss, that's all we get, Albert. Just *one shot* to make the difference between happily-ever-after, and oh-he's-just-some-guy-I-went-to-some-thing-with-once."

Hitch is a love comedy about dating and relationships however there's some serious gyaan in the movie too. Think about it, better still watch it.

If you haven't seen the movie I'd recommend that you do and here's why - this is the story that actually speaks about reaching out to the heart and mind of the person to win the battle against competition. If you win that war of love, then no matter how many battles your competition wins - they will always come in second.

This is just like the story of the crowded market place, buzzing with choices and here's your brand trying to out-shout them to your target audience saying -Choose Me!

So now the bride in the swayamvar, in this case your target audience will ask you - Why?

Till you have a story to tell, a message, an offer that appeals to her heart and mind, you are going to be just another suitor and in this case just  another commodity.

However if your story/message/promise/benefit strikes the right chord in her heart and mind space - she is already rendered deaf to the pleas of the line behind you.

It is however important to remember that unlike a suitor who wins once, as a brand you will always be in the courtship period. The stages may vary and so may the effort however you have to consistently perform and deliver on the promises made. To my mind consistency and delivering on expectations once built is key to the long-term branding story.

Speaking of stories, it is critical for a story-teller to know his listener. So the story can never be told in vaccuum, it has to take into account the interests, likes and dislikes and other nuances that may help influence the listener. Influence and impact will only be real when the story stays in the corners of either the heart or mind. Get to know her ;-). As David Ogilvy said - "The consumer is not a moron, she is your wife."

Another thing that will help your proposal is if other people in her circle of caring narrate your story to her as well, we usually call them Brand Evangelists.

The ideal would be to change the game - hopefully from the suitor to becoming the sought after :-)


You've got a story? We've got a plan.

May the Best Brand win!

Sanchita Johri

Trespassing...

I dreamt last night of the house that we had grown up in. My mind had wandered through the roads and the lanes that lead to the address we once called home.

It still stood there in all its glory but the halo had changed. I could still hear the rustling of my grandmother’s sari as she lovingly watered the plants in the garden waiting for my grandfather to come home from golf with his friends.

I could still see the faded shadows of our gang of friends running in the drive way excited about the game of cricket in the park.

It was all a long time ago...

The ladies who cooked our meals and the others who helped my grandmother with the work around the house weren’t there either, but their daily dose of gossip and chatter still filled the air.

I wandered into the house without knocking fully aware that it wouldn’t be the same from within, however since it was a dream – it will always be just as we left it.

The mango tree in the backyard seemed to recognize me like an older person who acknowledges your childhood through the love in their eyes. It was almost like all of us who lived there at one time had left a bit of our souls in it.

I stood for awhile in front of the gate, recalling the times I waited for my father to drive home from work in his Red Beetle and then I looked at the name plate.

It had an unfamiliar name. We had all moved on with our lives. Some of us beyond this life and the rest of us beyond the house...

Sanchita Johri

The Story of Time...

What brand is the watch you're wearing? No, really? Which one is it?
I hope you're happy with it. Yes I know that you want the one you saw at the duty free counter, and I also know you're delaying buying it because you have other priorities.

What I really want to know is how much time will you delay it for? Look at the watch you're wearing right now, see the time - think about it.

On the other hand you may not even care which brand it is and for that matter you may not even wear one. I do know one thing however that for time to tick, the watch isn't required at all.

If you're happy with what you have, then that's great at one level - the eternal one, however if you're not - then what are you waiting for?

It's your watch you know. The only person who uses it to tell time is you. Time is telling you something - take the time to listen.

You are the protagonist - change the story :-)

Sanchita Johri

Great Expectations!

Well the problem with expectations is that all of us have them. There lies the dichotomy in the spiritually educated - materialistic man. Time and again we have heard about the consequences of harboring expectations and yet few of us are blessed with their absence. Charles Dickens introduced us to Pip’s story and yet we follow in Pip’s footsteps which sometimes lead us to what we call disappointments.


So here’s a perspective on thwarted expectations a.k.a disappointments.


Are you more disappointed in someone because they are not what they seemed or are you more disappointed in yourself for going wrong again about your judgment about them?

It never really is about anyone else being responsible for letting us down. Nobody but you yourself can let you down.


Let me elaborate. So you expect honesty? Whom do you expect it from? Let’s begin with yourself. You can control that. Then of course from the people you trust. So if they ever let you down, you question them, actually you should question yourself for maybe your trust was misplaced. That is what is the real issue. We are usually disappointed not in other people but ourselves and our own judgment of having gone wrong - again.



It’s a vicious cycle of not accepting our failure of having placed our faith in someone who may not have deserved it. The other person may not have even influenced garnering your trust, you may have decided to give it to them basis your own judgment. Then they fail on delivering on your expectations that you had set up for yourself. So there begins a war inside you which blames everything on this other person/people who are responsible for letting you down. It usually is a very logical war with just one objective – self exoneration from blame.



They say there are always two reasons we justify things – the real reason and a good reason. The choice is ours – when we refuse to acknowledge we have made a mistake, we give up the power of correcting it.



Acknowledging a symptom, helps identifying a problem. It is the first step to solving it and therefore correcting a mistake – the next of course is forgiving yourself.



Here’s a quote I love: Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there – Rumi.


Life is waiting…

Sanchita Johri

Silent Gunshots

There is a corner somewhere in your heart that you keep dark on purpose. You had locked it's doors a long time ago. Now you neither look at it nor do you acknowledge remembering it's existence. I know it's there, just as much as you do and yet we pretend that none of us have it. It's easier that way.

It isn't that you have forgotten it's just easier not to remember and what you couldn't handle or face at that time, you don't ever want to dig up now.

It's all behind you, your eyes will never see that which you look away from...but your vision will still be colored.

The more we run away from that which we leave unresolved, the more time we give it in our hearts. The dark corner becomes like a hole with a missing bullet. The sound of the gunshot though muffled now resonates somewhere and the chasm grows deeper.

Not every heart will tell you it's story, but the invisible gunshots have played their part in moulding each one differently.

The next time you deal with someone do remember the ammunition you have been given to either propagate or reject a deadly war - the one that causes most damage - the one which happens through that which we say and that which we do!

Here's a quote I love - A careless word may kindle strife; a cruel word may wreck a life; a timely word may level stress; a loving word may heal and bless.

Sanchita Johri

What you don't know...

So I sat looking at the maze of cars on the road and thought about us.We who believe we know exactly what we want and where we are heading and when people who sound so sure of themselves believe in anything it sounds true.

We all seem to have a list of needs, wants, desires, expectations, goals,dreams (it's a list you know - it doesn't end). We all believe that we know exactly what we want,nothing less -nothing more. We have it all worked out just like niche marketing which thrives on the principle of we who know exactly what we want!

Well here's the problem, you see I'm a foodie (no that is not the problem) and as a food lover I went to a restaurant recently which had a very different menu and not anything that I would usually order. In fact I hadn't even heard of some of the stuff. So the usual reaction to unfamiliar territory is - Ok, let's go eat some place else. Well had I done that you would have been saved the ordeal of reading what comes next.

So there were some really exotic sounding names on the menu with some equally romantic descriptions of what the dish was ( not that it helped in any way! ) and I just had to choose some of the available things - none of which I wanted.

There came the three course meal and ofcourse a bill to match it. Let's face it you knew I was going to tell you I loved it and you're right.

Well apart from the calories that I gained, there's was something invaluable - a lesson that if you are going to draw up a list of what you want, need, desire and the works you will always be bonded within the territories of those benchmarks.

There are so many unexplored and undiscovered places, people, emotions, things and more that you will end up depriving yourself of.

If you have already decided on exactly what you want you may never know what your options were before you made the choice.

While exploring is limitless it doesn't mean you shouldn't set sail at all.

One of my favourite quotes - Ships are safe in harbour, but that's not what ships are built for - Shedds.

Sanchita Johri

A Ray of Hope!

He thought about it everyday. He wanted to pursue that dream for a long time. He knew he was made for bigger things but he also knew that he had responsibilites to take care of.

He'd wake up everyday and feel that this wasn't what he had dreamt of doing, not by the longest shot. It was almost like a golf ball lying in the bunker waiting for someone to come looking for it. There were a lot of people who believed in him, his abilities and his potential, but the problem was that he wasn't being able to count himself as one of those people anymore. His dream was still alive, however he wasn't sure he was.

Even those who supported him started shedding like leaves from a tree, slowly and steadily till the tree was bereft of all.

He however had never forgotten what his father had taught him - the power of the moment. He had told him the story of a boy who had no one in the world but himself. The boy too had a dream and the only thing he lacked was someone who looked out for him.

One day this boy sat weeping by the road side till a man walked upto him to ask him why he was sobbing. The boy said he was alone on his path and didn't see a ray of hope in his life.

The man turned to the boy and comforted him by wiping his tears and then said something magical - He said - My Son you may not see it, however the ray of hope sees you everyday. It is your companion. It's a gift to you from the Sun which rises everyday to see if you have had the courage to follow your dream and each day it sets to greet you afresh the next morning and see if you have made any progress.

Tomorrow is another day - It will rise again, the question is will you?

Sanchita Johri

The Problem with Selling London, giving Tokyo!

Well yeah if you’ve grown up around here you’ve heard about the phrase looking London, talking Tokyo but I never really thought there was an issue with it in a world where everyone is expected to multi-task!

On a serious note when we mean something and say something completely different by design, it may help achieve short term objectives, however the long term damage may sometimes be catastrophic.

In a world where the opportunities are growing as are networks, the expansion is leading to the shrinking of the world – everyone knows everyone else and if you don’t - you soon will.

While everything is becoming fast paced and people are working 5 days a week to live for 2 days a week, the pressure demands something greater to emerge – TRUST.

The importance of trust is returning as the micro managers days are over. I would much rather work with someone whom I can rely on and someone who honours his or her word as we don’t have the time to chase work once it’s delegated. While this is an ideal situation, brands survive on this principle. It is a promise once made and the promise kept that adds credibility and reinforces the belief in a story that a brand/person wants to weave around itself.

It makes it easier for me to buy/hire a brand that time and again has delivered on it’s promise and not one that promises London and gives me Tokyo – though that may be an interesting twist – however not everyone has the appetite for surprises!

The one thing to remember while making a promise is that you are setting up an expectation. To avoid disappointment or dissonance - the most important thing to manage is expectations – as a brand or a person.

Sanchita Johri

The Glass is Broken!

The Glass is Broken

This is the posthumous story of the famous glass we have known for all our lives. The glass which was either half full or half empty.

While we all had an opinion about it and the debates about the pessimistic and optimistic view may continue for generations to come, the glass alas is no more.

In it's entire lifetime of just trying to be, I wonder if it succumbed to the pressure of always being judged! For a long time it waited for someone who understood it's plight to come along and just either empty it or fill it completely, but no one did, no one ever does!

So it continued being a silent spectator and a frustrated listener to the leagues of extraordinary gentlemen and women and their extraordinary theories about itself.

At first it was perturbed, then pretended not to care, then genuinely learnt not to care and finally it learnt to amuse itself with all that was being said with a Zen like beauty.

It existed, lived through it all and finally unaffected by the myriad of opinions - existed in peace.

The opinions- they still continue ;)

Sanchita Johri

Keep the Change!

I found a note in my pocket today and was thrilled as I had not worn this pair of jeans in a long time. The only thing was that this was a five rupee note, one that had become rare in everyday circulation like a lot of other currency over the years.

It set me thinking about how something that is part of our everyday life can be rendered archaic or just evolves into an avatar which is better suited to the times. The new ten rupee coin being an example, I even know children whose piggy banks are full for the first time in their childhood owing to its sheer beauty.

While the reverence for the old note remains, the sheen of the new coin has it’s charm and even plastic money will soon have to bequeath it’s legacy to the all new mobile money – Times are changing, so are habits, people, rules, regulations and everything that is today needs to be better and brighter tomorrow.

We live in a dynamic world, so no matter what you’ve done and where you’ve been, irrespective of having lost or achieved yesterday –the one thing to remember today in Scarlet O’Hara’s words from Gone with the Wind is - After all…tomorrow is another day!

Sanchita Johri

Not just a Pick up Line!

I know you from before - How many times have you met someone for the first time and felt that instant connection? I don't mean in a - I've got a crush on you - cheesy kind of way,but a genuine connection of the soul.

Vibes from a person or place can tell you a lot, that is if you take the time to feel them. There are some instances however where within the first few seconds you take a liking or dislike to someone rather inexplicably- they say your soul knows.I even read somewhere that the concept of speed dating actually capitalizes on this concept, in fact this is also mentioned in the book Blink by Malcolm Gladwell.

The point however is that while we may want a logical explanation for everything sometimes the illogical one is more interesting.

If you've read Many Lives, Many Masters by Dr. Brian Weiss you will relate much better to what I am saying.

The natural state of the soul is harmony they say and I have come to believe that it is true. I feel that loving comes much more naturally to human beings than hatred. I feel that hatred takes effort and so does dislike.

As a trainer with IBM, I dealt with several people and spoke about the concept of contamination related with transactional analysis and somewhere down the line realised that being judgemental stems from an insecurity of being in control. What I mean is that as children we didn't really think about casting aspersions on other people or even the way they lived their life, however as we grow older our instinct gets clouded by the list of do's and don'ts.

I realised I was convincing people more about acceptance of other people and cultures as everyone seemed to have an opinion about the life of everyone else! We were battling stereo types, preconceived notions and acquired beliefs and hoping a non-judgemental mind would triumph with acceptance. Acceptance which came naturally to all of us in the beginning of our lives.

Somewhere along the way we get so caught up that we end up losing the plot!They say the soul carries ancient wisdom however very few of us ever scratch even the surface of the reservoir.

We have been so much more than we know, that we have been to so many more places than we remember visiting and yet we feel limited by physical manifestations - of our own body and also the globe.

The soul is like a genie in a bottle, make sure you don't love the bottle more than the genie, else the plot of the story may change completely!

Sanchita Johri

By the Shore

This year I went back to Goa for Christmas unlike last year when I was there for New Years and a friend's wedding.

I sat by the seaside listening to the sounds of the elements with the seasoning of human voices and I thought about nothing at all as I stared into oblivion.

Actually I don't know if nothing at all qualifies as a figure of speech for explaining what I thought about.The mind is like the ocean you see, even when it is calm on the surface a deep sea diver will tell you a different story about it's depths. There are high tides and low and sometimes even whirlwinds and storms that differ in intensity and just like the visitors on the shore see a different avatar according to the time of their visit, so is the case with the mind.

It like the ocean is a passive witness to several stories unfold around it and an active participant in many itself. It stands the test of time and carries the load of ships and boats alike. It emerges victorious against some tempests and sometimes it drowns in it's own sorrow and then soars strong and happy like a falcon the next day to unfold legends as it expands it's wings to soar high like a wave waiting to touch the skies.

The ocean is deep and yet not equally everywhere, it is vast and yet you can capture a part of it in your palm and yet it will wash your feet with it's gentle wave like a giant who seems either oblivious of it's strength or too humble to be affected by it.

As I sat lost in thought, a boy with a pamphlet came over and anchored the sailing thoughts. He had come to check if I would want to explore some parasailing.He was carrying a little life jacket and assured me it was safe, so there I was heading right into the middle of the ocean on a motorboat to try something I had never done before.

The mind was nervous and the heart was in sync, I was venturing away from known territory to the flight of the unknown.It was going to be fun I told myself, so while I had to jump from one boat to another, trust my life on a parachute of sorts, I just knew it was going to be worth the experience and believe me it was.

The ocean seemed different from up there, till now I had always seen it from close from the shore, but from up above it looked like an electric blue blanket swaying in the wind. It seemed to speak a different language, a different world, it was however the same big  vast expanse which seemed orange in parts as it reciprocated the colours of the setting sun.It was just a different angle that I was looking at it from and it seemed so different.

Perspective sometimes changes the truth or should I say truth sometimes changes perspective, believe me - even the ocean is open to it :)
Sanchita Johri

The Closet

I sat down today in front of a cupboard that looked very different from what it looked about a month ago. It wasn’t a new cupboard, just the things inside-they were different. It was however a cupboard that I opened every day and yet it seemed to be so new, familiar but changed.

This cupboard stood in the same place, had the same exterior but the inside had changed over the last month. Winter had finally slid in silently through the crevices around, the weather had changed. The change in season had led to a complete over hauling of what I call my private space, an external change that had transformed the interior reality of something that didn’t look altered on the outside at all.

This cupboard which housed the summer wardrobe so comfortably, with the pastel hues of scarves and white linen shirts was now bereft of all the pretty colors of the spring. It stood there ready with the all pervasive dark shades of blues, grays and blacks ready to battle the gusts of the wind and yet I knew that the summer would displace them all soon again.

It really is like one living in the midst of change, just that it is more amicable to embracing change with doors open unlike most people. It doesn’t fuss over letting go or letting the new in and yet it doesn’t look too proud in Spring nor too glum in Autumn. It just stands there ready for the next season, circumstance or transition.

It made me think of the people I meet and how they have changed over the years, just like the cupboard. Some people who I adored for their sense of humour or zest for life had somewhere along the years given in to the bitterness and the harsh winter that life had shown them, whereas some really serious people had evolved into the happy charmers whose laughter beats many a background score.

However, there is a difference you see - to adapt, the cupboard changed with the weather but never really changed, the people changed with the weather however they really did change.
Season’s Greetings – let the bonfires always ignite the very best in us!
Sanchita Johri

Erosion

He often thought about his gang of friends, the awesome foursome he couldn't imagine his life without. They were inseparable or at least till about 10 years ago.

He never could forgive Harry for marrying his ex-girlfriend, even though he was dating someone else by then. It just wasn't the thing to do to a friend. That was the end of it, no meeting at their hangout to plan the bachelor party, no phone calls, no bike rides...it was well another kind of break up!

Sahil and the others tried convincing him several times and even though his heart didn't ache - he knew that something had been hurt. That something at that age was his best friend and was above all else - including his gang.

So while his friends had the time of their life, he sat sulking in a corner of his rented PG in North Campus staring at the cigarette butts that had run out on him as well.

He had decided that those guys were just not good people, they didn't understand him nor care for him. They just weren't worth his time anymore.

He of course didn't fit into their plans post that as his new Bhabhi wasn't to happy to see him either and life of course moved on to new first jobs, cities, friends and priorities.

Ten years later he still sat staring at the cigarette butts which lay sprawling in his cut glass ashtray in his corner office, thinking through the smoke of the one in his hand about times that could have been...

He wondered where those guys were and if Nikhil had been able to fulfill his wish of marrying a Madhuri look alike, his mouth still twitched into a smirk at the thought of Rahul living his dream life which was to be well settled with wife and two children latest by the age of 26! Sahil was considered the sorted one, the one who had all his plans in place from post grad to perfect retirement at the age of 35.

Over the span of his averagely long career, he had met so many people he liked, got along with, etc, etc.. however no matter who they were, they weren't ever going to be his band of boys. There is a back slapping familiarity and a comfort which is a by product of empty wallets and tabula rasa hearts!

There was a college reunion today and he obviously was too busy to attend it and really who was going to turn up from his batch anyway. So he sat in his office lost in the silence of the past when his secretary intruded into the silence with a message. He had some clients waiting and she wanted to know if she could send them in. When suddenly for the first time in a long time someone walked right into his cabin without knocking followed by two -three others...it was them, he knew. There was an awkward silence and then so much noise that it really was hard to tell if they were talking, crying or laughing.

People are never black or white, it is usually the weather that casts a shadow and those who value people over opinions always have faith that the sun will shine again.
Storms should never be stronger than human bonds :) when the sun shines and when it sets...

Sanchita Johri

The Blind Spot

He took the same route to office everyday even though it was the longer one. He didn't quite think about why - but there was something that made him not change or try the other one.

He saw the same scene of a man beating or pushing a beggar boy and though it bothered him he never gave it much thought . I mean why would he it wasn't any of his business.

He would reach office and head for his morning chai break and observe the little boy at the dhaba growing thinner by the day and the scolding from the owner only getting louder. He would occasionally hand the boy a packet of biscuits on the sly.

He'd drive home and wait for the guard to open the gate while the guard would kick a sleeping dog or pelt him with stones till the dogs whimpering could be heard in the neighbourhood. After all the guy was only doing his job and it wasn't like it was his pet dog!

The woman who was the help at home would share her troubles with his wife while doing her chores and while what he heard troubled him it really wasn't any of his business.

He'd usually unwind in the evenings chatting with his children and that was the most important part of his day. Today however there was something different about their conversation. His 6 year old son was more quiet than usual and his 8 year old daughter had a sad distant look. He didn't know what to make of it till his wife barged into the room carrying his sons white school shirt. The shirt had blood stains on one shoulder and the children had hidden it in the huge pile of laundry.

After a long chat his daughter now in tears told him of how one of the school staff would beat her brother everyday on some pretext or the other and the children were scared to tell their parents. She even told him about one of their neighbours who worked in the same school and was aware of this brutal beating but did nothing to stop it. His wife by this point was fuming and immediately decided to call the neighbour to confront him.

The expected answer from the other end was a simple one liner - He 's not my son, it really isn't any of my business!

Beyond Dimensions...

This is the story of a room, actually a one room set...

Meet Aryan, he is a twenty something painter who just moved into this little one room set. There's a translucent white curtain fluttering in the window, some oil paint tubes thrown around the old newspaper and a whiff of fresh paint that fills the air.

He's been at this painting for a while now, he keeps staring at the canvas as if there's something not quite right.It's the eyes, he just can't seem to get the expression right.

He'd first seen her at the flea market and it was like the moment had frozen in time. There was something about her eyes,he knew he had been enslaved. He knew he wanted to keep that expression alive even if it meant only on canvas.

He'd seen how her husband had dragged her by her hand and how she looked everywhere for help, but he knew that he was more helpless than her.There was so much colour around him yet he could see only the black of faint shadows.

Here he was, in control of the brush trying to capture what he had failed to at that time and once again he felt he was failing. His tears still stain the walls of the one room set.

The curtain is still fluttering in the window, there are lots of bouquets on the table next to it.
A newly married couple has just moved into this one room set.

She hasn't stopped glowing from the sweet nothings he whispers into her ears and he has a spring in his step. His friends from work are coming over for dinner and the whiff of roast she's making adds so much more warmth to their already cozy home. She's even put a bright wall paper on one of the walls and decorated the dining table with her mum's hand knit table cloth.

It's been a few years since they moved in here and are soon expecting an addition to the family, the one room set is too small.

Someone has changed the curtain, there are some modern venetian blinds there now. She's a single girl who is new in town and is all set for success. She's got all the new age straight lined furniture and the attitude to go with it. The evenings are usually filled with aromas of scented candles, the best wines and ofcourse the sound of meaningless gossip. She is soon off on her way to the big city, the neon lights have caught her fancy.

There's a gang of teenagers who've rented the place. They have all sorts of gadgets and gizmos. They say they want to be the next Zuckerburg. They work all night sleep all day and seem to treat the one room set as some sort of quarantined planet. The window has no curtain and is never opened.

These were just a few of the stories that have carried themselves in and out of the one room set. The one room set however has defined dimensions and yet has moulded itself to allow these stories to unfold.

It is after all one big room - who or what enters it can change even concrete with fixed dimensions :)

It never really is the story of only a room ;)

Sanchita Johri

Bowled Over

So the World Cup is over and you are all set for the IPL to begin. Ummm what? Did I say the World Cup was over? Oh! I meant the match is over, the cup is ours and the hangover of the win…well that’s here to stay :)

The country is proud, the players happy and the sponsors gloating, this WC will always be special for reasons which go far beyond the victory.

I never thought I’d ever love the game, I mean love watching it. If you’ve spent even a bit of your childhood in this country like I have, you have definitely played the game in some colony park or street ;) I could however never have imagined that I would actually take a day off to watch the match live at Mohali, cheer till my throat hurt, get upset everytime Nehra dropped a catch and even sadder when they dropped Nehra due to his fracture in the finals (Need I mention replace him with Sreesanth?).

The fact that everyone prayed Sachin would make his century but wished harder that the team would win ( Usually both happening isn’t seen very often),the sigh of disbelief in the stadium when Yuvi got out for 0 in the semis and screams of joy evertime he took a wicket when bowling, are sounds that reverberate far beyond the walls of that stadium.

Most lunch breaks at office leading to the semis were like a Math class where everyone was trying to hone their permutation and combination skills and some had even started sporting the role of the soothsayer. Who would win and who would lose for India to play in the semis or who should win and who should lose for India to play against Mr. Afridi who is upset over the heart ,it’s size and other matters!

Well the Cup is ours, Sachin’s collection is complete, Dhoni’s captaincy acknowledged and the disappointments and achievements all leveled with the sound of the nations applause ( read as dancing on streets, fire crackers, parties (personal and political), bollywood glitz, etc, etc).

Speaking of Bollywood Glitz how can we forget Aamir sporting a moustache and a certain Miss. Pandey being in the limelight for plans of sporting nothing at all ;)

Well I don’t know if we managed to change the game but what I do know is that we managed something bigger…keeping the faith.

Here’s to a nation that has it all to achieve anything, most importantly achieve anything as a team.

Sanchita Johri

No Agenda

He had taken a day off from work. He wasn't ill, neither was anyone at home, there wasn't a wedding to attend nor any distant relative waiting to be picked up from the station.

The day was his, he wanted it that way. It was going to be like a Sunday not the grown up Sunday but one like when he used to be ten. This wasn't a day to take care of bills,pending chores,investments or even thinking about the next steps. It was a day with no agenda, the Sunday for a ten year old.

He slept late, had brunch instead of breakfast, lazed a little longer in the sun and then went out for a stroll...not to a particular place, just close by noticing things with a curiosity he had renounced as a luxury for the young.

It was almost as if this was the first time he was seeing his neighbourhood. The houses, the name plates, the gulmohar trees, the little chocolate boutique and the playground. It was almost like walking around aimlessly in the colony park swinging his cricket bat as a ten year old noticing every little thing that caught his eye while he used to wait for his gang of friends to come out and play. The playmates and the games had all changed over time, the thing however that was lost was the zeal or maybe it just wasn't unadulterated like it used to be.

He stopped at the coffee place to treat himself to the taste of the aromas that had captured him as a passer by. Even the coffee tasted different or maybe because he wasn't gulping it down between reading files and conversations over the phone.
It was almost evening and he would usually at this time entertain himself looking at the cars as part of a traffic jam but today he stared at the sky changing colour..the myriad of hues was just stunning. He reached home in time for dinner. His family sat there talking, his wife looked up at him with a knowing smile and he returned it. She had made his favourite roast with mashed potatoes and garlic bread. He ate every bite with all the time to taste the love and the flavours and then spent the rest of the night chatting with his family about nothing at all.

The next day he was back at work ready to make up for the day of lost work productivity and being the responsible provider with the fervour of a ten year old ready to swing the cricket bat into action!

When was the last time you did nothing at all?

Sanchita Johri

The Mind Curator

Every spark that caused a flame, every flame that caused a fire, every fire that created havoc - there is one thing that diffrentiated them all - the intensity.

They say that energy can neither be created nor destroyed yet it can be conserved and spread.Try holding a thought in your head - a memory of something that makes you angry and hold it for as long as you can...the energy of that thought will engulf you, however had you not thought about it at all, the energy may not have been generated or would it?

You can now unclench your fists by the way.

The power of thoughts truly amazes me.The fact that I can be sitting comfortably in a sofa sipping a hot cup of tea staring outside a window and at any moment transport myself to any possible place by the sheer power of thinking about it. I mean I could physically be sitting anywhere and yet run through a field of blooming mustard, feel the wind on my face, hear the birds sing, the waters whisper, the trees sway and sing the Animal song by Savage Garden. I don't even need to close my eyes leave alone see my smile in the mirror.

Then again I could think of a dark gloomy sky with empty grey roads and trees bereft of leaves. The mere thought saps the joy from my soul and what's amusing is the fact that I would still be sitting in the same sofa sipping the same cup of tea.

Think of your favourite childhood haunt, it may not even be there anymore...however you can visit anytime you like...you just did! The worlds we weave around ourselves are always going to be superior to any HD experience any television can offer. These are worlds which have infinite dimensions, colours, interpretations and never have a beginning or an end. It is truly art in the most abstract form and the galleries of the mind so much the richer for it. If you've seen the movie Inception...you know :) if not, then you must ;)

These galleries seldom run out of canvas, the colours never fade and the doors never shut. There is one thing however that all artists should bear in mind and that is that every abstract painting may be your creation however the minute you are done with it there is a thief called reality who will choose some and make them his own. The only way to protect yourself is always choose the brightest colours, the happiest ,the most positive ones...so that even if they leave your gallery...the pride of creation is yours to revel in :)

Let the power of positive thinking be no secret no more :)

Sanchita Johri

Vegetables in Vogue

I never could have imagined that I would ever write about this…no not even because I’m a hard core foodie! I mean just think about it, the conversations of the kitchen are now making headlines and rightfully so as the grumbling homemakers concerns are just not hers anymore.

This really isn’t about the cartels formed by some colony cart-walas who seem to cast the prices of the day in stone and follow them like they were sent by the Lord Almighty himself! This isn’t even about the famous Mr. Onion who seems to have hogged all the lime-light posing on magazine covers, making special appearances in conversations of the high and mighty and even re-inventing the reason for why he used to make us cry! So all of you who love your Dal-Makhani with Naan so much more for the Onions in Vinegar which accompany it, please rid yourself of this sheer moh-maaya (worldly attachments).

Ok, ok I’ll come to the point…you see I have always loved Okra aka Bhindi and even refused to eat food without it while growing up. The reason I am so upset is that nobody cares about the dear lady finger anymore. I understand that the Onion prices are hitting the roof and soon a century but the Bhindi isn’t far behind (at least till yesterday in South Delhi =72/Kg). What will happen to all my friends, chefs and countrymen who love it as much as I do?

I even applied the logic of it being a lean vegetable and the Onion a well-rounded one and I understand that “curves are back”, etc but this kind of favoritism just won’t do!

Anyway on a more serious note, I was just thinking about how times have changed and the time when flaunting what you ate for dinner or what’s packed in whose lunch isn’t really far away! Imagine a conversation which goes, “Hey so have you heard that the party at their house last night had 27 dishes and all of them with Onions ;)” or “Did you know that Mrs. XYZ hasn’t bought any Onions for the last two months…Do you think they have a financial crisis?”

Come to think of it branded vegetables and fruits are already in the shelves of neighborhood supermarkets, so how far could ‘Vegetables in Vogue’, conversations be? Don’t believe me? Just answer the question -So which brand of water do you drink - Bisleri or Evian?
Sanchita Johri

DU Special

There's just something about this time of the year in Delhi. There's a flavour in the nip in the air and a blanket of winter memories from the years gone by that weaves itself around all bonfire flames.

I clearly remember my first winter in North Campus in Delhi. The college festivals,the competitions, the jugaad for passes,the late night coffees at Barista in K-NAGS and the chai by the roadside :) There was always someone who hadn't eaten enough dinner and if the maggi magic wouldn't do the trick we happily walked to the carts selling boiled eggs or to the overnight tea stall whose TG was primarily hungry folks like us :) Our other nocturnal counterparts comprised a mix of students from all colleges with conversations and topics that beat even the number of colleges in DU and that is quite a few. These were the unofficial DU debates which neither had a prize nor a judge but the participation was overwhelming. The only interruptions were shouts from someone who had either too much sugar in their roadside coffee or none at all.

There was so much that perplexed us right from who would pay the bill today and to who had paid it yesterday, to the grouses we bore our paying guest landlords, to the angst of broken hearts and hearts that were brimming with unproffessed love, to classroom talk to discussing which college would have been a better option in terms of hotter crowd ;)

There was this self selection criteria which had catapulted people into groups - the hostellers, the day scholars and the DU special bus buddies (how sweet!!!).

No matter how empty the pockets they were always full, no matter how much the pressure there was always time to 'chill maro' and no matter when you studied or if you did at all...it all worked out :) Right from the farewell parties for senior batches to the fuccha parties for the first year's we just looked forward to an excuse to pose for photographs. There were these long practice sessions before any fest. with tempers and hopes both running high, the fights , the patch ups, the canteen hopping...life was so simple or maybe we were :)

We have come a long way but the cold winters we shared together will forever be warmed by the cherished memories of those times.

Dedicated to all at DU esp. my friends.

Sanchita Johri

On Second Thoughts

So you obviously haven't forgotten the competition where you were awarded the 2nd prize and the judges consoled you by announcing that it was just by a few points! You would also still remember the time when you came second in that bet...but then there were only two people competing ;) Remember that colony aunty ji who always compared you with her Bablu who always came first in well..uh. everything! You surely recall the pain in your chest when the love of your life stood posing with the winner and not you, as again as usual you were second :) So there you were ready to take on every Bablu and every Auntyji who would ever mess with you a.k.a beat you to first place!
You now of course are in first place and didn't let anyone beat you or get ahead but someone did beat you. All the auntyji's and Bablu's were always ahead of you...no not actually but in the space you gave them in your heart and mind. They made you forget how to throw your head back and laugh like there was no tomorrow,they made you forget your individual journey, your own race track which you could have created and been the sole runner on, they made you run and that too right into the rat race! Sometime's wanting first place becomes more a function of defeating those we dislike than pleasing those we like including ourselves :) Stop, pause you can read this at leisure,that is of course if you choose to take the time. It isn't for nothing that they say - EVERY SECOND COUNTS :) and it always will...only if you want it to...
Sanchita Johri

A Balcony View

Sometimes it feels good to just stand in the balcony and hear either the silence or the world whizz by. Looking up at the night sky with the crisp nip in the air and the occasional sound from the tampered silencer of someones bullet going past, the master calling the name of his dog out on an after dinner walk and sounds of several footsteps making their way home trying to beat the pace of the dark.There's so much activity yet so much calm, there's a different melody to each night and yet there is a quiet.

The trees cloak themselves in the colours of the night and the lamp posts express themselves with shadows which if you look at long enough sometimes seem more real than the objects from which they stem. They seem to me just like the thoughts, the dreams, the nightmares which seem more real than reality...then I look away...from the thoughts and the shadows. So much transpires in a day and so much more just in our head and heart. There's so much more that we have lived,more than we realise... for there's a real world on the road, another inside our homes but all of us have a world that exists only in balconies even if the balcony isn't real at times... however the thing to remember most importantly is to always look up at the sky :)

Sanchita Johri

An Eyewash?

It's funny that I have changed my opinion about you. The first time I met you I thought I saw you, but I was wrong. I didn't see you at all and though I am taking the liberty of speaking for you...you didn't see me either. No it wasn't that we weren't looking it's just that we didn't see.You know it's just like the difference between hearing the sounds vs really listening. I didn't see you because someone else I knew had met you before .That someone I thought would have done the seeing for me, so I forgot...to see you...at least through my own eyes and you didn't see me either because I had built a wall...the wall of self preservation. If only all these self preservation walls could be painted and sold real estate would be so much cheaper :) Anyway coming back to things we can see and yet don't.

That movie that released last friday...yeah I figured you didn't see it...neither did I but our friends did and we took their word about it being a bore. I haven't yet been to that new restaurant that opened last month however most of the people I know have ...they didn't think much of it so I decided not to go. That review about the book which made you not read it and their opinion about that white jacket you love and now don't wear...yeah I know it's still in the closet. Well I realised that my eyes have been dependent long enough so I decided to let them earn a living. I began by letting go of reviews especially when they are about people I meet for the first time...usually hand me downs aren't the best option you know not when you want to make someone feel really special and when it's something as precious as OUR opinion about someone we know they really shouldn't play a part at all. That is just my opinion what's yours?

Sanchita Johri

Burning Absence

There were these old newspapers on the table almost golden with age and yellow with dust with a lamp by the corner and a diary covered in fading black for company. There were his spectacles on the desk, only the glass was not tinted…with anything.
The paraphernalia had become one with the table on which it lay and yet stood out so distinctly. They say that is what your relationship should be with the world…you must blend and yet retain your identity.
It was the quietest room I had visited in a long time, yet throbbing with sounds all of which can be heard only by the sixth sense. There was a calm, a very disturbing one and the sheer silence almost had a baritone voice. This room hadn’t been opened in years…there was nothing here that belonged to anyone who had any use of it, not a soul entered it except the mice who think that all such rooms have been bequeathed to them.
That day he had walked out in a hurry, he had read something but he wouldn’t say. He had rushed out to help someone he knew, he said he would explain later. The explanation never came and neither did he, this was the night they had set fire to the neighborhood. The newspaper was fresh, the news old and the fire will forever continue to cause more casualties than any newspaper can report in a day.

Sanchita Johri

And I died

And I died, stood yearningly at heaven’s door,
A deep voice spoke through the light through its core.

“Oh! Father let me in I cried aloud,
Let me out of this dark tunnel this shroud.”

The voice again spoke unto me,
“Your work on earth is over you are free.”

“Father free of pain, feeling and woe,
But alas! No place, nowhere to go.”

“Dost thou remember the hut torn down to build your palatial abode?
In that hut I your father lived which you did erode.”

“Dost thou remember the sick kitten dying of hunger and thirst?
But you were too busy for making more money, business came first.”


“Dost thou remember the beggar to whom not a penny did you give,
It was I your father whom you did not help live.”


"Doing no evil does not suffice to open my door
Doing good is the key which you need this hour."


"Oh! Father one more chance is all I ask,
I will live every moment do good in every task."

"It is too late my child to repent too late,
Your journey’s over and now this tunnel your fate."

"You were not evil nor any good did you do,
I give you not hell,but so not heaven too."

I stood an apparition wild and wandering,
When I awoke from this heavenly nightmare,
Realizing how my life I had been squandering.

(I had written this in 2001 and it was published in the HT City 18th May Lko edition in 2002)

Sanchita Johri

True Alibi

He knew he wasn’t going to make it on time; yet again he’d have to think of a great excuse about why he was late. Thinking of a new alibi everyday almost seemed like a KRA now. With the car keys in one hand, a sandwich in the other he just ran towards the car. He didn’t even have time to match his belt with his shoes, forget wearing the cologne!He left the dog at the door with eyes moist with either the morning dew or pangs of yet another day without a hug from the forever on the run master! He had a whirlwind of noises filling the car, some from the radio in the background and some from the scenarios that played in his head. Images from hoardings came screaming in as did the faces of vendors at red lights.

Why was there never enough time?The humdrum of the inside and the outside was disturbed even further by the cell phone ringing, it was mum, and he knew she was calling to check if he’d eaten the most important meal of the day. He just couldn’t take the call, there was no time, and he’d call her back later in the day.The conference had obviously begun; no one was in their cubicle, except of course the new girl who gave him butterflies in the stomach. He always wanted to say hi to her, but managed just about a smile everyday.

Today he didn’t even have time for that, all the noise hadn’t let him come up with a story which sounded less irresponsible than the truth. The truth being as simple as over lazing in the bed with the Winters setting in.Well it finally struck him like the gong in the ticking clock, after all today was his grandparents anniversary and he would say that he’d gone to visit them.( He promised himself that he would do precisely that in the evening after work). They had been calling him for a while now and he just didn’t seem to have the time. So as he adjusted his tie and walked confidently into the conference room, to his surprise he found it empty. As he walked back to his cubicle wondering if he had the conference dates mixed up, he saw his colleagues strolling in after a coffee session chatting louder than usual. Their glowing faces told him before they actually did that the boss had called off the meeting. The boss was going to meet his grandparents for their anniversary!

Sanchita Johri

Clouded Memories

It’s raining outside I don’t know what is more clouded the window or my thoughts, but there is a fog…a mist outside or maybe within. I am comfortable in the warmth of the blanket and the sound of the downpour reassures me of my blessings. Then again I don’t know if I would feel more blessed if I could just go out get drenched in the rain, play in the mud and sleep like it was the longest picnic of my life or am I blessed because I am comfortably sitting wrapped in a blanket shielded from the gushing rain outside.

As a kid all I knew was to roll up my pajamas and sing at the top of my voice in the backyard when it rained with the rain drowning out the noise of all the off key notes and the made up lyrics for a tune I liked and couldn’t sing to save my life but now I couldn’t do it…I don’t know which one got lost in all these years, the kid, the rain or the tune.

I could still remember the half punctured football we kicked around in the colony park marinated in the “keechad” and in those days we didn’t even have a commercial which said , “Daag Ache hain”, to save us from the aftermath at home. There is always this one house in every colony where the hungry gang of friends finds refuge in someone’s grandmother’s garma garam pakore and chai and we did too! It was us, our dirty clothes , our puppy eyes and rumbling stomachs that must’ve been the perfect package, come to think of it anyone would have fed us looking like that!
It is still raining outside but somewhere it had never stopped…

Sanchita Johri