Madam Maida....

Pav kilo maida dena! Drawer opens... Small plastic bags comes out ... Scoop in Maida, in to the plastic, on the weighing machine. Seal! And in your hand to take home.. I could toss it like a ball and feel it like some jelly in my hand... Pay barely some amount for it. This the Simpler era .... Same scene 2012 Pav kilo maida dena Direct one packet thrown at the counter.

"Madam Maida" Rs.46

Gossip Or Story

People often tell me "nikita don't you think you let many know about your life. I say "That's how it is for me" The worst can be when you fear letting out your own story. What I can do to myself is too much than what others can do to me. If you can make your mind beautiful you can ignore other peoples black thoughts towards you. but f your mind itself is weak, and somebody else fuels it a little bit it is enough to destroy you. We cannot control the intentions of all the people around us but we can control what happens within us ,that we can make it the way we want it. Even though you can't totally control what intentions people have for you ,you can nurture their intentions to certain extent. When millions of people love you, you are anyways controlling their emotions. A story doesn’t begin with exposition. It doesn’t start when you see the title on the screen or when the main character arrives on the scene. A story begins with conflict. Until Aseem trivedi doesn't go behind bars for his cartoons or Raj Thackrey doesn't speak up what we only thought off, you don’t have a tale worth telling. It might entertaining or interesting, but it’s not a story.

It all comes down to a moment. When we know what is happening in Shahrukhs house and bin ladens heart. That’s when a story really begins — when things start to get uncomfortable. Everything else is just setup. It starts to get interesting — when your tiny tale gets messed up by a larger story. And the same is true for life. I would not have anything to give to my readers if my life was perfect. I would be working earning and sleeping well. Who wants to know this? As a writer I open my book to everyone because I know many relate to it but don't speak it out. Everybody watches a movies, reads a book, listen to song and say "This is so my story" Yes!! It is. There is always someone there who has gone through pain and agony as you did. If they wouldn't have written or sung when they felt the heart break, Success fail or be penny less we would have missed out on the best writers, musicians and travellers. Imagine if Bob marley would have wept in his room for the pain he went through in love and not come out and sing strong about his feelings. Hence I say it that's how it is for me. My life's going to be a open book from now. And I play character in my own story which I want to let out. And I write effortlessly when I let my thought come from the loving and vulnerable space of my own heart. [Theres a vast difference between reading ones personal life as gossip or a story] ")

Heart of Clay!!

I don’t know where I belong, where I get love, It Is my home. I like the Nomad’s life that I have tasted because of my work The love & Food I get on my Travels has made me feel like I make a home wherever I go. I am in LOVE and Love is writing words in the air that I breathe when I travel. I love the Sun and Sand which reflect My Thoughts & Words. I Feel like a clay, being reshaped every day, until I'll be at last what I am destined to be. I am a Traveller in Time. My Destiny is known. -Nikita :)

Yellow Door!!

In a garden solitude of my little town Dombivli there rose a small mud house, as yet but trifle disfigured with mud and wooden windows shaken down to the mosaic floor, in the middle of which ran a little Piece of plastic rattling around making the crinkling noise with "have a nice day" written on it. I smile at it and open this old gate which took me to the yellow door after which I stepped into a very simple era.

Where I was greeted with a friendly guru who wore a loose kurta and Served water to me in a "Tambya ani Pela" (a small pot and a glass) Where was the tray? I quench my thirst and look around. In their earthen pot I see two pretty pink flowers welcoming me. Dressed aptly for the time, My skin had natural fragrance of lavender, as I walked around my payal set to the tunes of the plastic crackling, wind blowing and my heart beating. I smile at this old mirror put up on the wall and check if my bindi hadn't lost it way from the centre of my fore head. I was 20 minutes early at the Yellow Door the portal to Shashtriya sangeet (classical music) And I utilized the time to appreciate how a heart and mind must feel in the simpler era. Era where digital music is not known, Still a gramophone and radio entertains you and a Tambora (sitar) and Peti(harmonium) is used to tune your voice along with several birds who sat on the trees outside muktangan. I peeped outside the window, pushing a broken rusted umbrella aside and I see "Peace" for the first time in my own city. I then realised that faking a smile can't fool your brain that you are happy. My mind had to see Muktangan and get me a real smile amidst the pain I am in. I Turn to look at my guru and he walked me in the room where I first saw "Aapla Ladka Ganpati" I didn't shut my eyes and pray to him but just looked at him with a smile. All I knew since childhood is the "Ganpati haa Kalecha guru aahey" I don't look at him for prayers just a little hope that I get what I am looking for in Muktangan. And I sit with my guru and I taste the First note of Peace.

When he Felt me for the first time!!

I felt him when the breeze took away my voice as I sung "Kabira" He said "You are the colour I made when I was in love" I believe that you trusted me last when I said "Love will hurt you no more" There I go again, But isn't it getting the finest out of you? I see Amidst the blare of the storm this slow, melancholy dirge beat itself into your heart. A tear? No.. Loads of tears will make your cheek look shiny. Save for I am with you & you blessed!! Love might depart you But I will Never Everyone has seen me But You will feel me Because you are my Love!! You are my creation Creating love with your words in this unpromising world. He promised me again "I am your love and will always be....." And I see myself standing in front of him, With my shiny cheeks The almighty "My lord Shiva"

Paan Kaheye Saiyaan Hamar!!

Paan khaye saiyaa hamar , like my player was stuck on replay whilst I walked the elderly streets of Aurangabad. An Aurangabadi friend drew me in his BMW a.k.a BB (As his sweet little son would say it) to a paan gully at night, all the shops had varieties of paan to offer. I had a small roll of beetle leaf with lovely stuffing of chunna, supari, gulkand, coconut, fruit preserves and cherry etc the moment it stepped in to the world of my mouth I ran back to the era where chewing paan was a custom of the royalty, where the Queens and Kings had special attendants carrying a box with the ingredients for a good chewing session I felt how it would have been. We drove back home but next day I planned to know more about the lane and the pan served their. I was a little skeptical as that area was born with the birth of Nizam’s so were the chacha’s and topis. I was worried that they may not be able to accept the fact that a woman is clicking pictures and get sleezy comments. So I very timidly stepped into one of the famous shops, Tara Paan Centre and ordered for one Paan and the menu was way green and startling it had Paan from rs.50 to Rs. 3000 I immediately asked him what’s that you put in Teen Hazar walla Paan jiska naam tha honeymoon special “there was a custom to chew supari (areca nut) and Paan (betel leaf) among lovers because of its breath-freshening and relaxant properties,this trend led to honeymoon special Paan. Very timidly Imran chacha told me "woh peheli raat ko pyaar jatane ke liye yeh paan bahut taaqat deta hai" (Isssshhhhhhhh)
As I built the conversation people around became very welcoming affable and respected the fact that I wanted to learn about the Paan more than eating. He offered me 4-5 different Paan’s and I wondered what bill am going to make I told him “chacha I cant eat so many “chinta nako,aap khau sehat ke liya accha hai aur mere taraf se hai” they were still too many and too heavy to be eaten. Slowly I managed to get my camera out and asked him if I could click. He was more than happy to see me with the camera. There came a small man on a big cycle and said “Chahca Humko sardi hui hai zara paan khila do”
. On this chacha made a immediate crack to roll a Paan with sizzling lavang. Every Paan had a better cause than mouth freshener or sweetener. People there actually depend on Paan for medicinal purposes too and also serving paan is a sign of hospitality which I too experienced with warm smiles.
With all the efforts I stood and saw Imtiaz the Paan Man from inside called for me and showed me the mansion of Paan and how they made them to export. The business they ran was not only for the Aurangabad Paan lovers they are spread all over the world and sell their paan in UK US Australia Dubai and turkey etc. The packaging is done in such a way that the pan doesn’t loose its life for next three days at least. Imtiaz was a kind man with red tongue and warm heart. He told me all about the varieties and the love people have for their Paan
“we make Paan for upvaas also with loads of dry fruits and mava” with that he made one for me Ufff!! It was real heavy but I knew if I had that I could go for the whole day without any food.I had my dear fotog friend pratik with me who made this ride even more interesting. As I took a stroll around the shop and pumped my lungs with lovely beetle leaf whiff I came across a Dabba with a very rural Indian feel to it and picked it up as a souvenir. And I acted like I won the title for Miss World when Imtiaz bhai packed 5-6 packets of Paan garnished with fresh rose petals and loads of love and memories for me to take back to Mumbai. This is what I like about my travels more than bags of shopping I have filled my bags of memories

The ones Who Think they "LOVE" cats :)

I thought my love for animals was something that no one would have for any other living being until I met and heard this little yarn of a 73 year old man, Manjar Kaka (Eknath Patil)
My work has let me meet people whom I think I would have never heard of because I don’t follow news, thought I write in a newspaper don’t really read them. There was no woman who would accept him for the way he is with his cats. He lives in a dingy house with
zilch cleanliness, when I asked him the rationale he said “If I keep the house is according to my requirement this would be my house not my cats house” he has an empire of 35 and has taken care of more than 150 cats he at times looses his count too. He spends most of his profits he gets from his English tutoring on his cats and makes it comfortable for them and lives in filth but is content looking at his Meeoow’s Purr to sleep peacefully. I heard his story of how attached he is to his cats, but didn’t have the nerve to ask him the what he does when any of his cats passes away, so I asked a neighbor of his, a young chap of 28 years working as a set designer and is very dear to Manjar kaka. He narrated me this little story. One of Manjar kaka’s most darling cats was Bokya, he laid one of the mornings in front of his house with no purr and the neighbor Mahesh happened to see him and inform kaka. Kaka came running to see him but realized Bokya had already given up serenely. Kaka shed no tear... But a smile, that Bokya has slept in peace. He asked Mahesh to help burry Bokya near by because kaka didn’t have the heart and vigor to do it. On that Mahesh agreed without a hitch and went ahead. They reached a small piece of barren land near Dombivli station 10 mins away from his home and asked Mahesh to start digging. Kaka wrapped Bokya in a fresh silk sheet and laid him in the clean mud. Along with Bokya he put a bottle in which he planted Rs.500 and a small note with something written in it. Mahesh was a little nosy and asked him why he had done that. On that Kaka ignored his question and asked him to do what he was asked to.
Mahesh didn’t bother him for some days but the money and the note in the bottle bothered him a lot so he went and asked Kaka with innocent eyes, on that kaka told him “If in case they take that land for development in future I would want them to take my Rs.500 as a token of understanding and read the note carefully .That message till date gives me tears and shrill when I think of it, it said
“ PUDHCHA GHAAV SAMBHALUN MAZA BOKYA ZOPLA AAHEY”