When people are pushing 40, have kids, a job they gave up because they wanted to spend more 'quality' time with their family, do they also lose interest in their own lives? I have often wondered about this - considering that many rumours become dishes while chopping that precious potato or twirling the wok that is steaming with a halwa that smells of 'shudh ghee' as soon as you enter the premise.
But the people in question aren't like that, at least as far as spending time in the kitchen is considered. They have fancy apartments because their husbands have somehow managed jobs with a enviable pay package (undeserving nonetheless) and they hold fancy parties where they bring out their best solitaire cut glasses that reflect the smooth golden scotch off the rims. They go out in their fancy cars, wearing rather hideous clothes they think are fashionable and don't realise that showing off a cleavage that lost its charm about ten years ago is no longer the trend.
These people of course have nothing else to do. So one day, a bunch of them decide to get together and cook up a story, probably over baked fish or a manicure. And they decide to talk about me. Yes, ME. I don't remember when was the last time I heard of anyone talking about me. Well I am sure they do and it cannot be all praise. But it's just that very rarely do people bring that back to me. Well this time, it came to me. Probably because I have a few friends who would stand up for me when required (and I never have to ask!) and probably because some people have never mastered the art of keeping their mouth shut even when they know no one wants to listen to them. No, age and maturity has nothing to do with it.
So as per the latest gossip, I am a lesbian. It's actually quite brilliant a story, because I have never stepped back from complimenting a woman who genuinely looks good and pretending to be a snob when a woman doesn't fit my bill of being appropriate enough for my company. Yes, a snob perhaps I am. A lesbian? Hmmm.. it's definitely something I'd like to give a second thought.
My husband had a fabulous suggestion. He said I should call up the source of this comment and tell her how my apartment is empty, I am lonely and that I'd definitely love some company.
But it doesn't end there. This person actually thought/assumed/hoped?/wished? that I hit on her!!! What she doesn't know is that even if I were a lesbian, I wouldn't hit on her. Who finds any woman who can't hold her drink attractive.
And then there was this other woman whom I have never heard of (but she seems to know of my sexual preferences rather well) who confirmed with much aplomb that the entire world (media et al) knows that I AM LESBIAN. Darn, is that why it's so difficult to pick up men these days?
So the third woman who should have figured out her life by now, chose to accept this piece of story and start talking about it.
I am very amused. I love the idea of women being able to establish a relationship with other women and lead normal lives and having the courage to put up with and more often ignore societal hypocrisies and continue to be happy. Sometimes, I even envy them and I do hope that in some life I can be born as a lesbian.
But in this life, I want people to mind their own business.
Oh, and that reminds me. I am also apparently very stagnant in my workplace and am desperately looking for a job - which was of course started by someone whom I'd asked if their magazine was looking for people and if they were paid well.
So, never be curious about other people's companies, work, life... Mind your business (Like I've learnt to) and ignore the fools. They have better company.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
the blue door
Meghna slammed the blue door and her father gave her one of those glares that she never forgot for the rest of her life. Cars have feelings – she chanted inside her head.
At the end of the corridor her five-year-old brother was playing with her colours. He had taken the reds and mixed them with the oranges and created a masterpiece on their mosaic floor. Ma would come and clean it up at some point of time.
She went to her room and stared at her new drapes – they were pink, fading to white with miniscule flowers printed on them. The massive rosewood secretary’s desk with a bottle green leather top was covered with her books. The desk was not hers though. Her grandfather left it and when he died, her room was the only one that had enough space for it. She had adopted it. Meghna went and sat on the chair and stared at Noddy staring back at her. Her tennis shoes were not dirty but she wanted someone to wash them. She liked squeaky-clean shoes; she liked the way the mirror in her room made her look like a super star and she surely like Pete Sampras who was covered with red kisses.
Her bedroom door had a gaping hole where the keyhole should have been. But Baba had taken it out because he didn’t want her to lock herself out.
And now 20 years later, she’d locked herself out.
In fact, no one even heard her.
Her bedroom didn’t exist anymore and neither did the blue car door – but she couldn’t get in. She was locked out – and forgotten.
At the end of the corridor her five-year-old brother was playing with her colours. He had taken the reds and mixed them with the oranges and created a masterpiece on their mosaic floor. Ma would come and clean it up at some point of time.
She went to her room and stared at her new drapes – they were pink, fading to white with miniscule flowers printed on them. The massive rosewood secretary’s desk with a bottle green leather top was covered with her books. The desk was not hers though. Her grandfather left it and when he died, her room was the only one that had enough space for it. She had adopted it. Meghna went and sat on the chair and stared at Noddy staring back at her. Her tennis shoes were not dirty but she wanted someone to wash them. She liked squeaky-clean shoes; she liked the way the mirror in her room made her look like a super star and she surely like Pete Sampras who was covered with red kisses.
Her bedroom door had a gaping hole where the keyhole should have been. But Baba had taken it out because he didn’t want her to lock herself out.
And now 20 years later, she’d locked herself out.
In fact, no one even heard her.
Her bedroom didn’t exist anymore and neither did the blue car door – but she couldn’t get in. She was locked out – and forgotten.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
In circles
I really do hope there's no trouble. I tried to convince myself.
There's always trouble! He tried to convince no one in particular.
Chapter 1
She was sitting in front of me. I know she wanted to cry but she didn’t. She was trying to restrain herself from going on a confession rampage – but she didn’t really know how to stop. I had stopped listening three minutes in to her monologue.
He had rushed into my head – curses, fights, an occasional hug, rarer smiles flooded my brains.
I heard her words, but he was also talking to me. Words jumbled up and I had no where to go. I don’t remember anymore.
I don’t remember the first the day we'd met either. It was a long time ago – almost twelve years. I remember us being introduced, becoming friends, stealing glances, disagreeing, holding hands – the first time we’d kissed.
But there is so much more I don't remember. I wanted so desperately to cling on to the old sheets of memories, but there was none.
She wouldn’t shut up. She went on talking till it was time for me to leave. I hadn’t even had a shower. Darn, the girl would be waiting for me. I hate being late.
Then she left. She also left a letter in my hand. I’d read it after I got back I told myself.
Maybe it’s the age, but I have been forgetting things. That letter remained in my drawer for the next few weeks to come.
The next time I heard from her, she was getting married – to the man who wrote me that letter that still remained sealed in my drawer.
Chapter 2
I had to see him. I know it would result in nothing – but that crunching feeling wouldn’t go away. I had to see him.
There wasn’t much money left – so the train was the only option. When I reached, the house was covered with flowers. Tall garlands hung from the roof to the ground floor; it looked like a garden. The ugly stench of marigold invaded my nostrils as I walked up to the doo0r and rang the bell.
His sister – I hadn’t seen her in years. She’d changed; with a young boy by her side she opened the door. I don't think she can deal with shock very well because she stood before me for a definite five minutes before opening her mouth.
“You?”
He took sometime to come down – dressed like a true Bengali groom, I was a bit amused, seeing him like that – standing with the pleats of his dhoti in his hand.
But I didn’t know what to say.
I didn’t read that letter, I told him. But I want to know how he knew.
She told me your name, he said. There aren’t too many people by your name around.
Where are you staying? He asked next. At home, I told him.
I had lied. I didn’t have enough money to go anywhere else. I’d have to go back to the railway station and spend the night there. My train back was in the morning itself.
I want you to be happy, I lied. At that precise moment I put a curse on him and marked it with a circle so there would be no escape.
But I couldn’t say anything else. I turned back and left. I didn’t even say goodbye.
I stood at the corner of his lane for a long time, wondering where to catch the bus from. I could call my mother and ask for her to pick me up, but the family hadn’t spoken to me in years.
And right now, I didn’t have much time. Memorising the images on my cards, I stood at the bus stop – it had begun to rain.
Chapter 3
My rooms needed a coat of paint. My job was not really going anywhere and I was sinking into an abyss that I could see but do nothing about. He was going to be here soon – I needed to clean up a bit of the mess on my table.
My phone rang. It was him. They were in London. He’d stolen my number from her telephone book. I was flattered. They were going to Egypt and then to a few more countries for a month; honeymoon for a month. I had none.
I was jealous but I wished him well, drawing a darker circle around the curse.
My door bell rang.
It was him.
I was with him for an hour. He wasn’t particularly open and that made things more interesting.
He stayed on – drank some coffee with me. He left, promising to keep in touch. They never did.
Chapter 4
I met my ex husband accidentally in a pub. He was with friends. I was alone. Not the best way to run into each other. He was smiling at a rather pretty girl next to him. Then he turned and spotted me. He was polite enough to come up and ask about me – he was always so well behaved.
I was already three drinks down and to be honest, it did take a while to register that face. Then I remembered how penniless I was and he was treating his friends to drinks.
He uttered a few more words and went back to his seat and that pretty girl. I continued looking at him for a while.
I drew another dark circle.
Chapter 5
My sister was getting married – one of her friends confirmed that was guised as a question on one of those networking sites.
I was supposed to be happy. Maybe I should have called her and congratulated her. But I didn’t know where to call and I didn’t know what ‘happy’ meant.
So I just swallowed - a lot of tears that almost choked me. My salary had come in for the month; surely I could afford a trip back home. So I packed a bag with a few decent clothes that wouldn’t give away my ‘fuck it all’ self, mustered a lot of courage and decided to fly this time. The last train journey had screwed my digestive system for a while.
The door was the same Prussian blue – brighter this time. I rang the bell and a strange feminine face opened the door.
My mother and the rest of the family were out – shopping. Could I come in? I asked. But she didn’t know me so I sat on the stairs till I heard my sister’s voice twirling up the staircase.
Didi!
My mother didn’t say a word. She kept looking at me for a while. I avoided her gaze.
Come in, she said. I declined the tempting offer. I was practicing resistance you see.
I opened my bag and took out a little box and gave it to my little sister.
It’s not much, I tried to justify. But I had gotten it made and I couldn’t afford anything more.
Don’t be silly didi, my sister said, sounding all grown up. She opened the box and saw the ring inside it. It was silver, had a little star on it – the Star of David.
I always thought I was Jewish at heart.
That was the last time I saw my family. I missed the wedding that I wasn’t invited to. My sister married her boyfriend I’d never met. My father never asked where I was.
And as I flew back a long tiring flight, I realised what the word ‘single’ really meant.
It meant that there is a lot of space around you and people may or may not want to occupy it. It meant that you’re free to do as you please and no one would ask. Ever.
That night, after I'd reached home, I drew a deep dark circle around myself. And then, I uttered a curse.
There's always trouble! He tried to convince no one in particular.
Chapter 1
She was sitting in front of me. I know she wanted to cry but she didn’t. She was trying to restrain herself from going on a confession rampage – but she didn’t really know how to stop. I had stopped listening three minutes in to her monologue.
He had rushed into my head – curses, fights, an occasional hug, rarer smiles flooded my brains.
I heard her words, but he was also talking to me. Words jumbled up and I had no where to go. I don’t remember anymore.
I don’t remember the first the day we'd met either. It was a long time ago – almost twelve years. I remember us being introduced, becoming friends, stealing glances, disagreeing, holding hands – the first time we’d kissed.
But there is so much more I don't remember. I wanted so desperately to cling on to the old sheets of memories, but there was none.
She wouldn’t shut up. She went on talking till it was time for me to leave. I hadn’t even had a shower. Darn, the girl would be waiting for me. I hate being late.
Then she left. She also left a letter in my hand. I’d read it after I got back I told myself.
Maybe it’s the age, but I have been forgetting things. That letter remained in my drawer for the next few weeks to come.
The next time I heard from her, she was getting married – to the man who wrote me that letter that still remained sealed in my drawer.
Chapter 2
I had to see him. I know it would result in nothing – but that crunching feeling wouldn’t go away. I had to see him.
There wasn’t much money left – so the train was the only option. When I reached, the house was covered with flowers. Tall garlands hung from the roof to the ground floor; it looked like a garden. The ugly stench of marigold invaded my nostrils as I walked up to the doo0r and rang the bell.
His sister – I hadn’t seen her in years. She’d changed; with a young boy by her side she opened the door. I don't think she can deal with shock very well because she stood before me for a definite five minutes before opening her mouth.
“You?”
He took sometime to come down – dressed like a true Bengali groom, I was a bit amused, seeing him like that – standing with the pleats of his dhoti in his hand.
But I didn’t know what to say.
I didn’t read that letter, I told him. But I want to know how he knew.
She told me your name, he said. There aren’t too many people by your name around.
Where are you staying? He asked next. At home, I told him.
I had lied. I didn’t have enough money to go anywhere else. I’d have to go back to the railway station and spend the night there. My train back was in the morning itself.
I want you to be happy, I lied. At that precise moment I put a curse on him and marked it with a circle so there would be no escape.
But I couldn’t say anything else. I turned back and left. I didn’t even say goodbye.
I stood at the corner of his lane for a long time, wondering where to catch the bus from. I could call my mother and ask for her to pick me up, but the family hadn’t spoken to me in years.
And right now, I didn’t have much time. Memorising the images on my cards, I stood at the bus stop – it had begun to rain.
Chapter 3
My rooms needed a coat of paint. My job was not really going anywhere and I was sinking into an abyss that I could see but do nothing about. He was going to be here soon – I needed to clean up a bit of the mess on my table.
My phone rang. It was him. They were in London. He’d stolen my number from her telephone book. I was flattered. They were going to Egypt and then to a few more countries for a month; honeymoon for a month. I had none.
I was jealous but I wished him well, drawing a darker circle around the curse.
My door bell rang.
It was him.
I was with him for an hour. He wasn’t particularly open and that made things more interesting.
He stayed on – drank some coffee with me. He left, promising to keep in touch. They never did.
Chapter 4
I met my ex husband accidentally in a pub. He was with friends. I was alone. Not the best way to run into each other. He was smiling at a rather pretty girl next to him. Then he turned and spotted me. He was polite enough to come up and ask about me – he was always so well behaved.
I was already three drinks down and to be honest, it did take a while to register that face. Then I remembered how penniless I was and he was treating his friends to drinks.
He uttered a few more words and went back to his seat and that pretty girl. I continued looking at him for a while.
I drew another dark circle.
Chapter 5
My sister was getting married – one of her friends confirmed that was guised as a question on one of those networking sites.
I was supposed to be happy. Maybe I should have called her and congratulated her. But I didn’t know where to call and I didn’t know what ‘happy’ meant.
So I just swallowed - a lot of tears that almost choked me. My salary had come in for the month; surely I could afford a trip back home. So I packed a bag with a few decent clothes that wouldn’t give away my ‘fuck it all’ self, mustered a lot of courage and decided to fly this time. The last train journey had screwed my digestive system for a while.
The door was the same Prussian blue – brighter this time. I rang the bell and a strange feminine face opened the door.
My mother and the rest of the family were out – shopping. Could I come in? I asked. But she didn’t know me so I sat on the stairs till I heard my sister’s voice twirling up the staircase.
Didi!
My mother didn’t say a word. She kept looking at me for a while. I avoided her gaze.
Come in, she said. I declined the tempting offer. I was practicing resistance you see.
I opened my bag and took out a little box and gave it to my little sister.
It’s not much, I tried to justify. But I had gotten it made and I couldn’t afford anything more.
Don’t be silly didi, my sister said, sounding all grown up. She opened the box and saw the ring inside it. It was silver, had a little star on it – the Star of David.
I always thought I was Jewish at heart.
That was the last time I saw my family. I missed the wedding that I wasn’t invited to. My sister married her boyfriend I’d never met. My father never asked where I was.
And as I flew back a long tiring flight, I realised what the word ‘single’ really meant.
It meant that there is a lot of space around you and people may or may not want to occupy it. It meant that you’re free to do as you please and no one would ask. Ever.
That night, after I'd reached home, I drew a deep dark circle around myself. And then, I uttered a curse.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
round and round
You’d think, sometime towards the end, things will come full circle. But sometimes, it doesn’t work that way. Things go around you, not choosing to look at your face, simple because you are strong enough to deal with whatever that’s making things tough.
You’d think, finally, having loved for so long; god will show you the way to find out what to do next.
It’s been a while. Been a long while. I’ve suffered the pains of loneliness, frustration, secret annoyance, desperation and many other adjectives that I can think of – but now I think I’m just about ready to let go of it all.
Have you heard of a storm before calm?
It’s this insane little twitch that keeps collecting inside your head till you can’t control it anymore. At some unknown point in time, it will implode, leaving you renewed.
I wait.
You’d think, finally, having loved for so long; god will show you the way to find out what to do next.
It’s been a while. Been a long while. I’ve suffered the pains of loneliness, frustration, secret annoyance, desperation and many other adjectives that I can think of – but now I think I’m just about ready to let go of it all.
Have you heard of a storm before calm?
It’s this insane little twitch that keeps collecting inside your head till you can’t control it anymore. At some unknown point in time, it will implode, leaving you renewed.
I wait.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
my first song
No body rescues you
You've just gotta find
A way back on your own
People will pass you by
You've just gotta smile and move on
I've walked the line
Seen many faces
And names that I dont even know
I've held tight, to whatever dignity's left
Even said good bye before I let go
You've just gotta find
A way back on your own
People will pass you by
You've just gotta smile and move on
I've walked the line
Seen many faces
And names that I dont even know
I've held tight, to whatever dignity's left
Even said good bye before I let go
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Fire starter
In one moment of my frozen insanity
You lit a fire, and waited
And as I looked up and saw a shadow
Waiting somewhere behind you
My mind had gone for a quick short stroll
It picked up these thoughts
On its way back from the wilderness
That it didn't recognise at all
I could say I'm tired, which I probably am
And stub your fire out
And just lie back in decrepit sorrow
Hoping that the pain will die a slow death
But as the ice melts, and my senses prevail
I see the shadow behind you again
You might as well walk off
Looks like I'm going to be this way for a while
You lit a fire, and waited
And as I looked up and saw a shadow
Waiting somewhere behind you
My mind had gone for a quick short stroll
It picked up these thoughts
On its way back from the wilderness
That it didn't recognise at all
I could say I'm tired, which I probably am
And stub your fire out
And just lie back in decrepit sorrow
Hoping that the pain will die a slow death
But as the ice melts, and my senses prevail
I see the shadow behind you again
You might as well walk off
Looks like I'm going to be this way for a while
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
well then
It's one of those days
you know when sad songs touch your heart
it actually happened with a strange smile
an unknown face I wanted to explore
But then again my hands are tied
I am not allowed to wander
because you my friend have set the rules
that I am not allowed to break
so I simply wait for a storm
that will liberate me from this insanity
you call a relationship
so that I can go ahead in search of
that silly smile that had once touched my soul.
Drop by drop
One drop.
Two drops.
Three drops, four.
Five drops.
Six drops.
Seven drops more.
Eight drops.
Nine drops.
Ten drops, eleven.
Twelve drops, thirteen drops.
Fourteen drops again.
Fifteen drops.
Sixteen drops.
Seventeen drops, eighteen.
Nineteen Drops.
Twenty drops.
Twenty one seen.
Two drops.
Three drops, four.
Five drops.
Six drops.
Seven drops more.
Eight drops.
Nine drops.
Ten drops, eleven.
Twelve drops, thirteen drops.
Fourteen drops again.
Fifteen drops.
Sixteen drops.
Seventeen drops, eighteen.
Nineteen Drops.
Twenty drops.
Twenty one seen.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Blind man's buff
I can't make his see
That I'll walk the sands for him.
I'll travel strange places
Just for an address.
I can make evil disappear and drown
In his one momentary wink.
He doesn't see.
He won't know the pain behind the grin
That he thinks is so lovely.
He doesn't notice that a grin
Has its own tale that I don't want to tell.
But I want him to know anyway.
He doesn't see.
That I'll walk the sands for him.
I'll travel strange places
Just for an address.
I can make evil disappear and drown
In his one momentary wink.
He doesn't see.
He won't know the pain behind the grin
That he thinks is so lovely.
He doesn't notice that a grin
Has its own tale that I don't want to tell.
But I want him to know anyway.
He doesn't see.
If you're going to take my last breath,
Let it be when I'm with him.
Let it be in a lonely place,
Where there is no light,
And there's just us.
Let it be with the last wet kiss,
That is unknown to me,
And let there be no space between us.
The world can go to hell.
If I die tonight, let there be no difference,
Between love and hatred,
Let everything end with the last smile,
For that's how I'd like to go - in a moment.
Let everything end.
Let it be when I'm with him.
Let it be in a lonely place,
Where there is no light,
And there's just us.
Let it be with the last wet kiss,
That is unknown to me,
And let there be no space between us.
The world can go to hell.
If I die tonight, let there be no difference,
Between love and hatred,
Let everything end with the last smile,
For that's how I'd like to go - in a moment.
Let everything end.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Once again
I can't change things around.
I wish I could. But I cannot.
I can't go back to those days any more.
I wish I could. But I cannot.
So, don't say a word. Just sit here.
Don't touch me. I can't lose this moment.
I cannot imagine I am not with you in the first place
Let this not be a bitter reminder.
Can we be strangers? Can we be friends?
Can we be something that we were once not?
Yes, I love you - there is no shame in that.
But I can't go back to where we where.
Now, that is a shame.
I wish I could. But I cannot.
I can't go back to those days any more.
I wish I could. But I cannot.
So, don't say a word. Just sit here.
Don't touch me. I can't lose this moment.
I cannot imagine I am not with you in the first place
Let this not be a bitter reminder.
Can we be strangers? Can we be friends?
Can we be something that we were once not?
Yes, I love you - there is no shame in that.
But I can't go back to where we where.
Now, that is a shame.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
I've slain all the demons
I've slain all the demons inside your head
And let their blood drip dry on your porch
I've brought all the promises to your feet
And painstakingly snuffed out the eternal torch
And yet you laughed; in my face, that too
Tossing your proud head to the side
And spoke with such regretful condescension
That the earth was left split open, wide
Come back no more, you said to me vainly
Your perpetual slave of no good, that I was
My armour lay used and sword useless
It was a dark and stormy noon, 'twas
I did walk away, not a word was said
After such a long battle I was weary
Where does one like me find words to craft?
Except in love, war or apology
But there were no explanations
That I could possibly think of offering
That would mollify your crooked soul
So I just turned; no goodbyes even, in the leaving
And let their blood drip dry on your porch
I've brought all the promises to your feet
And painstakingly snuffed out the eternal torch
And yet you laughed; in my face, that too
Tossing your proud head to the side
And spoke with such regretful condescension
That the earth was left split open, wide
Come back no more, you said to me vainly
Your perpetual slave of no good, that I was
My armour lay used and sword useless
It was a dark and stormy noon, 'twas
I did walk away, not a word was said
After such a long battle I was weary
Where does one like me find words to craft?
Except in love, war or apology
But there were no explanations
That I could possibly think of offering
That would mollify your crooked soul
So I just turned; no goodbyes even, in the leaving
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
So close
The closest I've come to kissing him is sharing a cigarette
I've perhaps touched his hair for a brief moment to share the intimacy
That was there, only fleetingly, perhaps mostly in my head
As I hoped that night wouldn't end as we drove towards my home
It's been a while, since I wrote anything on him Or thought of him
I simply can't afford the strain that he causes in my brain
But it's not easy, staying away for too long, even though I try
I just wish I could say something, anything to give myself up
So as the wine filled up our evening, with a slight hint of red
I didn't recognise the words that came out my lips
This is not me. This is not me. I am not here, I shouted
But he didn't hear me. He wasn't listening. He was elsewhere
I've perhaps touched his hair for a brief moment to share the intimacy
That was there, only fleetingly, perhaps mostly in my head
As I hoped that night wouldn't end as we drove towards my home
It's been a while, since I wrote anything on him Or thought of him
I simply can't afford the strain that he causes in my brain
But it's not easy, staying away for too long, even though I try
I just wish I could say something, anything to give myself up
So as the wine filled up our evening, with a slight hint of red
I didn't recognise the words that came out my lips
This is not me. This is not me. I am not here, I shouted
But he didn't hear me. He wasn't listening. He was elsewhere
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Hide and seek
The long winding road didn't have an end. At least from where I was standing, I couldn't see anything. But there was silence. Absolute silence as I heard him run from a distance towards me. I was armed - with a folding knife that was more fatal than it looked. I was waiting for him to catch up. Streaks of blue and green lights passed by me as I looked up in curiosity. He caught up with me and we started running together. Was that a forest on our right? Could we disappear right into it? Good idea, he said. And as he jumped a few feet and ran straight into the darkness of the forest, the trees started clearing up. We can't hide here, he said. It's all a set up. No No. They're on to us, I screamed.
We ran as fast as we could, sometimes floating a few feet off the ground. And soon there were no more trees left to shelter us. The forest had disappeared.
It was before I could come up with another plan, he had spotted a small town, a few metres ahead. We ran towards it to find a place to hide.
They won't see this place, there are simply too many people here. he advised. I nodded in consent.
The first house was covered with green twines - it looked so lovely that at any other given time, I'd have offered the owner a price for it. But right now, we needed to hide.
I knocked on the door slightly, in my head it sounded like pounding. A frail old woman opened the door and pulled us in.
Why are you here? This is the wrong way. You should have taken the left instead of the right. And now the forest is gone, they will find us and you.
But there was nothing on the right, just a steep cliff.
Oh but you see, you could've climbed.
He could hear the running of a lot of feet - covered in boots that can smash a finger or two.
We need to hide, he whispered.
Come this way, said the old lady. She took us to a room and told us to jump into a well, covered with moss. Here? I asked. We could drown. Just go she said.
The two of us had no choice but to trust her. So we jumped. The long well swallowed us and soon we were plummeting through another opening and crashed into the side of an unknown street.
Looks like we're safe, he said. Then he took out his small dagger that gleamed at the hilt with all the stones that he'd found at another expedition. He turned towards me and said, it's been a really long journey. You must be tired.
But before I could say a word, he stabbed me. Right through the heart. I had a rerun of the entire episode in my head that went by in a flash - streaking lights, sounds of running feet, a long and winding road.
Where are you sending me, I asked him. You should have waited.
NO. This is where the road ends, at least for you, he said and ran off.
We ran as fast as we could, sometimes floating a few feet off the ground. And soon there were no more trees left to shelter us. The forest had disappeared.
It was before I could come up with another plan, he had spotted a small town, a few metres ahead. We ran towards it to find a place to hide.
They won't see this place, there are simply too many people here. he advised. I nodded in consent.
The first house was covered with green twines - it looked so lovely that at any other given time, I'd have offered the owner a price for it. But right now, we needed to hide.
I knocked on the door slightly, in my head it sounded like pounding. A frail old woman opened the door and pulled us in.
Why are you here? This is the wrong way. You should have taken the left instead of the right. And now the forest is gone, they will find us and you.
But there was nothing on the right, just a steep cliff.
Oh but you see, you could've climbed.
He could hear the running of a lot of feet - covered in boots that can smash a finger or two.
We need to hide, he whispered.
Come this way, said the old lady. She took us to a room and told us to jump into a well, covered with moss. Here? I asked. We could drown. Just go she said.
The two of us had no choice but to trust her. So we jumped. The long well swallowed us and soon we were plummeting through another opening and crashed into the side of an unknown street.
Looks like we're safe, he said. Then he took out his small dagger that gleamed at the hilt with all the stones that he'd found at another expedition. He turned towards me and said, it's been a really long journey. You must be tired.
But before I could say a word, he stabbed me. Right through the heart. I had a rerun of the entire episode in my head that went by in a flash - streaking lights, sounds of running feet, a long and winding road.
Where are you sending me, I asked him. You should have waited.
NO. This is where the road ends, at least for you, he said and ran off.
Distance
He holds in his heart a fiery kiss.
One that reminds him of the rain,
A silhouette that had walked past him,
A smile that stayed incomplete.
And in some corner of the country,
Bits and pieces of a memory came alive,
She clasped her tired hands together
And rubbed the scars off her mind.
The phone has been dead for years,
An empty shell covered with dust
Remained on the side board as a thought
Of all the days that had gone by.
She picked up to those pieces with care
Making sure the sides don't hurt
Folded them in an old faded letter
And dumped them on the side of the street.
He waited; there was so much to be said
Time was waiting for him, in silence,
Yet nothing came from him, not even a whisper
He was waiting for her to speak.
One that reminds him of the rain,
A silhouette that had walked past him,
A smile that stayed incomplete.
And in some corner of the country,
Bits and pieces of a memory came alive,
She clasped her tired hands together
And rubbed the scars off her mind.
The phone has been dead for years,
An empty shell covered with dust
Remained on the side board as a thought
Of all the days that had gone by.
She picked up to those pieces with care
Making sure the sides don't hurt
Folded them in an old faded letter
And dumped them on the side of the street.
He waited; there was so much to be said
Time was waiting for him, in silence,
Yet nothing came from him, not even a whisper
He was waiting for her to speak.
Friday, December 21, 2007
What the...
Cardinal rule of going out: ALWAYS read the prices on the menu.
I am going against all ground rules (mine!) by saying this but boy oh boy, I take back all my words and probably will go and pay my respects to all those people who wouldn't order before checking the right side of the menu.
For those who live in Bangalore, Legends of Rock is a favourite hangout of many. It's been around for a while, doesn't believe in the hip-hop shit that's being played lately. Anyway, this place also is rather affordable than most. So about seven of us happy souls went tripping there sometime back and had ourselves the merriest time.
We talked about many things - good and bad and continued drinking till they told us that they were closing down.
Then came the bill: I have never seen a bill like that. It was only 17 freaking thousand rupees.
That's when the thunder struck and we were all killed instantly.
Not true.
We paid. We checked the bill first and then paid.
We've promised never to pay a bill like that again. Either we fight for the rights we don't have or drink at home.
I am going against all ground rules (mine!) by saying this but boy oh boy, I take back all my words and probably will go and pay my respects to all those people who wouldn't order before checking the right side of the menu.
For those who live in Bangalore, Legends of Rock is a favourite hangout of many. It's been around for a while, doesn't believe in the hip-hop shit that's being played lately. Anyway, this place also is rather affordable than most. So about seven of us happy souls went tripping there sometime back and had ourselves the merriest time.
We talked about many things - good and bad and continued drinking till they told us that they were closing down.
Then came the bill: I have never seen a bill like that. It was only 17 freaking thousand rupees.
That's when the thunder struck and we were all killed instantly.
Not true.
We paid. We checked the bill first and then paid.
We've promised never to pay a bill like that again. Either we fight for the rights we don't have or drink at home.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Replacement
I saw the tea tree oil
trickling down the side of the bottle
Must be expensive, I thought
And yet, you shrugged it off
The shoe had lost it's crystals
The ones that lined the strap
It was expensive I know
And yet, you pouted in nonchalance
Your silks, jewels and make-up
Lay scattered in different places
A shawl carried a spot of blood too
I was convinced that you'd lost your mind
And while you stood, arms akimbo, brows together
I wondered if I could even clean this mess up
You just asked if people had heard anything
And then went back to all the thinking
I had to find the broom myself; and the mop
I folded your things and arranged them neatly
And without a single slur of thanks or gratitude
You just left the flat, never to return
There I was, sitting on your couch
My hands folded neatly on my lap
I waited till the police came and found me
Sitting next to your lover's corpse
trickling down the side of the bottle
Must be expensive, I thought
And yet, you shrugged it off
The shoe had lost it's crystals
The ones that lined the strap
It was expensive I know
And yet, you pouted in nonchalance
Your silks, jewels and make-up
Lay scattered in different places
A shawl carried a spot of blood too
I was convinced that you'd lost your mind
And while you stood, arms akimbo, brows together
I wondered if I could even clean this mess up
You just asked if people had heard anything
And then went back to all the thinking
I had to find the broom myself; and the mop
I folded your things and arranged them neatly
And without a single slur of thanks or gratitude
You just left the flat, never to return
There I was, sitting on your couch
My hands folded neatly on my lap
I waited till the police came and found me
Sitting next to your lover's corpse
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Got a problem?
It's not easy - playing an agony aunt. You have to be prepared almost any time of the day and have the answers ready. Saying, "I am not sure about what to say" doesn't go down very well with those who depend on you for the 'solution'.
I've played this role - for a long time too. I don't remember at which point it started but soon I was bearing secrets that were getting simply too much to handle. Maybe that is why I'm simply incapable of shedding all the extra weight; I mean where are all the secrets going to go?
A couple friend (at least they used to be friends) are going through a rather rough time. In fact, one of them is so rough that I'm surprised the other hasn't sued her for abuse. While I was privy to what was going on initially, circumstances found me an escape route and now I just sit back at nod gravely whenever I hear something from that department. Trust me, for once I am actually happy that I have NOTHING to do with them. An occasional hello at parties that are few and far between are fine by me.
Being friends is a difficult job - you cannot be separated from their problems because you are a part of their lives (if you're close friends that is) and whatever you/they do affects all those involved. Such is the troubles of having close friends.
For many years, I shied away from letting anyone too close. Recently, a young thing who is probably gearing up to make friends with me told me that I must have gone through too much pain as a child, facing betrayals and blah..blah..blah..
Well who hasn't had a few troubles in life? Mine are no exceptions but that hasn't made me Albert Camus' Outsider. I just don't feel like going through the whole circle of having to put up with different pains and then looking for ways to solve them because my 'friends' are simply too lazy or stupid.
I am glad I did that - because now, I have a few friends ( I can't count them on my fingers) whom I've very grateful for. I am glad I have them in my life and don't want to trade them for anything. They do come to me with their problems at time, but I don't feel burdened by them. We often laugh about it, talk about it and look for ways out together - which is absolutely the way I like it.
Sometimes, when I look back and think of all those people I'd truly cared for and how they chose to walk away from my life, I am glad they aren't there any more anyway. It used to be quite a bother - and in the fear of being totally 'friendless' I clung on to them when I would've given my soul to push them over the edge of a really tall building because all they did for the friendship was use my intelligence and pass it off as their own and in the process get on my nerves.
This of course, has passed! Amen.
I've played this role - for a long time too. I don't remember at which point it started but soon I was bearing secrets that were getting simply too much to handle. Maybe that is why I'm simply incapable of shedding all the extra weight; I mean where are all the secrets going to go?
A couple friend (at least they used to be friends) are going through a rather rough time. In fact, one of them is so rough that I'm surprised the other hasn't sued her for abuse. While I was privy to what was going on initially, circumstances found me an escape route and now I just sit back at nod gravely whenever I hear something from that department. Trust me, for once I am actually happy that I have NOTHING to do with them. An occasional hello at parties that are few and far between are fine by me.
Being friends is a difficult job - you cannot be separated from their problems because you are a part of their lives (if you're close friends that is) and whatever you/they do affects all those involved. Such is the troubles of having close friends.
For many years, I shied away from letting anyone too close. Recently, a young thing who is probably gearing up to make friends with me told me that I must have gone through too much pain as a child, facing betrayals and blah..blah..blah..
Well who hasn't had a few troubles in life? Mine are no exceptions but that hasn't made me Albert Camus' Outsider. I just don't feel like going through the whole circle of having to put up with different pains and then looking for ways to solve them because my 'friends' are simply too lazy or stupid.
I am glad I did that - because now, I have a few friends ( I can't count them on my fingers) whom I've very grateful for. I am glad I have them in my life and don't want to trade them for anything. They do come to me with their problems at time, but I don't feel burdened by them. We often laugh about it, talk about it and look for ways out together - which is absolutely the way I like it.
Sometimes, when I look back and think of all those people I'd truly cared for and how they chose to walk away from my life, I am glad they aren't there any more anyway. It used to be quite a bother - and in the fear of being totally 'friendless' I clung on to them when I would've given my soul to push them over the edge of a really tall building because all they did for the friendship was use my intelligence and pass it off as their own and in the process get on my nerves.
This of course, has passed! Amen.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Facebooking
I am on facebook. Have been on it for a while. Do I enjoy it- well most certainly.
Do I like the fact that I enjoy it? I am not so sure anymore.
One thing - it's addictive. And therefore, it initiates a lot of argument. And that can be annoying.
Secondly, I don't want to get into a food fight, bite vampires and zombies and try to race a non existent car (when in reality I can't even drive). But I do it all. Why? Because I think I must. It's psychosomatic disorder that makes me believe that my life will be incomplete if I don't 'check in to' my facebook account at least twice a day.
If you've taken the trouble to land here and actually read this crap - then you have the liberty to think I'm crazy. Go ahead. No one can stop you.
But you don't know what it's like. I need to know if my vampire is safe, or if someone has crashed my car, or if the growing gift is growing or not.
I also need to know if my friends think I'm better looking than 'X' or if I'm likely to sell my soul for a donut. And of course, I need to know if my friends would rather hang out with me or the girl who I'm not particularly fond of.
So dear friends, life is full of responsibilities.
And before I go hang myself for being so completely inane - let me tell you one thing... Facebook is god's gift to mankind. Here, we can be nice to people we actually hate or be rude to strangers without giving a damn...
Est bien!
Do I like the fact that I enjoy it? I am not so sure anymore.
One thing - it's addictive. And therefore, it initiates a lot of argument. And that can be annoying.
Secondly, I don't want to get into a food fight, bite vampires and zombies and try to race a non existent car (when in reality I can't even drive). But I do it all. Why? Because I think I must. It's psychosomatic disorder that makes me believe that my life will be incomplete if I don't 'check in to' my facebook account at least twice a day.
If you've taken the trouble to land here and actually read this crap - then you have the liberty to think I'm crazy. Go ahead. No one can stop you.
But you don't know what it's like. I need to know if my vampire is safe, or if someone has crashed my car, or if the growing gift is growing or not.
I also need to know if my friends think I'm better looking than 'X' or if I'm likely to sell my soul for a donut. And of course, I need to know if my friends would rather hang out with me or the girl who I'm not particularly fond of.
So dear friends, life is full of responsibilities.
And before I go hang myself for being so completely inane - let me tell you one thing... Facebook is god's gift to mankind. Here, we can be nice to people we actually hate or be rude to strangers without giving a damn...
Est bien!
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