Thursday, October 29, 2009


A wondrous moment, a flutter of emotions and a bundle of questions defined the moment.

Hesitatingly I dragged myself out of bed on a Sunday morning and got ready. Today was the big day, the day I was to meet Guruji. Who might be this, you may wonder. My dear friend and ardent believer in Guruji had tried to convince me for much time now, about Guruji. She kept telling me about the catharsis in one’s thoughts on meeting him and how life changes. I, being the logical me refused to believe any such thing. All Guru’s are a sham, I told her. It is pointless to convince me because I do not want anyone telling me how to lead my life and what all I am doing wrong. I am very much capable of doing that, thank you very much.

The attempted brain washes continued for six months, many fell on deaf ears and many I nodded furiously whilst laughing in my mind. Guruji decided to visit on what happened to be the coldest day in Delhi. Jessica, my dear friend’s happiness knew no bounds on that news. She immediately cornered me and resorted to every possible method in the book or even outside the book to make me agree to meet him. To avoid the constant nagging, I agreed.

Now we come back to the cold winter morning, where I sat in my car cursing myself, at having agreed to meet Guruji at 7:00am on a Sunday!! I consoled myself by deciding to sleep through the preaching and get back home to my warm bed.

The crowd was enormous, it was like a concert night where people waited patiently to catch a glimpse of the idol. Jessica with her press pass managed to get inside the building dragging me with her. We waited and soon Guruji stepped out. He was wearing a white kurta with a loose dhoti and looked very handsome, I must admit. He sat down and smiled. There was something very serene about him. This made me uncomfortable, I was not supposed to like him. He would soon begin preaching, I said to myself frowning. He started casually asking our names and what we do.

When my turn came, he smiled even more and asked why I was worrying so much, I should let things be and learn to let go, forgive myself .. it is not your fault, he said. I was furious, I mean – seriously, he does not even know me. Gulping down my anger especially with Jessica gesturing me, I sat down and frowned even more.

He spoke for an hour after that, about life, about people, about the political developments and cracked multitude of jokes which got me to smile and giggle a couple of times. His talk was very non- preachy, he spoke with much ease and spoke as if he were speaking to each of us individually. In his discussions about the nuclear power and environment, it seemed like he was talking about every day incidents of our lives, our fears, our problems, our insecurities. The answers were latent but were direct, were about unrelated issues but very related to us. I saw myself hearing attentively and nodding at several places. A couple of times he looked at me and spoke. The feeling was very unexplainable. Just when we were leaving, he patted my head and said “My child, make peace with yourself and its all within you.” On any given day I would have frowned and reacted but I was spell bound and caught in the moment that day.

Later, as I drove home, I opened the window and enjoyed the cool breeze against my face. I smiled at passers-by and I felt on top of the world. His voice echoed in head –“ our lives are not determined by what happens to us but by how we react to what happens, Not by what life brings to us, but by the attitude we bring to life. Give and don't expect. Advise, but don't order. Ask, but never demand.” I looked back at various instances of my life where my attitude, my reactions, my expectations caused me much hurt but what I failed to see till date was there was a big “my” before each of that.

That cold dreary winter day changed my life in many ways… It made me change my attitude towards myself, life and everything. It was a catharsis of sorts and to this very day, I can relive that day, as if it were just yesterday and every time something goes wrong, I revisit Guruji in my heart and mind.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Something in my coffee

Today there was an unknown feeling
Whilst entering the Coffee Pot
Pausing a step before the door
I tried to analyze the feeling
The Coffee Pot was a daily ritual
Then why the unfamiliarity today
I entered through the bright shiny door
The bell tinkered with my step
Looking around, I tried to spot my corner
Bright yellow checkered table
Sparkling gerberas beckoned me warmly
I sat staring at the bustle of penny lane
Amelia smiled warmly rushing to get my usual
I sat and pondered why the fuzz in my head
Why the uneasiness in my familiar space
My steaming cappuccino made me grin sheepishly
Amelia inquired why I looked lost
I stirred my coffee and tried to read my mind
Today there were flashes of speculation in my coffee
Today there was a lack of sang-froid
The Coffee Pot seemed far away from where I was
I tried not to admit that maybe I had overgrown my coffee
Today I had to face the fact
Moving from my home town to New York wasn’t the same
Today I guess I had to grow up and sip the reality
Which was staring at me in my coffee

Thursday, August 27, 2009

You can work it out

So, Deepa came to me weeping furiously. Yet another fight I thought. She plopped herself down on the chair in front of me sniffing and muttering between the sniffs. I handed the tissue box to her and passed her some water. It was 11 am on a Wednesday not the best time for my boss to see me doing girl talk. I meekly went up and shut the door.

Deepa continued sobbing and grabbed tissue after tissue. After about two minutes of the sobbing silence, I asked – “deepa, you want to tell me what happened?” Hysterically Deepa started speaking and in between sobs and sniffs I could understand are as follows:
· I don’t understand men
· What do they want
· Why are they always creating issues over non issues
· What’s the point of being together if all we can do is fight
· I don’t want to continue like this.

Oh and she also slipped in the fact as to how lucky I was not to have a man in my life to deal with all this on a regular basis. Deepa was engaged to Amit. They seemed really happy and things were going on fine. One fine day these fights started and non issues became issues, frivolous stuff became larger than life and what they used to love about each other became problems. A story of every couple, I thought.

I wondered- “What does it take for two people to be happy?, why is that all couples start all great and amazing and sooner than later regular mundane issues take precedence, tempers fly, impatience creeps in. Each one wants to change the other for their need. Why??? Did you not choose to be together because you liked the differences and in no time you want to change the person to what is acceptable to you?

My mind wandered and I worried about various things- are their really two people who are meant to be together? How do u resolve issues which cause friction- do you sleep over it and let it pass? Or you discuss it but do these discussions lead to any conclusion? Two people are bound to differ and one has to accept the differences but as human beings we can’t. We can’t accept and we can’t let go. We hold on to things which can be brushed aside by a hug or maybe a blind eye but the wet towel on the floor, the scattering of shoes, the food items for dinner become bones of contention. Why?? I would think that a couple can change a bit for each other and accept the rest of the differences but easier said than done. Overtime, the real person hidden behind the courtship period emerges and rigidity sets in. I had no answers to any of these questions for myself or for Deepa. “You can work it out” is all I could tell her!!

Maybe a few rules would help as and when I do find my special someone-

· Never sleep over a fight
· Have your own world- do your own thing, have your space
· Learn to ignore a couple of things/remarks/comments/ situations (however, this can work only if the other person does the same)
· Don’t discuss every single contention and over rationalize so much so that you make an issue where there is none. Sometimes a blind eye, counting to 10 or just a hug solves things
· Accept the differences- its good. (mutual acceptance is the key)
· Learn to let go- never keep things to your heart
· Apologize even if it not your mistake

No one is made for each other but you take the good things and sort the rest. Its going to be a trail and error method and soon a couple will become attuned to each other. However, the change is a phase and it will happen over a period of time. Nothing is easy and relationships are definitely not so do a few things and over time probably it will be worth it, maybe not that day but when you look back these small things will make the big difference.

Oh! In the meanwhile I consoled Deepa. Amit had called and sent her flowers. She was smiling at an sms when my train of thoughts ceased. I could not help but smile. Relationships… .. there will always be the devil on one side and deep sea on the other and meanwhile we can just walk the line!

Monday, June 29, 2009


The fields were green in the rains, the breeze was so fresh. I could almost hear myself gasp as I tried taking in the fresh air. The pitter patter of the rain drops sounded like music and the hush of the trees added that beat to the glorious nature melody. I skipped and ran across the greens. The roaring in my tummy told me its lunch time. Running home I looked forward to the helping of rice and maybe there would be some steamed potatoes today well mashed with some mustard oil, onions and chilies. If I got real lucky there might be some ghee too. I ran even faster and suddenly I fell into the ditch which I failed to see. A loud jarring noise followed. I sat up realizing that my dream was shattered and my reality was far from the greens and the breeze. I wiped my face and my neck which was wet with the perspiration of the hot and humid night. I jumped out of bed the moment realizing that a brief delay in answering the bell would result in some remarks from memsahib.

It was barely 6 am and my reality of serving the household of 2 at Greater Kailash II, New Delhi had just sunk in. The garbage collection boy frowned as I opened the door saying “kya, itna time lagta hai darwaja kholne mein !” (Does it take so long to open the door?). I meekly handed the garbage to him. In my second year in the capital, I realized after many hard lessons that smiling at people, thanking them, expecting them to smile back never helped. No one ever was pleasant without a motive so it was better to just be elusive.

The mornings were always a hurricane. Between 6 am to 9 am when the house hold left, I had to get breakfast ready, pack Tiffin (2 different ones), finish sweeping and moping the house etc. I rushed around the kitchen. I knew the tiffin was the tough part, Memsaheb tool 3 roti’s, one bowl of vegetables, a dal, curd, salad. Saab never liked the staple diet as he liked variety and craved over chicken which memsahib never let him eat. She would keep saying eat healthy, look at yourself, you need to be in shape. I sneaked a bit of the dry chicken from the night before, dal, sabji in his tiffin. The tiffin’s were ready and lined up near the exit. The breakfast was simple- cereal (some fancy thing in a box called Kellogg’s, it seemed an awful waste of money. I could have made daliya for a year with that money), fruits (3-4 kinds all neatly cut up), milk, toast and sometimes if they asked an egg.

I could hear the shuffles in the room inside around 8 am. I finished cleaning the house and laid the table. Saab and memsahib ate well and cribbed about the ac not working for an hour. They asked me how I slept. I replied that I slept well and never felt the load shedding. Memsahib instructed me on the items to be cooked for the night.

BY 9 am I was home alone. I loved this part of the day. All the time was mine, I cleaned the house, dusted the rooms, washed the clothes, ironed the earlier day’s clothes. By 1 am I was done. I had my meal of rice, dal and aloo and lay down for an afternoon nap. I had to go buy the vegetables in the evening and I would cook dinner. I knew no one would return before 8 pm. They went to some gym to work out ( I always wondered why not walk in the open air, run, play rather than going to another closed place and use big heafty machines) and came back all exhausted. They would eat dinner post 9 pm and sleep after 12 pm. These were my days. There were a little different days where some people were called, then there would be more cooking then there would be days where they would not eat at home and there would be no cooking.

My life was simple. I felt grateful, I could send money home every month, I could save up for my family back in Orissa. I had little or no demands, I was fed and I had shelter in this household and the work was not too much. I knew of people from my village who had to toil for hours endlessly to earn even Rs. 500. I felt privileged. There was a lot of money in Delhi, the family had a lavish lifestyle, they had two cars, spent a lot on eating out ( I have seen shocking bills of Rs.5000 left in clothes given for washing ), shopped but they were kind people who never yelled or troubled me without reason.

I looked forward to my yearly break when I would go back to my village, amidst the lush green place and enjoy the breeze. I sighed as I put on the fan and sat on the floor. I knew another day would go by and another and soon months would pass. I felt blessed, I saw the complications of the lives people led here- money, power, pressure, health, competition, expenses… the needs and the ends were endless. When did life get so complicated I felt. I lived my cycle everyday, I was content and I served with a happy heart. I wish that my contentment would reflect in the family too and they would find some solace in their complicated lives. If only they could be content, if only they could stop running and live… just live by being bhola for a day.. dream of the green fields and look forward to one bowl of fresh rice… I dared not say that but I smiled more.. I helped more.. I tried more.. I hope someday my acquired family at GK (as they call it here) understands the meaning of living… simply living….n being content about it..

The door bell rang at 6 am.. another day … for bhola was just about to begin………

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Till we meet again………

We go back a long way. You have always been there for me, my soul rests with you. Yet I have not written to you for long. My mind is juggling several thoughts, the ink is drying up and the scrolls remain bare. Joyousness in its bounty has taken over and frivolity is overpowering. Then I should write more to you, you say? Share with me those moments in your mind, let me dance with you in the oh so melodious chant…

I stare blankly.. overpowered with emotions and thoughts. Maybe I am skeptical about sharing my joy, maybe I am superstitious, maybe I am just in my own exclusive world. It’s a whirlwind of things which swerve in my mind, its happiness personified, its anxiousness un controlled, its hopelessly hopeful. I wish I could share my journey with you… sigh! How I wish..

I close my diary and consoling it say.. sometimes my dear diary, word’s are not enough and I am glad to be in one of the times!

We shall part to meet soon where I take you with me on this journey…. Till then…

Saturday, April 25, 2009


Invigorating from the first step
Reciting volumes of history
The clickety of the cobbled roads
Endless charm of the memorial
Smell of gastronomy all around
Engulfed by the constant chatter
The comforting chaos surrounds you
Even if the screeching cabbies zoom by
The debates on soccer and world politics
Yet a comfort in the way of life

The luscious green on the rains
Lal mati of the countryside
The eccentric intelligentsia of the mind
With a bold step of culture in one’s stride
Quoting history in every breath
The city still bound in time
Sounds of music in every household
Redefining creativity in every step

Bamboo, wood or paper never molded this way
Creating structures of divinity
Touching euphoria in the dhaki sound
Broadest grin across the ageless family it brings
The sumptuous food which binds one and all
And the in explainable “areektu” serving

I mesmerize in childlike glee
Wondering constantly
The vagaries of the glorious state
Never lived did I but I feel I did
The guiding invisible hand for many years
Today defines what is truly me

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Your Music and My Lyrics

Life has its ways always
Its when unexpected things hit you on an idle day
Is when you realize the endless nuances it offers

You meet people for a reason they say
Some for a season and some for a lifetime
But always for a reason.. n mostly the reason being u

Some add music to your moments
Making you float high for a few days
Some add the tune which you want to hum for a while

Few add music to your lyrics
Meaning to your song
And even fewer sing along with you

Life reinforces disbelief and strange belief
When one meets such people
Making you ride on the sounds of music

I wonder if its for a season or seasons or longer
But I am glad to have sung my heart out
At the song we created together

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

On a day like today

The droplets sparkle and glisten
I wonder if its for a reason

The clouds in their resplendent glory
Speak their very own story

The wind uplifts my soul
Adding a spring to my sole

The rumbling skies and the cloudy haze
Turns the mundane alive and ablaze

The rain, winds and clouds gives me serenity
Showing the holy trinity

Nature seems to be beckoning its way
On a day like today…

Sigh… on a day like today

Monday, April 6, 2009

The Tempest

The fragrance unfolds, drapes and engulfs the room
As I slowly glance up
The view is hazy due to the storm
The rain lashes on incessantly
The constant murmur only beckons silence to my ears
The aroma of the flowers reverberates
The tempest unfurls both within and around
I see rain in my eyes, the storm in my head
As I stare blankly at his posthumous portrait.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

The Forbidden Summer

Summer was always exciting. It meant the summer break, mangoes, longer evenings to play cricket, fly kites, the rattling comforting cooler and of course all the yum food. The planning would always begin in advance. The gang would meet weeks before the summer vacations were declared. Plans would be made as to where we would meet, what new adventure would we indulge in and cricket scores were heavily discussed and debated.

This year seemed no different as we excitedly ran across the play ground and came to our favorite spot. It was a well covered hide out behind a few trees and shrubs where the gang would meet. I was on time but of course there was Amit who always reached before everyone. Neel shuffled in soon followed by Rags (short for Raghuveer) and Gags (short for Gagan). Gags was the serious sort who joined us for cricket but would always worry about his grades and homework. He sat down in the corner adjusting his over sized glasses. Amit had conjured a board from somewhere and he scribbled “agenda” on it. Usual suggestions of cricket, more cricket, foot ball followed. Amit began listing the various options when we all heard a meek voice. We all looked around surprised to see Gags speak up. “Lets try something different this year”, he said. “We always do the usual games but why not something innovative- we could try selling something, do something noble or creative or maybe ….. try going up to the woods!” said Gags slowly looking around.

A big gasp followed… “the woods… the woods”. Gags had uttered the sacred word and to think that he could say something like that. Amit was speechless. I gave him a glare and said “… Why Gags? You know we are not supposed to.. even mention the word”. Gags looked up and settled his glasses… “Why not? .. We always speak about doing something adventurous and fun. This is real adventure and in this area what more exciting thing can be than to explore the WOODS!”. Amidst the fear there was a sense of excitement to discuss the forbidden and even dream about doing something outrageous. A long silence followed.
“We should do it Guys!” said I looking around for reassurance. Rags nodded profusely chewing some gum. Neel seemed blank but Amit refused loudly. A lot of yelling followed....


Wednesday, March 25, 2009

My Color Palette

Flashes of speculation
During days of time
Clouding my thoughts
And often coloring them

The mind churns
whirlwind of emotions
a state of frantic rush
and often very peaceful

I ride on the constant tide
Balancing on the edge
As the flashes of color pass by
I clutch my paint brush tightly

Thursday, March 5, 2009


The fish always smelled when Mitali put her hand in the endearing plastic bag , known for carrying quantities of fish every Sunday. Sunday was a given day for the home to be loaded with goodies for the week. Vegetables of all shapes, sizes but all in bulk quantity were brought in. The anaj (veg) for shukto(a special veg bengali dish), patol, bhindi, gobhi, saag were staring at her . However, the fish always reigned the day, there was rohu, katla, choto mach (kinds of fish) and on some days there would be Hilsa. She sighed as she saw her kitchen filling up with numerous raw materials. Mitali was seen as the converter of the raw materials into the mouth watering goodies which the family would enjoy.

She had just finished sorting out the things into neat piles when a clatter of footsteps were heard. "Tia" (her dak/pet name) yelled a loud voice. Tia quickly settled her saree above her head and answered. The lady of the house, the mother in law, the sovereign swept in with all the glory befitting her. She plunged on the settee and started fanning herself furiously. She said “Ki goroom, baba go.. uff.. Tia .. eto bajar esche, aajake kaka kakima ra ashmbe ar amar khokon bhishon roga hoi jachae, char-panch rokom er ranna koro. Sorse Elish, tilapia mach, posto, macher bora, chorchori, shukto, dal, saag.. ektu bhaja bhuji ar kheer baneo. Thakur ke diye mishit doi aneyo neyo.” (It so hot… uff.. Tia.. so many things have come, today relatives are coming over and look how thin my son is becoming. Cook 4-5 items including Hilsa, two kinds of fish, 3 vegetables, dal and kheer and get Thakur to get misti dahi)

She seized her string of instructions and started moving the vegetables around. Tia glanced meekly at the time and realized she needed a miracle to produce all these items in such short notice without any flaws. She could almost hear herself gasp but could not let anyone see her like that. She started the herculean task of preparing the feast where she would have to toil from 7 am to 12:30 pm, get ready , serve the entire household and the guests, clear up after them and then maybe eat a few morsels. In her heart she worried that she should be able to cook all these items and have them ready on time, she knew her husband liked her cooking but she worried about what Ma (mom in law) would say even if she found less salt or any minor deviation.

Tia remembered as a kid when she had examinations to give how she would worry about what she would write and the result. It was reassuring however as her mom always assured her that marks or no marks she would get married and her role was to satisfy her husband and his family. She would have to devote her life for them even if she would get no praises or welcoming remarks. She thought she was lucky, her in laws did not abuse her, she had some time to herself in the afternoons and the time she had for herself she wrote. She enjoyed writing about frivolous things and her mind wandered to the sheets of paper with scribbles of Bengali lying at the bottom of the trunk. That was her escape, her life within her existence, the freedom within the walls.

Time ticked as she toiled towards completion. Thankfully, Thakur and Bhola , the help of the house lent a helping hand and the food was ready by12:15 pm. Tia quickly bathed and drapped the saree in a typical Bengali style, the wet hair dripping on her back, she smeared sindoor on the parting of her hair and made a round bindi on her forehead. The guests arrived and sat cross legged on the mats across the long verandah. Tia graciously welcomed them by touching their feet. The serving followed, everyone chattered and ate noisly. Few said the food was good. She looked up at Ma for any reassurance or praise. Nothing was said or gestured. She noticed her husband ate well and that made her smile

Tia began to settle the kitchen after the afternoon fiasco and ate a few bits towards late afternoon. Noone asked for her after, no one inquired on whether she ate. She was used to it, she enjoyed her own company and could not wait to get away to her room as she knew the afternoon talks would continue till she would be called to serve tea.

Running upstairs, she sat fanning herself against the window. The scrolls of paper rolled on the bed and she sat down to write. She wrote today of what she cooked and how people ate. She wrote about the day .. and she wrote about her world. She dared not dream more than that. This was her world, in whatever defined limits she was in charge here. She controlled some part of the household. She was the Grihini.

As she day dreamed gazing at the noisy street across the lane wondering life beyond this pakmara lane. "Tia………." yelled ma.. "chaaa koi?" (where’s the tea”). Tia rudely woke up and ran down. The Grihini lived on in her world, secure in the existence carved out for her, protected and provided, alone yet hopeful, free yet bound but still very alive. The spirit lived on.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Its not a myth!

Some days stick to your memory as if you relive that day, that moment every day. It began with that frosty glare across the room. The tenacity and the meaning in those eyes was in explainable. In the frosty glare and the stiff upper lip, there was a world of mystery waiting to be discovered, a surge of emotions and silent words. I remember trying to steal many glances and hoping to draw some attention but the path seemed snowed in. The brief moment seemed an eternity. It had tales of fortitude, of unforeseen passion. It had pain and pleasure, mystery and clarity, aloof and near, it was painstakingly familiar and known.

The moment replayed in my mind. You seemed to be on it and the our brief interlude was glorious. I knew you felt it too.. you felt the mystery .. you felt the connection. People would wonder how so brief a look could have such results. I never expected this too. The moment etched in my mind and at some level freed it. The tainted glass seemed clearer and I felt re- born. It was an amazing feeling of familiarity amidst the masses, a connect one finds in another being who is part of this magnanimous life. It made no sense to me and also seemed very sensible. Oxymoronic to the core.

You rekindled a lot of things that night.. you made me believe again.. in moments, in people and above all in miracles. The journey ahead is much more exciting as my mind is ready to absorb more and ready to trust again.. Its not a myth anymore.. It’s a miracle of a moment and I owe it to you.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009


Staring mysteriously with an enchanted gaze
The droplets seemed like dew on the moorish patch
Currants in black shone through
The mysticism in the mauve was oozing

The lift was gentle and generous
The placing on the edge was perfect
I temptingly stretched my hand
Smilingly I bit into my "black currant" ice cream.

Monday, February 9, 2009


The letter lay crumpled in a heap of papers. The sobbing continued to soak her sleeves but never seized. The barriers were finally broken. The cries grew louder and the breathing became heavy. For any passer-by the heart would wrench at her cries. As the time ticked, the passer-bys moved on and the cries abated abruptly. She slowly rose and bent down to pick up the crumpled paper. Ironing out the letter she held it up to her chest and gaspingly uttered- “I will live.. I have so much more time.. the tests (she sniffed) the tests were negative….”. I walked on wondering that the deafening cries of happiness was overwhelming and scarier than sadness. Unexpected happiness and sudden plight of sadness evokes unforeseen emotions … She huddled by me and the passer-by’s moved on. Life has its ways I thought.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Irksome but true.....

As I sat staring into a blank word document with a desire to pour my mind. I continued staring blankly. There are days when words and ideas cram your head but little can be done to process the same on paper. It is one such day I presume.

Life I thought with a sigh and a pause. The constant irksome word evoking a thousand thoughts, a whirlwind of memories, an ocean of hope and a desert of wants. I smiled as I let go off my breath with the numerous thoughts. Why is it so difficult to talk about life? About experience and what is and what could have been? Why is it that words are never enough to describe people, moments, events or days? why is it so difficult to figure out what makes us happy and what is it that we want?

Does the surge ever end?
Does the quest ever cease?
Does the desire ever die?

Is it all about acceptance and adjustments or is it about living life on the edge and craving for the wee bit more? Is it the cyclical nature of bad and good days or is it the attempt to always feel that adrenaline rush? What is it that we all seek for ourselves or despite ourselves? “The journey is long and endless and in the end it is only with ourselves” (The sunscreen song) .

I seek without knowing, I travel without destination, I wonder without pausing. I constantly think. In the midst of the ageless mindless confusion, I attempt to live the irksome yet infectious thing called life. Do u?

Saturday, January 17, 2009

The last flight

It was a sinister feeling as I walked the last flight. I never understood why I felt that way. A sudden shudder would also run through my spine as I remember always hastily turning around. I always wondered why it was only on the last flight that the eeriness crept in. The moment would pass the moment I reached the door. I remember puzzling over this for days. No matter how engrossed I was in my thoughts, how hurried I tried to rush the climb or how indifferent I tried to be the feeling remained.

It was unexplainable I thought to myself trying to analyse. The feeling was of disturbing familiarity, of an uncanny calmness and of known and unknown times. I ran through options of a doctor, therapist, a voodoo specialist in my mind but decided against any of them. It would only make me think more on the feeling. I decided to live with it. There are days I would pause on the last flight and feel pain, there were moments where I would dash the last step and feel hurt. It was a morose feeling, of anger, anguish and yes a lot of pain.

Its been many years now and the house has grown with me. The last flight remains. The feeling remains. Yet it has got surprisingly easy, it’s a part of my life now, a grown sense of familiarity and at some level fondness. It’s a feeling of comfort that maybe I am being watched over by a unknown someone. Maybe it will never make sense, maybe I will never know but the last flight is here to stay in me.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Stolen Glory

My feet still tremor each time I remember the moment etched in time. I can sense the adrenaline rushing to my head. The nausea and the euphoria engulfing me, as I make the last dash. The award ceremony and the glory of being a title holder seems a blur now. I clench and unclench the Olympic gold as I remember passing the drug test despite….

I startle with the sound as the bottle breaks spilling out the remains of the heroin

Wednesday, January 14, 2009


“What is life all about?” asked me?
“Sheer bliss in nothingness” smirked snoopy
“I am destined for bigger things you know for intelligensia, discovering the undiscovered and braving to find unsolved solutions.” Me continued.
“ Don’t you think we all have a purpose in life? We are all here for doing something different and life is more than school and slides.”
Me jumped up and held up my hand. “Here I go I shall strive to achieve and I will begin by not going to school and work the whole of today on the effects of nuclear sciences on mankind. What say snoopy?”
Snoopy muttered in his sleep while me pounced on him awakening him rudely.
I suddenly felt the bed moving and felt that the gods had heard me and the nuclear war had commenced. “Run for your life” I muttered only to be woken rudely up by mom waving a calvin copy in my face. I could only wake up giggling at my Watterson stint.

Monday, January 12, 2009

This thirteenth

Dreaming beyond the moon's beam
I stare into the vast emptiness
I glimpse at the expanse of nothingness
The stilness in the forelone space
I blink and blink again
amd slowly open my eyes
Its a haze at first
but the moist clears and the smog moves
I see the vast greens of days gone by
I stare at moments of simple past joys
I glimpse at life lived despite the odds
The stilness is calming
I close my eys in relief
Reliving years gone by this thirteenth

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Thirteen till I die?

The eerie Friday
The desolate road
The pitch dark gloomy night
The unknown, unforeseen incidents
The vagaries of the thirteenth

The mystically mauvish madness of embracing life
Understanding the eccentricities of "toblerone"
The essence of 'music and lyrics'
And the madness of 'bed of roses'

The quest to experimenting newness
And loosing oneself amidst
The triumphs and trials of days
Faced with the exhausting enthusiasm

The eeriness of the conventional friday
The vagaries of the thirteenth for all
But the insane factum of me
are my vagaries of thirteenth

The journey of years
The defining eccentricity
The unending quest
I relive my thirteenth every day

Monday, January 5, 2009

The rage within

It was 9:15 am and she was late. She could visualize the boss fuming furiously. The after effects of the fuming were easily imaginable. Sherene was always running against time especially on Monday mornings. Why does life have to be so time bound she grumbled as she fled out of her door. Not only was the biting cold getting to her, the thought of the long hectic day with the fuming monster was no icing on the non existent cake.
The race continued at the never ending traffic light which seemed perpetually red. Sherene let out a yell in despair and started vigorously thumping the steering wheel. Suddenly she could see the street hawkers and beggars walking towards her car. Great! She thought to herself the last thing she needed was shooing them and missing the split second green signal.
Sherene randomly shook my head and started saying that she needed nothing, had no change to give nor could she buy anything much before anyone begged or offered anything for sale. Her rage brimmed higher as she cursed them under her breath. Why can’t they seek some employment and stop begging or do something worthwhile?
Just then, this old wrinkly lady with sagging skin and disjointed arms came and extended her hand. This was the hilt for Sherene, she screamed at her and said – “no change. Please get lost. I need to go. NO CHANGE.”
Having let out the scream, Sherene felt calmer but started feeling a bit guilty. There was no need to yell like that. Just then the signal turned green and just as Sherene pressed the accelerator she happened to glance at the old lady who had not left the side of the car. The old lady smiled a toothless smile, extended her hand and placed it on her head. “Bless you” she said.
The car raced ahead and Sherene for the first time felt calmer in her insatiable, irksome and baseless rage.

The soul mirror

Peaks and troughs galore,  engulfing the auburn sky, shades of life it bore, uneven lows and familiar highs. Ocean’s blue is no compar...