The End At A Beginning

Dear God,

When I look back to reflect on this entire year I find it very strange. Can't really say the year was great. It had started with many promises. It had started with many firm resolutions, with strong planning, but it is ending the way I had never expected it would. Yet I cannot help but be grateful. This year was, if nothing, a lovely present from you.

This year, I achieved another set of academic success. I have learnt to believe in myself. I have fallen in love only to realise it wasn't love at all. I have learnt to trust wisely.

There were people who stood behind me when the tide was against me. I learnt to value my family. I made mistakes, even some irreversible ones. I learnt to live with my past. I thought I would perhaps never be loved. I learnt there is someone who does and he would always.

God, thank you for this wonderful year. It has brought me wisdom. It has brought to me faith. It has brought to me my Sunshine.

Last year, I began with planning but this year I won't. For last year, when things weren't going the way I had planned them to, I cursed you. Today I realise, It was right for them to have deviated from my order. I realise, my life was never so beautiful.

I have learnt to believe, in your being.
I have learnt to believe, in your divine presence.
I have learnt to believe, in you.

A moment, Cherished

I stared into those eyes which now swam in large tears. Ever since I was a kid, as we left our Kolkata home to come back to Delhi after the summer vacation was done, she has always facinated me with those strange tear filled eyes. My Grandmother has always bade me goodbye with tears and I never understood why.

As we increased in length and breadth with time, our vacation spans reduced in similar proportions. Now we can hardly afford to spend more than a week or two at Kolkata. work has replaced our lazy summer afternoons. Time is now too precious to waste. A stroll by the river or hogging our evenings away at a Phuchka stall would mean a heavy cut down on the heavy chance that we hold, of scoring all those heavy scores in the examinations.

My Grandmother has always bade us goodbye with tears and I for one never understood why she did that. I remember, as a kid, when she bent to plant a tear soaked kiss on my cheek, I would tell her not to worry, we would be back again by next summers. I could never understand why she wept as we boarded our train.. She could always give a phone call when she felt like. I was a kid I had known, but this was amusing when She behaved like one.

We boarded the train to Delhi from Kolkata today. And in all these years nothing has changed. Those big, divinely beautiful eyes glistened with tears. For the first time I observed her closely. The tall lean frame stood there on the platform in a white cotton saree. Her Saree, I remember was magical. It had tremendous healing power. When as a child I ran to her with my hurt knees she would wipe my tears away with the end of her saree and strangely soon, it would begin to hurt less. It would always give those ugly, pockmarked, red eyed, slimy green ghosts of my nightmares, a run for their lives, with its tender touch.

Perhaps The saree still held its magic but over the years, I have learnt to live without it. I have learnt to believe that green ghosts of my nightmares donot exist. I have learnt to sophisticatedly dab my eyes with tissue papers when emotions begin to blurr my vision.

I have learnt but I guess I havn't learnt enough. The tissue soaks away the water but it never soaks the pain. Ghosts of my dark past, continue to terrorize me.

Today as she waved at me as the train began to depart from the station, I saw her dark skinny hand, her long fingers, which in the past had massaged my baby skin with mustard oil, tied my curly hair in two long braids, held my story books high as I laid under them and heard her take me away to the land of wicked witches and pretty fairies, shoved in me bitter tasting medicines during illness and then magically produced sugar cubes when I had swallowed. Cooked numerous meals for me, waved the hand fan when there was a power cut.
Given me tokens of money to buy myself little pleasures with, held the phone tightly to her ear, when I called.
Moments ago they were placed on me in blessing when I touched her feet.

I think I understand why she always bade me goodbye with tears. It was because, each time I left, time would shed away the old and put on me a new garb. All these years I returned but returned never as the one who had promised to return. She silently wept her Goodbye because each time I left, she knew, I was perhaps leaving never to return again.

The Train hooted and began to speed. I gazed in pain in those eyes which sparkled brightly with tears. I cherished the moment, as she feebly smiled, and slowly began vanishing behind the red velvet curtain.

I now write a new chapter

As I lie on my back and gaze at the slowly rotating fan hanging from the ceiling a million thought come to my mind. Life is finally taking a turn. The past now stands far behind, gradually getting reduced to a tiny speck on the vast landscape of time. I move ahead into the yet to come... into uncertainity.

Lying in the semi darkness it strikes me. It is indeed time that I update this space here. But strangely today, I find words failing me. I write them in spilt seconds. Then Split seconds after they spill out they transform their royalty into mere mistakes. I make tons and tons of such mistakes. Since the past hour I have been typing lines and hitting the delete button everytime... making those stray thoughts, stray words, stray marks, vanish in similar split seconds... presenting myself with another chance. Another attempt at perfection.

I hate to disturb this virginal whiteness of this writing space. I hate to blacken its face with expressions of my mindlessness. I hate to bring sin to this little line which blinks so innocently at me. But my position, I cannot escape. All I can do is, desperately seek a justified reason. Desperately seek an exchange for which I would recieve salvation for my soul.

Life is taking a turn. As I lay, I look into this blank page at the beginning of this new chapter. I try hard to figure out that perfect mark that I would make on it. That perfect mark which when I would look back at, would never regret having made it...
It is difficult to erase certain stray marks.
They seem to demand more. Much more than mere delete buttons.

~~

Sunshine brightens a clean new page for me. It glows warmly on all the dark ugly marks of the past, cajoling them slowly to wither and depart. It now radiates a blissful assurance, the chapter ahead will perhaps be, the most beautiful chapter of my tale.

Dear God,

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I would see day.
Thank you, for this Sunshine I can so call mine.

Please let my Sunshine stay with me, till I breathe my last letter..
And dear Almighty, please let my sunhine stay with me, after my story has long ended..

In Dreams

Sounds of laughter float in through my open window,
as merry children in the garden beneath, play.
Of light winged angels, I dream on,
As in this Dark room, I lay.

From my dream I am gently awakened,
a mystic heaviness binds the air.
I realize an angel sweetly kiss me,
I hold my hand and it finds it there.

I stare at it in a drowsy amazement.
It blinks innocently back at me.
In that one square lucid eye,
My entire being shine, I see.

"Make a wish, quick, make your wish"
It softly whispers in my ear.
I close my eyes and make that wish,
That one little wish, to me so dear.

It reassuringly bestows, its pink smile,
As I open my tearful eyes.
With a sudden pop It so vanishes,
Leaves me a moist circle and a pleasant surpize

As the sunshine tumble in through my open window,
I feel my joy sweep my blue.
I know where to, my friend has gone.
I know, my wish, will come true.

The Balloon

It was a vibrantly coloured piece of rubber filled with gas. I had adored it more than anything else. As I went to the fair holding Daddy's large forefinger with my tiny frail fist, I had pointed it out from the vendor's cart and smiled a three toothed smile at him.

He had wanted to tie the balloon around my wrist to keep it from flying away, but I had resisted. I wanted to hold the balloon in my hands.

As I walked talking excitedly in lipsy with Daddy at my side, the balloon swayed in an angle behind us. we headed for home. The little tug that it made at the string, the envious eyes of other children that followed us. I felt, I was a queen. As if I had owned the world.

My memory has faded. I had kept it neatly folded and locked away all this while. I don't really remember what exactly had caused it, but as we were entering the garden gate, my beloved balloon had naughtily slipped from my grasp. Up up up it went till it reached the milky clouds and got lost among them. I guess it went away to say hello to the stars.

I don't but Daddy still remembers the tantrum I had thrown. He says, I had sat on the steps of our verandah, my princess frock all in a fluff around me and shed tears. He says I had refused to go inside until he agreed to go and find my pretty balloon.

Yes Daddy had walked away in agitation, leaving me sitting stubbornly at the doorstep. Then miraculously, an hour later he had returned. He was holding my lost treasure.

Daddy is indeed my miracle man. In years to come, I have landed in many serious troubles and Daddy has found a cure for them all. He is the one I have always fallen back upon and He has always been there to catch me. He has always found me my lost treasures. He found me my balloon then, Now in this tumultuous life of mine, He finds me my solace.

Years have passed. Ask Daddy today, and he will tell you how he got his little angel home that day. He didnot find the balloon. He had known, it had left never to return. He had walked miles, back to the fair, back to vendor and got another one. The same design, the same colour, on special request.

And I understand today. Life makes us loose our treasures because they are to be replaced by better ones. It makes us loose our treasures so that we begin to know their worth. I valued this balloon more because, I had to cry for it. Because Daddy had to walk miles for it. I valued this balloon more because this balloon came to me with a promise. It had promised to me, it will stay.

I had allowed Daddy to tie my balloon around my wrist, when he returned with it. Later I had tied it safely to my bedpost.

Once again

The sky, once again, is sparkling blue,
The white clouds, once again,
glide playfully across.

The trees once again sway
to the tune of the pretty breeze.
The stream once again
gushes busily by.

Far in the valley,
Once again stands the Rainbow,
smiling broadly,
Once again, the gold glisten on the mountain tops .

In heavenly colours, once again,
the flowers blossom .
Once again, the butterflies
charm, over them.

Once again, the dew sparkle
on the petals of the fair daisies.
Once again, the sparrows
are back to their play


Once again, the beams
seep in through the cracks of my melancholy fortress.
and touch me warmly.
Once again, I believe in dreams.

Life is beautiful, Once again.
Once again, it softly kisses me
its promise..

I have found, my Sunshine ...

My Story

My story is long silent.
It is Silence now,
which follows me.

It follows me
to tell a story,
about the silence,
weaved in with unsaid telling,
of a million meaning.
Unheard echos
of countless memories.

My story died,
with its mysteries safely tucked away
in its heart.
Untouched.

It departed never betraying Silence.
And now it is time,
my Silence, lived,
Her promise to me.
It is time,
My Silence followed me,
and told Her story.

The Last Promise

If I don't come back home tomorrow,
Don't you worry,
for I would never be gone,
For long.

If I don't come back home tomorrow,
Don't you worry,
Don't you cry for me.
I am not worth your tears.

My past is too thick with Ignorance,
for your tears to wash away.
My soul is too heavy with sin,
for your tears to bring me deliverance.

If I don't come back home tomorrow,
just forgive me for,
all the wrong I've done.

All the wrong I've
said and done,

in Jealousy.
in cynicism.
in Rage.

in a surge of emotions,
in overpowering love.
in greed.
in desire.

in callous Humour
in petty pride

in melancholy
in pain.

If I don't come back home tomorrow.
Don't you worry,

Forgive me,
and Look in the Better Memories I left you.
And I would never be gone,
for long.

I promise...

I am

I am a wardobe which leads to a wonderland..
I am an angel's magic wand..
I am a glass slipper..
A Cursed apple
A maiden's wish, come true..

I am a sunflower..
I am the Purple horizon..
I am the golden leaves..
the silver rain..
a Shooting Star amongst thousand stars,
across the winter sky..

I am a warm delicious pizza..
I am a bottle of finest french wine..
I am a piece of chocolate pastry..
a glass of Lemonade on a summer day..
a Little sugar coated Candy,
in pretty Colours..

I am a ghost of the painful past,
I am God's gift of the living present
and a humble heart, full of hope,
for what is yet to come..

I am the rouge on a fair cheek
I am a sunny smile
I am Rage, I am greed
I am Pain, I am tragedy
and then, I am the tears of Joy...

Peace and Happiness~~

The Green Buffaloes

We have a hundred meter wide grassy park,
just beneath the balcony of our apartment.
And everything there is green.

The grass is green.
The beautiful wild flowers that bloom there
are green.
The little butterflies that flutter over them
are green.
The thin egrets that hop on their thin legs
are green,
The plastic wrappers and other garbage that lie around,
are green.
They are all green.

Today, there are seven buffaloes,
grazing in the park.
Their ears are twitching ocasionally,
their skins are rippling ocassionally,
and their brushy tails are lashing on their backs
ocasionally, to send the settling flies
again on their wings.

They are all green.
Their ears are green,
Their skins are green,
Their tails, their lovely tails
are green.

They are all green
as they busily chew their cud
amongst the treasure of rich foliage
That has, with comming of the monsoons
replaced the thorns of the scotching summer.

But,
At a little distance,
there is one buffalo
which walks on the mettaled Highway
Face down,
with fire in its bowels
and not green.

Why does it not follow the norm?
Why does it not follow the norm to graze in the park,
where food is so bounty.
Why does it not follow the norm,
to graze with
the seven green buffaloes?
Perhaps it is foolish,
as foolish as foolish can be.

Or may be,
Its path it has chosen,
The path less treaded on.
Its destiny it has chosen for itself,
And it is perhaps its choice that decides
what it ought to be,
a buffalo like it was born a buffalo.
Hungry, But not green.

As the clouds darkens the blue horizon again,
and the rain begins to glisten
on the broad leaves of the peepal tree.
The seven green buffaloes,
as green as the gentle grass,
graze away in peace
on the green, wide, grassy park
Underneath.

Unknown,
Undiscovered..

Daggered

I have been stabbed through my heart.
An eight inch Silver Dagger made
Through and through.
I was caught Unaware,
As I slept through the night,
and he made sure
that the darkness never left,
for me.

The Cut now bleeds.
Out of it flows all the suffering.
Out of it flows away,
my dreams
my beliefs
my soul.
Out of it flows away.
All the Love that I carried in my heart.

I can hear no more,
see no more, feel pain no more.
I want to catch myself, Save myself,
but I can do it no more.
I am ebbing away.
I am drying.
I am dying.

As I call for help
I can only hear my voice echo
As I stretch out my shivering hand
I can only feel
but acres and acres of
empty space,
acres and acres of,
empty, errie space.

A Tainted Memory of a Beautiful Time

That is me.. Dressed up in my mother's Bridal dress. What I can make out from my parent's wedding day photographs, she must have looked Goddess in this dress. I don't do much justice to it though. Can you see those two ponytails sticking out? Thank God, I was a kid.. so you can safely say "how cute" and so I can safely smile one of my heartiest smiles with a little proud blush...

Since those days, I have always tried to be like mother. In my play, I would wear her Jewellery, her make up, her high heel sandals, where my little feet would often get lost and strut around the house with my head held high. I would always stare at her in wonder when she would get ready for the parties. As she put the kajal around her eyes to make those already big beautiful eyes more beautiful and as she twisted the butt of her lipstick to smear it on her already lovely lips.. I would keep looking at her face.... mesmerized...

Time has passed, I have grown up. I have changed from cute to ugly, from naughty to rebellious. But ma, has remained the same. She still gets angry at me. Those days when I would not finish my milk, then later when I would not do my homework and now when I come home late. She still makes it a point, that her children never toe the line of discipline... Her reasons might have changed with time, but Ma still gets angry at her little angel...

She has remained the same... She was beautiful then... She is divine, even today... Today when she twists that butt of her Lipstick, I wonder whether things will remain this way. Whether she would again twist her Lipstick tomorrow, and then again day after..... will she go on twisting her lipstick this way.... forever....

So much has changed. So many things, I never guessed... would ever change... have changed. And they have all changed only for the worse. The change has given me torn emotions, shattered my beliefs, broken my dreams, darkened my vision, cracked me up, ripped me apart and left me with only black memories which I wish were never mine...

I now fear change. What if tomorrow I find the lipstick on the dressing table and I find no one to twist it... What if I come home late and find no one to wait on me.... no one to scold me.... What if there is nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing to claim... as mine....

I fear tomorrow. I fear change....Terribly..

Eventually, In time.....I would look into the mirror and not find my reflection. Spell my name and not recognize its sound. Live a life and never believe.... it was mine...

Through the Fairytale Trees

As we walked through the metro station, solving multiple choice questions with our time tested technique of 'inky pinky ponky', from Gautam's Infamous "Rupa book of Litrary quiz" [which he bought at a bargain of 80 bucks, which he is very proud of] ... It was lovely to find the queue in front of the ticket counter which today, stretched till eternity...

It took us 20 mins to reach the University where we had initially decided to hire bicycles to save us the labour of walking and the capital that we would have to invest in rickshaw rides..
However that was not all the reason to hire a bicycle. I remember riding a bicycle when I was a ten year old. I owned a glittery red one which often took me to the shopping complex when mum needed salt, sugar, detergent, coffee...

That glittery red bike has been sold. It left us when I learnt to use the bus, metro, autos, Rickshaws and other modes of public travel. These days I have a driving License to flaunt. To flaunt because, I am not allowed to drive after I rammed into a neighbour's brand new BMW last year while I intended to risk parking my beloved vehicle beside it..

We were running short of time so we decided to accomplish the 'business' first and then do the merry making, which needed a little market survey...

The Arts Faculty where we had our 'business' was pretty far form the station. Now those who have already been there and are now reading this would say " eh!" but sorry to say, if you sit at home for two months, doing nothing, only moving your fingers to update your blog... a walk from the station to the Arts Faculty is.....Indeed Stress!

Then, we had no option but to make the walk... Later We hired cycles. Mine, which had an uneven seat, initially pricked me a little at the backside but slowly i got used to it! We paddled around in the university, dogging the cars and scooters that came our way or went past... laughing at some fat guys in Children of bodom Tshirts who had hired a rickshaw...

I noticed for the first time, what the pain of walking and tension of getting the rickshaw pullers into bargains had not let me notice before.. The university is indeed lovely...

As I paddled through the road laden on both sides with swishy eucalyptuses, red gulmohars, green spiky neems.. it let me into one of those worlds which i had long wished to enter...

They spoke to each other in smooth slippery voices... Something...

Something which I could only feel. The leaves softly brushed against each other... the way she playfully rubs her nose with her lovers, kisses it gently and looks into his eyes.. a spell which binds them both to the blissful memory...

Some branches of a little plant clung to the trunk of a gigantic tree... I thought of Daddy, when he held my hand while crossing a busy street... Today again, I felt the loving warmth of his fist, the same concerned firmness...

It was drizzling lightly.. I donot love rain... It brings back memories which I donot want to claim... It brings to me the forgotten gloom.. comes to me, as a reminder of my lonliness...

But today for the first time, I enjoyed the sharp droplets hitting my face... They hit my face and then slowly crept in, through the dull orange collar of my shirt... The wind blew on my wet face, in my unruly hair... swishing them back and forth... entangling the locks into each other, in its play...

As the drizzle brought with it the yellow leaves, they tumbled their journey from the trees, to touch me softly, to whisper in my ear..

"Life is to live, to live Now"

They fell with all their beauty and grace, never bothering who would trample on them...

As my phone began ringing I found myself staring stupidly at the trees who so long had kept me captured in their fairytale..... In my fantasy, I had forgotten that I had taken a different turn and come a long way... probably had left them searching for me, far behind...

I turned back with a heavy heart... Afterall Dreams never come true...

yes, they never do...

The Moon

As I lay here on my bed, in this dark room, knocking at the gates of the dream world which constantly fails to be answered today, the moonbeams, silently creep through the window and lay down softly beside me. My memory jogs back. It takes me back to those days when my grandmother used to tell me the story of, the Moon.

Once upon a time, she used to say, the Moon was very close to the Earth. So close that if I stood on my tiptoe and stretched high towards the sky, I could feel its ripply face with my fingertips. During the night the Moon would hug the Earth and give warmth and glow to its people. It would smile serenely at them as they all left, for the dreamworld.

One day an old woman was sweeping her backyard when the Moon began to chuckle. The old lady brimmed with motherly love as she stood and stared at the chubby naughty face, all gleeful.

At last she asked,"What makes you so happy, my dear?". The Moon said,"why grandma, you are so ugly and bent".

All love began to drain out of the old lady. She angrily shook her broom towards the moon and said,"So proud of that pretty face, are you? Go away, I don't want to see it ever again. Go away".

As she turned and went Inside, the Moon felt sorry. It thought. "I shouldn't have laughed at her, but why did she ask me to go away.. do they not love me anymore? Fine, If that is what they want... I will go away and grant them this wish."

The Moon began to prepare for its departure but it realized it couldnot leave the Earth like this. After all, The Earth needed the Moon and the moon Loved the Earth a lot.

The Moon left never to return. However it could not go very far. Its love for the Earth held it. So my dear girl, grandma would say we see the Moon high up in the sky.

Grandma is now miles away and this story she told me, was years back but I realise its significance today. Life is strange. It is strange, how one small mistake can change it so drastically. It is strange, how sometimes its too late to say, 'I am sorry'... No matter how truly I am. Sometimes it gets all blank with simply the memories to fill it, like the moonbeams which now fill my dark room. Which now creep through the window and play hide and seek with the curtains.

Today as I look at the moon through the window, a hope leaps from the heart. May be someday, it will forgive and return to embrace the Earth in its soft bright arms. But Till then, I have got this long, dark, cold night to fight.

As I stare at the shiny reflection of the Moon on my mirror, I hold it to my heart. Life is indeed a fairytale..

Trust me, I Haven't..!

Today is perhaps, the most memorable day of my life. I got up at nine in the morning, as usual, just when daddy was leaving for office. My brother had already left for his tutions. Mum is not in town. She is in Kolkata, visiting my grandmother. As Daddy left for his office, he woke me up with instructions to be given to the maid who was to arrive around ten to sweep and mop the floor.

Hasi, our maid is a wierd woman. My mother's pet.. and after taking up mum's place in the house for this brief period of her absence, Hasi is my pet too. There is so much to do in the house. Only God knows what would have happend of me, had Hasi not been around. Still I would say she is a wierd woman. She is the gossip queen of the township. She is indeed very irritating and I fiercely hate her for all that she does to disturb my sleep. Everyday she would be here, giving a report of rumours and speaking rubbish about her other customers in the neighbourhood, in a loud voice which even if i try to describe in the mildest of adjectives is cacophonic, ear drum blasting...

Hasi may be our maid but she owns a flat of her own with a Fridge and a colour Television set. She is always dressed in a neat flower printed cotton saree. Her hair neatly oiled and parted to form a bun at the back. and unlike many other maids, she is decked with jewellry. A nose ring, many hundred gold and glass bangles on each wrist, silver anklets, large gold earrings. we may sometimes look a bit storm struck, at home, but Hasi is always prim and proper. as she sweeps the floor and mops it clean, washes the dishes, not a single hair on her head, displaces.

Today when she rang the ugly sounding bell [which is supposed to ring like a birdsong as the picture of the blue bird on its cover had indicated] I nearly fell down from the couch, where i had fallen back to sleep after daddy had left. Hasi walked in with her trademark red toothed smile [wich i dont pay any heed to, and today was no different]. I comanded, "where were you yesterday? you haven't watered the plants, haven't taken the garbage out. Why.. may I ask?"

She flaunted another of those morbid smiles , " why, Yesterday was raining". "But it rains almost everyday now. will you stop comming just because it rains?". "No but I am here today Didi [Madam]." I was already pretty annoyed with the sharp bell. now this argument. "Listen, Mum is not here, Don't try to take that advantage ok? I will not spare you for this lazyness of yours". I think i had heated it much for her now. she was beginning to feel little uncomfortable. As mum had once said, Hasi was not much accustomed to rebukes. She had a very strong sense of self respect. she tried hard to defend herself which angered me more. I mean, why will she wat to defend herself. When she knows she is at fault, why can't she simply say sorry and have it over? But Hasi didnot say sorry. She went on mumbling a series of her time tested excuses.

I was beginning to tire. I said in one of my very strong voices, " Listen, Dont give me this shit. I know it all. Have seen Many like you. We pay you ok? That means you wil have to listen to what I say. Better keep all This shit to yourself or give it to someone else, not to me". Hasi is almost my mother's age. I think, this must have been too much for her. her eyes had reddened with angry tears. her hands were shaking. As I mumbled the first abuse [which i often do when i get angry] she could not hold herself any longer, made a move and pushed me a little. And She had gone too far with me now. What gripped me then was perhaps pure madness. I did something which I still don't believe I can do. Its definately not me. Its definately not the way i could stoop so low. With all the strength rage could gather, I pushed her back.

May be, Hasi too, like me, had not expected this. she lost her balance. As her pink flowery saree caught her feet, she fell on the floor and hit her head on the center table corner.

Hasi is now lying in a pool of blood here, since past i don't remember how many hours now. I had sat with a thump on this chair moments after she hit the ground, trying to grasp all that was happening. I can't think. My mind has gone all numb. I cannot feel my hands. Neither my legs. I cannot get up. My stomach has been churning since then. that may be because I haven't had any breakfast, or is it something else..? This blood has turned slimy now and is stinking something awful. I have puked twice now. except for that I cannot figure out anything that i can, should, need to do. I haven't called up daddy. What the heck am I supposed to tell him..? Today is perhaps the most memorable day of my life for from today, life will never be like it used to be, before.

Oh God! I didn't mean to do this. I never thought this would happen. Why is that I always loose control when I am angry. I hav tried to overcome this many times, but has never happened. I was simply out of my mind, but i never meant to do this to her. Oh God, you know, I didnot kill her. I am not a Murderer.

Its almost four in the afternoon. Hasi was breathing slightly some hours ago but now she is lying silent and stiff, in a pool of dark red slimy blood, with one hand on her stomach, the other near her head, all blue and ghastly...

What the Curls took away

my mother wanted a haircut
and with God's grace she could find no other
to do the honoured job for her.. but me

It was simple and exciting
and I readily accepted to do it for her
clip clip clip
my silver scissors clipped away
as the long lush waistlength curls
parted from her and fell with soft thuds
upon the plastic sheet she had spread on the ground

I think I have done a good Job
I smiled as i Collected the hair and ran my fingers down them
to give them that required bounce...

Trust me, she looks beautiful
quite a makeover, i must say
quite like those celebrated women we often see
on the cover page of business times...
quite like those stylish ladies
who often appear
on page three...

She looks smart,
she looks fresh,
But, she looks no longer like Mother

I wonder...
the curls are perfect,
the cut is perfect
the shape is perfect
But there is definately something
which is lost

The curls didnot leave alone...
They have taken their revenge
taken with them
that something...

I look around for her now
and all I feel is cold and empty... on the inside...

As I often think

Fear of the future is worse than the pains of the past...

Where are you...

Its a way to say

I desperately needed to update this space.. so sorry for this lame post...

lets see.. hmm... wats the lastest news?

well something very funny happened when i got up today

My parents might have tried hard to stuff that little nursery rhyme, early to bed early to rise... in my head but so far it has not shown any visible sign... may be it is as slow to effect as i am...

I usually get up with mum screaming in my ears like some emo rock band's vocalist... but today what got me up was something i am still grappling to believe...

today dad called from office and simply asked me to get ready...

he came home by the time i had my bath.. then we walked to the mall and gosh! we walked into the reliance digital showroom...

Daddy has bought me an ipod nano... something i once jokingly had wanted to posses...

but then that was long time back....

I am holding my dream device now.. and i still cant believe i am holding it...

Its not my birthday today. neither i have scored too well in my exams, nor that i have cracked the CAT or landed in a job with some big firm... like many of my friends...

then...y...

I have been living all these years with dad... its experience which says that if i wanted dad to get me somthing i would have to make a scene, yell, give numerous explanations as to why i needed it.. keep reminding him constantly, while he ate, while he slept, while he woke, while he is driving, while he is in the shower... but Daddy calling me up, walking with me to the store and getting me that i wanted... its like slime accumulating on kerosene....

sorry, i am speechless..... parents can be unpredictable too and stupid me, i used to think i am a bigshot... for i could decieve them so efficiently...

is this some trick against me.. that mum and dad are playing? or is it that i am just being suspicious for no reason...

Strange... life makes one live so downtrodden that it becomes so difficult to believe when something good is happening...!

May be that is how it teaches us... to be Thankful!

Wish It wasn't true

I have been stripped to my skin
Someone had stripped me
stripped me and touched me

Someone now knows,
all my ugliness that
I have been hiding underneath so far

Someone now knows,
the texture of my skin, the little hair that grow on it
every little bruise
fruits of my own carelessness

Someone now knows,
where I have my birthmark
knows, the mole near my navel

I gave away
the carefully preserved me
to that someone
Its strange,
for i gave it all away
without much retaliation

my secret is no longer mine
was it necessary at all?
But then, did I have a choice?
Do I hate that someone
for stripping me to my skin?
And after all this while,
am I living to regret it?

*this is a product of my distilled cynicism ... relation with any living or dead is mere coincidence...

Jungle of Lights

...As i sit here at the window, far below i see thousands and thousands of lights...
thousands and thousands of yellow and white dots... as if someone has strewn a fistful of golden and silver glitter over a sheet of deep eriee darkness...

they are twinkling...
May be because, somewhere, someone is switching a light on, to accomplish a business... somewhere, someone is switching them off to control their electricity bill...
its strange... did i ever think while turning on a light, that someone up there would be watching me and wondering, what exactly i might have wanted to do next?

As i look below at the vast stretch of the sparkling city, i can make out the highways, which bathe in the sodium lights... they seem like snakes, long glowing snakes, crawling in curves across the land...

little lights travel through them... as the snakes swallow millions of cars, buses, scooters...
maybe there are people inside them... talking excitedly to each other...

I see a white dot.. does it belong to a house? is a little girl getting a scolding for not going to bed?
Its vanished... like million others...
maybe she has gone to bed... may be her mother has tucked her in her warm bed, with her teddy bear... maybe she is now... in her sugar dreams...


The aircraft shivered...

As some clouds block my view for a while..i think of my monotonously meaningless life, the loneliness, that i am getting back to... the unpredictability, the anxiety, the nervousness that is waiting for me there... to catch me and take in me in their coils...

squeezing this tranquility out... leaving an unquenched thirst to let go of life...

Its not a jungle of lights anymore... but few big sodium bulbs, large houses and swaying trees....

Its better i willingly accept it...

"passengers are requested to fasten their seatbelts..."
Alas, they have... but no choice...

they have... but no escape...

Mutton Curry

The title might sound exciting, but this is no recipe... this is a tragedy...
what has happened today, it will make me remember 'Mutton curry' for, probably the rest of my life.
This is a summer vacation...
and as it has always happened since mum got married to dad and shifted to delhi, we are here at kolkata, visiting all the people who fight and yet love each other... people who are there for us when we need them... indifferent of what they recieve from us... people you would perhaps recognize, if i say "relatives"...

Its always fun here at kolkata... a few day's time that we spend here is a span between the plans and the memories...
And This year was no different until something happened...

This year, my brother [an IITian of the future] got his classes, so all we could afford was just a week long trip.... relatives that we got to visit, 30 families...
Got to visit everyone to keep from being unfair... for they all love us equally... probably starve for our company... equally...
that means, 4 families per day... that means, 4 lunches/dinners per day, prepared with much affection, considering all that we kids love to eat... hot, saucy and spicy....


it was the last day of the trip, last night... after a visit to my cousin's in-laws and a heavy dinner of "Mutton Curry" and Luchis [puri] we reached my pisi's [bua ji's] place...
to tell you about pisi, well... she is one of the sweetest people i have known.. a patient of acute arthritis, she still remembers the days when i was born...
its often embarassing but its also a delight to see her narrate with tremendous pride to anyone who would hear, the day when she had first taken me in her lap and i had ummmm..er.... wet her sari....

Though she doesnt keep good health these days, the courageous sweet lady prepared a huge dish of the spiciest of mutton curries [thanks to the bird flu rumours this was the fourth time I had mutton that day]. she began pestering us...
our future IITian went to bed leaving me... trapped in her emotinal blackmail...
and i confess, i being a greedy hog, enjoyed it...

I had it... loved it.. ..licked it off from all my fingers... and the rest that followed ...i can only tell you...
it began with the burps which were stinking like a city dump... then followed the tightness...
It felt like i was bound with millions of shackles... drawing out all that i could beathe, in the warm stuffy kolkata heat...
then followed the tummy ache... it began swelling like a balloon, until the elastic of my tracks began to hurt...

I was sweating like a cow [dunno if cows sweat] ... everybody began asking if everything was alright.... and all i could do was nod and smile...and stare sweatily... at the TV..

after they went to bed, i sneaked into the bathroom to puke...
and trust me, it didnt happen.... maybe i had packed myself too much,
or maybe it was the restriction i had put on the amount of sound that i could make...

defeated...i sneaked back to bed...and put on the music...
Lamb of God, one of my favourite rock bands, did make some difference but for the first time in history, it didnt last... the goat precided over soon...
My tummy was hurting like i had jabbed it with my grandfather's butcher knife.. that he often uses to cut fruits...

I closed my eyes n began to decide... should i wake them up and reveal the little secret that i carried in my intestines.. or should i just lay back and sacrifice it to save the honour...
It would be really embarassing if i let it go... but the pain was beginnig to get unbearable...
when the bile begun bubbling, i woke mum... just asked her if she carried any medicine....

that was it... she woke up, then woke dad, the dad woke pisi, pisi woke didi who called and woke my bro- in- law, who happens to be a doctor, living in some other part of the city..

within fifteen minutes everybody in the house was up and searching medicines, talking excitedly, giving suggestions....
I closed my eyes in the cacophony... this was enough... i already suffered enough of physical torture... now this spiritual pain [dont correct me.. i intentionally call it spiritual]
After much search Di found a rantag 40... one square tablet went in .. where my insides had gone on a virtual strike...
Then after a while i visited the loo again... and this time it was a Heavenly experience... as heavenly as it had never been before....

Nobody slept that night.. it was 4:30 in the morning when everyone sympathised over a cup of tea...
oh! how i wish this wasnt the hot topic of discussion...

I visited the loo fifteen times a day for next three days... its no longer heavenly... cause everyone in my entire family now knows about it... even the maid, who is sweeping the floor beside me, now.. is smirking!

Today As I Stand

I often imagined myself,
standing on the railing of my balcony...
I would often think of the plunge that
would perhaps purge me of all miseries...

I would often jest about, standing on the railing of my balcony
to all those who would want to hear and give the desired expression.
I would often consider it the easy way out
of life's challenges
The way, often taken by the cowardly...

I would often laugh at the idea
for I knew it would never happen,
I am a mortal, I appreciate life

Today ...
My condition has finally given way...
The emptyness of life has finally forced me to do something which i never imagined i would.
Now as i stand here,
Its strange...
my limbs tremble... as they had..
never before..
my heart beats, like i had run a thousand mile...

But my mind is numb...
After being constantly chased by tumultous thoughts
all these years
it has finally paused for breath

Today as I stand on the railing of my balcony
I hold Life and Death in each of my hands...
Its my will which I Choose
which i Cheat

Its my will...
Which i save, which i damn
Today, Its my will, which decides destiny

As the sun bestows
its last, an orangish glow
I feel the warmth
Today as I stand on the railing of my balcony
from where, the world has always seemed my regime

for the first time,
I feel, the eternal power
Today as i stand on the threshold of life and death
I feel,
I am God...

Daddy's Daughter

For the first time today, Daddy gave me an expression i had least expected...
and a feeling, of a lifetime....

After reading the piece, 'an untuned emotion', with one of his most serious concentrations and reflecting over it for quite some time,
all he said was... "Beta, what is this?"

The Large balloon of my happiness began to leak. All my pride at being able to create something i so far considered a masterpiece began to shatter....but what i felt at that moment was something which i can only call, strange....

Had I become so complex that Daddy, who, would know my mind with a mere smirk of my lips or a twitch of an eyebrow, could not understand what i had described in thousand words ?
Had i become so complicated for him now?

I remember, when as a kid, Daddy would teach me to ride my bicycle.
He would hold my seat and run as i would paddle and try hard to keep balance...After a while i would be lost and when i would turn, he would no longer be there.
He would be standing at a distance , wearing a Godly smile at me...

That would be enough reason for me to start to wobble and crash into the nearest tree or somebody's standing car... Once even a dustbin had its chance.
on my confrontation, he would only say... that he was out of breath...

Today when Daddy couldn't get the poem... a fear stings sharp and it takes me back to my bicycle days.
May be my poem is not that good. may be its completely Bogus!
Or may be i am just wobbling, for Daddy has let go of the seat.

Daddy's Daughter has come a long way..Daddy stands somewhere, Far behind... Probably admiring her...with that Godly smile...

Just a passing thought

Realisation is worth a million dollar for it is followed by Tranquility which is......
but priceless.....

DeathWish

It's six thirty in the evening
as i sit solitary and silent
in my room where
only the dim, flickering luminence from the mosquito repellent
is the only possible source of light

i have been holding the silvery razor
for a long time now
thinking all this while, how life has turned out
How it no longer holds an aim
How it stands now with
voids....
with blanks,
which i can't fill with whatsoever i might want to do
It stands with,
a long list of questions
that i have no answers to

it stands with many other things
Which are kilos and kilos of
meaninglessness...


A sudden pain stings hard
as i finally move the razor
over my wrist...
A flash of lightening
And then a shower...

I watch my skin glow
as it never glowed before
under the rivers and tributaries
of bright red

As it falls on the persian carpet
drop after drop after drop
the pale blue turns into
a dark shade of Crimson...

soon it can soak no more (so much as me)
There is a pool
of my worthlessness
that never deserved to run in my veins

Its strange...
I can feel pain no more
my hand is numb
the numbness then moves to my shoulder
to my Face, to my Mind
where the happy memories begin to collect

I am now at peace
As the turbulence Ceases,
I close my eyes

the happy scenes fade
Its dark now....
Hopefully................Forever!

The Rag Doll

You have abandoned your rag doll
you must think,why keep her? Dirty and torn she is
Her hair filthy, her face sooty
her dress..
oh! so course.


I have a new doll now

She is a princess
Look at her golden curls, her sleek figure
the smooth white plastic
her blue eyes which glisten as i move her to light
her dress, oh! so soft n glamorous
she is mine, yes she is
i will flaunt her to all my friends
How jealous.. they would all be!!!


So what if she is so self satisfied?
so what if she doesnt need me to hold her
as she sits on my bed?
so what, if i leave her outside for a while she turns cold against me..?
So what if i can't weep in her bosom when mama scolds me?

SO WHAT??

She is mine, yes she is
The one i have been waiting for



Your Rag doll still lies here... helpless and forgotten
Exactly where you had left her
She knows, perhaps you will never return
still she longs for one warm touch of your hand
Her large stupid buttony eyes
still glistens with hope
her heart wishes to hear,
just one loving word from you...

An untuned emotion

This what happens when one is sitting idle for days together.... tries one thing n it turns out to be the other... expects somthing n then expects somthing else n then expects again ....
dreams donot come true but still dares to dream...

This is what happens when one wants to care n wants to b cared for. worries n wants to be worried about, thinks n wants to be thought about, feels and wants to be felt, dis covers and wants to be discovered...

This is what happens when life has a lot in store but one has no patience..
...as the surpizes unfold.... it flings monsters when one is least expecting....
..then this is what happens when it is too late to regret the impatience....
when it is too late to be honest about one's convictions....
This is what happens when one is taken for wat one is not and mistaken for wat one is...
n This is wat happens when one doesn't care for wat happens...

but the heart bleeds...somewhere deep within...