hi

My Thunderbird Stud

I hitchhike expectantly on the highway, backpack on my shoulder

Ecstatic with the escapades that lay to the fore

A splendid black beast bolting in the gusting wind screeched to a halt

As the dust of the road spewed in the air clears, I see ‘thunderbird’ engraved on its throttle

Stubble look, tall and muscular, broad shoulders, masculine cologne

Denim ragged trousers, black jacket, leather gloves, and motorcycle boots

Masked in the helmet, I couldn't see if you had kind eyes

But a kindred spirit you are, helping a stranger on a deserted road

As we ride, the vistas transmuting in a jiffy, we leave behind trees and hills

Flying like eagles with momentum, hair swaying rhythmically in the wild wind

You take sharp curves, like a roller coaster, shift gears, all movements synchronized

My heart races with awe as I see you skillfully taming the feral beast

We ride in comfortable silence, not the awkward silence, mind you

in not feeling the need to fill the gaps between conversations

I let the majestic roar from the bike rumble in the backdrop

For I know the thunder of the engine is  pure music to your ears

The humps on the road are merely an excuse to hold you tight

Besotted I am, my heart feels warm, and a rosy glow adorns my cheeks

I catch you stealing glances into my eyes pretending to adjust the mirror

And hope in the heart of my hearts that you’ve also fallen for your pillion rider

A penny for deciphering your thoughts my mystery man! But alas the helmet!

Are you feeling your heart go squishy like I feel? I wonder

I will rather like the mystery hang unresolved in the air, fearing your answer

For I know you’re a true biker, the beast is your only love, and you belong to no one

I know not where you came from, I know not where you’ll head to

When my destination arises, please don’t ask me to get down

For you and the thunderbird have swayed me off my feet

And I will remember forever this ride with you, my thunderbird stud

I do not know if it is you, or the dark metal horse, or your heady cologne

But I’ve never felt so alive and thrilled with the adrenaline gushing in

Maybe for a short time, but with you I have sprouted new wings

When my destination arises, please don’t ask me to get down

My dad's memoirs- Episode 3

(Chronicles of my dad in his own words down the memory lane)

Today whatever I’ve achieved, I owe it to my father. In the SSC examination I secured 80%, standing first in the school and third in the university. I wanted to join Maths group in Intermediate course and ultimately become an engineer.

During those days unemployment was rampant among engineers. Postal department was directly recruiting  those students as clerks who secured good marks in the SSC exam. There were no interviews and appointment letters would be issued based on marks. My father’s friends and well-wishers told him that my good marks would surely fetch a job in postal department as a clerk. They also added that later I could get promotions by appearing for the departmental exams. My father was a school teacher and got a humble salary. He was finding it hard to make both ends meet. My joining as a clerk and earning money would have augmented his income. But he didn't heed to their advice and encouraged me to pursue intermediate course. After completion of intermediate course, again the same predicament was faced. I could join LIC based on intermediate marks and get decent salary. But, he saw to that my aspirations were fulfilled. Today if I’ve achieved additional secretary rank in Government of India service it is all because of his determination to make me an engineer. 

My clever sister and unsuspecting dad

My sister had maths exam the next day and wanted dad to come early so he could tutor her for the exam.

My dad was busy in an office meeting.

She called him from her cell phone.

No answer.

From mine and mother’s cell phone.

No answer.

From the land line.

No answer.

 She went to my grandma’s room. She stealthily picked up her phone while she was reading a religious book and called my dad.

Seeing my grandma’s number on cell phone my dad picked it up at the first ring and said anxiously, “Yes amma?” She knew my dad would yield only to gandma.

My sister imitated my grandma’s voice and said,” Come fast son! I can't find my diabetes tablets.”

My father sensing mischief laughed heartily in the middle of the meeting. He concluded it early and arrived home.

My dad's memoirs- Episode 2

 (Chronicles of my dad down the memory lane in his own words)

I remember this incident during our stay at Ghaziabad. I was evaluating answer papers of the departmental competitive exam.

A burly Haryanvi man who took the exam tried to offer me a fat bribe to give him good marks in the exam. He was very influential and gained information from birdies of the whereabouts of all the five answer papers which were sent to be evaluated all over the country. He went to all those places, offered bribes to the evaluators and persuaded them to give him good marks. His fifth paper was sent to be evaluated at Ghaziabad, to me. He called me constantly for two days on the phone and started harassing me. I thought I would give him grace marks if he wrote something but his paper was blank. I had to fail him. He invited himself to my home. He saw two-year-old Aparna playfully running about here-and-there. He threatened me saying, “You seem to have a small happy family today. Just take care that it might not be the same tomorrow.” He was a hefty man and in no way I would have matched his strength. He threatened me saying that he would carry me and push me off the terrace. My wife got scared listening to his ultimatum. She called her brothers and everyone in the family panicked. I avoided venturing out alone on my scooter and stayed put safely inside home. He would hover under the apartment, pacing angrily and watching out for my posting of the evaluated papers.  I managed to parcel and send away the bundle of evaluated papers secretly and safely.

I even considered contacting the police. After a couple of days all our neighbours came to know about the problem. They had a nice chat with him saying that I am a man of scruples and would never fall for a bribe.  They told him to ‘fix’ some corruptible higher authority in the examination cell so that they would change his result and that there is no use trying to ‘grease my palms’ as I would not be so easily bent on principles. They told him that I am a hard working, innocent and an honest man and it would do him no good by threatening me except wasting his time. He came to know that I already parceled the papers. He finally saw to that his physical strength is nothing in front of my honesty and left us alone.

World's best dahi puri!

I used to love Dahi puri at Kadamba restaurant, Basaveshwarnagar (B’lore). Four times a week, I would go there after college and relish on this chat. I would closely watch the chatwala while he prepared this chat. The hygiene standards of Kadamba are good unlike at the road-side vendor’s.  He uses larger than mouth sized gol-gappas and I love the challenge of gorging on them without spilling the masala pani. The stuffing is made of moong dal sprouts, mashed potatoes and thick curd. The curd they use here is not sweet unlike the ones I tried elsewhere. It is spicy, sour and tangy. Then he garnishes with sev, coriander, beetroot and carrot shavings.

I know all the ingredients which goes inside this and tried to replicate a few times. But it could not match the taste of his dahi puris. May be he uses a secret ingredient. You know, kind of just like blood. We know all the components making up this essence of life, but no scientist could create it artificially. Clever analogy, isn't it?

After spending a month in my hometown during summer holidays, I eagerly went to Kadamba the earliest after coming to Bangalore. The dahi puri I had this time didn’t taste at all like the one before. The curd was sweet. As told by the waiters there, I learnt that my favourite chatwala went back to his village and would never return. My search for the perfect dahi puri continued but I was disappointed everytime. 

The center of an entrance exam was at VV puram, which is far from the place I live. On the morning of the exam, I seriously considered skipping it.  But then, I went and attempted it anyway. After the exam, I went to Dosa mane nearby, which is famous for 100 varieties of dosas. The masala dosa was not as good as  expected. I saw a man in the chat counter and I did a double-take. It was my favourite chatwala! I was thrilled at my discovery. He was happy to know that I missed his dahi-puris. We chatted for a while and he told me that he came to Dosa mane as the pay was better and it was closer to his home.  I gorged on till my stomach ached! I thought I could never eat the dahi puris made by my favourite chatwala again. If not for the exam (which went really bad) I would never have come to VV puram. I was happy to be united with the world’s best dahi-puri! And I know where exactly to head to for evening snacks!

The wedding woes

My parents could not wait to get rid of me see me settled in the name of marriage. The constant nag of my parents made me break down like the soggy-runny-dal in the pressure cooker that they prepare in my hostel mess and I finally gave them a green signal to hunt down for prospective grooms.

But they are having a hard time in the matrimonial search as I set my preferences sky-high, that they are impossible to be possessed by any one ordinary man. Only a vampire like Edward or a Greek God like Hercules might fit the bill. The longer I delay, the longer I can enjoy my single-hood and freedom.

My father pesters me to learn devotional songs and cook culinary dishes and be ready to showcase my prowess of complete home management plus entertainment package, to the groom’s family on the day of 'match-seeing'. Seriously, if the groom wants to listen to music, why can’t he buy a damn I-pod like I did? My dad is asking me to watch my weight and skip sweets till marriage. Even after having an account for six months in Bharathmatrimony.com I couldn't finalize on a match. My dad was cross at me saying registering there is nothing but a waste of money if I won’t relax my criteria and paid cash again to renew the account for another six months.

My mother spread the word like fire in our apartment, among her friends and our relatives. So all of them, milkman and watchman included, constantly ask her when they will be able to hear the wedding bells. She told the milkman to be ready with extra supply of milk as any day I might get married. Aunties who come to our home don’t leave without suggesting suitable boys they know, like of their sister’s brother-in-law’s cousin’s neighbour’s friend’s son. The hot topic of conversation for my mother to talk on phone is my marriage. She doesn't end the call without asking to suggest well-educated boys from good background and the person at the other end comes up with two or three boys about whom she jots down in her special ‘prospective matches book’. Oh yes! She is specially maintaining a book for noting down the bio-data of grooms.  Near and dear ones enquire my mom about good news if any and my mom looks at me and sighs with a long face. I am sure all our relatives are beginning to wonder if I am a cursed spinster whose horoscope has doshas  and shanis as they call us to offer suggestions to perform graha-shanthi -poojas  and sympathetically offer advice that groom-hunt is a pious mission and that it will take atleast an year to finalize the match. I have begun to avoid relatives like plague.

Even the priest in the temple near-by knows that I have reached a marriageable age and he advised my mother to do Swarna Gauri Vratam which is supposed to confer heaven’s blessings to marry me off sooner without any obstacles.

Once or twice some nice guys did come my way.

Education, job, salary-Check.  Looks,height,complexion-Check.

Caste, sub-caste-Check.  Gothra, Nakshatra, Rasi- Check.

Family background- Check.  Computer horoscope compatibility-Check.

The profile of one guy did manage to successfully cross all these filters. But then, there was another mega filter. My mother took the horoscope of that boy to an astrologer and he contemplated it with utmost seriousness and pronounced that we are not compatible according to some distant stars and planets and that troubles and hardships will constantly crop up claiming peace in our relationship. So that put an end to that prospective profile then-and-there.

Everything in our home is being linked up to my wedding even though it is atleast a year away.  If the tailor is late to deliver my mother’s stitched clothes, she scolds her saying, ‘My daughter’s marriage will be fixed soon. What will she wear on the mandap if you won’t deliver stitched blouses on time like how you did now?’ Or if the servant-maid doesn't dust the ceiling properly she goes, ‘My daughter will be married soon. How can I trust you with decorating the aangan with mango leaves at the time of marriage? Will you clean the house in this same manner when the guests turn up for wedding?’ A couple of tiles of the marble flooring in our dining-hall broke open and so she urges dad everyday to get it repaired immediately, as according to her,at any time the groom's family might turn up for lunch to eat the dishes I made and assess my cooking skills. She got a huge discount in the jewellery shop after she said – ‘ If you be conjoos in reducing the price even by a few hundred rupees, how can you expect me to give you the order of designing wedding jewellery for my daughter. She will be married in a few weeks. You know, you have been our jewellers for years and I will trust no one else for such an auspicious purpose. So be considerate and give me a discount now’.

Once we went to a discount mela of saris in Kalanjali showroom to purchase saris for the wedding (which we already knew was a long time away). Seeing one expensive sari my mother exclaimed loudly, ‘This Kanjeevaram sari is so grand! This so will be the sari I will wear during your wedding!’ This the shopkeeper heard and guessed that my mom would be a promising customer and upturned his whole showroom patiently and painstakingly unfolded 100+ saris in front of us. My mom after a very long debate to choose what-and-what, finally decided upon two saris for her and one for me despite the shopkeeper constantly urging her to take more- what aunty ji? Your daughter’s wedding and you settle on only this! You both should deck in a new sari for every two hours for such an once-in-a-lifetime occasion!’

Later on, my mom already wore all those saris for parties and festivals ( Varalaxmi vratam, Gauri vratam, Ganesh chaturthi …..) without saving them for the wedding. Time and again she asked funds from my dad to buy expensive saris on the pretext of my wedding. But then, she kept them for herself and could not resist beyond a couple of days without wearing them! My mom and her fad for new saris!

A slip between cup and lip

I am saturated with the marathon holiday break that I have now. An idle mind is a devil's workshop. I pestered my parents for almost a month to grant me money for buying novels to pass my time. I prepared my wish-list of all the novels that I wanted to read since an year. My town doesn't have a good bookstore. So I waited till we went to a two-day trip to Kolkata. The itinerary was tightly packed and both the days were reserved by my mother for trips to Kalighat Durga mandir and Dakshineshwar Durga mandir. I requested fell on my parent's feet and begged to take me to college street, where I heard that there is Asia's largest book market selling novels in second-hand. Finally, they obliged. I went hysterical with so many options of novels available. I picked 13 novels and waited for the moment I could come to my hometown and devour them page-by-page. My mother purchased infinite Bengali cotton saris at New market.

I and my mother had to return to our hometown while my father had to stay back on office purpose. Our luggage weighed more than the prescribed limit of 40 Kgs specified for cargo on the flight back to home. My mother made me leave all the books with my dad but did not reduce even one sari of her's though I was repeatedly pleading her. It will take two months for my father to return from his official tour.

The previous day I stacked all those novels into a tall tower and was jumping with joy at my acquisition  The next day I was dejected at the airport as I had to leave behind my bag full of novels.

A little bit of honesty goes a long way

Incident-1

From Rajiv Gandhi International airport, Hyderabad, I had to catch a morning flight to Kolkata. Not wishing to eat the bland breakfast served in flight I decided to have breakfast in the airport. I ordered a plate of Guntur-Idly in a food joint at the airport which costed a whopping price of Rs.85! In a hurry, unable to yield to a large queue of customers, the cashier gave the bill to me but surprisingly, got confused and did not take money for the order. I tried to tell him but he refused to listen to me and shooed me away saying I was holding the line of customers.

Oh shoot! I thought the restaurant won’t suffer losses if it didn't charge one plate. I had the free breakfast triumphantly, happy that I saved a lot of money. Seriously Rs. 85 for two idlis is too much!! I planned on eating soon and slipping away lest he realizes his mistake later. I was gulping down the idly and then midway I had my guilty conscience probing and disturbing me.  I could not eat any further. Then and there, I got up, went behind the counter and explained to him that by mistake he forgot to take money from me. He was very happy at my honesty and thanked me. He said that his boss would have chided him at the end of the day if the cash and the bill accounts did not tally and he would had to pay from his own pocket. It might not be a big transaction, but I felt very good with my sincerity and ate the rest of my breakfast in peace.

Incident-2

I was shopping with my family on a hot mid-afternoon.  My father was very tired and hungry. He wanted to buy a plate of fruit salad from a vendor on the street. The vendor handed over the plate to my dad but my dad was unable to hold it properly and so it fell on the road strewing the pieces of fruits here-and-there.  Disappointed and hungry my dad gave the vendor his money and we proceeded to go home. But the vendor called us back and gave another plate and did not accept money for the second plate which was totally unexpected.

He earned my respect as he was a man of strong integrity, who didn't feel greedy for money though it was rightfully his, only because his customers were not satisfied. 

The solitary blue stiletto

I and my blue mate

Encrusted with Swarovski crystals

Snake-skin leather, lace of velvet fleece

Heels pointed slick and shiny

Couture of Jimmy choo

Trend setters straight from Milan

Meant to see the glitz of glistening parties

Mind you... not any ordinary footwear we are

We often mock our neighbours-the dirty pair of sneakers

Of their futile existence, sans, style or substance

Regret why you keep us beside them

Being worn to drab unglamorous places

Biting the dust on potholed roads

Next to us they don’t even stand a chance

Because we are The blue stilettos

I and my blue mate

Endured your weight

Transformed your awkward gait

into a cat-walk on the ramp

Treaded and pranced miles

Made you stand inches taller

Elevated your confidence

Enhanced your persona

Fashionistas complimented you

Appreciated your style statement

 Designed to impress a woman’s vanity

We were your fad

Addressed to your whim

Jumped in your gambol

Pity you! Though we discomforted your feet

Ignoring the shoe-bites we gave

You suffered us stoically

Because we are The blue stilettos

But as my mate is lost.

I stand alone. Blue. Neglected.  Jaded.

A lonely sole in the closet

Waiting to be picked

Waiting to be dusted

Waiting to be worn again

Meant to see the glitz of glistening parties 

Missing the tick-tick rustle when tapped on the floor

The dirty sneakers stand proud and sturdy

They mock at me that I am all alone

Alas! You abandoned me in the shoebox

Choosing the dirty pair of sneakers over me

Ordained to a twist of fate

I know it wouldn’t be late

that you would totally dispose me off

Because I am the solitary blue stiletto

My dad's memoirs – Episode 1

(Chronicles of my dad down the memory lane in his own words)

When I was posted to Dimapur, Nagaland, on CGM promotion, initially I was taken aback. It is 2600 kms away from home and is considered unsafe as the problem of insurgency persists in north-east India. Then, I remembered my father who took transfers as a challenge and readily accepted them without grumbling. He, without a second thought, went to even those places which were backward with little amenities.

He worked as a headmaster in Zila Parishad schools of Ananthpur district. He was a strict disciplinarian and a man of principles. One of his students was riding a bicycle without heeding to the national anthem being recited in the morning school assembly. He considered this disrespectful and punished the boy for his lack of discipline and patriotism. Whereas, my father would stand up and salute the flag whenever the national anthem was being sung, no matter where he was and what he was doing. The boy that my father punished turned out to be the son of a powerful local politician, who felt insulted and saw to it that my father was posted to the remotest village in the district. He also sent a message across, that if my father would apologise to the politician, he would consider the cancellation of the transfer order. My mother initially asked my father to meet him and sort out the matter appealingly.  But my resolute father took a firm decision and accepted the new assignment. In the new village, we faced a lot of difficulties and challenges. I and my siblings would study in kerosene lantern due to lack of electricity. Medical facilities were deficient. My father had to commute long distances for fetching even basic commodities.

But he never repented his decision and never compromised on his principles. He used to say that Lord Ram was happier in the forest than in Ayodhya.

Recollecting this incident on retrospection I took inspiration from my father and relocated to Dimapur although I had to be away from near and dear. I decided that I will bravely accept any challenge that would come in my way. 

Stages of our microwave oven

STAGE 1: The day we bought a microwave oven, my mother read the oven manual thoroughly and arranged for a demo from a trainer of the shop to get herself familiarised with all the functions of the oven.

STAGE 2: Immediately after its arrival, the oven stole the limelight from all other electronic gadgets/equipments in our home, be it, our new plasma television, or the new treadmill, or the split A.C etc. Mom excitedly would show the latest ‘hero’ of electronic gadgets to all the neighbours and relatives who walked into our home.

She donned gloves and baked pizzas, grilled sandwiches, cooked idlis and curries in the oven. The entire kitchen process happened within the 4 walls of the oven and she became the expert of microwave cooking The stove took a ‘back-burner’ and was shun to the attic of the kitchen.

STAGE 3: Weeks later, she still used the oven but only to re-heat the left-overs of the previous day and recycle them the next day.

Usually I and my dad try to go for extra helpings and finish the items that day itself, lest my mom refrigerates the left-overs and presents the same items the next day also, which we manage to gulp down without grumbling but with long, sad faces.

Before the oven, my mom used the stove but finding it little cumbersome to heat on the stove, she would mostly give away the old food to the maids. But with this oven, my mom found re-heating easier and quicker. I and my dad found ourselves eating stale food every other day and mom would take a lot of holidays from cooking. How we would curse the oven then!

My mom reasoned with us that ‘conventional cooking’ is the best, and cooking the food over the flame rather than using ‘some rays’ enhances the taste of the food. The stove was dusted clean and put into use.

STAGE 4: When my mom resorted to conventional cooking, the oven lost its identity and the real reason of its existence. It has been many months and now my mom uses the oven, only as a cupboard to store her purse or to hide things from us.

Once, my neighbour brought expensive calorie-laden cream chocolates. My sister ate only them and skipped food. My angry mom hid the chocolates safely inside the oven. My sister searched the fridge and entire house but she never was able to guess the hide-out place.

STAGE 5: Lately, she thinks the oven is very bulky and occupies too much space on the kitchen platform. It won’t be late before my mom banishes the oven into the storeroom alongside the miserable and neglected equipments such as vacuum cleaner, electric kettle, electric roti-maker, toaster etc, all of which lay idle, rusted and redundant, leading a futile existence. 

My mom has a fad of buying every modern gadget and is amused in it for a few weeks, then her transitory interest diminishes and the poor gadgets are ordained to rust in the murky corners of the storeroom.

Didn't mean it

In the labyrinth of life we treaded together through thick and thin

But lost I was, so utterly, with just one faltered step away from you

And all the right steps taken before didn’t even matter.

Like the each railing of the track of a train, we became

Heading for the same destined end, but on parallel paths.

Can’t for miles see our ways merging, even beyond horizon.

I could sit with you for hours without saying a word

And could walk away feeling we had the best conversation

where we were comfortable in not needing to fill in gaps of silence.

Or I could sit with you for hours rambling on incoherently

Speaking about everything under the sun without mincing words

Because I know you wouldn’t judge me even if I spoke utter nonsense.

Enraged, ‘I won’t talk to you ever’ was what I said

Alas, this time you couldn’t perceive that I was talking gibberish

And that I didn't mean a word I said.

Thickest friends we were, our intimacy and friendship all assured

I hurt you inadvertently just once. Bitterness remained on,

And all the sweet moments we laughed together were all forgotten.

Turning Back Yesterday

Retrospecting from a distant future point in timeline I can say that what I did was completely wrong. Standing where I am today I can for sure blame the reason of the events of the past on me. But why didn’t I even have inkling then that my future self will regret the mistakes my past-self did. I get far-fetched and crazy thoughts in desperation to make everything alright again. Maybe I should use a time-machine and undo that event? Maybe I should invent an analyse-o-metre to guard me against doing such awful and silly mistakes again?

Maybe my sense of premonition that was supposed to warn me about ensuing threats to relationships was numbed at that time.

As of today, I can say that a tiny misunderstanding creates the biggest voids in best of relations.

As of today, I can say that relationships are fragile like glass. Pleasurable to have if handled carefully. But one reckless slip from your hand and you lose it all. A vitreous structure carved out elegantly now. A thousand gleaming pieces next. Only tiny shreds of glass strewn on the floor remain to reminisce the beauty of it. But pick up a piece of it , and there it gives a nasty cut on the hand as a reprimand that you were reckless enough to let it go, and make it crash tumbling to the floor only when you thought you had it all and owned it completely.

If I could ever write a book on this then I would christen the title as ‘the two mistakes of my life’.

One -imagining rubbish and squashing down a beautiful gift of love and friendship with my own hands. I remember every Christmas, I would write to Santa, that I be given someone to share and care. It was there right in front of me but I was foolish enough to let my egos blind my way. She moved on, but I couldn’t.

Two - Not trying to break the ice after I argued with Neil and being egotistic to say sorry on time. The stance of being not in talking terms stretched for too-a-long time and now it doesn’t even matter to my friend that I don’t talk to him at all. He was used that way…of me being non-existent and ignoring him completely. He doesn’t care anymore now. He thinks I don’t care too. But the truth is I do. Very much.

What all can I do now? I can regret. I can cry. Alas I don’t have a heart brave enough to say that word.

I know things will be mended and will fall back into place with that one tiny but powerful word.

It is true. Sorry seems to be the hardest word.

If You Only Knew

She wanted to go home to celebrate her birthday with family. I was adamant that she should celebrate it in the hostel with her friends. With her best friend. Me.


I was confused thinking about the right gift for her from many days. She was my good friend and how could I ever repay her and let her know how special she was to me. Birthdays are the perfect time to express love and friendship and let one know how important that one is.

Greeting card? Chocolates? Trendy anklets? Branded watch? Teddy bear? Plaster of Paris show piece? Parker pen? …………


Finally I zeroed in on chocolates. I bought a gift for her many weeks in advance and waited more than her for her birthday to approach. She has a sweet tooth…just absolutely adores everything sweet and chocolaty! I went to the Forum mall where I know a shop which sells candies, confectionaries and chocolates exclusively. An ultimate place not to be missed by any choco-lover! I selected the best assorted foreign chocolates in all flavours- choco with rum, raisins, almonds, orange, strawberry, melon, tooty-fruity....


Finally it was the day of her birthday. With the gift of chocolate pack, I attended her birthday bash. She was cutting the cake. I went near her expecting I would be the first person to get a bite from her cake as normally best friend gets that chance. I stopped in midway shocked that she was feeding another two girls the first piece of cake. She made a new best friend and completely ignored me which broke my heart! Everyone who thought we were best pals were surprised too and wondered what went wrong between us. I was embarrassed and just fiddled with my cell camera pretending to click photos of them and acted as if I am very cool with this unexpected new development. A shocking twist in the tale it was!


I didn’t feel like staying through the rest of the party. This new development was not sudden, I admit. It was right there in front of my eyes, but I failed to see it would be this harsh on the face. Of late our friendship was going through a rough phase that I should have foreseen it. But completely ignoring me was too inconsiderate and callous on her part. I would have never done that even to my worst of enemies.

The gift of chocolates with its shiny wrapper lay in my hands. Waiting to be given and to be received. I clutched it tight unable to find a way to wade through the crowd and give it to her. She was the cynosure in the party hall, dancing, laughing loud and having the best time in the world with her new friends. That’s right also. It was her birthday and she was supposed to be happy. And I was wrong to take things for granted and not trying hard enough to not let her go. I was wrong to be jealous that she found new friends. Maybe I couldn’t make her happy. Maybe I couldn’t be what she expected from her friend. Maybe…


I called her on her mobile to wish even though I was a few feet away from her. She received it coldly as if I was some stranger. That’s what I am now to her –a no-one, just another random person she came across.I walked out of the party.

I threw the gift on the way into a trash bin. It was useless when she wouldn’t acknowledge with how much love I brought it to her. How unlucky was my gift that it couldn’t accomplish its intended destination!

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

*Purely fictional*

The thought of moving into a bigger city leaving behind my best friend scared me. I thought I would be alone all left to myself. Soon I was lucky enough to find one.

She became my new good friend in the new city. I had someone to talk to and laugh along with. Someone with whom I can catch up a weekend movie and relax in a fast food joint. Someone to share my secrets and and do the usual girl gossip. Everything was going fine but then some turn of events made misunderstandings to crop up in between us. Maybe it was her mistake or maybe it was mine, but nothing can revert back our friendship like the way it used to be before.

I admit I was less caring. I couldn’t give everything she was looking for in a friend. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. I didn’t indulge too much into her personal life. I thought I knew where to draw a line. I thought that’s what people want and appreciate-privacy. If she went out somewhere alone, I didn’t bother to ask her where and why. I respected her privacy and didn’t go knocking on the doors of her private life.

One day this third girl came along between us. She was the poky type….the one who pokes nose into other’s matters and digs in personal information. My friend thought that’s a trait to be a caring friend- to enquire into personal life. She would knock on the doors of her private space until she opened. They would gossip on and she would pour out every detail to her which I didn’t bother to know about. What she found as a caring nature I found it as an intrusion. Slowly their frequencies matched, they clicked on well.

I had faults. But even she did. If it wasn’t for my take-it-easy nature, I would never have forgiven the way she used to insult and hurt me in front of everyone wittingly or unwittingly. Or how she wouldn’t let go one little chance to poke fun on me and make me the target of her jokes.

With this third girl, we became a threesome. This third girl brought in another girl into our pack and yeah we had a fourth girl also in the picture. I was jealous. It used to be great before….just we both and we would hit the city on weekend and would have a great time. But with this pack thing, I had a difficulty moving along with them. My frequency didn’t match with them and I was the odd one out. They would laugh at a joke which I thought was very silly and keep wondering if I am dumb to understand wise jokes. The things which were funny to me weren’t to them, and they would keep a weird look on their faces wondering why I found that actually funny. I would remain silent in the pack and they conveniently ignored me as if I wasn’t present physically among them. Even if I was lost on the way, trying hard to catch up with their fast pace, they wouldn’t have bothered to stop and look for me. That’s what happened later. I was lost. I wandered onto a different road and found myself all alone.

Suddenly I was not the first person whom she would call up first to share excitedly any good news. Nor was I the person, she considered apt to discuss her sorrows to be consoled. I wasn’t the person she thought to be fit enough to be in her pack to hit the city on weekends. Nor was I the person she and her pack bothered to call along to join them for lunch and dinner in the mess. I wasn’t the person who had a chance to get the first bite from her birthday cake….the piece normally reserved for a best friend. Nor I was I the person she counted among her friends deserving her birthday treat at Mc Donalds. I wasn’t the person with whom she would sit next to in the bus. Before I would keep a seat for her and we both would enjoy the morning bus ride together listening to music. Nor was I given the special embroidered suits of which he hometown was famous for. She promised she would get them to me, back when we were just two and good friends.

I want to tell her that I am sorry if I did a mistake. I want the misunderstandings to evaporate. I want her back on talking terms where we would go on talking because we really wanted to and not because saying ‘hi, hello’ and exchanging pleasantries is a formality.

I wish I could turn back time. She moved on with her new found friends and doesn’t need me anymore. I still miss her. Alas, nothing can repair our tattered relationship gone disarrayed beyond anyone can repair.

Airborne

Running with echoing footsteps

on my terrace

flying paper kites colourful and bright

Watching my kite conquering the sky

splattered with clouds

soaring with birds taking flight

I felt bitter sweet nostalgia gripping me

going down the memory lane

Reminiscing childhood days

when I've flown kites and paper plane

I wish I were a kite

escalating to heights

creating rungs to the sky

chasing unfulfilled dreams

eyes with leaping imagination

discovering new lands

across the unknown boundaries

challenging the gusting winds

unceasing to ensuing predicaments

I'm at awe, at how just a bit of paper

grows wings and transcends horizons

while I'm here grounded for life

yet to sprout roots underneath

I wish I were a kite

with wisdom controlling my chaotic sanity

like the string monitoring the kite

from running amuck

Windowless Soul

Pressure at work?
Betrayed in love?
No reebok shoes?

Unnerving exams?
Lost in contest?
Unpaid dues?

You think you’re the only one in misery
That God doesn’t answer to your plea
Well, he doesn’t answer to my simple query--
I ask him how different is blue from green?
The rainbow colours unheard and unseen

And why they say spring is so colourful?
That poets, lovers, artists muse and cherish
I want to rhyme, kiss and paint dreams on canvas
Unmotivated, I ink about a dreary life, an unfulfilled wish
As my mind is trapped, God forgot to create windows
Canopied from inspiration and beautiful visions to relish

The ocean waves kissing the shore
Is it a sight worth dying for?
Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder how you are!
In my mind’s eye, I do imagine, the ocean and the night
But am I doing justice to its beauty by envisioning it right?

Acknowledging the world by feel and touch
I feel the warmth of a loved one’s hug and cuddle
The velvet petal’s silkiness they call a daffodil
Walking barefoot on grassblades the dewdrop’s tickle

Mirror, mirror on the wall, tell me do I look like a doll?
They say that I look so pretty…
Do they really mean it or say just to keep me happy?
I don’t understand how different beauty is from lack of it
That butterfly be admired, and caterpillar be trampled?
Is a rose so aesthetically different from a thorn?

They say my twinkling innocent eyes
glimmer like molten gold
Oh but of what use? Lifeless vestiges,
numbed to the perceptions of the outside world









The only colour I know is black
They say grass is green, sky is blue
You should tell me…is it really true?

I hear the ringing innocent laughter of a child, oh so pure!
Is his smile genuine reaching eyes? I wonder
I smell the lingering fragrance of newly drenched earth
And wish to witness the sky pouring out silver shower
I hear the melody and tune of the humming bird
And wish to see it sucking nectar out of perfumed flower

Trapped in a murky dark inferno
I close my eyes, all I see is stygian black
I open my eyes, I still see shades of the same
Keeping my four senses open,
With every step I take, venturing into the mysterious
Being beware of the ensuing hurdles,
Foraying into chasm of obscure shadows
I tripped, I was knocked, I was hurt and hit,
I bled to sanguine liquid drops they called blood


And you say you’re the only one in misery?
That god was unfair to you?
Yes, you are not as gifted as I am!
I’m spared to see the aversion mounting among mankind
Where the innocence of a child is stripped and cashed.
Reverence, candour, integrity --the words of yesterday
Kindness, compassion, civility --the virtues of history

What’s left in the world to see?
Deteriorating values and ethics of humanity?
Fraud and deception taking over fairness in quality?
Discrimination and discord wiping out unity?

Behind money and fame, on a wild goose chase
To appreciate small joys you don’t slow your pace
The rose, sky, butterflies and sun rays

A person’s negativity over his goodness is all that you see
I pity you! That way, pretty rotten place the world would be
You think you’re the only one in misery?
That God doesn’t answer to your plea?

Yes how true!

What went wrong?

I couldn’t sleep last night, now that I know it is over between us. I was clinging onto a tiny hope till yesterday, that maybe things can become normal between us.The way they were meant to be. But if you want me to walk out of the door, I will happily do that. I still can’t make out what went wrong between us. Everything was so perfect. And you gave me a reason to live. I was so sure that you were the one for me. But suddenly…

I am not bitter anymore because I know what we had was for real. And if in some distant place in future, we see each other in our new lives, I will smile to you with joy and remember all the good time we spent with each other. We laughed, cried, loved, and above all we connected. You were the one with whom I could speak my mind with no inhibitions, without the fear of being judged. You were so approachable and understanding. We shared identical interests and you were the one with whom I could discuss leisurely on the couch about anything under the sun….our favourite football player, our favourite band or anything silly or serious. Life has become so tough without you.

I miss the jokes we cracked and laughed staying up all throughout the night, wishing the day would never come. I miss the endless marathon conversations we had in phone. I miss listening to you strumming the guitar for me and singing love songs.

Everything reminds me of you. Walking on the street I see our favourite fast food joint, our favourite movie theatre, the park we frequented. I see the penthouse with garden and picket fence we planned of buying and decorating the home of dreams. I see the big tree with blossoms under which we had our first kiss …which is now barren and stripped in the autumn. I see a kid with balloons and get reminded of how you would always bought balloons and kites for me. And how we ran to get my kite flying in the air which refused to go more than few feet from the ground. I could revisit my childhood with you. I see the lane on which you taught me to ride your bike. You were so protective that you would never let me go and ride on my own. You were always there to catch me if I fell. Where are you now?

I know you would intentionally lose in the game of basketball when we played together, even if you were on the winning side, just to see me happy.

The diamond ring that you gave when you proposed me, still adorns my finger. It was so sweet of you to spend all the money you were saving for buying your favourite sports bike for the ring instead.

Though you boast that you are so macho and never cry for anything at all, on that day I saw you shed tears, muffling your cries under the pillow, when I was critical in the hospital after meeting with an accident.

Did I tell you that I knew you substituted the dead goldfish in my aquarium with new ones? You knew I would be upset as those poor things died just because I didn’t know how to feed them right. You substituted them with new gold fish from the pet shop while I was sleeping, thinking that I would never discover the change.

Every Sunday we would go trekking so far that I would be so tired walking. You would carry me and I would snuggle cosily wishing to be nowhere else but here, surrounded by your gentle arms.

I see our old photo album everyday. Those moments captured when we had genuine smiles on our lips. We knew what happiness meant. It was so tangible and we owned it. For how long do I recall you from a still photo? Last night, I wanted to dream about you, but I couldn’t imagine your face. With passing days, your face seems strange to me. I am beginning to fear I will forget you. Your image and voice is fading from my mind. I am forgetting the pain you inflicted on me by deserting me suddenly. I don’t want my heart to heal from the pain you caused me. It is the only reminder of you that I have with me.

You never told me what went wrong. You didn’t give me a second chance to mend my mistake, if I ever did. No explanations…no answers…out of the blue you wanted me to walk out of your life. Just like that.

Walking on the street, I listen to a distant unfamiliar ringing sound. The resonance of laughter from a couple who are in new found love. The sound seems so alien and strange to me. I have forgotten to laugh. I see no reason in it. I am lost without you.

I want you to be happy with the life you’ve chosen for yourself. It hurts that I am not a part of it. I breathe you out of my heart and pray for the strength to stand strong without you in my life. I will always be grateful to you, for being my confidant, my friend, my lover, my soul mate. I wish you find someone better than me, who will keep you happy forever and will sustain your interest throughout.

I just have one small request.

Please don’t break her heart.

DISCLAIMER:  It is just a narrative interspersed with fiction and imagination but I have tried to write it in the first person perspective.

Frozen Desires

I am so happy!

Today has to be the happiest day in my life. The below zero temperature outside with breezing snow is so contrary to my present mood- so bright, brimming with happiness as warm as summer sunshine. Today I shall reveal my feelings to him. Now or never, I decide. For how long do I hesitate fearing his reaction? I am sure he will respond positively. My gut intuition never lets me down. I can see it in his every gesture, the very way he looks at me longingly, speaks volumes about how much he adores me. But yes, I know he is shy to propose. Just like me. But I shall make things easier for us.

Fresh roses! Bright red! I stop near the florist and buy roses. Roses have so rightly been symbolic of budding love for long. The beauty of the petals standing for the splendour of charming love. The thorns standing for the difficulties one has to face through to succeed in love. I can smell the pervasive fragrance of love in the air. Yes today is the day! What is it with love? Everything feels so poetic and beautiful- like the white specks of falling snow dotted against the red backdrop of the rose.

After one whole year of silently and secretly admiring him, the secret can no longer be contained in my heart. Love just one thing? No, love is to show, to express, to spread, to feel, to reciprocate!

I invite him for dinner to my place. The flickering fire burning in the fireplace makes the room very warm and cosy. He catches the look of delight in my twinkling eyes. He feels the electricity in the air… expecting something that will prove to be the biggest moment of our lives.
What is it with love? Can you read each other’s minds? As if there’s an invisible bond connecting our hearts. Thinking alike and feeling in unison…

The roses wait to be given and to be received…to be held testimony of our love. Relaxing, on the sofa, by the fireplace and watching the fire dancing brightly he says, ‘Today is the best day in my life dear!’

How right I was that our love was a mutual feeling!

‘Yes! Mine too!’ I say

‘I am glad you feel happy for me.’

‘I feel happy for us’

‘I waited for one whole year. Never got this chance.’

‘What? One year? You too?’

‘And finally Rachael agreed to marry me!'

‘Oh? I am happy for you. Truly!’

‘She has made me a happy man! I will leave now. Thanks for the lovely dinner’

I see his silhouette fading away with the growing distance, and try hard to fight back my tears. He for even once doesn't glance back. Love just one thing? No it is to hide, to sacrifice, to conceal, to forgo, to hurt!


The flames in the fireplace dampen long after he leaves, but the ashes keep burning…just like my fiery hot tears that stream down my cheeks. I throw the rose out of the window into the harsh wintry snow. It lays there, ignored, frozen in the chill, and piled below the sheets of ice and snow.


Whom could I blame? I kept listening to whatever he didn't utter. Without any reason I weaved high hopes. I presumed his unvoiced feelings. I took his love to be granted, conjuring love out of thin air, when it really didn’t exist.

Weeks fly by. Seasons change. Nothing is temporary.

The ice melts and the first rays of spring sunshine streak through the dried, barren stems of the trees, and touch the ground. As the layers of snow disappear one-by-one, I see my rose wilted and withered ashen brown.