It was hard...

It was hard to see him suffer and yet the worse,

I didn`t know what to talk, how to walk about.

All the time he showed his teeth through the concaved lips,

He talked very little; but the words were `bout to sprout.

He was there `cause she was performing

But she never knew what happened that night,

When we all were busy hunting down the staged females

Sitting among the howling crowd in the dim light.

He always have had this brittle crunch

But ne`er did anyone witness against his finest melody.

Despite all the cacophonous echoes, sitting at his elbow

Got me encountered with his divulged melancholy.

I sought for a drop of rigmarole on his surface

But he sat there idle with a frozen spine,

With the galloping time, held his conscience intact

But the tears eventually spoke from within the shrine.

There she came, dancing boisterously the open stage,

Springing with a felicitous smirk inside her golden hoop.

When she gave her assent to fall in his arms,

The drops desired to emerge out from the vicious loop.

We kept shouting her name into his ears

But nobody did realize that he`d gone numb.

Till the few final minutes he encumbered the grief,

Just refused to break before a group of scum.

They seemed to be the four most merciless minutes,

When alone he endured all the catastrophic pain.

The eyes had started consoling that broken heart,

When she among the crude crew, appeared again.

She was a deceptive destiny and there wasn`t a path,

But he waited long and searched for a scout.

But it was hard to see him suffer and yet the worse,

I didn`t know what to talk, how to walk about...

A place called home...

I`d made my homepage,

shouting out loud,

the same as when I brought in my first trophy,

when friends cheered, parents felt proud.

It took me a very long time

to open up and share.

Even with a greater closure to the world,

talking life to ‘them’ was still a dare.

‘The infinite web had snapped me out’,

I had an intuition.

But the fantasy world seemed so real

that I just couldn`t avoid my own dilution.

The strings attached easily,

A single click took away all the pain.

The knots floated in empty airs,

but the expressionless prints never did any gain.

I felt flattered while

typing out to the world, as were they.

But when it came to family and friends,

there were seldom words to say.

The clouds got thicker and thicker,

nobody knew when it`d rain.

One day they burst out of large lumps

when I realized myself to be far away from ‘sane’.

I `d made my homepage,

kissing the tempting breeze that had flown.

I`d made my homepage,

but had lost a place to call ‘home’.

The Darkness fell...

Standing dumb in the twilight I was thoughtful

Should I run towards the sun with all my push?

or wait for the darkness to cover me under its tail,

making me even dumber, absolutely helpless?

I`d been under the obtuse glory of the sun

and Knew it wasn`t one of my enemies.

Hadn`t done me any harm lately,

I`d been raised under that yellow umbrella worth prophecies.

I didn`t know what darkness was all about,

The day never did accord the opportunity.

Though I knew it wasn`t as good as the silky green grass

or the tall dense tree in the extreme north saving humanity.

The sands passed by leaving me thoughtful

and equally dumb as I was, standing.

I doubt though whether the heap of daftness had hilled,

eventually looking at the satisfied happy faces, smiling, I stopped thinking.

Laughing, dancing, singing, I passed away delightfully

the chances the day had given, worth twisting.

Meanwhile when others brought themselves safe houses,

I wondered for my own sake what all to bring.

“I – the reason for their smiles” was just a mislead

“All of them were fake and disguised” I never realized

Following their trails happened to be a wrong intuition,

But who knew it`d come that heavily priced.

The sun gradually lost its gleam, descended

My fellow passengers out rightly did rail.

And I stood alone in the middle, still smiling,

As the darkness fell.

He had an aim...

We see a bunch a people of various stereotypes- a female child with a baby in her hands, old man with long and dirty grey beard, man with a decent dress-up that includes a tie and a black hand bag, woman with a huge bag and a child holding her hands, a young woman with a yellow slip in her hands (may be she couldn't speak) and many more- at our doorsteps in a hope that that they get something they needed in some form or another. But most of them are sent back without even opening the door, without even listening to them. Some of us even bring the word ‘Police’ in between in case it helps.

These people are treated this way mainly because they usually interrupt in some of the unavoidable jobs being done by the very punctual people inside. People can’t afford to miss the break-up scene of a couple in a daily soap neither some of them can lose a life or two in their favorite computer game. It’s a fact that mainly of these door-knockers are fake, but this has become a common conscience that all of them fall in the same category.

Later this morning, a door knock interrupted my deep sound sleep. I lazily managed to have a glance at the clock hanging just over me- 11:30 it said. Dad was out to his office, Mom probably in her class with some science geeks and my sister in her own class- I was the one who should have turned the knob. But it was too soon for me to get out of the bed on a cloudy December morning as it seemed outside the window- there was no considerable noise except that knock with a constant frequency. I calculated all sorts of possible people who might be the door knocker, eventually arrived at the conclusion that he mustn’t be any important person, any possibility of ‘he’ being a beautiful ‘she’ who could spend the rest of her life with a geek like me was out of question. So I ignored that knock till it stopped permanently which I regretted later.

In the evening I heard about what actually happened earlier this morning. The knock was not exclusive on my door, similar cases were observed by other people in the locality as well. That was a young boy in his early teenage asking for financial help from people so that he could complete his education. He told people that his mother, who worked at people’s house to earn her livelihood, had somehow managed to get him into a private school so that unlike his father, he might not end up being a drunkard and eventually end up his life under a running train. He further told people that he also did his level best to give her a hand by selling groundnuts in the evening. He also had a genuine identity card and a written permission from his school to try his luck with the people of India, spending their precious time doing precious things- enjoying a daily soap break-up with the whole family (children less than 12 included), while he had an exam the next day. People called his school to confirm that he was not of the regular type of knockers. His principle gave detailed information about his life, and supported him with his ‘eagerness to learn’ as his strength and his ‘hope’ from people like ‘us’ as his optimism. This helped him raise some amount at least from those who opened their front doors.

Later that evening I sacrificed some of my precious lifetime to think. That was the time when I realized that I was actually thinking and it broke one of my greatest misconceptions that I used to ‘think’ all through my life. Things were definitely moving around me; air, motion pictures, sound waves, living beings, but I was sure I couldn`t feel any of those, I felt everything inside me to be absolutely motionless all of a sudden. Though that didn`t last too long but I could feel thoughts coming in, going out of my tiny brain.

I realized the potential barrier faced by that category and eventually developed a sense of respect of those young ignited minds. I also realized my life to be merely aimless despite having all sorts of comfort and opportunities at various stages of life which I’d ignored one after another. Now whenever I remember that incident, each time I hate myself more.

You gave your reasons

This is a story narrated by a girl whom I met in the train on my way back home in the summers. She basically belonged to kanpur, was studying in some college in Delhi. Unlike the typical Delhites, she was far more humble, far more sober. Once we started talking, she gave me a brief tour of her background and then told the recent incident which had left her in dilemma.

Before going to sleep after some long hours of talks, some funny, some quite serious ones, she handed me a piece of paper.

I never gave my reason but you gave yours,

you thought I broke the link, but it never was the link.

It took nearly an year to convince myself enough sure,

you may not know but it wasn`t just a blink.

You thought it was a matter of bearing some stress alone,

never realised about that soul wandering lone.

Haven`t you ever thought that you always require

a little dynamic stress to construct a firm foundation.

I always wanted this story erased from my memory

as an open-eyed dream.

But you continued it rationally,

once you started, you never stopped.

I got a little tired, a little pissed off,

in return I got some real reviews, some real advices.

Now after a six months` breach, you claim for my reason,

Is it really worth it?

When I woke up in the morning, she was gone. The train was halting at some station. Probably her statiom arrived late at night. But that piece of paper kept me wondering. Why did she gave that to me? Did I know her at some stage of my life?

The train started moving. I sat by the window seat resting my left hand over the iron railing, held the piece in the other unfolding the pages of history.

On my way back

It was October, and I was on my way back from Delhi, having some nice pieces of photography I’d done in the rare outskirts of the railway station. The two seats in front of me were occupied by two ladies in their late teenage, most probably heading towards the same destination as mine. As we left the ISBT (inter-state bus terminus) Delhi, everything seemed to be so normal; Delhi was facing the routined day-end quiet early, the month being October. Coal-burn-smoke could be seen through the window.

The bus was not yet full the seat next to me was still empty. So I thought of having a nap, as I was a bit tired of the photography stuffs throughout the week. There were disturbances, horns, the shouting conductor while he managed hanging, with half of his body outside the bus`s entry. My nap was not a deep one though, I woke up every now and then as the bus vibrated, looked here and there for a while, checked out for some new passengers, expecting them to be coetaneous females (As I was still inside the Delhi-Territory) and again went back to sleep.

The two ladies I specified earlier began their chit-chat which started gaining my attention. As we moved and as the sky went reddish, their conversation went really interesting. They talked about guys, their interests, food, and some science. Now when you hear science from gals, there are two categories of reactions that usually come out of normal people:-

(1)Annihilating frustration followed by an intuition that might end up donating a tight slap or a further intuition of a suicide due to ‘why am I still listening to them’ phenomenon.
(2)Remembering the exact sentences used and sharing them with your friends, which might end up changing their perceptions about you and you getting the throne of the funniest person in the group.

Their innovative talks about ‘The various shopping spots in Delhi where you may find some smart and rich guy who may afford you for the whole evening and who don`t have the guts to ask for your phone number’ and ‘What to wear in which weather’ let me figure out that they were typical Delhi locals. Around 30 minutes later they had nothing more to talk about. So one of them took out her iPod and the other kept looking out through the half opened window.

My eyes opened when we were at the midway halting for some refreshments. I went down to have something for my stomach as I hadn`t done my lunch that day and was terribly hungry. It came to my notice from the driver who was smoking his brand 101 bidi, that we had been halting since the last 10 minutes and were about to leave. I decided to carry along some packed stuff. Thinking about the available options, I headed towards the dhaba. I saw those two sitting comfortably on the chairs, relaxing. I kept thinking why didn`t the driver tell the same thing to every passenger. I got a pack of lays and two packets of chocolate cream biscuits. I looked at my watch; I had a safe and clear 7 minutes in hand before the bus was to leave. After getting my change back, I heard the conductor shouting, calling each passenger to board the bus, requesting to every one of them in the most modest way possible and then I heard the two girls ordering – 2 pav-bhaaji, 2 patties, 1 chowmein and 2 softies once the rest of the order had come.

Alone in the dark

I still remember the day when I saw Anindita cry for the first time. It was the year 2005, the day of our traditional annual picnic, we got late and it grew dark. I took a step beyond the line of limits which is not to be crossed ever, so much involved in my mischievous amusements, I forgot she was Achluophobic. We left her alone in the jungle, thought she would scream at her normal pitch, but......

28th December, 2005
07:45 PM
Jatanpur,

Hey you,
Each time you cracked a joke on me, I laughed.

Each time you left me waiting, I din`t even say a word.

But I am afraid of darkness, don`t know what to do here....

I don’t want to walk alone in the dark
Hold my hand until I breathe some air in.
Don’t go too far, stay close
Give my heart the strength and the courage to beat.

Talk to me,
Keep me away from all those contrasting frequencies.
Talk to me more,
I`ve always waited for these moments, just you and me.

Come close,
That I can hear your breathes, every single incoming,
That you can hear my heart beating at double the normal rate,
That I can feel the warmth, every single outgoing.

Look straight and deep into my eyes,
That I can`t see the scary images in the cloudy sky,
Let my eyes speak the words for me,
That I haven`t been able to since so long.

Let me feel safe into your arms,
That no soul on earth can hurt me when you are around.
Let me lie over your heart for hours,
Let me sleep in peace.

Walk with me,
Till the light touches my eyes.
Stay with me, for better, for worse,
For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.

Till death do us part.

This was the diary entry she made that day. But now when I find this page along with the rest of the diary in my school bag long after the incidence, I feel scared.

Stay away

There are some things which we never want to notice but they get themselves enlightened with the spontaneous flow of time. These are some of the words that came out of that guy I recently met in a book store searching for a decent, thick novel that could be my any time-personal roommate during my stay in the college campus for the rest of the summers, who too had the same intention as mine, to get one as his companion all his way back home and suggested ‘The Afghan’, a novel by Frederick Forsyth.

This campus had been my home for the last 4 years. When I was leaving my place for this new home, it was brought to my notice by some of the friends of my elder brother who`d been in similar campuses about the abnormal sex ratios in the IITs. After my stay in Kota for the coaching stuffs, I already had a rough idea about the abnormality people occasionally talk of. But as the days passed, I observed some abnormalities in the abnormality I had the idea about. This led the "females" to "non-males" ….

He stated some of the similarities and some distinctions which create an environment of confusion between the males and the non-males-

Similarities-
(1)Both of the species have similar varieties of hair: long and short.
(2)Both have an extended portion of the hair all over their cheeks and the space between the nose and the upper lip, which is generally given the term beard/moustache in case of males.
(3)Both have a very strong intuition from time to time that something`s going the wrong way.
(4)Both of them find the synonymous gender relatively comfortable to talk about the other.
(5)Both avoid skin-to-skin contact with their counterparts even for a second.

Differences-
(1)The non-males get the perks and privileges of receiving all sorts of condolences from the respected professors.
(2)The same species has a unique quality of getting their work done by their counterparts whenever required.
(3)They are least involved in any kind of fun-related activity, there do exist some exception though.
(4)They have an extreme and incomparable power to mug up things, which make them deliver exceptional academic performances.
(5)They usually speak of equality, but whenever in a state of complication, they follow the quotation of naari-shakti and perform the call-the-dean operation.
(6)They are packed with tremendous volumes of supernatural egos, which are habitually overflowed in the form of sophisticated jealousy within the same kind, which comes out as a source of entertainment for the other.

Now that fellow moved his lips so frequently that I can`t recall each and every word he said. Actually he had his train at 1900 hrs, so we had our way back into the campus to his hostel. During the last convocation in front of the main gate, these are the words from him--“ stay away from them”.

For the first time

It happened in the year 1997, couldn`t realize though. The year 2009, recalled and called, narrated the whole story, she just laughed.

Sometimes it`s hard to see what`s been there all along
Sometimes we`re sure of everything until we find out that we`re all wrong
Now we`re standing here face to face,
Nothing feels the same.

How did we ever end up here?
I don`t know, but it feels so right,
The last thing, I ever expected, is happening, it`s you and I.
There`s something real, I can`t explain and nothing feels the same.

I can`t find the words
For how I feel about you, just want to be around you now.
I never imagined,
That someone could make me feel the way you do.

For the first time, I realize, something I didn`t see before
For the first time looking in your eyes
Suddenly there`s so much more.
Something we both feel inside, for the first time.

Road Trip (Kota)

6^th August. 2005

Kota (Rajasthan),

It was just five of us – gobar, pankaj, appoo, vigi and me while others were enjoying the 4-days-holiday Bansal gave during the Raksha Bandhan. One year was over staying there in Kota, none of us had really got a chance ever to have a Kota-Local tour. So we took out our cycles, had some evening snacks, and set out on NH-12 in the opposite direction of Bansal Classes to some unknown destination.

We paddled our two-wheelers till we reached a scenario where there were loads of people with proportional intensity of whisperings, four constables and an open ancient police jeep with half-corroded number plate while the other half loaded with mud, leaving behind the lower curved part of the letter 8 as the only visible sign. It seemed to be the outer part of a village, seeing a wide well with no pulley and some buffaloes around, we concluded. We parked our two-wheelers and approached towards the crowd. Before we could reach them, a structure with two hands, two legs and other stuffs exactly like those carried by a human being suspended to a branch of a giant banyan tree with a white cloth came to our visible range.

Since it was the first time when I saw a dead body, it was just a source of amusement for me, while the other four joined the array of whispering people. Someone told us that he was a farmer who`s wife was under serious and expensive medical procedures, was under a lot of debt from various people, had 11 children, 6 being females, 4 of whom were of the age in which they were supposed to have in-laws, only 2 of the males of the family were the source of bread and butter, the total income of the family being not more than Rs 25000/- averaged over an annum.

Now the question was, what was the police waiting for? Was it for a free demonstration of hanging human body to little kids who`d never seen death in their lives. We then came to know that they were waiting for an expert climber of the same village who was out to the city which was around 5 kms from that place, was on foot and still they were expecting him any time.

As the shared vision of the Rajasthan Police says, “Aam jan mein vishwas, apradhiyon mein darr”, they are doing a great job inspiring the youths into the medical line by presenting a live demonstration of physical changes that occur in a human body 8 hours after death. Also they are creating a decent piece of trust among the public by laathi-charging to those who came forward with some advise, their repose being- “ab tu mujhe mera kaam seekhaayega, bhaag yahaan se (Now you will teach me what to do, get yourself out of here)”.

Instead their Vision should be, “Aam jan mein darr, apradhiyon mein vishwas”.

फसकर रह गया हूँ

This is a story of a boy named Ishaan from Godhra, the administrative city of Panchmahal district in Gujarat who now is a youngster who can take his own decisions. He is one among the targets of the deadly Gujarat riots. He belonged to a peaceful, middle-class, Hindu family living in a Muslim area, their residence being situated just opposite to the mosque. The boy lost his whole family in the riots when he was just 7, leaving himself all on his own. All of his relatives assumed him to be dead and never ever tried to find his body, they never showed themselves up in that Muslim area.

Now this boy was taken up by a tea-vendor, having his stall near the outskirts of Sant Road which led to Dahod. Unlike other children working for livelihood in the area smoking and gambling during their free times, he chose to write. This is an article from his book of write-ups speaking the words of his life-

एक पत्ते की तरह थी मेरी ज़िन्दगी कभी
हरी तो थी पर
सहारे पर जी रही थी,
हवा चलती उधर मुड़ जाती थी |

एक दिन एक झोंका हवा का ऐसा आया
कि वो पेड़ जड़ से ही उखड़ आया |
अपने फूल पत्तियों को बचाने कि भरपूर कोशिश की उसने
पर बिना किसी सहारे के वो सीधा ज़मीन पर आ गिरा |

उसे पता था गिनती की ही सांसें बची हुई थी उसके पास,
ज़िन्दगी की रफ़्तार उसके हाथों में नहीं थी अब |
आने वाली बारिश की पहली बूँदें
बहाकर ले जाने वाली थी उसे |

उस पेड़ से टूटकर अलग तो हो गया था मैं
पर पास ही पड़ा रहा उसके
देखता रहा उसे, उसके उन आखरी कुछ लम्हों में
साँसे रुकीं उसकी ता एहसास हुआ, कितना अकेला हूँ इस भीड़ में |

रेंगता रहा इधर-उधर, किसी सहारे की तलाश में
पेट ने उत्पात मचाई तो लगा जैसे
खुद का सहारा बनने के अलावा और कोई रास्ता नहीं बचा है मेरे पास
जान हथेली पर रखकर घुस गया इंसानों सी भरे हुए जंगल में |

अचानक एक कांटेदार झाड़ ने रोककर आसरा दिया, सुरक्षा दी
जीवन के कुछ रंग देकर ही खुश कर दिया था उसने मुझे,
अब तो एक पौधा बनने लायक हो गया हूँ मैं,
फिर भी उस झाड़ में ही फसकर रह गया हूँ मैं |

I wish

It was the day in the month of August, when it was raining outside and I was alone at home sitting besides the window watching each drop as they passed by, some of `em declining diagonally sticking to the glass. It reminded me of the day way back in school, raining very similar to the present day, and that bunch of girls having the photo-session in front of the shopping complex. It was the first time when I saw her in a black top, green capris and almost transparent flat sleepers, under a pink umbrella. She had khol in her eyes which was supposed to be resistant to moisture with her hair loose and wet. Her wide, open, perforated smile made me sit by that window with thoughts flowing all around.....



I wish
I were a drop falling from the clouds,
Passing through each altitude of attitude
To its ultimate ground zero.

I wish
I were a snail crawling up a rough trunk,
Fetching each of the ups and downs
Conquering every single tremble.

I wish
I were a stone lying at the edge of the road,
Watching each footstep, numbly
As the seasons change their colours.

I wish
I were one of the legs of the table,
Always standing still with the other beside
Confronting each of the charging tonnage.

I wish
I were a note of the Sargam
Incomplete without the rest of `em
Bringing smiles each time I shiver.

I wish
I were possessing all these roles concurrently,
I wish
I were in love.

Its almost 5 years now since then, I still retrospect those eyes dipped in that thick layer of khol and I regret having that first glimpse of her way back in the school.

Renaissance

How he gay-ed

It was a hot and windy evening when Cwong woke up astonishingly from his routined 2 O`clock sleep after a heavy stuffed lunch in the Bhawan`s mess mess, bunking the afternoon classes. It sometimes makes me think why does he even ask every now and then, the reason of people calling him a Tondu. His immediate words were, "abe, maine bhoot dekha". Coincidently it was that 57 year old, white haired, short, pot bellied young man`s class having a very thin moustache which was still black. So more than 80% Janta was not in that monotonous class as that fellow never took attendence. He seemed no less than a lady who`d just delivered a baby.

His description was something like this, ''There was a face outside the window next to the door, with red glittering eyes and blood drooling out of its mouth. The face was attached to no body, instead it was floating over blood. I had closed the left sideboard of the wide window and had left the right one open, but now it`s just the reverse way. I`d been listening to the song Writtten in the stars (Greenday), and now when I woke up ........''.

We searched for that unapprehended, unascertained, uncharted, unrevealed thing starting right from the underside of his bed, all through the pathways, even inside the water-cooler, over his window-shed, found two suspicious pigeons but to our surprise, their heads were intact and there was not a single sign of blood. Even in this chaotic situation, Cwong never lost his original, accustomed conformation and kept repeating the incident to each and every individual who came along his way, to mess, back from the mess, throughout the stairs, every room he stepped into, even to a senior who met him once in the railway station.

The same evening, when there were 3 metal-heads in his room, having some chill-pill, sharing some fictitious horror stories creating an awkward unwanted environment, listening to some typical numbers, his laptop suddenly switched off automatically. Anticipating for an overheated processor shutdown, I pressed the power button. No response. We kept it upside down to go through a natural cooling process, and gave a try again. But all in vein. Cwong`s expression started to stiffle, as if some haunted spirit had started entering his body.

That night he never showed up even near his room, maintained atleast 30 feet distance, slept in the same couch as mine, kept doing some CENSORED actions all night. The next day, with the first ray of sun, he shifted in with me, same room but different couches this time. He also explained on demand, the CENSORED unconscious actions which he`d been doing since his early teenage whenver he dreamt of something breathe-taking. Now this lappy-less fellow spent all of his daytime, wandering and all of his night-time ........
He moved out only when the Finals arrived for the rescue of the angelic, numb fellow, making him feel like a Renaissance.

PS :: All characters in this post are purely imaginary. Any resemblance of names and/or location is purely coincidental.

When I revisited my birth ....

As the years of my life passed, I realised that Newton had once said very truly, "Everything that goes up must come down". My journey started just from the very moment I was born.

(0) Hey, I`m not out yet.I was sleeping.
(1) I cried.
(2) I spoke.
(3) I walked.
(4) I learnt how to play.
(5) I learnt how to go to school.
(6) I got some people who also just had learnt 'How to go to school'.
(7) We started dreaming a common dream.
(8) We made ours teachers run after us.
(9) We pee-ed together into the school`s front garden.
(10) We made our teachers pay for their local-wooden-scale again and again.
(11) We learnt how to study.
(12) We learnt what to study.
(13) We learnt why to study.
(14) We never studied.
(15) We studied hard to keep our parents` heads up.
(16) We fell in love.
(17) We failed in love.
(18) We got into college.
(19) We played computer games.
(20) We found girls to spend all our money on.
(21) We got ourselves out of those girls` hearts and then from the college.
(22) We dreamt of being a Roadie.
(23) We managed to get a job.
(24) We smiled watching our parents` smile/whisper.
(25) I got married.
(26) Everyone else laughed at me .
(27) I fell in love.
(28) I had a baby.
(29) He cried.
(30) He spoke.
(31) He walked.
(32) He learnt how to play.
(33) He learnt how to go to school.
(34) He got some people who also just had learnt 'How to go to school'.
(35) I had another baby.
(36) She cried.
(37) She spoke.
(38) She walked.
(39) She learnt how to play.
(40) She learnt how to go to school.
(41) She got some people who also just had learnt 'How to go to school'.
(42) I was found out to be a diabetes positive.
(43) I got a Life Insurance plan.
(44) I started believing in God.
(45) He got into the IITs.
(46) He got himself occupied in some Top-Secret projects.

(47)-(60)

I worked hard, got them into good colleges.

Their frequency of talks with us reduced drastically.

They started avoiding us.

Our presence in front of their colleagues embarrassed them then.

I got them married.

I became grandpa.

(60) I got retired.

(61)-(81)

Finally I got some life with my life-partner.

(82) I died.

It is now when I realise that those were the first and the last twenty years of my life which I actually lived. Life resembles a chemical reaction. It has stable ends at both ends. Only the reaction occurs high.