Re-Union

Once I`d said and no one believed, “Closeness is inversely proportional to the distance and the time we spend away from each other”. I still remember my last day at school, the bid-farewell-day. People having mixed types of emotions, guys hiding out their tears, blinking their eye-lashes in an abnormally frequent rate, maintaining fake smiles and rushing to the wash-room each time their eyes overflew. After all they were the studs of our school. Gals getting their scrapbooks and stuffs filled by the teachers and other fellow mates, spilling out the excess (though it had no limits) amount of water off their eyes each time a teacher wished them for their futures. After all they were really good at that.

During our final touchy moments, after the function was over, we found out that there was not a single camera we`ve got to capture that first time when none of us had any reason to argue (It seemed quiet awkward though), but each one of us made a promise to stay in touch for life.

But now after 5 years, when I see some of the re-unions in my neighborhood, I see two groups standing in public, one of the guys and the other being their once most hated species back in school, facing each other as if an interrogation is in progress. Parents are aware that their children have entered a critical stage of life and are required to be kept under continuous public supervision. One of the teams throws some general questions on the opposition, hard to sort out who is its final destination. The answers come diplomatically from people some of whom searching the sky for fascinating images, don`t seem to be much interested.

That`s what happens when you talk to someone after a long time, when you never called during all those times before this day and after the day you made a promise.

Some of the general questions I heard:-
(1)So, how is it going?
(2)How are studies?
(3)What about your brother/sister/uncle/aunty?
(4)What will you eat?

Some of the answers I heard:-
(1)It`s fine
(2)Study`s good.
(3)Yeah, they are all fine.
(4)Anything! What all stuffs do we get here?
No, I`ve eaten already (actually they are ashamed to say that they are under a diet).

The re-union ends up peacefully after a silent meal and everyone greets each other again making the same promise of being in touch for life.

I remember the days when we used to hang out in someone’s terrace, pulling out someone out of his/her house, banging him in the 12th hour of the night during those birthdays, going out on long walks to an unknown destination, each ending up with an hilarious little story…….

I still want to close the refrigerator`s door with my foot in their houses,
I still want to keep my legs stretched out over the coffee table when we watch cricket,
I still want to talk to their parents about the kind of soul mates they are going to have,
I still want to help myself down in their kitchens.

I still want to get into a fight with a gang, their siblings bring in,
I still want to select dresses for them to be worn at parties,
I still want to spend my nights talking to them, when they are in hospital with a broken leg,
I still want to be picked up by them at the railway station when I return home.

I still want to fight with them whenever I’m bored,
I still want to tease them over the person they like,
I still want to read secretly their personal diaries,
I still want to give them some self-defense tricks in case someone tries to harass them,

I still want to talk to them all night even the one before the final exams,
I still want to go out for those awesome December picnics,
I still want to have my birthday cake cut at some uncharted location,
I still want them to be near always.

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.

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.