As she cut the heart-shaped cake placed on the table, their eyes lit up. The youngest of the lot, also the most shy, turned her tiny little face to glance at the cake and the towering grownups who had decided to pay her and her friends a visit.
They didn’t have visitors often. They had a routine. Wake up- school- common lunch- continue with school- come back- study-pray and then sleep. It was the flower girl’s visit they craved for. They would have loved to have the flower girl come there often. She came once a year, smiling and glowing with such elegance that it was hard to forget her. She’s the one who’d make heads turn, wherever she went. Am sure she was the brand ambassador of Iodex (or at least the soul responsible for their sales) what with all the crick in the necks she has been responsible for over the years.
The flower girl was a thinner, more beautiful version of Santa Claus. And what more, she didn’t keep them waiting till December. It was August, the time she blossoms. And the fragrance lingered for a whole year. The cookies tasted lovely, the savories had an extra crunch, the juice overflowed and to top it all, her love was everlasting.
She came with her entourage of reindeer, who were more than just happy to share her magic. “Am just being selfish”, she’d say. But we all knew she was just being way too modest.
It takes a lot of heart to do what she does. Though she’s not the only one in the phase of this planet to do what she does. But it still is a wonderful gesture. Its things like this, which makes her a wonderful person, a nice human being.
This is for the flower girl. A friend, a warm person and an amazing soul.
Happy Blossoming.
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts
August 13, 2010
July 14, 2010
Short Series: She
She walked in, hair swaying in the wind, eyes glancing across the half crowded coffee shop, with a bunch of red roses gripped tightly in her hands. A cat whistle shrilled from across the table where she rested her grip on the flowers. A couple of gawky teenagers couldn’t hide their excitement and let their jaw drop (along with the glass of cold coffee) at the sight of the flower girl. She looked up, sharp eyes, lined with kajal, the type that makes the eyes look even more expressive than how it is on a lazy Sunday morning. On second thoughts, the morning face, Sunday or otherwise always wins ‘pants down’.
The flowers found a place on the table and one got to see her fingers, beautifully manicured, the ones that would have experienced the choicest of creams, lotions and moisturizers, the ones that always smelt fresh and felt divine. The ones that were always not too far from sanitizers. The ones that had mehendi on them?
Ah! She is married. About to be married? Or her friend just got married. Yes. That should be the case. Phew! That’s a relief.
She sat down at a table that could accommodate only two people. She is expecting company. The electricity just went off, thanks to the heavy rain. A few drops of rain cascaded down her forehead and fell on the table. She carefully took a tissue from her bag (didn’t even bother looking at the pile of tissues folded and placed on the table in a triangular shape by the waiters) and wiped her face, gently, not ruining the kajal. The heart skips another beat. She folds the tissue and places them next to the flowers.
“I’m there”, she said on the phone, that seemed to have magically sprung out of her bag and planted itself to her ears, when the mind was too busy deciding on her relationship status.
“Oh! Another half hour? Shit”, she cursed. The lips seemed so pure, so bright and so sensuous, that one could never expect words other than love, peace, hope, and bliss, let alone profanity. Those lips were meant for kissing, to be kissed than curse. It looked like a painting, perfect, symmetric, orgasmic with the blood red of her lipstick, like the painters final signature.
The waiter walks up to her table and places a candle and she smiles at him. It’s his lucky day. He walks away and she lights the candle with her lighter. The candle light falls on her face and the heart skips another beat. Her eyes shine. The light keeps shifting, thanks to the wind; it plays a pattern on her face. Her nose ring twinkles. The light is blinding, making me turn my gaze away from her for just a moment.
She is trying to catch the attention of the waiter. Unaware that she has everybody’s attention. She does realize it. She signals him to get her a hot cappuccino; you could see her pinky sticking out, while she signaled.
The coffee arrives in what felt like milliseconds. She looked awkward trying to open the sachet of sugar to add to her coffee. She spills some on the table-the coffee and the sugar. She looked up to see if someone saw her clumsiness.
Her eyes met mine. I smiled. She was still for a moment before a gentle smile escaped her lips. The candle light was playing tricks. The light and shadow was just too much to handle. I gently nodded my head to greet her. She hesitantly waved back.
I went back to scribble on the tissue paper, the one I had in front of me from the moment I came into the coffee shop. I wanted to write something. In fact I wanted to just keep writing. I had something to write about.
The coffee shop began filling up. The rain was getting heavier and water was dripping from the roof above. People were trying to squeeze into any available space. Tables looked crowded. Privacy could be forgotten. At least till the rain stopped. The air smelt wet. The voices became loud and conversations from every table could be heard clearly. No one went near her table. She still stood out. Alone, beautiful and mesmerizing.
Ever so often, I looked up to see her. I just couldn’t stop. I would then smile to myself and then get back to writing. My coffee was getting cold, partly due to the weather and mostly because I never bothered to drink it.
“What? You’re stuck? It’s pouring here and what do you want me to do?” she spoke on the phone once again. Frustration was written all over her forehead. I could see the lines forming on her clear face. She shook her head and disconnected the call. And I’m certain I heard her swear one last time before hanging up the call.
She glanced towards the flowers that were on the table. She picked up a tissue and began scribbling something. A note I thought. She tucked the note to the flowers and called the waiter. She handed him the flowers and said something, the waiter nodded. He went back to the cash counter, carefully holding the flowers. She took a final sip of her coffee and got up, hand held over her head to protect her from the rain and strode out as briskly as she had come in just a while ago.
The heart skipped another beat.
Do I go behind her? Maybe just talk to her? Would I be seeing her again? Questions flooded my brain. I was snapped out of my trance by the waiter.
“Sir, that madam asked me to give these to you”, he said handing me the flowers.
“Would love to read what you have written about me. Coffee tomorrow at 4?” it read with a smiley at the end.
The flowers found a place on the table and one got to see her fingers, beautifully manicured, the ones that would have experienced the choicest of creams, lotions and moisturizers, the ones that always smelt fresh and felt divine. The ones that were always not too far from sanitizers. The ones that had mehendi on them?
Ah! She is married. About to be married? Or her friend just got married. Yes. That should be the case. Phew! That’s a relief.
She sat down at a table that could accommodate only two people. She is expecting company. The electricity just went off, thanks to the heavy rain. A few drops of rain cascaded down her forehead and fell on the table. She carefully took a tissue from her bag (didn’t even bother looking at the pile of tissues folded and placed on the table in a triangular shape by the waiters) and wiped her face, gently, not ruining the kajal. The heart skips another beat. She folds the tissue and places them next to the flowers.
“I’m there”, she said on the phone, that seemed to have magically sprung out of her bag and planted itself to her ears, when the mind was too busy deciding on her relationship status.
“Oh! Another half hour? Shit”, she cursed. The lips seemed so pure, so bright and so sensuous, that one could never expect words other than love, peace, hope, and bliss, let alone profanity. Those lips were meant for kissing, to be kissed than curse. It looked like a painting, perfect, symmetric, orgasmic with the blood red of her lipstick, like the painters final signature.
The waiter walks up to her table and places a candle and she smiles at him. It’s his lucky day. He walks away and she lights the candle with her lighter. The candle light falls on her face and the heart skips another beat. Her eyes shine. The light keeps shifting, thanks to the wind; it plays a pattern on her face. Her nose ring twinkles. The light is blinding, making me turn my gaze away from her for just a moment.
She is trying to catch the attention of the waiter. Unaware that she has everybody’s attention. She does realize it. She signals him to get her a hot cappuccino; you could see her pinky sticking out, while she signaled.
The coffee arrives in what felt like milliseconds. She looked awkward trying to open the sachet of sugar to add to her coffee. She spills some on the table-the coffee and the sugar. She looked up to see if someone saw her clumsiness.
Her eyes met mine. I smiled. She was still for a moment before a gentle smile escaped her lips. The candle light was playing tricks. The light and shadow was just too much to handle. I gently nodded my head to greet her. She hesitantly waved back.
I went back to scribble on the tissue paper, the one I had in front of me from the moment I came into the coffee shop. I wanted to write something. In fact I wanted to just keep writing. I had something to write about.
The coffee shop began filling up. The rain was getting heavier and water was dripping from the roof above. People were trying to squeeze into any available space. Tables looked crowded. Privacy could be forgotten. At least till the rain stopped. The air smelt wet. The voices became loud and conversations from every table could be heard clearly. No one went near her table. She still stood out. Alone, beautiful and mesmerizing.
Ever so often, I looked up to see her. I just couldn’t stop. I would then smile to myself and then get back to writing. My coffee was getting cold, partly due to the weather and mostly because I never bothered to drink it.
“What? You’re stuck? It’s pouring here and what do you want me to do?” she spoke on the phone once again. Frustration was written all over her forehead. I could see the lines forming on her clear face. She shook her head and disconnected the call. And I’m certain I heard her swear one last time before hanging up the call.
She glanced towards the flowers that were on the table. She picked up a tissue and began scribbling something. A note I thought. She tucked the note to the flowers and called the waiter. She handed him the flowers and said something, the waiter nodded. He went back to the cash counter, carefully holding the flowers. She took a final sip of her coffee and got up, hand held over her head to protect her from the rain and strode out as briskly as she had come in just a while ago.
The heart skipped another beat.
Do I go behind her? Maybe just talk to her? Would I be seeing her again? Questions flooded my brain. I was snapped out of my trance by the waiter.
“Sir, that madam asked me to give these to you”, he said handing me the flowers.
“Would love to read what you have written about me. Coffee tomorrow at 4?” it read with a smiley at the end.
November 20, 2009
Click. Or is it Clock? Maybe it is just Click-Clock!
Click- Clock, Click- Clock
The clock went click
Clicking away as the crickets creak
The cricket’s creak and they click like clocks
Click-Clock, Click- Clock
The old man walked with his grand-father clock
Clocking time with each click from his clock
The photographer stood there and clicked
Clicking pictures of the magical clock
Click-Clock, Click-Clock
With every second from the rickety clock
The runner raced against the stop-clock
No one knew the time on the clock
The crowd screamed when they saw the clock
Click-Clock, Click- Clock
The clock went click
Clicking away as the crickets creak
The cricket’s creak and they click like clocks
Click-Clock, Click- Clock
The old man walked with his grand-father clock
Clocking time with each click from his clock
The photographer stood there and clicked
Clicking pictures of the magical clock
Click-Clock, Click-Clock
With every second from the rickety clock
The runner raced against the stop-clock
No one knew the time on the clock
The crowd screamed when they saw the clock
Click-Clock, Click- Clock
May 04, 2009
Short Series: Happyness
It was the tenth sheet of paper that he wasted trying to write something. The words seemed a tad too difficult to articulate. The thoughts were strong. The things he wanted to say were quite a bit. But he just couldn’t write.
“This part of my life is what I would call things falling into place”, he had written that and he kept staring at the crisp white sheet of paper in front of him. The coffee shop seemed too empty for a Sunday evening. Maybe the weather had something to do with it, he thought to himself. But coming to think of it, the weather was lovely, heavy winds, coolness in the air and dark clouds with a distant thunder and lightning. It was just perfect. Popular tracks were being played on the radio and it filled his ears. A gentle strumming of a guitar was jamming with the song on the radio. It had to be a beginner playing the guitar; he chuckled to himself and continued staring at the sheet of paper.
The traffic was peaceful and the motorists were going about their job in a nonchalant manner. The long weekend he sighed. The city needs more of these extra long weekends. It made it extremely easy for him to commute and if he was lucky, even take a nice peaceful walk.
He liked the song that was playing then. He smiled.
‘Free Door Delivry’, it read in big bold letters. Ah! How many times now, he thought. He had made it a point to tell the guys at the coffee shop to check their spellings before they put something up on the board. Things never change, people never change, he told himself.
Work had been wonderful the past few months and things were just wonderful. The kind of work he had been doing was really giving him a huge high. He loved it. He loved the endless hours, the mindless running around, the wonderful conversations, the amazing people he got to meet thanks to his work and the best of all, the travel that came along with the work. This was it. He smiled.
“This part of my life is what I would call things falling into place”, he read the line out loud, smiled and added a period at the end of the sentence. It started drizzling at that exact moment. A drop fell on the period and the ink blotted.
“This part of my life is what I would call things falling into place”.
“This part of my life is what I would call things falling into place”, he had written that and he kept staring at the crisp white sheet of paper in front of him. The coffee shop seemed too empty for a Sunday evening. Maybe the weather had something to do with it, he thought to himself. But coming to think of it, the weather was lovely, heavy winds, coolness in the air and dark clouds with a distant thunder and lightning. It was just perfect. Popular tracks were being played on the radio and it filled his ears. A gentle strumming of a guitar was jamming with the song on the radio. It had to be a beginner playing the guitar; he chuckled to himself and continued staring at the sheet of paper.
The traffic was peaceful and the motorists were going about their job in a nonchalant manner. The long weekend he sighed. The city needs more of these extra long weekends. It made it extremely easy for him to commute and if he was lucky, even take a nice peaceful walk.
He liked the song that was playing then. He smiled.
‘Free Door Delivry’, it read in big bold letters. Ah! How many times now, he thought. He had made it a point to tell the guys at the coffee shop to check their spellings before they put something up on the board. Things never change, people never change, he told himself.
Work had been wonderful the past few months and things were just wonderful. The kind of work he had been doing was really giving him a huge high. He loved it. He loved the endless hours, the mindless running around, the wonderful conversations, the amazing people he got to meet thanks to his work and the best of all, the travel that came along with the work. This was it. He smiled.
“This part of my life is what I would call things falling into place”, he read the line out loud, smiled and added a period at the end of the sentence. It started drizzling at that exact moment. A drop fell on the period and the ink blotted.
“This part of my life is what I would call things falling into place”.
February 13, 2009
Short Series: Milana
She stood there motionless staring into nothingness. She had been standing like that for a while now. The light from the window slowly filtered through and fell on her hair. That was the only source of light in the room. She didn't blink, she didn't move, she didn't talk.
"Welcome back to Tit-for-tat", said a voice shreaking out of the television screen from the adjacent room. Ricardo was watching some meaningless television. He did that to take his mind off things. He was in line to be sent off from work and he didn't like that feeling. He had been working in that company ever since he quit high school. He got married to Milana during that summer. She was pregnant at that time. It was a marriage that happened out of the blue, they didn't plan for it. He was wild, she was beautiful. He got drunk and she got pregnant. Ricardo got kicked out of his house when he told his parents about Milana. They didn't want to support a son who quit high school and his pregnant girlfriend. His parents were very orthodox. They had a good reputation in the neighbourhood.
The baby was crying. The shrill noise shook Ricardo out of the couch. He threw the ciggie down on the floor and got up cursing the baby. "A man can't watch some TV peacefully in this house", he barked while he took a big swig from the beer can he clutched in his hands. The baby was crying in the room next to the TV room. The noise from the TV was louder than the baby. He stormed into the room and lifted the baby from the cradle. "Shut up, you little piece of Shit. Shut up!", he screamed at the baby. "Why the hell do you cry all the time? And your mommy that witch never bothers about you". Milana had stopped talking to Ricardo. It had been 5 months since she uttered a single word to him. She never left the house. She was silent. Her world had crashed. She didn't want to exist... In that house... With that mad man.
"I'm pregnant", said Milana in a soft tone. "What?", Ricardo was shocked to hear those words. "But,how? I mean, I did use it!", he swallowed his words. He didn't know how to react. "I don't know, Ricardo. Maybe it had a hole or something. How am I supposed to know? And moreover condoms are not 100% safe all the time",clutching Ricardo's hands and shivering while she said those words. He was breathing hard. He was still in high school and he didn't know what else to do. He had to do something. He took a few deep breaths and got up and hugged Milana. "Don't worry baby, I shall work something out". He had no clue about what he could do.
"I think I should quit high school, then maybe I could check with Jack at the store to see if I could work there or something", Ricardo told her while repeating those words again louder in his mind, so as to reassure himself. She stood there next to him. Looking into those eyes that seemed like it had gotten pale. Lifeless. Afraid.
He carried the baby in his arms and walked around the house to find something for the little one to eat. He opened the fridge and saw an old packet of milk, lying cold. He brought the packet to his nose to check if it had gotten spoilt. He didn't really care much. He poured the stale milk onto a bottle and shoved it to the baby's mouth. "Eat this. Maybe that would shut you up for a while".
This happened everyday when he was at home. He had to babysit while Milana chose to stay locked up in her room. He wondered if she took care of the baby when he was not around. He knew certainly that she wouldn't bother whether the baby cried or not. That arrogant witch, he thought to himself. The phone rang then and he placed the baby on the couch and went to answer the phone. It was Jack from the store. There was some emergency and he wanted Ricardo to come to the store immediately. Something to leave this mad house, Ricardo thought as he stormed out of the house.
The baby began to cry again. This time with a lot more pain. He had thrown the bottle down and the bottle lay there with it's lid open and sour milk dripping from the opening. Milana had heard the door shut and snapped out of her trance like state. She slowly closed the blinds on her window blocking the little light that was seeping in. She took a deep breath and began to move. Slowly.
She lifted the baby into her arms and held her closely. She looked deep into the baby's eyes. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She gently placed her fingers on the little one's face and wiped her tears. She kissed her soft on her forehead and whispered, "Don't worry my little angel. It's all going to be fine. Mommy's here now".
"Welcome back to Tit-for-tat", said a voice shreaking out of the television screen from the adjacent room. Ricardo was watching some meaningless television. He did that to take his mind off things. He was in line to be sent off from work and he didn't like that feeling. He had been working in that company ever since he quit high school. He got married to Milana during that summer. She was pregnant at that time. It was a marriage that happened out of the blue, they didn't plan for it. He was wild, she was beautiful. He got drunk and she got pregnant. Ricardo got kicked out of his house when he told his parents about Milana. They didn't want to support a son who quit high school and his pregnant girlfriend. His parents were very orthodox. They had a good reputation in the neighbourhood.
The baby was crying. The shrill noise shook Ricardo out of the couch. He threw the ciggie down on the floor and got up cursing the baby. "A man can't watch some TV peacefully in this house", he barked while he took a big swig from the beer can he clutched in his hands. The baby was crying in the room next to the TV room. The noise from the TV was louder than the baby. He stormed into the room and lifted the baby from the cradle. "Shut up, you little piece of Shit. Shut up!", he screamed at the baby. "Why the hell do you cry all the time? And your mommy that witch never bothers about you". Milana had stopped talking to Ricardo. It had been 5 months since she uttered a single word to him. She never left the house. She was silent. Her world had crashed. She didn't want to exist... In that house... With that mad man.
"I'm pregnant", said Milana in a soft tone. "What?", Ricardo was shocked to hear those words. "But,how? I mean, I did use it!", he swallowed his words. He didn't know how to react. "I don't know, Ricardo. Maybe it had a hole or something. How am I supposed to know? And moreover condoms are not 100% safe all the time",clutching Ricardo's hands and shivering while she said those words. He was breathing hard. He was still in high school and he didn't know what else to do. He had to do something. He took a few deep breaths and got up and hugged Milana. "Don't worry baby, I shall work something out". He had no clue about what he could do.
"I think I should quit high school, then maybe I could check with Jack at the store to see if I could work there or something", Ricardo told her while repeating those words again louder in his mind, so as to reassure himself. She stood there next to him. Looking into those eyes that seemed like it had gotten pale. Lifeless. Afraid.
He carried the baby in his arms and walked around the house to find something for the little one to eat. He opened the fridge and saw an old packet of milk, lying cold. He brought the packet to his nose to check if it had gotten spoilt. He didn't really care much. He poured the stale milk onto a bottle and shoved it to the baby's mouth. "Eat this. Maybe that would shut you up for a while".
This happened everyday when he was at home. He had to babysit while Milana chose to stay locked up in her room. He wondered if she took care of the baby when he was not around. He knew certainly that she wouldn't bother whether the baby cried or not. That arrogant witch, he thought to himself. The phone rang then and he placed the baby on the couch and went to answer the phone. It was Jack from the store. There was some emergency and he wanted Ricardo to come to the store immediately. Something to leave this mad house, Ricardo thought as he stormed out of the house.
The baby began to cry again. This time with a lot more pain. He had thrown the bottle down and the bottle lay there with it's lid open and sour milk dripping from the opening. Milana had heard the door shut and snapped out of her trance like state. She slowly closed the blinds on her window blocking the little light that was seeping in. She took a deep breath and began to move. Slowly.
She lifted the baby into her arms and held her closely. She looked deep into the baby's eyes. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She gently placed her fingers on the little one's face and wiped her tears. She kissed her soft on her forehead and whispered, "Don't worry my little angel. It's all going to be fine. Mommy's here now".
January 12, 2009
Predictions for 2009
*Drum Roll*
Ladies & Worms,
With the New Year mood out (it’s been more than 12 days now) of the way and everyone getting back to the grind of lots of work and recession. It’s time once again for HORRORSCOPE. The reason for writing Horror Scope now you may ask, well I have a lot of time on hand, no money and absolutely no work. So if you give me another two minutes, I could come up with more reasons as to why am writing this post.
So let me get straight to the point here. Take a piece of paper, tissue, bills, tablecloth, anything. Just make a note coz this is the prediction for the year. Thank me later.
*Takes a deep breath*
Pisces:
2009 = 2+0+0+9 which totals to 11 that in turn becomes 1+1 and finally adds up to 2. Ok. It’s got nothing to do with the prediction. Am just brushing up my mathematics skills. This year is perfect for that loooong holiday that you have been planning for years now. That’s coz as soon as you finish reading this prediction your boss is going to call you and fire you from the job. So, I say just pack your bag and enjoy the holiday and come back when the economy of the country becomes better or when companies start hiring again. 6 is your lucky number (that’s the amount that would be left on your bank account two months from now) and black is your lucky color. (Don’t ask me everything).
Aries:
I see water, lots of it. Wait a minute, no sorry, that’s just coz someone turned the tap on and forgot to close it. (Concentrates harder) You guys know exactly what’s going on in your life. You don’t need any funny/ scary/ serious prediction or horoscope. You were broke earlier, you are broke now and you will be broke for a really long time. So try eating at home, drinking at home and staying at home.
Taurus:
You tend to be headstrong and deliberate in your actions. Basically you don't give a fuck about anyone. Most people hate you but you couldn't care less. You will not be invited to any weddings this year, including yours. Your friends (well, sorry wrong prediction) you don’t have any friends and that’s how it will be even this year. (I just can’t stand a whole bunch of taurians) So, EAT THIS!!! You neither have a lucky number nor a lucky color.
Gemini:
I know who you did last Halloween. The funny thing is he knows it too. You will have a lot of bisexual tendencies this year. A whole bulk of your savings this year will be spent on online chat rooms and weird toys. Let the net-nanny save you.
Cancer:
You will wake up on the wrong side of the bed everyday for the next 66 days. On the 67th day you will not wake up. You have a dreaded disease that no one knows and no one can cure. Rest in peace.
Leo:
Keep saying sorry as many times as possible. People will pull you up for everything, whether you have done it or not. Chances are most probably you wouldn’t have done it. That’s coz you just can’t to save your life. You are daft, obnoxious and a complete pain in the butt. How dare you read this horoscope? Go and do your work shithead.
Aquarius:
You would be called to audition for a toothpaste brand. Not because you are a good looking model, but you are the reason why they have created something called toothpaste. Use it. Please and don’t stink up the room.
Scorpio:
You’re the type who wouldn’t have moved straight down to Scorpio but stopped and read every other sign till you reached here. You have an identity crisis and you’re also a cross dresser. Take my word and quickly replace your sister’s dress back in her shelf before you get caught. And don’t be shocked when you find your clothes in her shelf.
Virgo:
Your cell phone will explode during a conference call. So avoid conference calls through the year. Today’s going to be the day when they’re going to throw it back to you. By now you should’ve somehow realized what you got to do. Don’t go too close to a cow; it will fart on your face.
Capricorn:
The threat mail that you wanted to send your boss, well what do you know, has finally been sent. Get a faster internet connection before you plan to send that PowerPoint presentation with nude pictures of your boss with his dog. Please mask your face from the remaining pictures.
Libra:
You will have a major reconstructive knee surgery on your stomach. This is what happens when you have George.W.Bush as your role model. Avoid wearing shoes. That crush of yours that you have been thinking about all these months, well she is pregnant and carrying your best friend’s baby. Watch your back and don’t bend in the presence of other men.
Sagittarius:
You have giant man boobs that sag. Your mouth stinks like a drain. Your nails are long and dirty. Your skin has puss oozing all over. But you’re a kind hearted soul. You’re the type who likes to help old ladies cross the road but they think you’re out there to rob them off their money and they beat you with their walking stick.
Ladies & Worms,
With the New Year mood out (it’s been more than 12 days now) of the way and everyone getting back to the grind of lots of work and recession. It’s time once again for HORRORSCOPE. The reason for writing Horror Scope now you may ask, well I have a lot of time on hand, no money and absolutely no work. So if you give me another two minutes, I could come up with more reasons as to why am writing this post.
So let me get straight to the point here. Take a piece of paper, tissue, bills, tablecloth, anything. Just make a note coz this is the prediction for the year. Thank me later.
*Takes a deep breath*
Pisces:
2009 = 2+0+0+9 which totals to 11 that in turn becomes 1+1 and finally adds up to 2. Ok. It’s got nothing to do with the prediction. Am just brushing up my mathematics skills. This year is perfect for that loooong holiday that you have been planning for years now. That’s coz as soon as you finish reading this prediction your boss is going to call you and fire you from the job. So, I say just pack your bag and enjoy the holiday and come back when the economy of the country becomes better or when companies start hiring again. 6 is your lucky number (that’s the amount that would be left on your bank account two months from now) and black is your lucky color. (Don’t ask me everything).
Aries:
I see water, lots of it. Wait a minute, no sorry, that’s just coz someone turned the tap on and forgot to close it. (Concentrates harder) You guys know exactly what’s going on in your life. You don’t need any funny/ scary/ serious prediction or horoscope. You were broke earlier, you are broke now and you will be broke for a really long time. So try eating at home, drinking at home and staying at home.
Taurus:
You tend to be headstrong and deliberate in your actions. Basically you don't give a fuck about anyone. Most people hate you but you couldn't care less. You will not be invited to any weddings this year, including yours. Your friends (well, sorry wrong prediction) you don’t have any friends and that’s how it will be even this year. (I just can’t stand a whole bunch of taurians) So, EAT THIS!!! You neither have a lucky number nor a lucky color.
Gemini:
I know who you did last Halloween. The funny thing is he knows it too. You will have a lot of bisexual tendencies this year. A whole bulk of your savings this year will be spent on online chat rooms and weird toys. Let the net-nanny save you.
Cancer:
You will wake up on the wrong side of the bed everyday for the next 66 days. On the 67th day you will not wake up. You have a dreaded disease that no one knows and no one can cure. Rest in peace.
Leo:
Keep saying sorry as many times as possible. People will pull you up for everything, whether you have done it or not. Chances are most probably you wouldn’t have done it. That’s coz you just can’t to save your life. You are daft, obnoxious and a complete pain in the butt. How dare you read this horoscope? Go and do your work shithead.
Aquarius:
You would be called to audition for a toothpaste brand. Not because you are a good looking model, but you are the reason why they have created something called toothpaste. Use it. Please and don’t stink up the room.
Scorpio:
You’re the type who wouldn’t have moved straight down to Scorpio but stopped and read every other sign till you reached here. You have an identity crisis and you’re also a cross dresser. Take my word and quickly replace your sister’s dress back in her shelf before you get caught. And don’t be shocked when you find your clothes in her shelf.
Virgo:
Your cell phone will explode during a conference call. So avoid conference calls through the year. Today’s going to be the day when they’re going to throw it back to you. By now you should’ve somehow realized what you got to do. Don’t go too close to a cow; it will fart on your face.
Capricorn:
The threat mail that you wanted to send your boss, well what do you know, has finally been sent. Get a faster internet connection before you plan to send that PowerPoint presentation with nude pictures of your boss with his dog. Please mask your face from the remaining pictures.
Libra:
You will have a major reconstructive knee surgery on your stomach. This is what happens when you have George.W.Bush as your role model. Avoid wearing shoes. That crush of yours that you have been thinking about all these months, well she is pregnant and carrying your best friend’s baby. Watch your back and don’t bend in the presence of other men.
Sagittarius:
You have giant man boobs that sag. Your mouth stinks like a drain. Your nails are long and dirty. Your skin has puss oozing all over. But you’re a kind hearted soul. You’re the type who likes to help old ladies cross the road but they think you’re out there to rob them off their money and they beat you with their walking stick.
January 08, 2009
The year that was
First up a very Happy New Year to everyone who happens to drop into this mad world every now and then or often. Have a fantastic year ahead and it feels nice to sit down and write something in this space not just coz I enjoy doing it, but also knowing that there are people like you out there who make it worthwhile. Give yourself a nice pat on the back from me.
It has been a little more than four years now since my first post. Four years, wow that sounds like a long time. But it has been one hell of a ride so far. The many blogs I have read over the years, the many people I have had the pleasure of meeting and the interesting conversations I have had with a whole bunch. Nostalgia time has set in again.
2008 has been a year that taught me a lot of things. It was a year where I worked in two agencies and by the end of it, had quit both. It was the year that made me realize that I really don’t want to write ads anymore. It was the year that made me put my foot down and say ‘I want to make films and that’s all I want to do’. It was the year I met her. It was the year of major spiritual journeys. It was the year where I lost him. It was the year when potato land refused my visa. It was the year when I knew I loved her. It was the year I told her I love her. It was the year I was misunderstood. It was the year when I was really happy. It was the year that made me cry. It was the year that made me realize that I hate farewells. It was the year that made me take a helmet and travel to Bombay. It was a beautiful year.
The year started off in a very drunken state. And maybe that’s why the first few months were confusing. I was thinking a lot and I was letting things get to me. Bother me. Upset me. But I guess the fag end of the year made up for all the madness. It was slow, it gave me a lot of time to think and understand my life. It made me strong and it gave me a lot of clarity. It has been a joy ride hence.
It’s 2009. It’s a brand New Year. The year seems like it has a lot in store for me. The year where I hope to prove a few people wrong. To correct my previous statement, I think I hope to prove myself wrong this year. A year where I hope to understand the complexities of Income Tax. A year to hopefully travel out of the country.
I closed my eyes to think about what to write next. These are the images that came into my mind.
Bike rides, music, laughter, family, friends, inspiration, travel, books, food, cooking, you, poetry, love, fun, you, kids, photos, posters, maya, prayer.
Happy 2009.
It has been a little more than four years now since my first post. Four years, wow that sounds like a long time. But it has been one hell of a ride so far. The many blogs I have read over the years, the many people I have had the pleasure of meeting and the interesting conversations I have had with a whole bunch. Nostalgia time has set in again.
2008 has been a year that taught me a lot of things. It was a year where I worked in two agencies and by the end of it, had quit both. It was the year that made me realize that I really don’t want to write ads anymore. It was the year that made me put my foot down and say ‘I want to make films and that’s all I want to do’. It was the year I met her. It was the year of major spiritual journeys. It was the year where I lost him. It was the year when potato land refused my visa. It was the year when I knew I loved her. It was the year I told her I love her. It was the year I was misunderstood. It was the year when I was really happy. It was the year that made me cry. It was the year that made me realize that I hate farewells. It was the year that made me take a helmet and travel to Bombay. It was a beautiful year.
The year started off in a very drunken state. And maybe that’s why the first few months were confusing. I was thinking a lot and I was letting things get to me. Bother me. Upset me. But I guess the fag end of the year made up for all the madness. It was slow, it gave me a lot of time to think and understand my life. It made me strong and it gave me a lot of clarity. It has been a joy ride hence.
It’s 2009. It’s a brand New Year. The year seems like it has a lot in store for me. The year where I hope to prove a few people wrong. To correct my previous statement, I think I hope to prove myself wrong this year. A year where I hope to understand the complexities of Income Tax. A year to hopefully travel out of the country.
I closed my eyes to think about what to write next. These are the images that came into my mind.
Bike rides, music, laughter, family, friends, inspiration, travel, books, food, cooking, you, poetry, love, fun, you, kids, photos, posters, maya, prayer.
Happy 2009.
December 16, 2008
What's in a name?
I say it's all in the name.
I love my name and I can’t be happier that my parents have good taste.
Now that I have made my thank you speech, I would like to dedicate this post to everyone in this planet (and beyond) who’ve had the misfortune of having lived and who are living with the most difficult names. This one’s for all you people.
I remember reading somewhere that you are what your name is. A name is so important in defining a person. And in most cases it is the one thing that you live with all your life.
In this post I shall talk about the people who I know in person, people who I have seen walking around in the schools and colleges where I have studied and a select few I have had to work with and a couple of people who I know off. I love you all I have the utmost respect for each one of you.
Jijo. J. Jajan – This poor friend of mine had a name that was so bouncy and slippery and he was just like that. Short, stout and with greasy hair smelling of fish all the time. Imagine him in some exotic country where the alphabet ‘J’ is silent or pronounced as ‘H’- Hiho. H. Hahan. My god, Santa would probably like to adopt him as his personal assistant.
Jetty Jean Joy Kutty - Another mallu (what is it with some mallu’s and their names) person who studied in college with me. She was very silent always. Initially I didn’t know why she was like that, but when I got introduced to her, I knew why. People always had this thing of shortening a person’s name and calling them while in school or college (even now?). Imagine how it would be to call her. Any which way you try and truncate the name; it either sounds corny, cheeky or just plain stupid. Poor girl.
Latha. K. Lund – I feel so bad for you girl. In fact I feel bad for your dad, Mr.Lund. But on second thoughts, I don’t feel bad for your dad. If he had to live all his life with a name like that, he should have had some sense to not add his name as your surname. And for a girl to have that as her surname is just plain SAD. In school the teachers always had this annoying ritual of calling people out with their full name and initials while the roll call to check the attendance. No wonder you always had a proxy person say ‘Present ma’m’ in the morning. Get married or move out to a country where people don’t understand Hindi.
Infant - I met this man a few years back and he was 39. And he introduced himself as Infant and I was like, Get out of here. You’re kidding me. Felt the whole time I was with him and people calling him by his name and all I could picture was this man of 39 sitting on his office desk with a feeding bottle and a bib. I couldn’t sleep for a good one week thanks to all the nightmares.
I met a friend from kerala. He told me the secret behind some of the most bizarre and weird names from malluland. A couple get married, say John gets married to Jincy (Yes, Jincy is a name and I didn’t make that up) and they have a kid. What do you know, it’s a boy. Now comes the part of naming the boy. They take the first two alphabets from the dad’s name and add the first two letters from the mom’s name and voila they have a new name: Joji. It doesn’t stop there. They need to add the name of their village, the name of their street and the name of their house. So in the end the boy’s name is: Joji Kutty Thillaberambil Vincent. And by the time he learns to spell his name he is a 40 yr old Infant.
A good friend’s grand dad when he was working in the US of A had a girlfriend who he just couldn’t forget. So what does the old man do, name his grand daughter that. And no wonder she is grand pa’s favorite. This helped her with a lot of pocket money and our best friend.
Some more names of people who I don’t know really well, but know off: Steffi Graf, Michael Jackson, Mother Mary (I know you are devoted and all that, but how can a new born be called Mother Mary), Rajnikanth and finally Madhuri Dixit (her dad’s surname is Pundit).
Now that I have spoken about all this. How could I not mention the various Baby Mami's and Puppy Mami's in a family. I remember this very old paati in my family who was still called Baby when she was 92. It is not an affectionate name, but their actual name that is Baby and Puppy. To top this there are the chaachi's and the chachu's. Lallu's and the paapa's.
And after all the love, I just want to add this special note of hate to the person who typed my name on my voter identity card. I don’t know how in the world they ended up typing that, maybe they sneezed while typing and just didn’t bother correcting it, or maybe they didn’t sleep the previous night and dozed off on the keyboard, or maybe they couldn’t type. But whatever be the case they typed something that has made me think twice about taking the card and going to a voting booth and admitting I am in fact that person. Yes, the name on the card reads: dfhkuyhdi!!! (That little son of a…)
December 12, 2008
Short Series - The letter
I don’t think I can stop thinking about you. In fact I don’t think I want to….
He sat down in a coffee shop and began writing a note to her.
There have been times in my life when I have met a lot of people. Some have stayed on for a while and some left in a hurry. But you’re the one person whom I love (d) with all my heart and I don’t think I have ever felt this way before.
I have wanted to do this for a while now, but never really got along doing it. Enough is enough. Today, I just want you to know how I feel about you.
Taking a deep drag from his cigarette he continued writing.
I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight. Because my feeling towards you had already started before I even met you. I saw you smiling when I saw a text from you; I pictured the glint in your eyes when you laughed while talking to me on the phone. The way you spoke to me in your mails, I could sense your presence next to me and the words flowing effortlessly. Meeting you was the only thing left.
The cigarette had gone off by then. He lit it again and chucked the matchstick aside. Looking at the smoke, he smiled to himself and exhaled the smoke. His eyes were moist.
What is it that am going through? If I have to put words to this feeling that am experiencing, it would have to be ‘Peaceful Pain’. I feel happy every time I think about you and it’s painful when you are not here with me. I want you to see how happy you make me and I want to see that smile on your face. I know I can make you smile.
Would she even read this? Would she understand? Those were his thoughts. He stopped writing. He read the lines again and again. Slowly and then he read it out loud. He paused and stopped in places where he wanted her to stop. He closed his eyes and saw her. A smile escaped his lips. She still had this spell on him.
I remember the time when we sat in my house and spoke. About life, about the many things we want to do in life, about our goals. I remember the passion in your eyes when you told me the things you wanted to do in life. It all seems like yesterday that you were with me and now when I think about it, it has already been a while since I saw you or heard from you.
He was feeling emotional now. His hands were trembling. The third cup of coffee that he had ordered was now cold and almost over. The packet of cigarettes that was on the table next to him was almost over. He closed his eyes again and was thinking about what to write next. He slipped into a zone, a comfortable zone and was shaken back to reality when a car began honking loudly. He settled down and continued writing.
I want you to know that I will always be there for you and I want you to be happy in life. I want you to go out there and achieve everything that you always wanted to. I want you to know that everything that I have ever told you I meant with all my heart. I want you to…I want you.
He took one long look at the letter and sighed. He folded the letter and scribbled 23 on the back of the cover.
He placed the cover in a bag. There were a bunch of covers in that bag. He placed this one next to number 22.
He sat down in a coffee shop and began writing a note to her.
There have been times in my life when I have met a lot of people. Some have stayed on for a while and some left in a hurry. But you’re the one person whom I love (d) with all my heart and I don’t think I have ever felt this way before.
I have wanted to do this for a while now, but never really got along doing it. Enough is enough. Today, I just want you to know how I feel about you.
Taking a deep drag from his cigarette he continued writing.
I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight. Because my feeling towards you had already started before I even met you. I saw you smiling when I saw a text from you; I pictured the glint in your eyes when you laughed while talking to me on the phone. The way you spoke to me in your mails, I could sense your presence next to me and the words flowing effortlessly. Meeting you was the only thing left.
The cigarette had gone off by then. He lit it again and chucked the matchstick aside. Looking at the smoke, he smiled to himself and exhaled the smoke. His eyes were moist.
What is it that am going through? If I have to put words to this feeling that am experiencing, it would have to be ‘Peaceful Pain’. I feel happy every time I think about you and it’s painful when you are not here with me. I want you to see how happy you make me and I want to see that smile on your face. I know I can make you smile.
Would she even read this? Would she understand? Those were his thoughts. He stopped writing. He read the lines again and again. Slowly and then he read it out loud. He paused and stopped in places where he wanted her to stop. He closed his eyes and saw her. A smile escaped his lips. She still had this spell on him.
I remember the time when we sat in my house and spoke. About life, about the many things we want to do in life, about our goals. I remember the passion in your eyes when you told me the things you wanted to do in life. It all seems like yesterday that you were with me and now when I think about it, it has already been a while since I saw you or heard from you.
He was feeling emotional now. His hands were trembling. The third cup of coffee that he had ordered was now cold and almost over. The packet of cigarettes that was on the table next to him was almost over. He closed his eyes again and was thinking about what to write next. He slipped into a zone, a comfortable zone and was shaken back to reality when a car began honking loudly. He settled down and continued writing.
I want you to know that I will always be there for you and I want you to be happy in life. I want you to go out there and achieve everything that you always wanted to. I want you to know that everything that I have ever told you I meant with all my heart. I want you to…I want you.
He took one long look at the letter and sighed. He folded the letter and scribbled 23 on the back of the cover.
He placed the cover in a bag. There were a bunch of covers in that bag. He placed this one next to number 22.
November 26, 2008
Huh what?
The time on my clock shows 2 a.m.
What am I doing up so late? Staring at a piece of paper and listening to some music.
All I want is you. My mind keeps saying that to me. I have no clue what that means.
I can feel the wind. It must be cold outside. I’m wrapped in my blanket with the fan switched off. I’m not about to sleep. I need the gentle sound from the fan when am sleeping.
Guitar strums and cigarette smoke. Old monk rum and drum beats. Bob Marley and Beatles.
It’s all like fine wine. The older it is the better.
Tell me, tell me, tell me.
I just want to write what my mind wants me to. I don’t think I want to stop.
The ashtray is flooded. Jimi Hendrix looks like he is anemic. Maybe he is just dehydrated. ‘Here you go, Jimi. Some water’. This might help you.
You’re such a mean old man. Oh come on. She’s a go getter. You’re such a dirty old man.
Do you think you can get away with this mess that you have created?
You’re such a mean old man. You’re just a dirty old fag.
What am I doing up so late? Staring at a piece of paper and listening to some music.
All I want is you. My mind keeps saying that to me. I have no clue what that means.
I can feel the wind. It must be cold outside. I’m wrapped in my blanket with the fan switched off. I’m not about to sleep. I need the gentle sound from the fan when am sleeping.
Guitar strums and cigarette smoke. Old monk rum and drum beats. Bob Marley and Beatles.
It’s all like fine wine. The older it is the better.
Tell me, tell me, tell me.
I just want to write what my mind wants me to. I don’t think I want to stop.
The ashtray is flooded. Jimi Hendrix looks like he is anemic. Maybe he is just dehydrated. ‘Here you go, Jimi. Some water’. This might help you.
You’re such a mean old man. Oh come on. She’s a go getter. You’re such a dirty old man.
Do you think you can get away with this mess that you have created?
You’re such a mean old man. You’re just a dirty old fag.
November 21, 2008
The Big Secret
The Pavement Baba never spoke much. He believed in the saying ‘When you know quite a bit… Shut Up’. He was a man of actions. In simple words, he was someone worth watching.
With his simple dressing style, captivating smile and intense eyes, he was a nice man whom you could see while walking on 12th
Every once in a while, one can find a group of people standing around the Baba and talking eagerly. He had a knack of saying just one line which would be the answer to ten questions from five different people. Such was the power of his words. To share Baba’s beedi is like understanding the purpose of life… or Baba was generous that day… or one was just plain lucky.
The Baba had slightly longish hair that started from a rather big and wide forehead. Brown eyes and a sharp nose and a smile oh so radiating all the time. His mouth had a sole purpose, to help him smoke his beedis, to continue smiling and to occasionally speak. Food, coming to think of it, either Baba never ate or the food never liked him.
It was always a mystery as to why the Baba wore his jeans or any trouser folded up to his knees. A number of people had tried to find the secret or the bigger meaning or the absolute truth behind the phenomenon, but they always failed crashing all their beliefs.
One day while a bunch of people were sitting around Baba, a kid managed to draw enough courage and asked Baba the reason behind the way he wore his jeans. Baba quietly smiled, then lighting his beedi, took a deliberately long drag from the beedi and exhaled… Looking directly in the eyes of the kid Baba smiled and said, ‘The reason kid… is silence…a dog… and a Silencer’.
Everyone sat there mesmerized wonderstruck and confused with the response. Baba then got up from the pavement and began to walk. That’s when the group of people gathered there understood what the Baba had meant when he spoke those words.
Baba limped his way across the street with a huge burn oh his leg. ‘ It’s coz of all the energy’ someone commented, ‘No, it’s coz of the endless hours of meditation’ someone said, ‘I’m sure it’s because of all the beedi he smokes’ another person barked, the kid who was silently observing all this slowly said, ‘It’s because of a dog and a silencer’.
Baba turned around from across the road and smiled. ‘True Son. True’, he said softly and limped away into the darkness.
November 12, 2008
Pavement Revelations
The vehicular cacophony from the road was music to his ears. The rumbling sound from his tummy was the perfect percussion. Sitting on the pavement he wrote.
The words started to flow as he paused to let the moment sink in. The sky was blue and clear like a young lady’s eyes, the air smelling of crispy somosas and cheap cigarette. Putting the scribbling pad on his thigh and biting the tip of the pencil he was holding so dearly, he was watching the sights and sounds around him.
A eunuch with flashy bangles and marigold on her hair swayed her way towards him. She placed a hand on his head and blessed him or at least he wished she had. On the contrary she now stood next to him demanding money. He didn’t want to give her any and continued his distant stare into nothingness ignoring the presence of a rather dusky, brightly draped eunuch in a saree that was riding high unto her ankles. This continued for a while and the agitated woman then cursed him under her breath and walked away showing him and the few people who had gathered around an ample view of her flat chest and hairy arms.
As the evening sun slowly began setting behind the tall buildings, he could see the moon playing hide and seek with the clouds. He stopped everything that he was doing and continued to gaze at the beauty of the white ball that was playing tricks with him. A smiled escaped the corner of his mouth.
The scribbling pad now had a lot of doodles. Of little boys in sweaters, of mothers holding the hands of their little ones and walking on a street, of dogs lying under push carts selling tender coconuts, of the eunuch smiling and posing like a model.
“All that a man has to say or do that can
possibly concern mankind is in some shape
or other to tell the story of his love-
and to sing; and if he is fortunate and
keeps alive, he will be forever in love.”
He remembered Thoreau’s words that he had read in a book recently. They made so much sense, he thought to himself. Or maybe they always made sense but it was only now that he had the clarity that he could understand the essence and the meaning of those lines.
A kid with bright wide eyes came closer to him and was amazed looking at the doodles on his pad. He stood there mesmerized with a smile and pointed at one of the doodles & said something like, “Dog. Alsatian?” Was that a question that he was asking or a discovery that he just did? He wondered what it would have been, but smiled at the kid and showed a couple of tricks he had learnt from his father. It was simple, the tricks. How to make a police officer from a tea cup and how to draw a person’s face with all the numbers from 0 to 9. He was amazed looking at how his father could make something so real with such ease. And he felt the same effect and joy on the kid as it was his when he was small.
He folded the pad and placed it back into the bag he was carrying. He lit a smoke. He walked away from the pavement as he saw an elderly couple walking towards him. He always felt that smoking in the presence of elders was in some way being disrespectful and he didn’t want to do anything to annoy them or spoil their evening walk. As he walked through narrow lanes, he could see the neon lights beginning to light up the streets and the shops. There was a lot of activity on the street. He saw a bright light coming from one of the shops that sold antiques. He loved that shop. He could get some of the most amazing things from there and his house was in fact full of little things that he had bought from this shop.
The shopkeeper was a friend and he waved a friendly hello and continued to explain the working of an old grandfather clock to an eager customer. He knew his way around the shop and hence didn’t bother waiting for a sales person to direct him. He went to the corner of the room, where he knew was a drop down ladder that took him to the attic where a lot of antiques were dumped, stored not dumped according to the owner. He moved to the dimly lit attic and his nostrils were immediately filled with the smell of old rugs, dust filled books and lamps and rodent pee. He smiled to himself remembering his conversation once with the owner about cleaning up the attic and him moving in to that place filled with absolute treasures. He saw an old book dumped alongside kashmiri shawls and half-broken temple idols and some old furniture. He lifted the book and dusted the cover. The dust from the book moved up like mist with the moonlight coming into the room from a broken down window pane.
“The works of Thoreau”, it said in big bold typography.
On a sudden he knew what was going to keep him occupied.
October 13, 2008
It was 6 in the evening...
I was sitting next to the glass overlooking the busy evening traffic on 12th Main road. The sights were not something new to me. I have sat there by the same window with a coffee and observed people and vehicles on the road. But it felt different today. It felt extremely different.
As if someone had shot a video of the busy traffic and was playing it in slow motion for me to sit and watch. Cars were moving past me, with their headlights on high beam. A cyclist was trying to avoid the puddle on the road that was present thanks to the confusing weather pattern that this city is blessed (cursed) with. An old couple walking hand in hand and all that was missing was an old kishore kumar or Rafi’s song.
Suddenly everything stopped. Everyone stopped. The slow motion was over. Someone had pressed the pause button. They knew I was watching. They knew I loved the whole scene that was being played before my eyes. The coffee tasted lovelier than always. The mosquitoes seemed to have taken a break to watch this movie too. Didn’t feel a single one of those blood sucking thingies on my skin for what seemed like a long time.
“Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man. Play a song for me”. I don’t think am sleepy and I don’t think am letting anything come and stop me from experiencing something that I have never felt before. This was completely insane.
Where is my beer when I need one? There it was. On the footpath. I could see how cold it was. I could sense the chill from the other side of the road. Bliss awaits me and all I need to do is cross the road and take it. Cross the road when everything had stopped or so I thought.
Bam. Bam. Crash.
I was lying on the road with my back on the tar road. My head felt funny. My hands were too numb. My leg. I think. Was bleeding? Missing? I don’t know.
“Are you ok?” I heard a voice. A girl’s voice, calling out to me. I opened my eyes. The sun was directly on me. I couldn’t see anything. Everything was dark. I closed my eyes.
There were people around me. They were looking at me. I felt like I was in some zoo. With people paying up at the entrance to come watch me. Perform.
Hindustani music was playing in the background and there it was. The old man smiling at me from the adjacent bed. He was singing. He was the singer, whose voice I had been hearing all evening?
He had a cardiac arrest. The poor old man. He was singing so well. I missed him. I will miss him.
Suno bhai sadho…. suno bhai sadho…
As if someone had shot a video of the busy traffic and was playing it in slow motion for me to sit and watch. Cars were moving past me, with their headlights on high beam. A cyclist was trying to avoid the puddle on the road that was present thanks to the confusing weather pattern that this city is blessed (cursed) with. An old couple walking hand in hand and all that was missing was an old kishore kumar or Rafi’s song.
Suddenly everything stopped. Everyone stopped. The slow motion was over. Someone had pressed the pause button. They knew I was watching. They knew I loved the whole scene that was being played before my eyes. The coffee tasted lovelier than always. The mosquitoes seemed to have taken a break to watch this movie too. Didn’t feel a single one of those blood sucking thingies on my skin for what seemed like a long time.
“Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man. Play a song for me”. I don’t think am sleepy and I don’t think am letting anything come and stop me from experiencing something that I have never felt before. This was completely insane.
Where is my beer when I need one? There it was. On the footpath. I could see how cold it was. I could sense the chill from the other side of the road. Bliss awaits me and all I need to do is cross the road and take it. Cross the road when everything had stopped or so I thought.
Bam. Bam. Crash.
I was lying on the road with my back on the tar road. My head felt funny. My hands were too numb. My leg. I think. Was bleeding? Missing? I don’t know.
“Are you ok?” I heard a voice. A girl’s voice, calling out to me. I opened my eyes. The sun was directly on me. I couldn’t see anything. Everything was dark. I closed my eyes.
There were people around me. They were looking at me. I felt like I was in some zoo. With people paying up at the entrance to come watch me. Perform.
Hindustani music was playing in the background and there it was. The old man smiling at me from the adjacent bed. He was singing. He was the singer, whose voice I had been hearing all evening?
He had a cardiac arrest. The poor old man. He was singing so well. I missed him. I will miss him.
Suno bhai sadho…. suno bhai sadho…
September 11, 2008
Randomness
Thirteen stations
Twenty seven tokens
Fourteen litres
Nineteen bicycles
Ninety seven letters
Sixty words
What the fuck am I typing?Randomness is a wonderful feeling. I thrive on it.
I mean I could just sit here all day, look at the people walking in and out of the coffee shop, continue sipping on my coffee and lighting a smoke every now and then. But...
There she comes again. That little brat. She has been doing that all evening. I have only been here in this cafe for the last six hours. Not moved an inch.
Is it really possible? She sent me a text. I guess so. But then again, I couldn't be sure.
Eighty eight songs
Thirty six heads
Fifteen coats
Twenty cups
Eleven names
Seventy dogs
Ten texts
Fourteen calls
This is insane. Am sure that's what the person serving coffee is thinking. He has done this over and over again. He has seen me here almost all the time. Everyday. I don't disappoint him. she walked in slowly. Her hair flying swaying gracefully thanks to the wind. It was drizzling outside. I could see a few drops of the rain on her face. She stood there next to the elevator, wiping away the droplets.
Is it really possible? She sent me a text. I guess so. But then again, I couldn't be sure.
I know what you're thinking. Another one of my random ramblings. But look closer. Not so close dumbass. I mean not with your nostril sticking on the monitor.Now, that's better. Do you see it? Do you? I have been doing this for the last four years. Writing stuff here. Posting things. I have a zillion other things that I have written on tissue papers, on the back of bills, on scribbling pads. It's there. Somewhere. I don't post all. I don't want to. I choose not to.
But why would you care? You come to this page to see if there is anything interesting. I disappoint you on most days. Then there was silence.
Someone asked me once. Why do I write? I say, coz I have nothing better to do. Then the smart ass that she is, asked me, I thought you didn't want to write anymore and that's why you quit. I say... someone didn't flush in the loo. That disgusts me.
Do you care about the comments on your blog? What do you want me to say? I do. Like, yes. Sometimes? Or else I would have de-activated the possibility if I didn't want to. But that doesn't stop me from writing, posting and sharing what I want to. There are people out there who know me. Who know the real me. Who know the person I am. They don't quite care if I write a suicide note or a love letter. They don't care if I say Screw the world or screw you.
Screw you. She said and walked away.
I should stop doing this. I should stop this random crap. I read your mind. Didn't I?
Five years, meaningless, mindless, mind fucked, Clueless, happy, strange, sad, angry, hurt, posts, more posts, more... it's been there. I have beent here. So have you.
It's been good. It's been crazy. It's been one interesting journey so far.
Randomness is fun.
I had a wonderful time. Maybe we should do it again sometime.
Twenty seven tokens
Fourteen litres
Nineteen bicycles
Ninety seven letters
Sixty words
What the fuck am I typing?Randomness is a wonderful feeling. I thrive on it.
I mean I could just sit here all day, look at the people walking in and out of the coffee shop, continue sipping on my coffee and lighting a smoke every now and then. But...
There she comes again. That little brat. She has been doing that all evening. I have only been here in this cafe for the last six hours. Not moved an inch.
Is it really possible? She sent me a text. I guess so. But then again, I couldn't be sure.
Eighty eight songs
Thirty six heads
Fifteen coats
Twenty cups
Eleven names
Seventy dogs
Ten texts
Fourteen calls
This is insane. Am sure that's what the person serving coffee is thinking. He has done this over and over again. He has seen me here almost all the time. Everyday. I don't disappoint him. she walked in slowly. Her hair flying swaying gracefully thanks to the wind. It was drizzling outside. I could see a few drops of the rain on her face. She stood there next to the elevator, wiping away the droplets.
Is it really possible? She sent me a text. I guess so. But then again, I couldn't be sure.
I know what you're thinking. Another one of my random ramblings. But look closer. Not so close dumbass. I mean not with your nostril sticking on the monitor.Now, that's better. Do you see it? Do you? I have been doing this for the last four years. Writing stuff here. Posting things. I have a zillion other things that I have written on tissue papers, on the back of bills, on scribbling pads. It's there. Somewhere. I don't post all. I don't want to. I choose not to.
But why would you care? You come to this page to see if there is anything interesting. I disappoint you on most days. Then there was silence.
Someone asked me once. Why do I write? I say, coz I have nothing better to do. Then the smart ass that she is, asked me, I thought you didn't want to write anymore and that's why you quit. I say... someone didn't flush in the loo. That disgusts me.
Do you care about the comments on your blog? What do you want me to say? I do. Like, yes. Sometimes? Or else I would have de-activated the possibility if I didn't want to. But that doesn't stop me from writing, posting and sharing what I want to. There are people out there who know me. Who know the real me. Who know the person I am. They don't quite care if I write a suicide note or a love letter. They don't care if I say Screw the world or screw you.
Screw you. She said and walked away.
I should stop doing this. I should stop this random crap. I read your mind. Didn't I?
Five years, meaningless, mindless, mind fucked, Clueless, happy, strange, sad, angry, hurt, posts, more posts, more... it's been there. I have beent here. So have you.
It's been good. It's been crazy. It's been one interesting journey so far.
Randomness is fun.
I had a wonderful time. Maybe we should do it again sometime.
September 08, 2008
Bloody Mess
As he was sitting in that room with a bright white tube light above his head, he felt uneasy. White light was not his favorite. It made him really uncomfortable. It always made him close his eyes. It reminded him of things that he wanted to forget.
In a fraction of a second there was blood all over. It was red, dark and it was oozing quickly. He shook his hand as a reflex and a few drops fell on the floor. It made a circular pattern on the white floor.
She walked out calling his name. She looked small and petite with a blue skirt and a tiny blue cap. She had a tray in her hands that was grey. She looked around the narrow hall and called his name out again. A little louder this time.
The blood was now dripping onto his arm. The white cloth that he had used to cover the cut was now bloody. He had held his hand up closer to his body and so a few drops had fallen on his shirt. The sight made a little kid sitting next to him, hold on to his mommy close. She held her hands over the kid's eyes. So that he didn't have to see the gore.
Machine gun sounds and people screaming. Blood smeared on walls. Blood on the floor. Blood on the ground. Bodies lying around. Strewn all over the place. Organs scattered everywhere. Pain. Death. Life. Death. Blood. Devastation.
They ran. Faster with each second. Their breath getting faster. Gasping. She held his hand as they ran past people on the road. Pushing an old couple. A cyclist slides and avoids a roadside stall. Crashing into a car. Honking cars, rude motorists. Crazy man walking his dog. It had to stop.
She called his name out loud again. He got up and walked towards the door outside which she was standing. He had come to see the doctor. She gestured him to come inside. There he was. With a deep intense look on his face. He was looking at an X-ray. He nodded his head and turned around. He was disfigured. There was blood from his neck. His eyes were missing. A piece of his tongue was lying on the table. He walked slowly towards the man.
The girl kept looking at him. She looked like she wanted him to know something. But what? Her black dress was swaying with the air from the ceiling fan. He looked up to see where the air was coming from. He looked down and she was gone.
It was all too sudden when the old lady held his shoulder from the back. He turned back. She was breathing heavily and her forehead was wet. It was her sweat. The little kid walked across the hall. He was happy to see her. He wiped the sweat off his face and looked up at the lady. She was smiling. He walked upto her. He helped her wipe the sweat off her brow. He wiped the sweat on his shirt. He bent down to look at the shirt and there was blood. His jaw dropped and when he looked up to see the old lady, she was bleeding from a deep cut on her head.
He began to throw up. All over the floor. All over his dress. He just couldn't control it. It was all too scary. He had no clue what was going on. He closed his eyes and screamed. He screamed but words failed to come out of his mouth. He had three of four people looking at him. They didn't react. They had a blank expression on their face. No one cared. No one bothered. No one was alive.
The bell rang. It was gentle at first. It began to get louder and louder. There was now a pattern. He could hear people laughing. The laughter was evil. It was sadistic. The bell became even more loud. He got up. He walked towards the door. He was still in a daze. He was disoriented. He opened the door and his maid was standing at the door. She walked past him and entered the house. She said, "You can go back to sleep now. I shall clean up and lock the house".
In a fraction of a second there was blood all over. It was red, dark and it was oozing quickly. He shook his hand as a reflex and a few drops fell on the floor. It made a circular pattern on the white floor.
She walked out calling his name. She looked small and petite with a blue skirt and a tiny blue cap. She had a tray in her hands that was grey. She looked around the narrow hall and called his name out again. A little louder this time.
The blood was now dripping onto his arm. The white cloth that he had used to cover the cut was now bloody. He had held his hand up closer to his body and so a few drops had fallen on his shirt. The sight made a little kid sitting next to him, hold on to his mommy close. She held her hands over the kid's eyes. So that he didn't have to see the gore.
Machine gun sounds and people screaming. Blood smeared on walls. Blood on the floor. Blood on the ground. Bodies lying around. Strewn all over the place. Organs scattered everywhere. Pain. Death. Life. Death. Blood. Devastation.
They ran. Faster with each second. Their breath getting faster. Gasping. She held his hand as they ran past people on the road. Pushing an old couple. A cyclist slides and avoids a roadside stall. Crashing into a car. Honking cars, rude motorists. Crazy man walking his dog. It had to stop.
She called his name out loud again. He got up and walked towards the door outside which she was standing. He had come to see the doctor. She gestured him to come inside. There he was. With a deep intense look on his face. He was looking at an X-ray. He nodded his head and turned around. He was disfigured. There was blood from his neck. His eyes were missing. A piece of his tongue was lying on the table. He walked slowly towards the man.
The girl kept looking at him. She looked like she wanted him to know something. But what? Her black dress was swaying with the air from the ceiling fan. He looked up to see where the air was coming from. He looked down and she was gone.
It was all too sudden when the old lady held his shoulder from the back. He turned back. She was breathing heavily and her forehead was wet. It was her sweat. The little kid walked across the hall. He was happy to see her. He wiped the sweat off his face and looked up at the lady. She was smiling. He walked upto her. He helped her wipe the sweat off her brow. He wiped the sweat on his shirt. He bent down to look at the shirt and there was blood. His jaw dropped and when he looked up to see the old lady, she was bleeding from a deep cut on her head.
He began to throw up. All over the floor. All over his dress. He just couldn't control it. It was all too scary. He had no clue what was going on. He closed his eyes and screamed. He screamed but words failed to come out of his mouth. He had three of four people looking at him. They didn't react. They had a blank expression on their face. No one cared. No one bothered. No one was alive.
The bell rang. It was gentle at first. It began to get louder and louder. There was now a pattern. He could hear people laughing. The laughter was evil. It was sadistic. The bell became even more loud. He got up. He walked towards the door. He was still in a daze. He was disoriented. He opened the door and his maid was standing at the door. She walked past him and entered the house. She said, "You can go back to sleep now. I shall clean up and lock the house".
August 31, 2008
I Hope I don't fall in love with you
It's just strange. This feeling.
Too fast too furious.
But love every bit of it.
Why does this have to happen?
Why now?
Meant to be?
Another way to get hurt?
Been there. Seen that.
Is it?
Maybe not.
But could be.
Should it?
Instincts say otherwise.
Heart is all over the place.
Mind is a bit clogged.
Fingers seem to be doing overtime.
Smiles & tears are the same family.
Fear is just an angry relative.
Too fast too furious.
But love every bit of it.
Why does this have to happen?
Why now?
Meant to be?
Another way to get hurt?
Been there. Seen that.
Is it?
Maybe not.
But could be.
Should it?
Instincts say otherwise.
Heart is all over the place.
Mind is a bit clogged.
Fingers seem to be doing overtime.
Smiles & tears are the same family.
Fear is just an angry relative.
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