going going!

2011 leaves . This year was very eventful for me . I realized a lot of things .

1) You always get what you give .
2) Keep your faith with you , no matter what!
3) You are loved more than you know . Try testing :P
4) Your favourites give you a sense of belonging . Atif for that matter .


The 5th pointer -

Your biggest strength is your greatest happiness .

Think about point 5 and tell me if it made you smile .

Happy New Year :)

Love

S

Will it ?

There are things sensed in silence.

 Delicately you undress your unclear thoughts to look how pure or ugly things can be. 

This bulb and it's yellow in my dark room , indicates the night will stay a little longer . 

Eager I am , to watch the sun rise ! :)

Will it finally ?

To love , lies , Etc

Rudra was wondering what can work . Silently puffing his ciggarttes one after the other , ash making a sort of ant house on the floor and the remains lined up like scattered trains on a railway station. He was thinking about the station only, where he met Naina4 years ago. She was late for her train and would have almost missed it had Rudra not held her hand and help her run along. She was slow , in every work , in every phase of life . Rudra was fast. And this was the only thing that was opposite . Naina was very talkitive . She could charm all the uncle's , aunty's , bhaiya ji's and no matter what , she had her say in the end . She needs what she needs , and the world had spoiled her even more. The world had all this while given her whatever she wanted .

Things began to change and they became wonderful friends . Too often friendship becomes a necessity . Solitude is plenty and appreciated , but loneliness is killing. None of them was sure whether it was love or not. But they were sure that it will be very hard to find a companion , who will be able to share something better with them . Hence they decided to marry .

Like every new couple they were happy . But now . Rudra was wondering whether their story will end in a few days . He was reading a novel earlier, a story of how eternal love is and how it changes things for good . He saw Naina sleeping , and wondered if all this is true.

Naina was bold , audacious but slow , cute and slow in her work. Because her beautiful eyes made the world move around the sun , she was used to attention. The aura of her kajal and smile was overwhelming. And Rudra fell for it. It was only today , that he felt out of this centripetal force.

Rudra always knew Naina kept secrets . She wasn't a perfect lover , one that would say yes to a yes , no for a no. Never. Naina was on her own. Her independence was what Rudra loved , hence never questioned. She made decisions which were normally to be discussed between a couple , but she never did . Rudra respected and gave her all the space . Today Rudra hated himself for his every effort.

Naina was a liar. Rudra read her diary and got to know every moment's real version. The child that Naina said was cute , was not cute in her diary . The saree that Rudra gifted her , was not good enough in her diary . She did not enjoy at  the place where they place where they went for honeymoon and she lied about her pregnancy too.

He was so drowned in the circle of lies that his love seemed far from reality. Everything right in her world was wrong.

When you fall in love , it is your second life. You are born new , you begin to morph, all for good . But when you suffer a defeat in love , it gets bitter than death . May be , for Rudra , this was the same time .

Naina woke up and saw Rudra with her diary . "So you have read it all? " , she said .
Rudra nods .

Naina thought it was the time to confess , truths, lies and beyond. Naina told Rudra that she was a psycopathic  liar. When she met Rudra , she noticed when they talk , she does not lie , not even compulsively. Her habit leaves her , her world becomes true , correct and pure . Rudra was her panacea . But her habit takes a toll on her , and she compulsively writes all the lies every night in her diary.

Rudra did not understand whom to believe - a pschopathic writer or talker .
She told Rudra truths about him , his habits , his mistakes and what she feels about them.

Rudra knew that this is someone whom he has always loved and this is the only truth that matters for both of them.

Love was always beyond truths ,  theirs was beyond lies too . To love ,lies , etc ....your ways are beyond conscience and mind .

:) (:

Some day , I will get myself tatooed . 

Distinct remarkable traits of the soul beneath this flesh .

Someday will find words :)

This picture

When I last came to see you , I was a little young. Not that I have grown old now , I was closer to you dear moment. I now feel , a little away. Commotion resides , the car blows the horn , an eveteaser whistles , the roadside baby cries , all this happens for a while till the sun sets. For a moment the world accepts this darkness . What next ? It moves on .

They all interupt me in remebering what that moment was about . It seems like a far fetched dream now , slowly trying to sound real , with me trying with all my strength to do the same.

Yes , it was winters , this season . Late evening , we all were tired , cold but very happy . Togetherness was striking . An year after , we all are at measurable distances , distances that do not drive friends away . I remember you saying , let's have a cup of tea . Isn't it still the same ? The need of a winter evening . Don't you remember me , with every cup of 'Chai' :)

Feather

Tales brewing with coffee.

Muse adjusted in paper and mind.

Your fall is not because of gravity.

And neither is your rise . 

Similarities .

Yesterday I met " A " . "A" is ambitious and professional . He is not like me , but is not very different either .
A lot of things are common between people  that are mean and people that are mild . I wonder then why is the "bridge of differences" so elaborated and talked about, where as if you see, the similarities are everything that matter when you connect with someone . He also has some dreams that sound silly to me . Some dreams picked from ashes that never found their way to the sky . Does that make him happy ? Yes . He has lived those dreams no matter what and he is happy . Does it make me happy ? I too have also lost my dreams on my way up , it makes me happy I was brave enough to carry them . He wears spectacles , he cannot see much without them . He can vaguely identify me as me , but identifying friends is not only about his clear vision. I also wear spectacles . I can identify him with vision and without vision . Does that make me better ? No . Do you ever mistake while identifying your mother , father or brother ? No. It's within. It never separates. "A" is shrewd at times . While I take my time to figure out a perfect sentence that can calm a shrewd person , I indulge in another thought. Where is this bitterness leading ? Leading to a short life span ? May be . But then a lot of sugar is harmful too. Paranoid , the world is paranoid . So much fear you see. I see , "A" sees . "A" also tries to be good sometimes and help people over come this paranoid trend. Does it make him less paranoid ? Yes . Does it make me less paranoid ? Yes . I hear stories of how his lift man worked extra hours while he was busy with his project to serve him coffee , tea and chit chat about his wife and kids in between . "A" makes friends with everyone . Does it make me friendly ? Yes I learn a lot . So we together conclude that no two people are different . We all have had ice creams in childhood and danced like the worst dancer ever, learnt to take a leap , learnt to fear , to go back , to forgive and forget. We are experts in being human . Does it make me more human ? Yes .
So the next time you meet someone whom you find weird - freakish - not so sober . Get to know more of him  . Get to know why . And get to know the similarities , it will help.
If you can understand the difference between the sun and the moon , you can certainly understand what is common between them ..

Do you smile ?

These days , I encounter smiles . Funny , responsive , teaser smiles . The ones that know how you would react to them. Reaction is assumed to be a shy , in awe smile. Then suddenly someone shoots a smile wrapped in anger . Catch it with the train of apology smiles. Anger for anger can spread hatred like forest fire . Some smiles are intently captured in Facebook pictures . They rather look superficial. Like a balloon taken to be a moon . They speak of moments intended to satisfy vanity . Now tell me , since when has vanity taken the place of smiles ? Smiles - are only the ones that snuggle you with yourself .
Snuggle , smile , do anything , but get it right .

We have all done this crime , taken vanity to be a smile . :)

No monosyllables

The aura of repetition

Monosyllables that are no more single.

The isolated alphabets stuck in the epiglottis

She uses - sometimes never.

Sometimes always .

Like a fat Punjabi aunt running to kiss a child

The "u" of "I love you"

The "e" of "me"

The "w" of "awe"

The "a" of "wao"

are all different forms of irritation and affection

Such widely known 

Repulsively repetitive . 

Avoid girls ! Just try and avoid!

:)

Long way !

There something belongs
Something settles
A fight . The noise . The peace . The dust

There something passes me
Like something meant only for my eyes
Strikes heart , seems strong.
A waterfall . A place of silence.

There something abandons me
I return to my single self.
A long ride . A little music
The long way taken . Really long .

Skyline

I notice the traffic and it's signature on the road from a fourteen story building . The road shines in the reflection of cars and is dim lighted where there is a mob moving around. The sound does not reach my ears , but I can sense the chaos . Yes , it is overwhelming and alarming.

A rickshaw man tries to adjust himself along with his rickshaw in the crowd. The vehicles play their routine zigzag . I wonder when will they give up . The skyline is also  changed . It seems annoyed. For no one now watches the sun while it sets or the colour that the skyline takes in late evening hours. 

The thing is that, a lot of things like the skyline are annoyed. I can sense the chaos . Yes , it is overwhelming and alarming .

Afterglow

Draupadi thought that may be this is the end of her secret . A secret which only the pandavas and her mother knows. The reality will seemingly lead everyone to distress . She knew that everyone here is waiting for Duryodhan to remove her attire and dramatize nudity . Could this be the first time a woman of her age fear her birth mark being revealed rather than being raped ? She calmed down to gauge the hideousness of the mark . It covered a large area of her pelvic bone towards the right of her torso. None of the pandavas were comfortable with this mole except Yudhishthir. He was the only one to confront her from front while making love, while the others used a different route. Long routes to circumvent the little parts that demean your beauty . Have men always been so moved by body than by soul ? Indeed , hideous, she thought. Nevertheless , it was not about men . She had to agree, her Yudhishthir was uneasy. She welcomed Duryodhan like a night, a night so dark and defeating.  Will this be called the fate of her beauty ?

Later in the afterglow of a Jugnu she thanked Krishna for His might and bid good bye to the night that kept the secret as it is.

Afterglow, yes afterglow .

Cloud

Rising like the mist 

My fear take a place

Above that far fetched cloud

The winter balls fall

And engulfs the entire place

Breath and body

Are so cold of the winter's intentions

So cold, that every cold thing shivers in return

And I , whose fear just left 

Is numb to realize

That the cold something, abandoned me

A war so cold , between my fear and self.

It's all over .

Something will stay, something will leave.

Back

My break thankfully ends.
The reason I took this break was , I had started blogging something that I am strictly against - Blogging personal.
So I took my time out to know - Is what I think right for me ? Or am I imposing something over myself? Have I always wanted to write personal ? A yes or a no? The answer came NO !
So this post is for every one who blogs personal .

So much good in this world. The internet advances and everyone can have a page of their own. A page to express their views on something. But then the entire world turned personal suddenly , when people started to take their blog posts as yet another personal diary entry. For two years as the editor of my college magazine I tried and encourage the blog culture there. Some good people responded fast, the other good ones did not. So much good again . Vidhi started with her amazing poems (http://feelingsemotionsperceptions.blogspot.com/) and Diksha blogged Fashion and Journalism here (http://audereagereauferre.blogspot.com/). Two people , who should blog, because they are so good at writing. Also there were some others who always came up with love poems. The entries on their blogs were brimmed with love, so much that their beau might just choke and die !
I started blogging with my poems. Till college I could always find stuff to go on and on, but then it decreased and this was the cause of my worry. From the beginning itself, I had Mohit(http://hereismohit.blogspot.com/) via whom I came across Tanuj (http://dotcommedtanuj.blogspot.com/) , Chandan (http://somewhereinsidearyan.blogspot.com/) and then Kunal too (http://random-renditions.blogspot.com/) . They have always been my inspiration.
Lately I have come across a few bloggers who write both personal and fiction ( I thought to count myself in this category). But then I gave this thought a halt and hence took a break for the analysis. The analysis is, I never took to blogging because I wanted to write a memoir here. It's a blog, so bloody public. Not my diary(not that I write one) , not my story, not about my meetings with people or the community I live in. Once in a while , it's okay. It's okay to let the world know of your little joys and your limited pains. But I say, why the entire story ? Why your entire life ?
I am a very shy and closed person, I never tell anyone whom ,I have never met , anything apart from my opinion about something that they have asked me. Why should I? They don't know me , and will straight away judge me by my virtual words! Every thing that you read here , is fiction and should be fiction.
Why do you think your blog is another book in the making? Has Chetan Bhagat taken a toll on you?

I came across a very silly life story today , and I realized why I could not find words in my Jagjit Singh post (which you will no longer find on my blog) . Because I never wanted to post about his death. It's my personal music choice.
Anyway, the story was utterly disgusting , with all the wrong stuff. Such misguiding stuff. Write about issues that would make a change , or write fiction. Why write for page hits ? Why write a diary ? How much thrilled people feel in being revealed !
Such open stories that I can tell their ABCD. And all this for getting known ?  I feel no thrill in knowing someone whose life is a public page and there is nothing more to him/her than just that one page! He/She is not a deeper person, not a thinker , he/she has nothing which only I as a friend can know.

 If only you know, how beautiful it is to know someone actually , you will never commit such a crime.
Of course you are a gregarious person and you like to make friends. But then open your story to be fetched , caught and suffocated with fake appreciations ? Talk to people in person , get to know them better , but why place every such meeting on a blog ?
I am averse to this idea of a blog replacing a personal diary.

I think the best way to know yourself , is through your eyes. Your words are so important , pen them down in your diary , for introspection. Not on any blog to misguide someone or reveal your social self !

Blog for a cause or blog for your fiction.

I hereby remove one such post , which was never meant to be posted.

I feel good to back here. Now that I know , what to avoid ! :)

Ironical , I know , because this post itself is personal. But no more personal posts !

Break !

Hi Reader :)
I'm glad you are here and that you are reading this. It's been long since I've taken a break.So I've decided to take on now.
 My words aren't abiding my thoughts and also the other way round. The poems are lost and random words are clinging here and there. Till I get back to my senses, I bid you goodbye !

See you soon ! Just taking time to shed some fears, get some tan (not really ) and see you right back :)

Lots of love !

Always there!

S

esoteric.dreams@gmail.com 

Rise

Coil around the heart 

Like a bush around the rose

Beaten and lost

Wounded seems the soul

Do not make noise

Trust me, the silence heals

Abandon all you thought was once yours

Heal , jump and fly

Look you are so away from this earth

This is what it takes to rise

Omens

Dark , dreaded , owned omens

Looks like we all have our own

Cats, dogs , cross-roads

Signs and esoteric arrows

People grow old with omens

And omens grow old with people

Omens at times

Strike the disbeliever 

Like an atheist encounters God

Slightly wary , slightly defeated

A moment of shift happens

From disbelief to belief 

From belief to omens

When you find exactly what you need

It brims you with satisfaction when you find something very similar to what you are looking for. I found this somewhere.
I have not written it. But I would want everyone to read and follow . Here it goes -

Don’t give up….One day I decided to quit…I quit my job, my relationship, my spirituality… I wanted to quit my life.I went to the woods to have one last talk with God.“God”, I asked, “Can you give me one good reason not to quit?”
His answer surprised me…“Look around”, He said. “Do you see the fern and the bamboo?”“Yes”, I replied.“When I planted the fern and the bamboo seeds, I took very good care of them.I gave them light.I gave them water.The fern quickly grew from the earth.Its brilliant green covered the floor.Yet nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo.In the second year the Fern grew more vibrant and plentiful.And again, nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo. He said.“In year three there was still nothing from the bamboo seed.But I would not quit.In year four, again, there was nothing from the bamboo seed. I wouldnot quit.” He said.“Then in the fifth year a tiny sprout emerged from the earth. Comparedto the fern it was seemingly small and insignificant…But just 6months later the bamboo rose to over 100 feet tall.It had spent the five years growing roots. Those roots made it strong and gave it what it needed to survive.I would not give any of my creations a challenge it could not handle.”He asked me. “Did you know, my child, that all this time you have been struggling, you have actually been growing roots”.“I would not quit on the bamboo.I will never quit on you.”“Don’t compare yourself to others.”He said.“The bamboo had a different Purpose than the fern.Yet they both make the forest beautiful.”“Your time will come”, God said to me.“You will rise high”“How high should I rise?”I asked.“How high will the bamboo rise?” He asked in return.“As high as it can?” I questioned.“Yes.” He said, “Give me glory by rising as high as you can.”I hope these words can help you see that God will never give up on you.Never, Never, Never Give up.For the Christian Prayer is not an option but an opportunity.Don’t tell the Lord how big the problem is,tell the problem how Great the Lord is!

Silhouettes

"You cannot undo things . Life will give you all sorts of experiences to fret about. You never stop cribbing, life never stops to listen. Fair enough ! Don't you think so? "
So tonight we will discuss life! I thought. After a long day of work, she expects me to talk philosophy at this hour. Yes it is 2am - so called morning. A little early to be called a morning and a little late to be called night. But this is her time , time when she talks to me. I am - 'A'.
I welcome you to her world.

So she talks about her new camera and why she is unable to get a nice sleep. I am to be blamed for everything in this world. So I take the blames. Who will otherwise? I have to. I am meant to. No don't take me casually. I have a very strong point here. If your girl blames you for something, you are responsible. Be it tsunami , oil spills , forecasts , her horoscope ! Damn ! It's only you who does all this to her. Why ? You ask why ? Because you are her world! World is responsible for world-wide events ( I know that sounds lame)
So I sit back and listen to her.
She notices the silhouettes on the wall. The ones cast by the candle. She touches the flame with her long nails. It obviously doesn't hurt that way.
"So you must be thinking I crib a lot" , she said.

Sometimes , I think . She does all these things to revisit the old pages of our story. It has been long since we have been together. It could make her feel that I love her a little less now. As I always say, there are dependencies in love , and love towards some dependencies. She makes sure that what exists between us, is the former one. Dependent in love.

So after playing for a while with the candle, she returns to the question.
"I know you crib a lot, but then I love to solve it all for you" , I said.
She smiles, she believes.
She knows very well , that I do not like the fact that she cribs about small things. She must know I am here. And that I will always be here.
As the sun rises, we take the form of silhouettes, the darkness does not separate us, nor does the light.

She sleeps well , her questions are now answered.

gust of ..

A sudden thing , tempted by my arrival , started circling me like a perpetrator. I tried with all my strength to stop it from creating a turbulence in my scene, but all in vain. This something had entered the scene even before I could realize. It felt like a love and hate relationship . For it loved getting entangled in my hair , attire and eyes . I , brimmed with agony , felt it like a stone. Just when I decided to vanish from the scene , I saw a man . He was dressed formally ,not with the kind of demeanor I assumed him to be. I say so , because when he entered my scene , he held his arms loose in the air. The one that caused turbulence my side was the one that caused  pleasure for him . He came close and said, "I knew this breeze will dishevel me with all it's might. I cannot take it's might away . All I can do , is surrender with peace. For this way , both the sides will be in a better position , The wind - satisfied and the weaker me - happy while I yield. "
Now , the scene had two people. Both enjoying the mighty breeze .

Will work for ?

I found so many images on google by this title .

Will work for money , hugs , love , peace , social change and even sex .

Quite an alarming question this seems to be. When I asked myself , the 'will work for ?' question 

I will work for my book !

Such beautiful moulds inspiration takes .

Atif's song on repeat is inspiration for me ! Also is a book and a story.

What's yours ? Are you inspired ? 

Loops

Loop inside the loop

She looks for a place to tuck her attire

Complicated , loose loops

How will they behave?

Loops inside loops

Loopholes in the dress that 

A dirty man looks for

Still , complicated, loose loops

Change him , he needs the change

Make him a slut for a day

And he must know

How dirty his bloody eyes were

How dirty was the making of his soul.

At times

A triangular folded page was the cause of her discomfort . The story , completely written to please it's audience , could not make a place for itself in her heart. She seemed like a partial woman . A chauvinist who hates to hear about the goodness of her nation and the government . She had her own supporters . A clan that could talk about how some governments did everything for good , which was rid of corruption and full of transparency . Like she had a few takers , the writer was an acclaimed one too. It was against her rules to despise the narration of an acclaimed writer . Torn between her  thoughts and her rules , she opened the book . This time to read with none of her obsessions , neither chauvinism nor objective rules.

Because she inherently contradicted his point at every word , after every page, her discomforts rose. After few hours of reading , she took a break from this writer and searched on the internet about what he was doing these days . She found out that he is involved in social activism against some norms and laws of the nation. He is supporting parties that want radical changes in the system . Yes, the system he once supported.

Suddenly all this left her thinking , that if after all these years , he could go against every word of his entire book to an extent that he sets a battle against the system he supported , who know , she might , leaving her chauvinism , fall for her country , before the book ends . 

Now there were two stories . The one in the book , and the one in her mind . She read one and structured the other simultaneously . Without any bias . 

Her chauvinism set her free finally . Freedom of thoughts can lead to freedom of judgement .

Love thyself !

How often you wonder, how enough is enough ?

Step aside from the race  , hold your self tight , and shout. 

When you are at your side, it's enough .

Like water, always stick to yourself .

Beneath stars , about stars

Beneath moonlight , she and my novel was all that I used to look forward to. We shared a habit . The habit of reading novels before we sleep. The slum did not have many children who could read novels . It did not matter. I was there for her company and she was there for mine. A silent companionship of 18 long years.
It all began at the age of 10 . We were in the same school . It was the only school our village had. Our parents used to work at the zamindar's house . We were neighbours  and shared novels that the zamindar's son used to distribute among us for free (knowing that we are the only one's who are enthusiastic about reading).
I used to study at night usually. Most of the slum children were asleep by 11 pm and hence studying at night was the only preferred option one had.
Every night Zaira used to come , walking like a sleepyhead , at her roof . As soon as she entered , we greeted each other silently. There were tacit inhibitions imposed . I believe there are still a lot of inhibitions in our society .
Whenever we were about to start a new novel ,  we used to show the cover of our respective novels from a distance and then begin reading . Till she stayed , I used to read my novel . While she left early , I used to sit for some more time and study .
Zaira was fond of reading philosophy and astronomy . She thought she could identify any constellation that wandered the sky. We devised means to teach each other whatever important we read via written letters. Letters that were thrown as planes to respective roofs. She would point out to the Apus , Aries , Cancer , Sculptor and Virgo .  I was startled by her ability to remember all the names and shapes of these constellations with such ease.
She used to give me  beautiful quotes , those that would inspire me for the odds and relieve me from distress.

The reception of information was not one way . I was good at mathematics and science . She gleefully credited all her marks in those subjects to me . Questions from her side used to come laden in the paper planes . While I solved them in no time , she bombarded my roof with more of them. Like I was amazed by her astute memory , she was amazed by my skills. Perhaps her speed of planes indicated that one day she will  challenge my speed, like one day I will be able to point to the constellation she loved the most.
To impress each other , this was the most that we could do . No matter how small it might sound , it was more than enough.
I remember disliking her habit of speaking while learning . During cold winter nights , the sound of her voice often disturbed me in my sleep . No matter how much I pleaded her to stop , she never did. In exams , when stuck at some point , her words that disturbed my sleep , struck me back and helped me to answer the questions well .
I knew , it all had to change one day. Zaira got married at the age of 28. I thought she would marry off around 20 , but she wanted to complete her education first and help her parents with the dowry too. She took a job at the slum school as a teacher.  Now , she could purchase her own second hand novels . Those that would help her sleep better and teach better.
I know how I felt sitting at my roof without my companion after the day she got married.
Today , in the foreword of my novel on astronomy , I dedicate it to the one who inspired every word of this .
To Zaira , my friend .

Cassette

A small cartridge as wikipedia defines it to be. I found one struggling between my old books , hidden as if voicing an illicit love note. Out of curiosity , I wiped off the dust with my purple shirt to look for signs of it's content . None that could clearly equip me . The volume was set low , in fear that a secret might pour out with audacity . Voices from the past must not cause turbulence in present .
Another fear was that a sharp govinda song might leave me in a sullen mood.
With these fears , I pushed the play button . Increased the volume because the music was - the need of  time .
"Here I am - Brayn Adams "

He knew perhaps . His words , even out of an old cassette , will relieve a lot of people . And hence he is always there.

And what followed was a dance :)

Irony

How do you define

Freedom for a bound soul ?

In the picture you have

relations close and far

Peace for someone lost?

In the picture you have a search

He has to find

Himself and his folks again

Hate or love for people?

In the picture you have

Humans susceptible to humans

The most dear and dangerous thing in this world.

Before sleep

Before sleep

I am reminded of the day

the insipid coffee , lacking in sugar and heat

The moments , separate from those creating memories

The problems that subsided

Those that still remain , unperturbed by day and night

I pray for the next morning to come a little late

For dreams are esoteric , but completely mine

Not like the day , night and moments

Indifferent to senses , indifferent to me .

Before sleep , I wonder , what will it be to sleep next without thinking of these things .

What could possibly go wrong?

Sun baked skin

Nerves down , disheartened

Hopes still cold

Heat , not warmth , I witness

Pages , ink , eye and heart

Had the same old story

Yet not connected

Baffling differences in between

This reminded me to remember

Someone who knows it all

Tell me God

What could possibly go wrong?

Should the page be thrown ? and story retold ?

Remembering you

Whenever a thought lasts 

longer than it should 

I am reminded of things that you gave me 

time , pieces , glass and a letter with a heart . 

Or maybe without a heart .

Nothing has been a stronger memory 

than the last time I saw your smiling face . 

It was a good bye smile though. 

I want you to know ,

that day good bye pained less 

only because , you smiled .

Edible colours

A coloured appetite

In form of things worn and torn

Shoe , ink , butter , eyes

A love to which we all are blind

Edible colours made my God

Eaten by sight in every form

Be the cherry red of valentine

Or silent black of dreamy eyes

Colours incomplete , complete 

Colours that sanity needs.

Its another wish after all

It's a ritual that my blog has a post on the day of my birthday . Unlike the last year , I am now  bearable . An year makes you a better person ( I mean it should ) .
I have a lot of people to thank . A birthday right after college seemed so awkward.
Unexpectedly , my friends poured in such sweet messages for me , I miss them a lot.
Thank you so much for making my day special.
I realized that there are some qualities which make each one of us special , and like they say "18 till you die" likewise you must stay the same lovable person till you die.
Here , in my city , its raining right now. Seems like a refreshing start of the 23rd year :)
Its good to be remembered!
I wish the toils test the best of me , my spirit sticks to my intentions and my heart and mind hook on the same thing .
I wish every birthday goes like this one ! One more wish made , and God might label me super greedy ! :D

Thank you !

Love

Saki :)

Love Blinks

Love like a cold war

Engages people in ego

After it has gained years

Love like his eyes

Is the silence in everything

That he ceases to say, but feels

Love like the blink of an eye

Is never anticipated

Ironically, involuntary and voluntary 

Love like a stubborn perception

Fits in mind and soul both

And urges to be called only love

Even with insanity , even with sanity 

Pain

The pain

Lurks in solitude

Tinges in happy times

Reminds you of something

You have been waiting to forget

But pain, unlike memories

never fades .

It grows stubborn 

And people get used to its presence

I no longer consider you uncalled for , my pain

I am now , comfortable in your discomforts .

A hello is all I mean

The void ends. I wrote a poem and deleted , Then again wrote and sent it to "A" . "A" is a dear friend and reads all of them. This time though "A" did not respond. 
You wonder if "A" is a male or female ? As long as it has a heart and listens me like my mirror listens to me, I don't think it matters. In the thick of thoughts , I wanted to scribble something today but could not come up with "the thing" that would fill up the void here in heart . *Puff* to heavy a heart for a body , paper and pen only seems to help, and since we belong to the 21st century , I chose blogging . So cool so far !
The hitch was that I wanted something to take me like duck to water . Like trade of a human with a thought . Something worth the value . Then I came across a slant , thanks to Ritika Shandilya . I talk to her after so many months and she makes my day ! (as always) 

Ritika has now made it twice to my blog. Both the times she helped me get rid of the void and gave me something to write on . I feel obliged :)
S loves you :)
So "A" is not Ritika. "A" is "A". 
I ditched to wait for "A"s response. 
What filled the void was -
Quoted -
"Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos!" ;)


I miss warm hellos . You do too ? A warm hello to you from me :)So much inhibitions we have imposed upon ourselves that we seldom feel like passing a warm hello . Smiles are a formality . If only you remember , a hello could make a day. Why not tell random people that you care a little ? Oh you would say that you are oh-so-corporate and you keep professional and personal lives separate . Of all the roles that you play my dear, like corporate and professional , do you play human too  ? 
I have seen a lot of humans  say hello. I have also seen corporate people say good morning and lalalala. But it did not have the sunshine of the morning. Why such a void ?
Incredulous , we all are. Then why is shrewdness encrusted ?
Snake skinned humans ? Creepy !

I thought of a lot of people today. Sent them my hellos and apologies for disappearing for a while .

Fact is that the world is round and you can stumble upon any possible stranger  again. So why not say them a hello every time you see them.

They will remember you by - the "X" with a winsome smile.

The newspaper

When I arrived I was panting . Drenched in sweat , the only thing on my mind was to breathe . I stopped for a while before I started another round of my jog. After a few minutes of exercising more I left for home. The next thing in a perfect morning that I wanted to have was a newspaper . A newspaper this time instead of the novel that I was reading. With riots , recession, rupee and the hope of congress getting into action , it becomes routine to arrest a hope yet another day by the reality in my newspaper . Someday the paper might inform me to bid this world goodbye and I will eventually do as it says. I will wait till it gives me hope, another day maybe. Like a parliament session delayed or talks held between my life and death . The talks might turn into a dispute and I could end up in a hospital. But then the irony is, I will still be looking for hope in my paper. Signs that are vital in life - hope , despair , love and envy . Usually decisive and provoking . My hand stretched to hold my wet newspaper. Wet of the pacifying rains. I thought its not a good idea to curse the rains in a desert land , and hence, I chose the adjective pacifying ( though I wanted to curse them for spilling water over my hopes  - my newspaper ) . 

I made tea for myself and approached the balcony of my room. Took the chair and placed the newspaper on the table . Staring it and wishing for a gush of wind to dry the water and revive my damp hopes. Hopes that now lay smudged on the table, waiting to be rinsed. The irony is that water here won't help and what will, is nothing. The tea was discomforting. Biscuits could have helped the others with their tea, but in my case , it was habitual of the rupee, recession and controversies.. I left it after a sip or two. It did not give me a fresh start . Without a worthy newspaper, it didn't feel like a morning. It was dank , I confessed to my paper. For only it could understand my agony towards rain. For the benefit of this desert , I chose to move on with my discomforts. Keeping the curses aside in the hope that the next time it pours , it leaves my paper. Hoping for no more delays in my hope the next time .

Lonely ?

I hate dogs . More than I hate eve teasers . I almost freeze when a dog approaches me. I get shivers by the thought that the dog might bite me then and there or I might have to run a mile for my life .

Around 10 am in the morning is a time for both men , women and dogs (sometimes pigs too, but I am not scared of pigs ) . The hustle-bustle of the city confuses dogs during early office hours . They might feel a part of this race to approach things not done and dreams not met (assuming they have psychological instincts like we humans) . But fear of dogs doesn't stop us from moving . Hence quoting this to myself , I pep up to risk a day with a dog chasing me.

They are not that wild though. But their presence counts. Like the presence of every creature counts. This I realized a few days ago.

The story goes like this
Our locality is haven for a beggar . I assume he likes the people of our colony . Most of them true punjabi's by instinct, give him a lot of food to manage at least two meals a day.

The place where he sits and has his food is visible from my room's window and quite often during lunch hours I notice him  sitting there and talking to himself .
I very easily assumed him to be mentally sick and asked my family to stay away.

Once , I was going somewhere by foot and saw him there at his usual place , blabbering something on his own . Just then , I saw him throwing a bit of his chapati behind . How could he even think of wasting the food thats given to him to save him from starving day and night? As I approached near , I saw he was feeding a crow . And talking to him about the lady who gave him food that day .
Stopped . Smiled . Thought .
And we say we feel lonely sometimes ?
There are times when you cannot reach through people . Take some time off from them . Its better to have people in life at least. They will come soon . Where else will they go ?
I no longer feel awkward when the dog follows me. I assume that he doesn't want me to feel lonely :P

Happy Friendship Day !

Scarlet

Something scarlet
The flower that lies in her hands
The red of his love
The playful orange of his mind
Scarlet like , he always dreams of her

Something scarlet
The blood that rushes in her veins
The red of her anger
The calm orange of her soul
Scarlet like it represents her

Something scarlet
The dupatta the indian lady
veils her head with
The red of her marriage
The orange of her purity
Scarlet like something vital in her life

Something scarlet
The flame that lights up
Multi-faced , bold or brazen
Dim in the absence of someone
The red of her agony
The orange of her smile
Scarlet , like forever , the colour of a woman .

Quoted

Often while traveling with a camera we arrive just as the sun slips over the horizon of a moment, too late to expose film, only time enough to expose our hearts. ~Minor White


Its a different world
Inside and outside this wall
And whenever I sneak out
It leaves me seeking self
I am left thinking about
What I am on each side of this wall 
Same or different ?
Real or unreal ?
Myself or not ?

Living or not ?

To existence !

Everything requires appreciation . The most important thing which perhaps must be appreciated daily is existence . I am here , on my desk , I can write and tell you what all is on my mind , I appreciate your presence here and you must appreciate mine . That's the thing about existence . Its a vicious circle of persona and aura ; your effect on the people around you . Its necessary , universal and yet not easily understandable .

The movie “Zindagi milegi na dobara” did not inspire this post so don't judge me before I tell you my story .

I am S . I am a punjabi girl. Yes I have known this for last 21 years and 11 months ( my birthday arrives next month ) but there is a very special thing about this day which I wish to share with all of you.

Its my Grandfather's birthday today . He is the most wise man I have seen . Some of you must be wondering why ? Why my grandfather and why not someone from the TIME magazine's most influential people ? I will let you know why.

In the morning one of his old friends Captain X called to wish him . Both of them are doctors by profession and hence share a lot of common subjects ( not patients ) to talk about . He was elated by the fact that Captain Sir remembered his birthday and hence invited him to the family gathering at our place in the evening. Captain X felt obliged and joined us. My grandfather's birthday is celebrated at our home because he is a simple man . He does not like to go out very much .

The evening arrived and my Buaa(aunt) and her husband were there too. Topicas picked up pace and were ranging from whiskey to movies to old songs and who will sing on this fine evening and to who will not. Everyone in my family (adults) is a doctor . They enjoy music like anything so singing goes hand in hand with every occasion .

My grandfather graced his whiskey today after a long time . He was happy to celebrate his life going hail and hearty . He wanted to sing , hear his daughter sing ( my buaa ) and his son sing ( my dad ) . I was getting the rest of the people soft drinks when I heard my Bua's voice that she believes in the mantra of "kal ho na ho"(tomorrow may never happen)  and likes to live the moment passing by. Everyone joins in with the fact that this was the motto of Zindagi na milegi dobara too. But she denies . She says that it’s not the same. One is about existence and the other about the way you lead your life.

The topic shifted to girls , when she read aloud a text saying , "A girl might never be a queen for his husband but will always remain a princess for his father " . A lot of sentiments jumped here and there and Captain X took the conversation up the sentimental level by singing two lines of a Punjabi song for daughters .

My grandmother being a  very emotional person ( I have never seen someone so emotional ) started crying. She is certainly very attached to me and my buaa and hence  the song triggered her . Just when she was wiping her tears my grandfather cracked a joke to which she laughed and stopped crying . "CHEERS! " was what he next said.

The cake was cut and the Birthday song , one version after the other ,  sung by all of us. The most amazing part was that he was singing the song himself too , inspiring creation of versions and then clapped after the entire epic series ended . He relished the cake , asked for more . He even discussed that Winston Churchill was a great man and enjoyed getting drunk .

I have seen people grow old and become gloomy , irritating and giving up on life . I am extremely happy that this is not the case with anyone in my family. They are very much young at heart . My grandmother even gossips with me about my friends and their boy  friends and I love the way she warns me not to have one .

I wish the same for everyone  . May they drink like a fish and stay spirited .

In the mean time the theme of bollywood movies will keep hitting this idea . Zip your moments always.

" maine har shaam par chaand ka intzaar kia hai...aur har subh suraj ki talaash ki haii ..
  mujhe pata hai hawaon ko thikana maloom hai mera...
  unhe pata hai maine zindagi mei har cheez ko ibaadat samjha hai
  jaise mai hi shaam aur wo ubhartaa suraj hu
  jo apni duniya m roshni bharta hai "

This entry is a part of the contest at BlogAdda.com in association with imlee.com




Soliloquy

Sole controversy of reasons
A raid of questions , behest self
It doesn't cease , unyielding
It enters a maze , or mind
Or maybe heart
The best place where this entire turmoil sinks
Will be where life is a muse
And words are the saviour

A soliloquy is all that sets
Wind beneath your wings

Perceptions

Perceptions are stiff

Like impenitent words

Too vocal to surrender 

Too real to veil

Truth struggles with perception 

A fatal , redundant battle for truth

For perceptions seek self

And self resorts to perceptions

wHiM ...

When she was all he needed , she was love.

When he was needed , he was , everything but love .

He was distance , notions and reasons .

Where love then ? 

A question of existence , who will decide who is right?

When night today pours his dream on her

She will watch him for the last time 

For he doesn't dream her by his side

She is a whim adrift , assuming love to be here and there .

FeTTeRED ..

I write 

And I erase

Like the wind takes away

Some stationary clouds 

And their existence

Without leaving a trail

Unlike the erased words

Which choke after being erased

Still murmur after 

I remove them from my page

I struggle to puke my thoughts

Maybe they don't need this air 

Maybe they feel shy

Maybe they leave some of their friends inside

Inside a closed soul 

How will they sound perfect then ?

The fettered erased words 

Neither written , nor erased .

He. ....

He clutches issues

Like rain grips the earth

He hesitates while he asks a few abrupt things

Like the soul hesitates before breathing a sin

He says he is ignorant 

Like a carefree bird encircling the clouds at dawn

He says he has seen life fall apart , gather 

Both phases emerging like inevitable branches of a tree

He says he has dissolved past

Like a tornado that gulps peace

He says he can go on this way

Like he knows , what his will be story like .

Like he is ,  time himself .

LoVe ...

To believe in Love is to be in love

When the fragile story moulds your mood

And you are upset because the hero couldn't nourish his dreams

When an eye brimming of Kohl stamps its darkness on your heart

A darkness where love will hide 

And light up the soul , to entrench meaning of its existence

The odd stranger smiles , and goodness wipes your agony over this mean world

How you wished , you never believed in this white page

A white page carved of mystery , insanity and goodness

A struggler meets life and loves to die for it

Till he breathes his last passion , standing and alive

How he wished , he could have hated the troubles his journey throws up

But then

Love would rip off every soul it rests in , and still be called 

Only love

150 posts old :) RanDom !

A few fresh drops is celebration 

A little downpour is wait

A bud beneath the porch is life

And a flower bloomed is survival

Never will the slog of the day , outshine , the ecstasy of the rain .

I guess some stains are only removed by universal tears .

I will drown , if you promise you will save me . I , like a two year old , still abide by my promises :)

The dashboard says I've turned 150 ! I'll beat every turtle on this planet ;) :P

rEal ?

Do you know that my secrets 

Are open in my nerves

Some entangled on face

Some superficially blue

But all verbally red in my traits

My picture , unclear and painted

Is still raw , because I have lived less , in years

And lived more , in instances

My annoyance , released with my ink

And my love , feeding my poem

My sanity , in my mistakes

And my judgement , in my denials

Maybe someday, I will be , for real to the world

For now I'm happy to exist , only in your story 

Mi SS ed :)

I missed this space . I had a lot on mind but could on press the tabs and publish things here . None complicated though . Perhaps impressions of a semi-idle, mainly engrossed cerebrum .

The first thing I wanted to write about was food . Mangoes in particular . If you haven't had mangoes , sweet delicious yellow things in existence , then your life is surely futile . I observed my appetite for mangoes has grown humongous and I ogle at them as soon as I open the fridge and wish instantly that I could have all of them , the very moment. I pity those  who, because of unavoidable reasons, cannot have mangoes . God bless you guys :) There is nothing like eating mango seed like an obsessed kid that would do anything to savour this food of summers.
Mangoes can certainly spread sweetness into this malign world . It sweeps  into my sweet parts , like a perfume intrudes the skin aroma . I wish you a mangolicious summers ! Yes I know thats not a word , but you are smart enough to get the idea.

The next big thing , or say little slimy thing I wanted to write about was women . I myself being a girl , find  some species of my clan quite disheartening , some weird , some voracious extroverts , but still , somehow , all into existence and all acceptable . I was recently watching a movie scene ( not very patient with movies ) , in which this girl was tricking her Ex-husband by fake wailing and moaning about something that she wanted him to do for her. And I realized how mean this act was . We (read women) easily make voices , exaggerate matters to the extent that even an ant can feel like an elephant and still we do not appreciate the men around us for buying into our nonsense (not always tough) . More disgustingly , we blame them to be flatterers ?? How on earth will that creature escape from a wail and a moan ? They are thankfully , not as insensitive as my clan . And I don't know why I always thought that I am a female chauvinist , but I guess I', degrading day by day :P

Another thing that kept me busy all this while was Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi's ~ The last song of dusk . I like a lot of thiings about this writer , in particular his eye for situations . He describes them so beautifully that after each chapter I finish of this book , I feel soaked in ambrosia , something that not only can save my life , but of millions of people . He has the clout to bring your wildest and weakest emotions to reality , just like the remembrance of a song you once loved . I have never read someone's work so carefully . Nor do I think I will (not patient with books either) . I usually read books with the intention of finishing them off soon . But this I read with all my will , to breathe , preserve and live each page . Such that I can ponder upon its beauty and think about it later during the day . He is magic with words .

A friend of mine recently went abroad to study and was narrating me some of his encounters with people there . And I realized , perhaps , apart from the majority of India , people are very broad minded . More than my 'very' can suffice for. Perhaps that's the sole reason why public's thoughts and needs are paid a lot of heed . More than my "a lot of " can suffice for . They are listened , obeyed and their welfare is counted . They face less issues of corruption and food inflation and raised diesel prices , probably because their governments know , how much a common man there ears and how much they can willingly spend . Yes we certainly need to imbibe somethings from this culture . Some good things our politicians can look forward too . In this way a lot of useless policies , like counting of black money and investing time and resources of such talented brains (which can be put to productivity to introduce betterment in the budget ) into such paperwork can be saved .
I feel I'm on a rescue spree ! :P

I will very soon come up with guys diary entry part 3 . Lot's on my devil mind .

Wake up, my post is over ! :P You mean sleepy head ;)