...breath...

Broken

2011-11-28T11:03:00.001+05:30

Note: *Am writing after a year and a half, almost. Not too happy with the creativity, personally. Plus, it not proofread. Nevertheless posted it.*

“I amshamelessly hitting on you”, he said. She smiled, and let him caress her longlegs under the table. “I have a warped sense of friendship, no?” She askednonchalantly. “No kidding!” he whispered in her ear, as his hands reached herthigh. “Let’s go to your car, and find a shady lane?” She half questioned, halfordered him.

As Shekhar andRuhi walked out, he dint hold her hand. She was offended. She thought, ‘He’drather hold my leg, than my hand.’ But she just smiled instead. Ruhi was talland lean, and she knew she had great legs. Hence, she was always seen in shortsor skirts. As they walked towards the car, Ruhi felt a weird sense ofhesitation. She dint really want to ‘do it’ with him, but she walked onnevertheless.

Shekhar, who wasdressed in a formal suit, had just landed in Mumbai after a business trip andhad straight come to pick up Ruhi. He liked her company; she was smart,beautiful, caring and they had great sex. But today, was not his day. His headwas not working straight; he just wanted to be with her, not ‘do her’. But, asthey sat in the car, he kissed her. He liked seeing that simple smile on herface, right after he kissed her, while her eyes were still shut.

Earlier, in theday, they were fighting. Ruhi often went out of her way create problems withShekhar. She never knew why she did it, but justified herself by blaming it ondaddy issues. Shekhar, on the other hand, was quiet used to screwed-up fatherfigures, but patiently pampered her.

Ruhi wantedcommitment, she wanted more. She wanted to give their relationship a ‘textbookname’, just because it would be acceptable in her own head. Shekhar, wanted tohave a stable career, sleep with all kinds of women, meet his biological fatherand then probably settle down. All he knew about her was that, he couldn’t lether go. Not yet.

However,personal issues were not why they fought most of the times. Ruhi was in lovewith him, and just like with her parents, she pretended everything was perfectwith Shekhar too. She was amazed at how, he dealt with so many issues together, and be patient with the most trivial thing. The fact that he was slightlydisturbed made him irresistible for her. He wanted her to be real, accept thesituation and still be with him.

Back in the car,after the kiss, Ruhi sat there - changing music, wondering if she was ready tofeel, what she felt the last time they made love. But this was the only thingthat made her believe he still wanted her. And Shekhar, just drove, not knowingif he should be putting her through the same thing again, but he had never beenable to resist her. At every signal, he would touch her thigh, run his handsdown her arm or simply wink at her.

Thankfully,Mumbai traffic came to the rescue. “This is painful Shakes!” She said, lookingat the long wait for the signal. “Ok, let’s turn back, I’ll drop you home Ru.”He said, with a tone of relief.

She saidnothing. He drove. She held his hand while he changed gears, and on one of thesignals, surprised him with a passionate kiss. Below her house, while she wasgetting out he said, “Look, I’m sorry. I…” She interrupted, “I know, me too.”

At home, shewas trying to cry and feel, while he couldn’t stop smoking on the way back.They were both broken. There was no fixing this.

They met next week, only the do the same thing again.

This close...

2010-10-24T19:54:00.000+05:30

When you want something with all your heart, the universe conspires for you to get it. That’s what The Secret says (or something like that I did not bother to google).

Have you ever felt this feeling? Like you’ve wanted something very desperately all along, and when you’re like this close to getting it. You suddenly don’t want it. It suddenly gives you that ugly feeling you had in your stomach when you hadn’t finished your homework and the school teacher was checking everyone’s work with a cane in her hand.

Its funny because you worked your ass for this one and maybe even blew all your meagre savings. But suddenly you’re not sure of how much it is going to be close to your expectation. You’d rather just keep wishing for it than actually get it.

I dont think this is cold feet... I think its the love for the dream or the chase... Being obsessed with the journey than the destination.

I’m NOT a slave for you

2010-08-12T18:23:00.000+05:30

The problem with not having is job is not just limited to being broke or stuck at home; it is much more complex. Somehow the fact that you are at home, automatically puts a stamp on your head that you are available at everyone’s beck and call. You become the official house maid, cook, the boy who does odd jobs, the computer mechanic and personal secretary of family members and distant relative. Oh! And BTW your salary includes listening to a lot of whining and in rare cases –Sorry.

Now don’t get me wrong. Everyone who knows me, know that I usually go out of my way to help out the most random strangers. But the fact that I am taken for granted is not acceptable. Even if its family, ESPECIALLY if its family.

This trigged a thought, was the old system of slaves was justified? Although, half of the population suffered in poverty and slavery, at least they didn’t do it to their wife and kids. Now, we all want to pass on the buck without being accountable for what we say or do. Most of us commit just about everywhere and when we can’t handle it, pass it on to our loved ones, because they don’t have an option of leaving.

I did not put myself through 15 years of useless education to suffer due to someone else’s misplanning and stupidity. And when pointed out (Very politely, I must add) it turns out to be one of the 3. (usually in that order)

1)Ego: ‘you are always blaming me for everything’, ‘I’m not the reason you fall sick’,
2)Sorry: The most disgusting word in my dictionary. ‘Sorry, I did not mean to, but you know a lot is bothering with my work/family/money/myself’ and once the ‘S’ word is said, everything has to be forgotten and we all have to go on pretending it never happened.
3)Abuse: This usually happens when they do not know how to react to a situation. In severe cases it is physical. But in most mild cases its verbal. ‘Just look at yourself, you can’t walk straight/you can’t talk louder/you create a scene/you talk too much/you should be thankful I even consider you a part of my life.’ Verbal abuse cannot be proved or shown, so most women and sometimes even men go though their entire life without healing or even realising their scars.

Yes, we all do this at some point. It is totally wrong, but at some levels it can be justified. But for most people it is a behavioural problem. It is ingrained by mothers/wives/girlfriends/fathers and media that taking responsibility for your actions is a job for weak minded people. Strong people can use their power physical or mental to push around other people. Also, call me biased, but somehow I find majority of men doing this (or probably it is just a gujju men thing)

I may not earn in lakhs or own a big house. Heck, right now I’m dead broke and have to live off my parents. But I try and take full responsibilities of my actions. I plan in a way that I can trouble others the least. Yes, I do fail, miserably sometimes, but I make sure I more than make up for it by helping out as much as I can.

I will end by saying what my mother always tells me – Responsibility is power.

Strangers

2010-08-06T20:23:00.000+05:30

I met you today.
You wore a different perfume.
Your hug was warm even in the AC,
And your eyes did not talk.

Today I met you again…
You hair stood perfectly styled,
And the lopsided smile disappeared.
It used to speak to me loud and clear.

Meeting you today,
I realized, your touch is if without a feel,
Your words are without meaning.

I met you today only to realize;
3000 kms was not the only reason for the distance,
And loneliness was not the only thing that kept us together.

Seeing you after 3 years made me think,
‘Us’ is not real, its just a desperate want
Tears will but make it worse…

Pain is not the hard part,
That one I am habituated
We are strangers, all over again…

Price On Request

2010-04-29T15:19:00.001+05:30

Maybe romantic movies also should carry a tag ‘Price on Request’. I am perfectly happy being single or in a relationship, but romantic movies are so beyond perfect that what you have, feels like shit. It’s like buying new expensive shoes and loving it until you see a Jimmy Choo or a Ferragamo in the magazine, which usually says ‘PRICE ON REQUEST!’

Ok so I have not seen Casablanca (I know, OMG!) but don’t you think it is a good thing? Romantic movies only make you feel sad. Yes, very sad:

• Sad cause you’re single and lonely
• Sad cause you’re single, happy and unavailable but still men think they have a chance
• Sad cause you’re single and every man think that there is ‘Always open’ sign on your head
• Sad cause you’re not single but your ‘seemingly perfect’ boyfriend doesn’t do all romantic, passionate stuff.
• And finally sad cause you’re in a complicated relationship (in which case anything is sad)

And most importantly it entices you to make that unwanted-unnecessary-‘will screw things up’ call to :

• Boy friend
• Ex
• Ex Boy friend you’re sleeping with
• Someone you slept with previous night
• ‘Just a good friend’
• Best friend
• Make out buddy
• Close mate
• Drinking partner
• The guy you met at a random house party, and seemed very cute when drunk, so you gave him your number
• Etc.

And soon after the ‘mushy’ effect wears off you’re exactly in the ‘woke up in someone else’s bed with a hangover’. You just want to get out of there and try to erase the calls you made out of yours and everyone else’s memories. A happily ever after movie is a more expensive mistake than alcohol.

Cry

2010-03-29T19:51:00.001+05:30

(six months. writing doesn flow as smoothly. tried it nevertheless)

Rumi said to me, “Cry, cry wholeheartedly my friend.”
I forced and hurt and pinched myself,
My eyes remained still.
I can’t cry.

I pressed and strained to weep.
Fucked bastards, abused friends,
Cut wrists,
What followed is more numbness and no floods.

Quit work, talked to God.
Films that screamt daddy issues,
Fell in love and broke my heart,
Nonsensical, not a distant cry to save my life!

Then I said crying is overrated,
I mocked at weepers,
Ignored ill fated,
And secretly envied them.

Left a lot of hands I held once fondly,
Watched the sun set religiously,
Wrote, wrote and wrote some more.
Not a tear to spare.

I wait now in a chamber
Scared of closed dark places
Unable to breathe
And unable to cry for help.

I asked Rumi, “Can I have the time? My head’s stopped”
He said, “Be patient to what pains you.”
“How long?” said I.
“So long” he says, “Until you cry again...”

Pretty Picture

2009-09-17T17:25:00.007+05:30

(I was recently sending my picture to a friend for some work, and got a little poetic and rather carried away. So wrote this in the email. Unfortunately he did not understand the poem, but i still kinda like it... wish to add few more lines but maybe later...
I do not know how to put that picture here else would have put it up. Its a pretty one :D... so here goes...)

Dedication: To someone who thought this was my best work ever, king kong... it just fits...

Something to look at when you miss me...
Something to dream about when u want to kiss me...

Whence slumber loses the battle with you thoughts...
When all the urges of lust, you are tired having fought...
A quick glance at your cell phone's candid contact image...
The inner battle and the insomnia does not feel like a cage...

Oh,What a pity! There are no wizards...
A flick of the wand and they could have given life to a picture card...

love,
P

Que sera sera...

2009-09-15T18:42:00.003+05:30

My friend: How old do you think she is?
Cousin: Don’t know (judging by the shorts, flimsy bag and nerdy glasses) umm... 21?
My friend: Dude she’s 23 and she has her own business.
Cousin: aa nice…

Clearly they were talking about me. 2 months ago it was a big deal for most people I knew that I had started my own PR firm. I am super tall but I still don’t look old enough to own a company (thankfully). It dint hit me till everyone around me started talking about it. To be honest I did not think it was a big deal cause in the beginning all we did was do a little bit work and watch LOST most of the time (thanks to Tejal’s obsession)

Now 4 months down there’s a new office and new people and all that. Clients don’t let us live, there’s no time to watch tv (shit) and to be with my computer(yes I have an OCD to switch on my computer at least once a day.. I really don’t know why). Ok to be honest I love it, it nice to be busy and have the routine of visiting the chai wala and taking dabba to office everyday. I mean all this is very new to me. Teaching children was very exciting, but this is a different ball game. I get to write... how cool is that!

New business is like having a relationship. There are too many firsts. First media call, first document, first formal mail, first crush on a client (oops!) staying up in the night just because you want to do everything on time, spending entire days for events, crazy phone bills and hickies… or well dark circles. Trust me it’s almost orgasmic. Now I have never been in a relationship long enough to know what happens after firsts (oh c’mon don’t judge me, I like pricks) but I have heard from friends that after the initial lovey, dovey, mushy bit, comes the most important part of the relationship- the sustenance part. Now in my entire life I have never done it. I mean I have never worked for anything I wanted, I’m one of those fortunate ones that luck favours (touchwood seriously) but that’s kind of made me handicap. Hard work is something I have done only twice in my life (ok seriously stop judging) rest everything has simply ‘happened’ to me (luck by chance).

I have never really got how these people can be in a relationship for like years and then get married. WHAT DO YOU GUYS DO? I asked my cousin who has been with this (really nice) guy since 3.5 years now. They would get married after another 1-2 years and apparently ‘live happily ever after’ she said, “There’s so much to do, we go out, we talk all the time… etc.” now this girl is younger to me but way more saner and emotionally and mentally sorted. But still ‘DON’T YOU GET BORED?’

It sometimes hurts to be too intelligent and get things fast because then nothing is left. I figure out things and people so fast, what more is left. And I can see that happening for Crisscross (the company name) too. I love it, especially since there is so much to learn and know. I know there something like ‘know it all’ but there is something like ‘know enough to lose interest’? And that is exactly what I suffer from.

I never took my commitment phobia (ok go ahead judge me) seriously until Crisscross came along. Now there are too many questions. What if I screw up? What if I lose interest? What if I put all the effort and emotions and then it goes wrong? I am taking a plunge, it’s just like me to risk everything and walk out, what if I do it here? All these questions and obviously no answer. They say it comes with time. Well I have been waiting since 23 years, when is ‘IT’ coming?

Being an unofficial psychiatrist myself(I'm a natural, trust me), there’s none of those psychological things that will work on me and patience is not in my blood (literally I have a family full of impatient people) so do I am enjoying now, but its about time I took responsibility. Crisscross is a big step, I cannot let things ‘happen’ to me. So what do I do? Time for some ice cream… I think! (Ice cream makes questions of life disappear :D)

Sick

2009-04-08T17:19:00.003+05:30

‘When ever you are angry write a poem.’ That was what I was told… so here it goes…

Dedications: I’ll pass…!

P.S: no wonder I fall sick so often!

I’m sick of your mind game,
For all your problems I get the blame.

‘She dumped me’ you say,
And follow it up with you incessant ramblings.
I listen to it, love, every single freaking day.
When I want to cry, your phone just rings.
Family problems, money problems, sex problems, guy boners,
Want to dump the frustration, call and do the honors!

I am totally sick of your lies,
Coz all you do when you see me is criticize,

Your work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week,
Then you cook and then you sleep.
So you work all the time and got no time for love…
Then threaten to leave unless you get a quick fuck.
Hate the my nose, way I dress, the way I think and way I kiss,
Then why pretend? Why treat me for ice creams and say, ‘its you I miss.’

I’m so sick of you, just everything about you,
Cribbing, yelling, shouting, fighting its all that you do!

Your sister blames you, you friends hate you, and you suck completely,
Can’t handle it? Fight, yell, abuse and blame it on yours truly.
Lie about love, lie about marriage, lie about the touch, and lie some more,
Cheat on a best friend then send and SMS and expect me to open the door.
My concern is my nagging,
And your commitment? That’s ok, it’s just hanging.

Sick, that’s what I am, that’s what the doctor termed,
When I waited on the hospital bed for you to come.

Disgusted I am, solving, handling your issues,
Appalled I am when you, abuse me, refuse to see my view.
Ailing I am, for I have taken enough abuse,
Sick I am, for this is slow cancer and death is no news.

why dont i write?

2009-01-27T12:03:00.003+05:30

this is to some1 askin me wat is my passion, and as i said writing is my high, was wondering when was the last time... i think, i face a problem...
a.) i'm very lazy to write, to think and type is a task to me, especially now, since life is a lil sorted and a lil boring... and cover it all up i say i hv tons of wrk, which i do, but still never enough work to stop writing. (thus gets me to problem in c.)
b.) (which is the main problem) what ever i write has to be very awesome... i should think its a work of art, so i dont write untill i find the perfect thought in my head... its almost like an OCD (for the uninitiated- obsessive compulsive disorder). also ppl who read my blog... shud like it.. or find it controvertial enough to comment... therefore i have not posted many things... n sometimes even when i find the perfect plot/thought... im too lazy (refer to point a.)

c.) i dun hv enough inspiration... i dun meet new ppl, work has no more challenge left and besides men probs, pms problems, girl frnd problems have all gotten too old now... i've adjusted to this sort of settin (which isnt cool, but watever). i dun meet new ppl either... n whoever i meet is too normal n trivial to me mentioned really... its not like im over the misery in my life... but im sick of it.. need somethin new...
d.) i had frnds who used to push me to write, some of them r far away, some jus tired of life, some too selfish and some jus plain off... so yea... ppl who used to reaqd and motivate r all kinda lost... (refer c.)

:) therefore... i dun write... altho i should... hope i get back my 'mojo' :P hahahaha... (altho i am confused)
cheers...

Live

2008-10-03T00:31:00.002+05:30

He was yelling, his eyes were red,
There were pieces of broken glass on the floor.
She was in one corner, too terrified to cry.
She dint even shiver she couldn’t move her eyelids too.

He left banging the door behind him.
She didn’t know how long she sat there.
Slowly she got up cleaned everything while tears kept flowing.
She did not feel the tears on her face.

She stood near the mirror, dressing the wound on her face.
She was not looking at herself in the mirror,
Although her eyes stood fixed on her face.
The only thing she dreaded was the doorbell, when he would be back.

All she had to do was lock the door, forever, but she couldn’t
She could not lock him out of her life. He was all she had.
She loved him. And in his twisted way,
He loved her too.

She hugged the pillow tightly and said softly, ‘I want mamma…’
When she hit rock bottom she needed her mom.
One tear dropped and the next thing she knew she was wailing…
Every time it happened, she felt dead. She died that night again.

Late night he entered, he hugged her, said, ‘Sorry, never again honey.’
He kissed her, made love, said most beautiful things.
She cried then smiled said ‘it’s ok’, knowing that it was going to happen again.
While he slept holding her, she lay awake. She had indeed been dead.

He woke up next morning, cranky for his morning tea.
The house was perfectly in place and empty, unlike last night.
The cracked mirror had a small post it on it,
‘I can’t baby. Bye’ she decided to leave and live.

Knowing you.

2008-10-01T12:31:00.004+05:30

(some poetry i wrote 4ish years ago... ironically still makes sense)

We have known each other for so long,
Through huge storms and rains, we have said ‘I do’,
Through thick and thin, we have sung the same song,
But sometimes I feel I don’t know you…

Like sore enemies some times we really fought,
Fought till we did not know whos who.
In the end, the values to each other we taught.
Still, some times I feel I don’t know you…

You totally knew me outside in,
Some times to gather myself I needed you.
If there were a test on me, you’d surely win,
I still feel I don’t know you…

In spite of all this you still remain a mystery,
People say in love you knowing each other is must,
But I think of a totally different story,
I don’t know you, but in you, my love, I blindly trust.

Loving you.

2008-08-02T12:06:00.005+05:30

(its slightly immature but simply what it feels like to be in denial abt accepting feelings. do comment. dedicated to: the stranger who makes us deny.)

Walking all alone in the shady lane,

In the dense darkness of night,

I try to compare what is worse,

This fear or loving you with all my might.

Listening to that song we heard on repeat,

Trying to make my memories tangible,

And as sobs grow louder, I realize,

Loving you is lot more painful.

Falling for you is lot more hurtful.

I say to myself, while

I fall flat on my face in a puddle,

And it still rains on heavily.

Nothing can be worse than,

Knowing that I love you.

Not even getting older,

Not even cancer.

Went through all your SMSes the other day,

Some made me smile, and some cry.

And some left me blank and numb,

Not feeling, is better than feeling for you.

That day I slept with another man,

So I could unlove you.

But felt like someone shot my heart,

When all I could see and feel was you.

Sunlight burnt my eyes, after I woke up.

I shut all the doors and windows,

I ran away when they told me ‘You love him’,

Not knowing it would reach faster in closed doors.

I am trying hard to remember your kisses,

And your face, that’s very blurred picture now.

I only know when tears wet my shirt that,

Even missing you is better than loving you.

2008-05-06T13:21:00.002+05:30

(so im writing after a longggggg time... and it again was unbelieveable tht i wrote it, neways as ususal it was a high. send it to very close frnds... bt not many of them seem to love me nemore so *sniff* i jus thot of putting up on da blog... lemme knw a title and comment on this generously n honestly... *given tht no 1 loves me nemore* :P

as for dedications, i absolutly dun want to dedicate to ne1... maybe myself coz i write so well even after a long break *yes hv finally convinced myself tht i write well* so cheers... hope to see ur comments.)

No I don’t love u,

Really... I’m just being me,

Just being selfish.

But sometimes, when I come closer to u, I take a deep breath, trying to inhale you inside me. The misty smell of your perfume and skin. I do not realize the ring cutting into my finger as I hold your hand tight, trying to make it one with mine.

I bite you; because I’m egotistic, I want to jus see you feeling the pleasure. And then when I hold you, I forget my body. I come closer to my womanhood. In the height of love making, tears of gratitude for you jus escape somehow. And I just smile as you blow smoke from a lit cigarette. Try to catch the smoke like a ghost... hoping it remains with me stored in between a book or small matchbox that you threw.

And then sometimes I stare at you. so much my eyes hurt. I try to hide my eyes behind my glasses. You might see the nakedness in my eyes, but when I shut my eyes my brain aches with your memories. I often forget when you’re actually with me and when I’m deluded.

When you talk, I want to bolt your expressions inside my ears. I don’t want anymore sounds after that. I only want to hear the clinking of the glass that you just kept down or the song that you hummed in your head. I want to sense everything that you touch. Now, as I work in the house; I find your fingerprints; on the glass, in curls of my hair and on my essence, my soul.

When you depart, I still keep standing. I overlook that you left, jus stare thoughtlessly. And then I come to the bed where u slept, truth hits me and I see each crease of the messy bed. You are really gone.

I want to melt into u, dissolve into you. Want no part of me to be into existence. Surrender and only worship u. I want to be the least and have no identity, except your name on me. Soon the bell rings and you are back home. As you put on the tv. I realize... I just want, I want so much, and I want the whole of you. I am selfish... I don’t love you. I love being empty around you.

Unison

2008-02-24T03:13:00.005+05:30

(This is a part of random long diary entry turned into imaginative writing. Its a simple figment of imagination and attempt at erotica (its not porn!). Its unpuncutated and raw, but im really lazy to actually correct it)
Jus plain passion n unison of bodies. Holdin and grabing each other. Tearing the flesh. Bitng and bruising, tasting, drinking in the gentle flame of passion.
Movin from head to the neck, passing from ears to the chest and then the side of the waist and feet. Holding and feelin each part of the body like u have neva
know it. Feelin it jus blinded by passion. So strong tht u cant see or remember nething else. Fingers blending with his hair n skin. Mouth like tool shaping,
moulding the body again. Feel like god. Breath controlin the head which is intoxicated. You do not know who u r, u don know who he is. And u hv an odd
sense of independence while he is in control of ur senses. And he is there very close so much so tht u cant tell each other apart n feel so violently away.
He makes u feel so feminine u forgot tht u were ever a women. The beat of the constant music poundin in both of ur heads… simply forcing the act of makin passion.
Sex is the mere reaction or result of your connection and fire not an obvious act u want to do. you are kicked into extacy. he holds you jus to
connect u to the real world. But u refuse. Refuse to move, refuse to budge from there coz he is there w/ you safe n sound. Running w/ u you don know
whr but jus restfully, breathlessly running. Ur biting ur lips out of sheer loss of urge, will and enerygy. But the ache of memory in the back of ur brain, is excrutiating. so
much so its brings you into the present on the couch whr u carelessly lie. He looks at you refecting the same emotion. He holds u carelessly and grabs you
like he snached you and will never let go off u. u look at him vulnerably, you have no choice but to surrender. U burn w/ agitation of givin in to him. Tears
fly out as a sign of defeat but there is pleasure of him still holding you. As they slowly move to your neck and wets his bare naked chest, he excites you
with his world of obsession. where his nose seeps deep into ur hair, as though he's tryin to inhale u into himself. You have never seen it and will never see
it. He looks into ur eyes blured w/ tears and streaks of kajal arnd it; for the first time you can bear to look at his challenging face. He tries to mock at you
but U see him as helplessly in love as u are.

Say Cheese.

2007-12-02T19:56:00.000+05:30

I smiled. It was a beautiful feeling.
To be happy to be free to feel light,
The chains were there but i couldn't feel the weight of the iron on my sore body.
I could feel cold metal, but it tickled me instead of hurting me.

How much does it take? How long does it take?
To smile, Throught everything.
The time on the playground when you fell and tore the new pink dress,
The warning bell of exam, when you knew the answer but could not get youself to write.
Or the 2 mins of snooze on a sleepless night.

If only we could 'say cheese' when the camera was shut,
HIS hand holding us throught everything would be so clear.
If we smiled, letting go of the revenge would be easier,
The 9.17 churchgate local would be soemthing you look forward to.

A simple blush, a sweet thought, a beautiful fragrance,
A short attempt at massage, a want to give love.
A forced happy thought, a simple thank you.
A little bit of teasing, a glass of water,
The look on the face of a chubby child,
Whose eyes shut while he smiles innocently.

I smiled, it really doesn't take a lot.

Cannot be Written.

2007-10-15T19:48:00.000+05:30

There are some incidents in life, that cannot be written.
And they are best unwritten.
Tucked away carelessly in ur mind.
No amount of tears can wash them,
No amount of emotions can numb it.

You bite your nails, trying to stop feeling,
The butterflies you felt.
But they tell you, your feelings are superficial,
Merely a cheap copy of the film they saw last night.
We cry, then stop, then laugh and end up crying again,
Untill we fall asleep.
And wake up only to see Kohl stains on the pillow.
To stop feeling consumed, I sit to write,
Only to realise, it cannot be written.

It is not my fault ma, its not my fault honey,
I swear, dont hate me, I need you.
Yes, we know now, we know never to trust me.
But this one time, just this once,
Can you make me smile,
For the last time, my love, my hate.
Let me write, it will set us free.
Please, my master, my emperor,
Look upon me, the least of your beings, make me write.
Now you realise it cannot be written.

But yet I write, I hope, I dream.
We wake up everyday, to the same day, seeing you leave.
And i sleep again shutting my reason, which says,
That tomorrow also,
You wont come and I wont write.

Life Left.

2007-09-22T11:33:00.000+05:30

(its an absolute fiction. its rough but i refuse to make it fair even as my frnd adi forces me. i did punctuate it!!! im too lazy. i dedicate it to vishal, an imp reason of my spoilt stupidity. and ofc pa. most imp i dedicate it to me. to fear and courage. and to never growing up... lol... cheers... read on and comment.)

A firm hand moves over my curvy waist,teeth mark my neck,
And lips caress my jaw line.As i am posseisively held,
"Trust me", the voice says. "I love the you of you".
I blush and I let out a sigh!

I hear, screams and insults,
My hurt kills my voice, I cannot be heard.
I see red. The red of rage.
I see greenish blue. The colour of my wound.

A small hand tugs my dress,
She waves out to me and runs to 'daddy',
The child inside me envies her,
As she walks along playfully with her hero!

My breath is fast and short,
My tears are flooding.
My body is red in fear,
And my hands shake as I hold tht bottle of water.

Now I'm breathing, eyes low, and everything is slow.
The pills are spreading its wings inside.
I spread out my hand trying to grab some support,
And theres is soft light outside my eyelids.

Honey, dodi, pumpkin, baby, duh, girl, princess.
They try all names to wake me up.
This tube in my nose is irritating,
And so is that concerned face waiting outside.

Dont ask me why? Ask him. Why did u wake me up?
Let me sleep, oh, let me sleep, please let me lie down!
My breath is working, your work here is done.
Life came to me. Moments became memories. Life left.

I am.

2007-07-25T19:01:00.000+05:30

(this ones for Pa. tc dad n God bless)

I am the shades of green on the plastic plant.
I am the trail of a tear in the eyes of a spoilt kid.
I am the burnt rubber mixed w/ blood on the hard road.
I am the over boiling, spilling milk near the tired, lost house maid.
I am the fear in the heart of a death sentenced rapist.
I am the colour of the bruise on the face of the abused boy.
I am the drug abuse of the parent.
I am the temptation to run away from problems.
I am the empty head of the yapping chic and the lust of the guy staring at her.
I am the desperate kiss and puff of smoke after the fling.
I am the unchanging steady face of the violent child.
I am the greed felt by a young beggar looking at the building.
I am the relish in the left over food.
I am the satisfaction of a rich man and mediocrity of the middle class man.
I am the happy guilt of the first kiss and scared freedom of the last.
I am the relaxation of a pedicure.
The howling of a hungry dog.
The blazing fire in the candle light dinner.
I am the power to manipulate, plot and hurt an innocent soul.
I am the smudge of kohl near the eyes of an old whore.
I am the wishing eyebrows of a drag queen.
I am the bejeweled hands of a show off and sparkle in the tear during sex.
I am the cable wire blocking the sky and dark eye shadow of a seductress.
I am the cut wrist and the bad hair cut.
I shine in the sun reflecting in your sweat.
I am the obsession and ridicule of a bully.
I am the blush on the bride’s face and knife to cut the cake.
I am the jealousy and helplessness of the ex and empty pride of the present.
The speechless head of the retired breadwinner.
The ink for the writer.
I am evil...
I AM.
Who am I? I am God!

Around me

2007-07-16T16:32:00.001+05:30

(hmm another poem written long time bk. lets jus say im in da mood of posting stuff :D)

Everywhere around me I see people...
Different, loving, trying, thinking,
Hoping...

Everywhere around me I see things...
Good, bad, bright, dull;
Just there.

Everywhere around me, I see space...
Lots of it.

Just a simple empty space,
Which unearths its way between all this...

And then the battle begins;
My amour of defense comes up;
I try to wrestle, but who can fight space.

It was like the desert sand,
Fatal but when held slips away…

Then they come…people and things for your salvage.
You hide behind them and it seizes your being even intently…

I observe it as it fills me up and consumes me,
I observe as it shows me inside every one and every thing
I wonder if this is what we have in store,
Of this momentary and alluring span of life…

Seduction

2007-07-16T16:16:00.000+05:30

(random poem scribbled on the note pad, hence no puncutation and grammer, altho i love its rawness. written long time back.)

i knw what ur doin, its ur job...
u do it all da time.
ur lips n ur eyes move
they move... responsivily, passionatly.

then u move ur hands
expressively and proactivly
ur attitude and ur language change
suitably, accordingly.

i see everything inside u too,
i react correctly.
but somethin else is on my mind,
my eyes give it all away

then i read my mind n smile
shyly and slyly.
if u knew wat i was thinking...
u'd stop ... stop wat it is tht ur doing

ur talking abt somethin.
some worldly topic, some social issues,
some political concern discussed philosophically
or simply jus commenting wittly

but i see somethin else.
i see the fire burnin behind it,
it spreading everywhre u see or reach, unknwingly
and heating up slowly

u do not need nething else.
the mental foreplay is on
read the signs systematically
u own every bit of it...

ur seduction is done intelligently
its cutting the body slowly
ur power is tempting me in extasy
and ur eyes make me surrender respectfully

n well our conversation is over
so we'll just get back, its abt time
continue with the work physically
but enjoy the sparked up storm soulfully

Dreams

2007-07-11T22:51:00.000+05:30

(wrote the 1st para longggg bk... the rest is a creation by me and my best pal vishal. so its different. its fun tho u shud try... 1 line by each one. different creation. this also happens to be my 1st story with a nonhappy ending. so its a lil sad :P neways hope u guys enjoy... o n i dedicate this to vishal talsania... to you vishy... for always bein thr and managing me. love u)

He opened his eyes and it was a beautiful forest surrounding him. it looked like he was the first one to be there. His eyes saw lush green trees with wild flowers hanging. He was breathing earthy smell with wet wood. The air seemed moist and cool on his skin. It was like he could taste the moisture. He was meditating there. His head and heart were peaceful. All his senses were at their pleasant best. He slowly got up to move near the constant, soft music in his ears it seemed to be coming from near by. It was a water fall. He moved the bushes and slowly moved as if he was floating. As he went closer with every step the music became clearer and smoother.

He was moving towards the fall. He could feel the water droplets on his face. He was moving towards the water his feet almost touching the water. Suddenly, he saw a girl emerge out of water. High cheek bones, long hair adorning her curved waistline, deep black eyes going perfectly well with her dusky complexion and coat of water droplets all over her body. She was the most beautiful angel he’d seen. And she was looking straight into his eyes. As if looking into his heart. She was walking towards him. She came closer and closer with every beat. Closer, closer, closer he could feel her icy breath on his face now. And she walked through him. As if he was thin air. He felt chilled icy chilled puff of breeze. As she went past.

He looked behind to see who it was and he saw no one. And his shirt was wet with water stains. and as he wondered, the music grew stronger. It was almost enticing him now. Seducing him towards the beat. It was all around him now. It was evading his soul. Suddenly it stopped. And he fell unconscious on the ground faintly seeing the image of the angel he saw before.

He woke up in his familiar bed. And faintly through his sleepish eyes he saw Zheel coming out of the bathroom, glowing and fresh of a warm bath. He thought to him self. She was nothing like the angel he’d seen back then. She just moved without a glance at him. And the beat was lost.

Who was that girl in his dreams then, someone so familiar and yet unknown. Someone with whom, he felt he’s spent a lifetime with. But it wasn’t his wife. Someone, whose face now he cud barely remember, but whose icy touch was still very vividly fresh in his memory.

He got up.... to continue with his morning routine. But this question not leaving his mind not even for a moment. Now he looked in the mirror. Just staring. And he decided. Decided to live his every moment and share his life and non existent love with the woman who never understood his dreams.

life

2007-07-04T18:39:00.000+05:30

(something i thought of long long time bk, some1 jus reminded me of it today :) . neways cheers)

wrong situation, wrong person, wrong time.
wrong situation, wrong person, right time.
wrong situation, right person, wrong time.
right situation, right person, wrong time.
right situation, wrong person, right time.

right situation, right person, right time, wrong me!

Swollen hands

2007-07-03T20:48:00.000+05:30

(dedicated to my best friend Priyanka Shetty. wish you all the love in the world. and a happy never ending. God bless. mwah!)
(this story is fictional. only taken random names of frnds. wrote it while being bored to death in the hospital. cheers)

They were on opposite beds in the hospital. She mostly slept due to medicines. And he, he just kept staring at her hands. He couldn’t see her. The green partition had divided them. He knew every curve and movement of her hands.

Two days later. They spoke. He offered her his ipod. ‘Coming back to life’ was playing on the pod. She broke the ice. “So what happened?” she said gesturing to his hand. “Butchers knife fell, lost a lot of blood.” “I’m a chef, by the way” he added after a brief pause. “OKAY! Aren’t you too young to have such an accident!” she exclaimed mockingly. “Aren’t you to old to have an ‘innocent’ over dosage of medicine” he retorted back. “I heard the doctors talking.” He said. She gave him a look and said, “So tell me about your girl.” She paused. “I figured you have one”.
“Yup, Priyanka...” He plainly said. With his stern straight questioning face. She shrugged. “Amit. Tall, chivalrous, rude, young.”
“Really!” he said understandingly. “Coffee date, right now?” She narrowed her eyes, as if skeptical. “Black coffee.”

He called the ward boy. Coffee came. Conversation started. There was pretence in both their eyes. But an undeniable spark. A painfully strong chemistry. They spoke about everything, besides themselves. There were blank moments in the middle where they just kept staring at each other. “You don’t have pretty hands. But they look nice when swollen.” He said with a boyish excitement.
“Huh? Okay.” She said fixing her gaze on his eyes which were on her hands. She just looked at his face. He had the most hurtfully opaque eyes she had seen his lips were chiseled to imperfection. She was jealous of his sense of humor which mixed with his agonizing smile.
“Tell me about her.” She said trying to avoid his manly charm. “Smart, seductive, stupid, Sunshine.” He said looking into her eyes. As if challenging her.
It had just been half an hour. He invited her to sit on the steps outside the hospital room. Then she said, “I would like to tell you why it happened, the real reason why I’m here.” He asked her back, “why? I don’t wish to know. I understand.” He just stared at her while she looked down at her hands. He did not know how long he kept staring at her. Her innocent eyes and flowing hair, mesmerized him. He did not know why in his head her lips seemed ‘sexy’. He never referred to women that way. Her womanly poise enticed him. She suddenly asked, “Its weird you know. I’m in the worst condition possible and you actually asked me for coffee.” And then she laughed without any inhibitions shaking her head. “You are crazy. I feel like kissing you.” His eyes fixed on her face. “Aren’t you very committed, mister!” she laughed some more.
“Not really…” he paused. “I’m engaged.” He waited for her face to get discoloured. “I’m bored of this stupid game. Really.” He said. “Ok listen.” He continued looking at her shocked face. “I lost a lot of blood when the knife fell backwards on my hand, but thanks to all those donors I got it back. I lost my mind when I fought with you, but here in this wretched place I got it back. I almost lost you and I want you, with out any questions or explanations. I want you to be mine.”
“Umm… I… umm… you…” she said trying to gather herself. “Why?”
“Cause you have the most dammed beautiful swollen hands ever. Marry me, sunshine” he said with a strong voice. She cried. He held her hand and let her cry. Between her sobs she said, “Yes Amit”

hmmm...

2007-06-24T15:10:00.001+05:30

(statutory waring: this post is absolutly weird and random.. read at your own risk)

The weather is storming. It’s restless and vibrant. It’s forcing me to write. I actually just want to go out get wet and dance in the rains. Or maybe, go on a crazy, risky, fast drive to no where. Make out, jump and play in the rains. Act like kids, love like teens, feel the poring water like an old, frayed, dying lady.
And here comes some more… wild, violent, murderous rains. What a thrilling show, the nature puts on for us! Then I just come near the window. The nature forces itself inside the house and penetrates inside me. Whilst reading an old friend’s thoughts on the blog, I am forced to become retrospective. But then again how can I be normal when the nature has lost control. Might seem weird but I’m deeply connected to natural elements. My name, although highly complicated is, nature. At this point I have completely lost the point of my post. But I shall continue because I can’t stop. Writing is like a drug takes you higher every time. If you try to quit it will come back to you somehow and no matter what it stays in you body/ mind. Every word I type on the key bored brings new thoughts. Don’t know how this will end or where… Or will it really end. It’s a long drawn process going on since forever. I’m trying to organize my head. Put different thoughts in different compartment. As it is creating technical default in my system.
Right now, I am thinking how do I get pics uploaded on my blog (as I am pretty daft at computeering)? And I am thinking about that one person who was something more than friends and the fact that I shall never see him or my favorite book that is with him, ever again. I’m not depressed, but its just weird that you would NEVER see a particular human being again. And I am thinking of my all my favorite who will leave for a long time. Or should I concentrate on the career vs. the ‘love what I do’ fight. There’s more… picking between family and non family. My crush on this amazing guy or casual relationship, My longest ‘love of the life’ friendship or having a crush on random blog on the net. the long alone talk at the window or droplets on rain on my bare hands.
I have a funny head which only 2 people on earth have understood. One is my best girl friend and another is a stranger and will always be one. So yeah! Calmed down. The nature I mean. And well me too.

(I dunno wat to name this :p)

2007-06-19T10:32:00.001+05:30

Lekha sat at barista. It was lightly drizzling and heavily clouded. She was trying to pen down her thoughts while playing with the ice cubes in her iced tea. It was on of her blank space time, where she had so much in her head but nothing to write about. She looked around quietly, some really hot men, some pretty chicks and few other familiar faces. At that moment she was invisible for everyone. “Hey that’s Cyrus sir!” she thought to herself. But she did not feel like talking to anyone, she liked being merged in the crowd, where no one knew her. She became one with the sound around, honking, screaming, blushing giggles, loud laughs. “How will I tell him?” she thought.

Lekha was short and petite. She hardly spoke to anyone and most people thought of her as cold hearted. Her subtle features added to it. She was away from emotions. As if she could see them from a distance. She never dated in college. Whilst working she met Siddh, he was tall, thin, nerdy looking guy. He was a writer like her. And to her surprise he was an engineering graduate turned writer. She was often jealous of his writings. They understood each other. Even when they did not, they dint bother. Sometimes through the night discussing stories ideas and thoughts it was difficult for them to come to the real world leaving the fiction and fantasy. Sometimes they fought so much that it turned in to passion. And it would turn into the most lustful love making ever. But the distance always prevailed in them. Like they were miles away.

Today, she waited for him for three hours. He finally came. She had the coldest look on her face. Like always. She knew this was inevitable. “Hi sorry I’m late!” he said trying to be apologetic. “No Siddh, I am late… a month and half…” she snapped. “You mean… You are”… “Yes!” she said firmly. They both sat there for a very long time in silence. “I never told you this… I love you. And I’m really going to miss you!” he said in a heavy voice. “You know what! Me too” she looked straight in his eyes. They hugged for what seemed like eternity and parted with a kiss. While leaving she asked, “So are you going to write about this or me?” They both just smiled, giving each other last looks. She went home with tears and a satisfied smile se wrote about a story about the best break up ever.

Being ME

2007-06-18T13:14:00.000+05:30

(this is an old post i found written on one of my blogs. ni ts surprising i can still relate to it a little bit. weird huh! so yea comments/ suggestions/ advice welcome)

It’s been a while since I left college and yes like every other person I am cribbing about: ‘Damn! Why do I miss my college so much?’ Yes it all started there. When we are little we are asked question, “Who do you want to be when you grow up?’ and I never knew what I wanted to be. But life gave roles and I accepted it. In school life and junior college I was different from any other teenager. I was in sync with my developments, maybe a little too much. Crushes were fun and revenge was new and fresh. In college like in school I realised I have always lived 2 yrs behind my life and thought 2 yrs ahead. As usual pretty complicated… but let’s get back to our story. Hmm… so the missing title of my life was always filled by something or some1… flings, boy friends, friends, parties, magic touch all the attention and fun was on. I was a student, a teacher, a leader, a hottie, a tom boy, stupid, over intelligent, sweet and blah crap… but I was something always. I never was someONE

After college and few parting weeks I was alone and free. Bored of life and doing nothing. Suddenly friends were gone and the phase of FUN and stupid flings was passed way back and I dint realise it. So I was no more the student or the other names. And since your in the 20 phase (I m sure u know that) your expected to b wise… so role at home cant be that of a careless gal having fun parting. Your duties remained same but your role was diff. so again who was I? Yea, the good gal in the house, But wait that’s not me that’s who I m expected to. So to change that social outing and formal events increased. To get back to who I was ‘used to’ being… I became the perfect hostess. So now I was the sweet hostess, but wait I wasn’t that either.

Went through different phases of being a girl to a woman, reader to writer, psychologist to philosophist and etc. some were longer and some were just a one night phase. But the question of who am I, still persists… because the deeper you go the freakier it gets. Your family, your name… hell your own body seems alien… (Yes when we say ‘my body’… its something that belongs to us not something we are)… and there in the dept of deep question. My confusion of finding my temporary and permanent identity persisted.

The other day my younger perky cousin asked me, “Wow!!! Isn’t it fun being u…?” I jus looked at her; she liked me, looked at me in awe and even followed my life patterns sometimes. I listen to her college story and smile about how simple life is to her wish i could tell her what it is to be ME...but i see her and i feel... ignorance IS bliss.

Surprise?

2007-05-26T17:28:00.000+05:30

Click! The door opened. She pushed it with huge bag of grocery and books in her hand. This was the first rain of the season. She wanted to go out and get wet. Rains for her were freedom, something that washed off all her emotions, happy, sad, hurt, pain, excitement, everything. She felt empty and light. She put on the stove but today her head was not in cooking. She had decided to make Mexican for dinner. Cooking and serving would give her pleasure. The pressure cooker built up steam. She went in to the room undressed. She took a quick bath and put on some music. She realised there was some sprint in her step. Her head felt funny she just slipped into her bathrobe and started cooking. Evening was setting in and droplets of fresh rain kept pouring. While stirring the red pasta sauce she got lost into the beauty of the fierce sky, a small droplet hit her eye and she shut her eyes.
She heard a voice from behind said, “Ash, I don’t think we can go today, its pouring crazy it’s early this year. I’m sorry ya. We shouldn’t have ……” But she wasn’t listening she was in the terrace with her new formal dress with her most treasured manolo blahniks lying on the side, soaking herself. Her eyes were shut and water pouring from her hair to her face, neck, waist, feet and on the concrete ground. And that’s when he kissed her.
She opened her eyes and the pressure cooker gave the final whistle as if pleading to take of all the steam. Aastha was quiet. She knew what she was going to tell Vikram tonight would shake up her life. Turn her world upside down and maybe even make her the very vulnerable. Right now she was just enjoying jumpy the feeling inside her heart and stomach. But she was still what she was that day on the terrace… highly insecure.
Vikram was her life. She loved him; she had given everything she had to him. Many times she would talk to herself and call herself, ‘stupid’. But the last one year was the most beautiful year of her life. Most of the times they would just be sitting in one room, working on different things and just stealing a quick glance at each other in between the incessant clicking of their laptops. Or they would just lie down on the bed staring at each other for hours. Not touching each other just staring and the alarm would ring for them to get dressed and go to work. There were times when they would not talk for days because of the most trivial matter but both knew that it was needed. Sex was just another form of having a great conversation with the ‘Special Vikram Coffee’ in the middle of the night. Inspite of all this he was still a normal hot blooded man who loved kissing her at every chance he got, and she was still the petite woman who blushed at every kiss.
She was not sure how he was going to react to this.
She realised it was late and she needed to get dressed. She tried on a few things and finally came down to a simple kurta and jeans. As she wore her glasses she realised if she hadn’t met him she wouldn’t have known that glasses make her nose look thinner. She smiled and laid down the table. He came; they kissed and settled for dinner. “How do you do this, Ash…? I mean how? You make like perfect food for a long tiring work day? I’m gonna eat all the lasagnes” Vikrant went on. Dinner was over and she was clearing the dishes. All the while she tried to pick up hints as to how he would react. “We... We should live together.” She just said it concealing her nervousness and excitement. She had said it a lot of times before but this time she meant it, even he knew it. He looked at her, nodded his head and suddenly got up went inside. She was a little shocked. She turned and faced the sink with her eyes closed. This was the most insulting few seconds of her life. At first she wanted to cry. She thought to herself. ‘He’s selfish, mean and stupid, maybe…’
Suddenly he held her hand from behind and slipped a ring in her hand. Before she realised what happened he took her to the terrace outside. “Vik…what… I…?” he kissed her forehead and whispered in her ear, “I’m selfish, mean and stupid but so are you! And now I’m not asking you, I’m telling you… Let’s get married!”

First Moments

2006-12-23T14:07:00.000+05:30

This is enitirely work of fiction. Any resemblence to a living or a dead person is an absolute coincidence. The writer is not to be held responsible or sarcasticly taunted.... heheheh
(this is for all u ppl who think its autobiographical...:P)

“Baby, please I need more time… don’t do this to me… you know I can’t function without you!” Vishwa pleaded in a stern voice. “You cannot expect me to take over night decisions, come on Sufi!!!”
“Vish, what do you want me to do, wait for you till you decide if you want to be with me or no, I know I’m being irrational but you know how I am, you knew it before u first kissed me. And now if you have to TAKE TIME to think it over, fine… do that but I am not wasting my time” She said in the most hurting way. In a fit of desperation and rage he shouted, “How can you be so freaking cold Suf! If it was so easy for me to move on I would have left you long back… why don’t you understand that I love you, I can’t live without you… I don’t want to move on… I want to be with you… you can just move on with the list of men in your life… I don’t know if you even need me anymore.”
“Yes I am cold and I have lot of men who can make me happy… I’m not going to wait for someone who needs time to think if he even wants to be with me!!!... Just go away Vish you took away my best friend and the love of my life… you want to hear more you are a liar...and I don’t want to see you anymore…!” she screamt and cried out. He banged the door behind him and she sobbed uncontrollably and closed her eyes.

‘BANG!’ the window moved. She woke up with a startle. Sufi dint realise when she’d fallen asleep. Her cheeks were marked with kohl stained tears. She was surprised and sad coz she remembered their first fight like it was still alive. She sat there on the couch thinking of the moment when the best friends melted into lovers. She remembered their first kiss.

“Why are you so quiet?” Vishwa asked. “Huh!” Sufi looked at him lost. “You can’t possibly be sleepy… wake up sleepy head!” he asked ruffling her hair. “Vishy, come on...” she made a sad face, rubbed her nose against his shoulder and closed her eyes. He just looked at her with a broad smile. He loved it when she did that, and she loved hugging his arm and sleeping on his shoulder. He looked at her, her eyes closed and nose scrounged up. In a sudden urge of passion and bouts of love he kissed her. She was in a shock for few seconds. Then to his surprise, she kissed him back. He held her and whispered, “I love you Sufi!”
“I’m scared!” she said. “There is nothing in this world that is more important for me than you. I’ll never leave u.” He looked at her. She smiled shyly and mocked at him, “Lair!” And they both laughed. He hugged her and whispered sweet things in her ears. She kept listening to him as soft tears fell out of her eyes.

Sitting near the banging window, now, she did not feel like wiping her tears. She went near the table and opened the file with his papers. The first one said, ‘Great write up Suf. Baby never stop writing I love it. And I love you. Kisses’, after flipping through all the papers she read a small news paper cut out. “Liar” she said out aloud. And put his obituary note inside the file. She kept his picture on the table, felt his frame and started to write. This was the first time she was writing without him.

I'll see you around...

2006-11-11T16:08:00.000+05:30

“Yeah I’ll be there...” she sighed, drawing imaginary lines around her phone. “yea I know want I want to wear… thx c u there”. Shar hung up the phone as if damming it to hell. She was angry. Angry at everything. She shook her head and put on some music at the loudest possible volume in the hopes to shut out her thoughts. Nothing was helping her. Her anger was irrational and for some reason she couldn’t seem to help it. She undressed and went for a shower. As hot water ran through her hair she stood in the shower just not knowing what to do. Her eyes seemed to give it away. Somehow the tears seemed hotter than the shower. Finally, she thought. She was tired of wanting to feel secure wanting to be happy and basically just wanting.
Shar dressed into simple black low neck top and a denim mini, it was jus perfect with the heels. She took a deep breath and gave a broad smile. It was her Vishesh’s birthday party. Although for people they were best friends. She knew he was just not there anymore. She put on a brave face and entered the place with blaring beats and chilling ac. She danced like never before. The combination of music, whisky and anger proved deadly for her. She was used men staring at her as a hot object but then some guy over the bar was looking at her like she’s from outer space. She wondered as sat near the bar. But she couldn’t help but look back at that guy. ‘What the hell’ she thought. She went upto him and asked, “Excuse me. But I…I?” He replied, “Do you know who u r?” “What?” she reacted? He laughed. “Forget it. So what’s u doing?” she looked at him confused and doubtfully. “Umm... Alright. Look im sorry I got to go dance with friends.” As she was leaving, he held her hand and asked. “…or u could just hang out here and dance with Me.” she did not know what happened to her. He was shorter to her and slightly fat; he wasn’t even a great dancer. But somehow she had one of the best times with him. She laughed a lot and it was like she had forgotten about everything else in the world.
It was time for her to leave now. She looked at her friends and looked at him. He jus smiled, kissed her hand lightly and gestured her to go. “I’ll see u around” he said. She left looking at him still confused. On the way back she realised she spend her night with someone whom she didn’t even know. She couldn’t stop smiling and was still wondering.
Many months passed by... She had forgotten about Vishesh and almost all her friends. Shar had many flings and dated many men But she never forgot that one night. Many a times she went to the same place but never saw him around. She got ready and walked on the road. The sun hit her face and reflected on her short curls that almost covering her face. She was trying to handle her files, books and heels as she walked briskly. As she was crossing the road she almost tripped over her heels near the foot path and a car screeched and stopped. She tried straightened her self. Someone from the car came to help. As she looked up she was bewildered. He jus looked at her and laughed. “Hey! Ru alright?” she looked at him with a smirk and said, “Do you know who ur?” they both laughed. He said, “I am Dheer by the way.” “I am Sharmishta.” As they walked near the foot path. He held her hand to so she wouldn’t trip again. She looked at him, “I don’t believe we’re meeting like this. I thought we would never meet… I… mean we should have… u know….” She was surprised at what she was saying. She saw he reflected what she felt all this time. Dheer replied, “U look very stunning urself, thanks” she jus looked at him, this time as if he was from outer space. “Ur crazy!” “So ru!!!Let’s go for coffee… no harm meant…” he said. She jus smiled and shook her head, “I’ll see u around” she shrugged and they both moved leaving light sounds of laughter behind.

warning...

2006-10-04T16:34:00.000+05:30

Dont tell me I dint warn you,
There were signs from the beginning,
My laughter, my amusement, my soft seduction were all signs.
I tested you all along to show the twisted,
For I needed to know jus how much of you was mine.

So don’t tell me I dint warn you!
About my insecurities and hypocrisy,
About my over precaution and naïve blind trust,
About my constant fears and constant challenges,
About over emotions n the cold prickly lust…

I’m sure I warned you.
About the infant and the evil obsession,
About bliss and destruction,
About huge open space and the trapped ditch…

Read the warning, it says danger;
You look scared, you look confused,
Do not save me then, save yourself, run!
Just go over to their side of the world and look at me amused…

If you ignore the warning and play with fire,
You can control the hunger and the tempest,
You understand the extremes without being a lair,
You can hear the scream in between the noise.

Then the poetry behind the warning has been deciphered
It is veneration with power, on this side of the world.
Surrender to the poem
And conquer the warning.

Shristi

2006-09-05T21:05:00.000+05:30

Shristi wakes up lazily in the morning shutting her snooze finally. After her daily routine she is dressed and runs with a packed ‘dabba’ to catch the 9:55 fast to Churchgate. There she waits amongst the hundreds of other women waiting for the train. She is amongst them, amongst the massive crowd but she does not feel crowded. She and all the other women out there pretend that no one around them is really there. The train comes, with lots of effort they all board.
In the train amongst the varied women from different background and thinking, is Shristi. Everyone has their own massive world compressed into a small standing place holding the handle above or the small fourth seat with a slow fan above. Shristi has consciously switched off her thinking power during travelling, years back. This time for her is to be blank or randomly dose off in and out of sleep. She passes all the places which once upon a time inspired her to write, to be poetic, nostalgic and sometimes got a soft wet tear out of her eye. She consciously remains oblivious to that. The train finally halts at Churchgate. Shristi is one face between the hundreds rushing in and out of there. She is no one special, because she chooses not to be special.
Six months back at the same place and same time. When she walked, all eyes noticed her at least once. She liked that, she was used to that, she wanted that. Life was so much different back then. She was in love, with herself, with her surroundings with everything including HIM. She had a new job and challenges. Her love for him was enough for her to last a lifetime. Or at least that is what it felt at that time. There was a dream, there was a future. It did not matter to her whether he or the world loved her… her love was too much to bother for anything disturbing. But now, she just tries to be one in the crowd. Sometimes she observes women in the train. She can read them, their minds their thoughts. She has done it all her life. But she does not open up. She is used to the ‘Routine’. She is emotionally bankrupt.
Back in office there is a new client waiting for her, may ask her out for a date or coffee and she will refuse. Today she enters her cabin sorts out her bags and files. “Shristi, client is waiting in the board room, should I send him in your cabin?” there is an intercom from the secretary. She says ok and waits for him to enter. She is reading the account detail, when he enters. She looks at him. The same face she fell in love with, same man she could surrender to, fall down on her knees and be his forever. It was HIM. He sits. He asks her, “How have you been?” She smiles and politely responds. They have a small conversation and move toward professional talks. They do not talk about the obvious, both are too scared. And after a whole day of reading articles and checking previous history of the product, they are about to part. It is late at night. He offers to drop her home. When they reach her house he looks at her and says, “I miss you Shristi!” She looks at him. Pecks his cheek lightly and leaves.
She could cry but now it was too late. She feels fine. She finishes her work. Sleeps. Next day again wakes up with snooze. But today after getting dressed she looks in the mirror. And just blankly stares. She laughs. She realises its getting late and again leaves for a long day at work. She goes to the station and has a smile on her face, because today for the first time she is in between the crowd.

Rewind

2006-08-26T16:16:00.000+05:30

Isn’t it ironic that when you finally sit to write the blog your net goes off… well I think that’s how life is… anyways getting bk to my ‘thoughts’…. So my nose is leaking like an open tap and head has taken inspiration from a volcano. Haven’t slept all night coz of I was busy trying to breath.

Well I went to college today in the middle of all this to get my fees refund. (Yea we’re getting a small amount back… so cool) in the office I can barely stand and my hand shiver while filling the unnecessary details. (Come on! It was the question of money... few hundred bucks all for me. Lol.) So we take our forms and enter the college premises. He lets us in from the back gate because we are not students anymore. And as we enter, there is a shrill sound ringing in my ears and suddenly something happens to me. It was the sound of the bell ringing… all of us almost startled and then break into a big grin… it has just been few months but feels like years we have experienced that feeling. The college atmosphere where people moving around in frenzy, some just sitting there for no apparent reason and guys are checking u out. The nostalgia took me back in time. Reminded me of the panwala outside which used to be our college campus. The laughter still rings in my ears like it was yesterday. The winks and smile and subtle flirting. Hours spent discussing religion and politics. I wonder how all of us have changed and moved on so fast and away. The bored, loserish teens have turned into career making over ambitious adults. I wish things get back to the way they were and in the midst of my thoughts suddenly…

I am about to trip on the steps and my friend catches me, and brings me back to reality. She laughs at how clumsy I have always been. And I realise not much has changed. Our life is habituated living around each other. To catch when one of us falls or pretend to fall when everyone does. We still have our old habits, we still have vivid discussions on religion and politics and absolute random arguments over a stone. The girls keep cribbing about men and boys still keep trying to get some. The flirting has turned into full-fledged flings. ‘Basic Instinct’ still amuses us and ‘Rang De Basanti’ makes us weep over our college life. Life moves on changes happen. Most of them which we do not like in the beginning, but the deep rooted philosophy, of complex relationships, that we learn and experience lives in us forever. That’s how life is you cherish memories and move on. And once in a while rewind time by a simple ring of the bell.

We are just about to leave and just when I am hailing for an auto rickshaw, my friends stops me. We know we can afford an auto as we are not broke and begging for pocket money, but still we decide to go by our same old bus 253 and try and relive our old memories. And as we get into the crowded bus I smile at my friend who is reflecting the exact same thoughts.

there is no place like home...

2006-08-21T00:54:00.000+05:30

after a long day of discussions and uncomfortable talks... after spending an unsucessful day w/ my best frnd, tryin to hv some time to ourself... after a day of bad health and hormones....so after a really bad day or shud i say a day whr i couldn b myself... i walk home to a cashless walet,a family in deep discusssion, and cold dinner. after a dinner and mom's scremin i switch on tv to get entertained. and i see romantic couples and 'happily ever after' movies, and im ntn but disgusted... and finally the thing i was looking forward to... 'Sex and the City' and well i see its coming to end and tht to such an emotional end... carrie finally gets w/ her mr. big, samantha is taking care of her husbands old mother, charlotte gets her baby and samantha has smith still soo in love and understanding... n soo beautiful... but im sad coz its ending... and then i realised that after all the sex and enjoyment of the city we need to come bk home.. the plc whr we belong.
you roam the whole wrld and u come bk to whr u started.. ur bk to square one... and ur at home u don travel and ur still at such a high. the feeling of bein ur self, a slob, bored, sleepy, obsessive is only fulfiled at home. we take is so much for granted the 'home'. wen we are out the whole day fulfillin our dreams and luxuries, we forget that part of our life which includes love. yes love cant fill stomachs but it can fill our hearts and minds which gives us strenght to get food. to belong and to b loved is a basic need and the store room of love in our body is our powerhouse. and whether we r just told 'i love u' in the most romantic way or just have some 1 to open the door wen we come bk, w/ a smile. we r charged...
and suddenly after this thot the day doesn seem bad.... the ending of my fa series makes me cry but i also smile thiking of the person in deep sleep inside who opened the door fr me today.

Finding the 'I'

2006-08-20T01:37:00.000+05:30

It’s been a while since I left college and yes like every other person I am cribbing about: ‘Damn! Why do I miss my college so much?’ Yes it all started there. When we are little we are asked question, “Who do you want to be when you grow up?’ and I never knew what I wanted to be. But life gave roles and I accepted it. In school life and junior college I was different from any other teenager. I was in sync with my developments, maybe a little too much. Crushes were fun and revenge was new and fresh. In college like in school I realised I have always lived 2 yrs behind my life and thought 2 yrs ahead. As usual pretty complicated… but let’s get back to our story. Hmm… so the missing title of my life was always filled by something or some1… flings, boy friends, friends, parties, magic touch all the attention and fun was on. I was a student, a teacher, a leader, a hottie, a tom boy, stupid, over intelligent, sweet and blah crap… but I was something always. I never was some1.

After college and few parting weeks I was alone and free. Bored of life and doing nothing. Suddenly friends were gone and the phase of FUN and stupid flings was passed way back and I dint realise it. So I was no more the student or the other names. And since your in the 20 phase (I m sure u know that) your expected to b wise… so role at home cant be that of a careless gal having fun parting. Your duties remained same but your role was diff. so again who was I? Yea, the good gal in the house, But wait that’s not me that’s who I m expected to. So to change that social outing and formal events increased. To get back to who I was ‘used to’ being… I became the perfect hostess. So now I was the sweet hostess, but wait I wasn’t that either.

Went through different phases of being a girl to a woman, reader to writer, psychologist to philosophist and etc. some were longer and some were just a one night phase. But the question of who am I, still persists… because the deeper you go the freakier it gets. Your family, your name… hell your own body seems alien… (Yes when we say ‘my body’… its something that belongs to us not something we are)… and there in the dept of deep question. My confusion of finding my temporary and permanent identity persisted.

The other day my younger perky cousin asked me, “Wow!!! Isn’t it fun being u…?” I jus looked at her; she liked me, looked at me in awe and even followed my life patterns sometimes. I listen to her class story and smile about how simple life is to her... and maybe sometimes I think... ignorance is bliss and it is a folly to be wise…
(I write about my own examples because that’s what I can use without any copy right or offence… I just mean to put forward the point more easily)