Like a whiff of air
Drifting towards you
Pecking on the cheeks
When you sleep after a hectic day
Caressing the wrinkle on your forehead
I want to see you drifting into the soundest sleep
Cuddling myself in the window seat
Looking at you intently
From the hazy steaming cup of coffee
I slowly put the cushions of my hands
Under your strained neck
So that you relax and sigh
And get a moment
To remember me
The soft smile on the corners of your mouth
Would fill me with a deep satisfaction
But you would never see that
Because I will be drifting in the folds of
Your velvety curtains
I will be hiding behind the snowy soft cushions
I would love to shuffle your well kept hair
I would love to caress the frown, dear
It would please me to see you shiver
The touch of my fingers you know so well
But when you open your eyes
There will be no one
Feeling sad and attached to you so much
It breaks my heart to think
That you are going so far from me
Where there is distance of many skies and sea
It is a solace to get this power
Where in spite of distance I can shower
My love, my fondness for you
I thank an Angel today
Who gave me the power of being invisible for a day!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
A YUMMY DATE! (short story)
She stands in front of the full-length mirror and looks at herself.
She cringes a bit, for she does not like what she sees.
The jeans make her look fat.
And the tight blue top – it’s all wrong!
So she wears a loose dress – Churidar, Kurta and Dupatta – to hide her bulges.
She looks at her new high-heels – should she? They’ll make her look tall, less fat.
No. Not today.
Now it’s got to be walking shoes.
A brisk invigorating walk from Sanky tank to golf course rejuvenating her body breathing the fresh evening s breeze is what she needs to cheer her up.
She stands on the weighing machine near richie rich ice cream parlor and, with a tremor of trepidation, puts in the coin.
Lights flash.
Out comes the ticket.
She looks at it.
Same as yesterday.
And the day before.
And the day before.
No change.
She is doomed.
There is never any change in her weight or in her fortune!
Her face falls.
She’s trying so much; exercising, dieting. But it’s no use.
She looks longingly at the Softy Ice Cream counter.
There is a smart young handsome man with two Ice Cream cones, one in each hand.
He looks at her for that moment longer than necessary.
She averts her eyes, but he walks up to her and says, “Hi! How are you?”
She looks at him confused.
His face seems vaguely familiar.
“You are Sheena’s roommate, aren’t you?” he asks.
She remembers him. He is Sheena’s boyfriend!
“Here,” he says, coming close, proffering an Ice Cream cone.
She steps back awkwardly, perplexed and taken aback by the man’s audacity.
“Take it fast. It’ll melt,” he says.
She hesitates, confused.
“Come on. Don’t be shy. I know you love Ice Cream. Sheena told me.”
She takes the Ice Cream cone from his hands.
“I’m Raghav. I work in the HR department"
She doesn’t say anything.
“Let’s walk,” he says, “and hey, eat your ice cream fast before it melts”.
They start walking.
As they walk slowly out of richie rich 's towards golf course, they slowly lick the creamy yummy softy ice cream off their cones.
“You walked all the way?” he asks.
“Yes,” she speaks for the first time.
“All alone?”
“Yes.”
“You come here every evening?”
“Yes. I jog every morning too.”
“All alone?”
“No. On other days we come together.”
"We?"
"Sheena and me."
“And today?”
“Sheena’s gone out.”
“For the office party at the disc?”
“Maybe.”
“And you? Why didn't you go for the party? Didn't want to go all alone is it? No date?”
She’s furious. But she controls herself. Says nothing. No point getting on the wrong side of HR.
He notices and says, "Hey, don't get angry. I didn't go the party too."
She hastens her steps and says, “Okay. Bye. Time for me to go! And thanks for the Ice Cream.”
“No. No. Wait. Let’s have a Pizza over there,” he says pointing to the Pizzeria near golf course.
“No. Please. I’ve got to go.”
“Come on. Don’t count your calories too much. And don’t weigh yourself every day.”
“What?” she goes red with embarrassment!
This is too much!
So this guy has been stalking her - watching her every day.
Outwardly she fumes. But inside, she secretly feels a flush of excitement.
“Yes. Don’t get obsessed about your weight. Like Sheena.”
“Sheena?”
“She keeps nagging me about my weight!”
“But you’re not fat!” she says.
“Then what would you say I am?” he asks.
“Let’s say you’re on the healthier side?”
“Healthier side? That’s great!” he says amused. “Then you too are on the healthier side, aren’t you?”
“Oh yes. We both are on the healthier side.” She laughs.
He laughs.
They both laugh together.
Healthy laughter!
They sit in the cool breeze and relish, enjoy their pizzas.
He is easy to talk to, she has much to say, and the words come tumbling out.
And so they enjoy a ‘healthy’ date.
Relishing delicious Pizzas, and other lip smacking goodies, to their hearts’ content, capping the satiating repast with the heavenly ice creams at Baskin Robbin's nearby.
“Where were you?” Sheena asks when she returns to their room in the working women’s hostel late at night.
“I had a date.”
“You? Fatso? A date?” Sheena says disbelievingly
“Yes. A yummy date at golf course.”
“A date at golf course? Wow! Things are looking up for you yaar!”
“Yes. Things are really looking up for me. And you Sheena? How was your date?”
“The whole evening was ruined. That creep Raghav. He stood me up. He didn’t turn up at the disc and kept his mobile off.”
“You’ve met him.”
“Raghav? You’ve not introduced me to any Raghav.”
“Of course I have. He’s come here to pick me up so many times. He comes over to meet me at our office too. He works in HR.”
“Oh the guy from HR. The chap on the healthier side! That’s your darling Raghav, is it?”
“Darling? My foot!” Sheena says angrily, "Bloody ditcher, that’s what that Raghav is - how dare he stand me up - to hell with him!” Sheena mutters and goes off to sleep.
But our heroine cannot sleep.
She eagerly waits for sunrise.
For at six in the morning her newfound beau Raghav has promised to meet her on Sanky tank opposite the - for a “healthy’”jog on Sanky tank.
And they will be meeting in the evening too - at golf course- for ice cream, pizza and a yummy lovey-dovey date.
She feels happy, full of anticipation and zest.
Happiness is when you have something to look forward to.
Monday, January 04, 2010
No Regrets
Some days she was saddened by the cocoon of ignorance that no longer kept her protected. She imagined herself as she was then. Enclosed in her woman's body and seeing the world through her feminine experiences. In her peripheral vision there was another world that she was aware but did not fully comprehend. Then one day it was like she found the "open" switch. Like some science fiction movie her feminine exterior just opened up. She saw herself just leave her body and just emerge. She had a 360 degree view of the world.
It was different.
Liberating yet confusing. She saw the things she did not understand. She had no way of relating them to her single dimensional perspective. She had to make a decision. She could stand frozen in confusion ; retreat back and choose to "close" herself, or she could enter confidently this new world of perspectives. Every instinct in her body that was created through her conditioning, urged her to retreat, her intellect urged her to standstill and gauge her options, but destiny beckoned. She knew that if she didnt respond to destiny's summons, it had her way of angrily biting her. Destiny was one cruel bitch. It was not a very good idea to annoy her. It was better to welcome her. It was best to nurture her and gain her loyalty. It was important never to trust her. She squared her shoulders. She took a deep breath and prepared to follow the summons of her own destiny.
When she was a child her mother always said to her "right first". The first foot out of the door, the first foot in the door, the first reach of the hand, all the firsts must start with a right. Always use the right foot, always use the right hand. Right was good. It was good to be right. Start right and everything will be right. It was a lifelong practice. The left leg was already firmly supporting her weight. The right knee was flexed in anticipation of raising the right foot for the first step.
Then she changed her mind. She straightened up. Everything was different now. It was time for the right to take a back step. She looked at her left foot that seemed frozen to the ground unbelieving at the command issued by the brain impulse. Then slowly with the smile that reached all the way from the heel of her wrong foot right upto her eyes, she took her first step. How does one experience the new worlds if one goes only the "right" way?! It was time to break the circles of right.
It was time to be wrong.
Those lines that defined her place in the world got smudged. She crossed them with impunity and she no longer could see the lines. Those arbitrary markings in the tide of time, the social structure and mores of the day' even if she saw them i dont think she assigned them any value. A cursory look, every so often a nod in that direction, and then she went on with her day. She ignored those arbitrary man-made markings of ethical and moral rules that preened in self righteous importance and crowed with the need of absolute adherences even in the face of their own certain mortality. Occasionally that made her smile. The rewarding of meaningless awards breaking the tedium of their own pointless games of conformities beckoned but never engaged her. She kept her date with destiny. Then again- every so often she needed to define herself and her place in the world. But such lines once erased cannot be drawn again. Because the smudges from previous lines still exist and will not yield to new lines. Once clarity is erased one must learn to live with ambiguity. Once beliefs and proven wrong one must learn to make peace with the paradoxes. Her insecurity with ambiguities made her yearn for the person she was. Those days of simple definitions when black was black and white was white. Occasionally, wrapped in lonely solitude, she opened her photo album of memories and stroked the old sepia toned potraits with nostalgic fondness. They made her cry. They still made her cry. She wiped her tears. She shut her album. She got up with a sigh on her lips. She turned to leave, but something tugged her back. Solemnly she held her past in her arms and softly kissed it with care. She would stop again. She promised. When destiny let her pause for a moment in time that blessed her by standing still- she promised to return.
Then she moved on........
It was different.
Liberating yet confusing. She saw the things she did not understand. She had no way of relating them to her single dimensional perspective. She had to make a decision. She could stand frozen in confusion ; retreat back and choose to "close" herself, or she could enter confidently this new world of perspectives. Every instinct in her body that was created through her conditioning, urged her to retreat, her intellect urged her to standstill and gauge her options, but destiny beckoned. She knew that if she didnt respond to destiny's summons, it had her way of angrily biting her. Destiny was one cruel bitch. It was not a very good idea to annoy her. It was better to welcome her. It was best to nurture her and gain her loyalty. It was important never to trust her. She squared her shoulders. She took a deep breath and prepared to follow the summons of her own destiny.
When she was a child her mother always said to her "right first". The first foot out of the door, the first foot in the door, the first reach of the hand, all the firsts must start with a right. Always use the right foot, always use the right hand. Right was good. It was good to be right. Start right and everything will be right. It was a lifelong practice. The left leg was already firmly supporting her weight. The right knee was flexed in anticipation of raising the right foot for the first step.
Then she changed her mind. She straightened up. Everything was different now. It was time for the right to take a back step. She looked at her left foot that seemed frozen to the ground unbelieving at the command issued by the brain impulse. Then slowly with the smile that reached all the way from the heel of her wrong foot right upto her eyes, she took her first step. How does one experience the new worlds if one goes only the "right" way?! It was time to break the circles of right.
It was time to be wrong.
Those lines that defined her place in the world got smudged. She crossed them with impunity and she no longer could see the lines. Those arbitrary markings in the tide of time, the social structure and mores of the day' even if she saw them i dont think she assigned them any value. A cursory look, every so often a nod in that direction, and then she went on with her day. She ignored those arbitrary man-made markings of ethical and moral rules that preened in self righteous importance and crowed with the need of absolute adherences even in the face of their own certain mortality. Occasionally that made her smile. The rewarding of meaningless awards breaking the tedium of their own pointless games of conformities beckoned but never engaged her. She kept her date with destiny. Then again- every so often she needed to define herself and her place in the world. But such lines once erased cannot be drawn again. Because the smudges from previous lines still exist and will not yield to new lines. Once clarity is erased one must learn to live with ambiguity. Once beliefs and proven wrong one must learn to make peace with the paradoxes. Her insecurity with ambiguities made her yearn for the person she was. Those days of simple definitions when black was black and white was white. Occasionally, wrapped in lonely solitude, she opened her photo album of memories and stroked the old sepia toned potraits with nostalgic fondness. They made her cry. They still made her cry. She wiped her tears. She shut her album. She got up with a sigh on her lips. She turned to leave, but something tugged her back. Solemnly she held her past in her arms and softly kissed it with care. She would stop again. She promised. When destiny let her pause for a moment in time that blessed her by standing still- she promised to return.
Then she moved on........
Happy new year to me!
Posting something after a long time. Was just thinking...its so wierd... i suddenly stopped blogging.. for no reason! probably was too busy with life...and i can say really happy and satisfied with it... just felt i need not write because i had many people to talk to....too many people who i think listened to what i said... and now suddenly there is a void. some kind of hollowness. something in me is saying that i need to be alone for sometime... few months probably... retrospect.. and probably start blogging full swing. Today morning when i woke up BANG!!! came in my head... i need to blog! so here i am... planning to do something i havent tried before... will come up with it in a day or two! oh yeah happy new year to me! :) i am really hoping for a wonderful year ahead.. have great expectations and this time no resolutions! always make a weightloss resolution..never seems to work : :P but yes i think i need to be a bit more careful... have control on my temper... become more calm and composed... and yes most important... to forget the people i never liked anyway, a good fortune to run into the ones i do and most important to have an eyesight to tell the difference! i am happy to be back! :)
Monday, May 25, 2009
Saturday, August 23, 2008
I AM DEPRESSED
I refer to the Hindu and Business Line of 20th of August 2008 and two articles that made me think.
Let me take the first one mentioned above: ‘Denmark’s solution to energy crises by Thomas L Friedman. That particularly favorite journalist of mine talks about energy conservation and alternate energy development in two small countries. He starts with describing a town in Greenland as a ‘charming little place’ where energy saving has become a way of life. I immediately wonder whether he would say that about my little suburban village in Chennai. Of course we have this beautiful temple which is around six hundred years old. But would he able to ignore the empty temple tank which now emanates sulphurous fumes (of course I am joking)? Anyhow Mr. Friedman then goes on to elaborate on Denmark and the responsible Danes. At this moment I think about the other article I mentioned about, the one which appeared just above the said article in the Editorial page. ‘What about guarantee of output?’ asks B S Raghavan rhetorically. I had just finished reading about the hard truths which I generally try to forget about pointed out with dexterity by Mr. Raghavan. I remember the adjectives and nouns used there ‘appalling’, ‘callousness’, ‘corruption’ and this rather long but explicitly correct expression: ‘workers who are absent, incompetent, indifferent and outright corrupt’ by the World Bank. I also think about the comments made by the honourable judges of the Supreme Court of India that ‘even God cannot help our country’ while speaking about the inaction of the government and the officials.
Denmark, Mr. Friedman says is today energy independent. The Danes did not protest the imposition of a set of gasoline taxes in 1973 when it was hammered by the Arab oil embargo. Instead they innovated. They recycled waste heat from their coal-fired power plants for home heating and hot water; incinerated their trash in central stations to provide home heating. I think about the Pallikkaranai marsh, the virtual mountains of city waste and its dying flora and fauna. I think about all the overflowing dust bins as well as the empty dust bins with the waste thrown around by us otherwise vociferous city dwellers! I think about all the political parties and the party workers who have generally all the time to agitate on any issue but organize the clearing of the waste. I wondered why they do not come in to raise awareness amongst the people about self-help.
To come back to Mr. Friedman, he comes around to talking about wind industry and how it was nothing in 1970s and that today one third of all terrestrial wind turbines come from Denmark. India is a leading of wind power generator. Where is all the political will required to elevate this technology to bridge the energy gap now prevalent in India? I am an aam aadmi and needs to understand. I see fanatical obsession about the rights of diverse faiths, even the intellectuals pitching in. When will we direct our energy towards a total clean-up?
Now let me see, I want to see India with well laid out roads, clean railway stations, clean public civic amenities, continuous water supply, clean drinking water, uninterrupted electricity, housing for all … the list can go and on. Is this an Utopia? They say we have more than a billion population. But I think these facilities are available elsewhere where the population is more than ours. I quote an article in Hindu by Parvathy Menon on Tibet (Inside Tibet 1). She talks of attractive tree-lined avenues, a busy industry district, open spaces… I am jealous. China proudly holds the Olympic Games. The Chinese athletes shine. We start the blame-game. Actually we can make the blame-game our national sports.
Actually I will stop here. Not because I have covered all the issues facing us, because I am already depressed. Now do I have good mental health-care doctors?
Let me take the first one mentioned above: ‘Denmark’s solution to energy crises by Thomas L Friedman. That particularly favorite journalist of mine talks about energy conservation and alternate energy development in two small countries. He starts with describing a town in Greenland as a ‘charming little place’ where energy saving has become a way of life. I immediately wonder whether he would say that about my little suburban village in Chennai. Of course we have this beautiful temple which is around six hundred years old. But would he able to ignore the empty temple tank which now emanates sulphurous fumes (of course I am joking)? Anyhow Mr. Friedman then goes on to elaborate on Denmark and the responsible Danes. At this moment I think about the other article I mentioned about, the one which appeared just above the said article in the Editorial page. ‘What about guarantee of output?’ asks B S Raghavan rhetorically. I had just finished reading about the hard truths which I generally try to forget about pointed out with dexterity by Mr. Raghavan. I remember the adjectives and nouns used there ‘appalling’, ‘callousness’, ‘corruption’ and this rather long but explicitly correct expression: ‘workers who are absent, incompetent, indifferent and outright corrupt’ by the World Bank. I also think about the comments made by the honourable judges of the Supreme Court of India that ‘even God cannot help our country’ while speaking about the inaction of the government and the officials.
Denmark, Mr. Friedman says is today energy independent. The Danes did not protest the imposition of a set of gasoline taxes in 1973 when it was hammered by the Arab oil embargo. Instead they innovated. They recycled waste heat from their coal-fired power plants for home heating and hot water; incinerated their trash in central stations to provide home heating. I think about the Pallikkaranai marsh, the virtual mountains of city waste and its dying flora and fauna. I think about all the overflowing dust bins as well as the empty dust bins with the waste thrown around by us otherwise vociferous city dwellers! I think about all the political parties and the party workers who have generally all the time to agitate on any issue but organize the clearing of the waste. I wondered why they do not come in to raise awareness amongst the people about self-help.
To come back to Mr. Friedman, he comes around to talking about wind industry and how it was nothing in 1970s and that today one third of all terrestrial wind turbines come from Denmark. India is a leading of wind power generator. Where is all the political will required to elevate this technology to bridge the energy gap now prevalent in India? I am an aam aadmi and needs to understand. I see fanatical obsession about the rights of diverse faiths, even the intellectuals pitching in. When will we direct our energy towards a total clean-up?
Now let me see, I want to see India with well laid out roads, clean railway stations, clean public civic amenities, continuous water supply, clean drinking water, uninterrupted electricity, housing for all … the list can go and on. Is this an Utopia? They say we have more than a billion population. But I think these facilities are available elsewhere where the population is more than ours. I quote an article in Hindu by Parvathy Menon on Tibet (Inside Tibet 1). She talks of attractive tree-lined avenues, a busy industry district, open spaces… I am jealous. China proudly holds the Olympic Games. The Chinese athletes shine. We start the blame-game. Actually we can make the blame-game our national sports.
Actually I will stop here. Not because I have covered all the issues facing us, because I am already depressed. Now do I have good mental health-care doctors?
Thursday, August 07, 2008
First day at school
I remember my first day at Kendriya Vidyalaya Mysore so vividly, I just love telling this tale.
I joined Kendriya Vidyalaya Mysore in the sixth standard, and I was all new and shiny like a pair of freshly polished boots. I think Mamma scrubbed me really hard to get that effect.
This was my first school in a big city (yes, till I was in the fifth standard we were in KV Dharwad)and I was not looking forward to it. I remember that Mamma bought me a new pencil box that looked like a Cadbury's bar, the chocoholic I am I probably wanted to eat it then. In the box were Nataraj pencils(you know the black and red ones) all pointy, a new eraser and a pencil sharpener.I kind of missed my previous fancy pencil box which had a magnifying glass, magnets to both the doors (yes, a two-doored pencil box), in-built pencil sharpener and little slot for the eraser to go in; I can't remember the other useless attachments it had but it was pretty and pink and smelled of strawberry. Oh yeah, poor little "my-earlier-pencil-box-smelled-like-strawberry girl".I went to school in an auto-rickshaw which worked on a pool system. There were kids everywhere, some spilling out of the rickshaw, some inside who were jammed, some sitting and some standing in that two feet of space.
The great pearly gates, oh alright I'll stop exaggerating; I stood in front of the huge iron gates of KVM, very sceptical of stepping in. I spotted a statue of lord ganesh at a distance and the good hindu girl that I was immediately went there and asked for blessings on my first day of school.
I asked around and finally found my classroom which was on the first floor of the building. The teacher asked me to sit next to a girl; someone who I don't remember now.Everyone was quite excited or so it seemed then, to have a new girl in the class. The girls already had their own groups and best friends and I wondered if I was ever going to fit in. My neighbour asked me, "Are you a chinese?" Yeah, I used to get that a lot . Thanks to my small eyes and nose (and I am proud of it). No, I am from Belgaum."People thinking I was and calling me a foreigner annoyed me, always. I am proud to be an Indian."I am Indian. I was born in Belgaum." I had to convince some of the girls who had gathered around me.
During the break the girls took me out of class, to get some fresh air. And there was a swarm of blue and white (our school uniform, white shirt and blue pleated skirt) in a matter of seconds.There were girls pulling my cheeks. "She's like a doll, so chubby and so pink."Some were poking my hands. "She's so fair man. So nice no."I really didn't know what the big deal was. It was just weird. And I won't deny it, in a way it felt good to get all the attention and not sit in a corner and worry about not making friends.Suddenly I was in a moment I had probably sub-conciously craved for and now that it was here I didn't know how to handle it.So, I just smiled, extremely embarrassed, and told people that I was Indian and that my parents and whole family right from the start of the family tree, was Indian.
I had confused some who thought I was lying about being a chinese and they thought I was at least chinese-Indian, there surely had to be some chinese blood in me. :D
So my first day was a hit and I went back home, again in the bursting auto-rickshaw, waiting to tell Mama about my new school and confused new friends.
I joined Kendriya Vidyalaya Mysore in the sixth standard, and I was all new and shiny like a pair of freshly polished boots. I think Mamma scrubbed me really hard to get that effect.
This was my first school in a big city (yes, till I was in the fifth standard we were in KV Dharwad)and I was not looking forward to it. I remember that Mamma bought me a new pencil box that looked like a Cadbury's bar, the chocoholic I am I probably wanted to eat it then. In the box were Nataraj pencils(you know the black and red ones) all pointy, a new eraser and a pencil sharpener.I kind of missed my previous fancy pencil box which had a magnifying glass, magnets to both the doors (yes, a two-doored pencil box), in-built pencil sharpener and little slot for the eraser to go in; I can't remember the other useless attachments it had but it was pretty and pink and smelled of strawberry. Oh yeah, poor little "my-earlier-pencil-box-smelled-like-strawberry girl".I went to school in an auto-rickshaw which worked on a pool system. There were kids everywhere, some spilling out of the rickshaw, some inside who were jammed, some sitting and some standing in that two feet of space.
The great pearly gates, oh alright I'll stop exaggerating; I stood in front of the huge iron gates of KVM, very sceptical of stepping in. I spotted a statue of lord ganesh at a distance and the good hindu girl that I was immediately went there and asked for blessings on my first day of school.
I asked around and finally found my classroom which was on the first floor of the building. The teacher asked me to sit next to a girl; someone who I don't remember now.Everyone was quite excited or so it seemed then, to have a new girl in the class. The girls already had their own groups and best friends and I wondered if I was ever going to fit in. My neighbour asked me, "Are you a chinese?" Yeah, I used to get that a lot . Thanks to my small eyes and nose (and I am proud of it). No, I am from Belgaum."People thinking I was and calling me a foreigner annoyed me, always. I am proud to be an Indian."I am Indian. I was born in Belgaum." I had to convince some of the girls who had gathered around me.
During the break the girls took me out of class, to get some fresh air. And there was a swarm of blue and white (our school uniform, white shirt and blue pleated skirt) in a matter of seconds.There were girls pulling my cheeks. "She's like a doll, so chubby and so pink."Some were poking my hands. "She's so fair man. So nice no."I really didn't know what the big deal was. It was just weird. And I won't deny it, in a way it felt good to get all the attention and not sit in a corner and worry about not making friends.Suddenly I was in a moment I had probably sub-conciously craved for and now that it was here I didn't know how to handle it.So, I just smiled, extremely embarrassed, and told people that I was Indian and that my parents and whole family right from the start of the family tree, was Indian.
I had confused some who thought I was lying about being a chinese and they thought I was at least chinese-Indian, there surely had to be some chinese blood in me. :D
So my first day was a hit and I went back home, again in the bursting auto-rickshaw, waiting to tell Mama about my new school and confused new friends.
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