Monday, August 9, 2010

Some ‘If’s & more ‘Why’s


[This is a blog post to be read only if you’ve got some time to spend for yourself and a mind ready to reflect. No, it’s not expected to focus on the lump of words I’ve piled up but please put a little effort to feel the still notes of melancholy coffined in the depth of the event. Tears, however artistic they look are stinging to our eyes. Listen to your reasons first and then let the fragile heart to ponder but once this crystal takes the baton free it to find its course. Then you won’t have to coexist with those whining ‘why’s and an indolent ‘if’s at every point of your life…]

“Honey, we’ll take two…
One boy and one girl…
Oops isn’t that a fair demand?
OK your wish my command, so one only…
Look Jennifer, then it has to be a cutie beauty doll
And I’ll call her Barbie…
No madam, find a name of your own,
Coz Barbie will be only and only her dad’s copyright….”

Why do seasons roll by…
What for colours do fly…
Why do hearts make a tie…
What for there comes a Bye…

“Don’t cry baby…
I realise, it’s all my fault…
No Robin, you’re not to be answerable-
I should’ve thought about it hundred times more…
May be I leaped like that foolish bird of fables
And that’s how I got myself wounded, take it like that…
I’ve no grievance dear, not even the agony of deception,
But pain… only and only pain of not having you…”

Why do hopes are born and prematurely die…
What for all silly emotions rain down as cry…
Why do all priceless promises turn out to be lie…
What for this silence lives forever with a single sigh…

“When I stand before the mirror today I see nothing but a bundle of black stickers with countless holes. I fear of making new friends… I fear of tarnishing any canvas on my way and that’s why I live inside a crust sculpted by my own inabilities. I don’t know how to tunnel out from this cave of bareness… may be I don’t want to… or, may be till now I don’t know what I ever wanted… God bless you Jennifer wherever you are…”

“Till today, in the middle of a Christmas eve, in the laxity of my professional leave or under the provocation of a momentary grief, whenever I stare at the point blank haze, I fail to transfix few age old puzzles, I fail to drive away those queries which have always played with my sleep… I live with my toxic wind chime Robin… it abandons me when it’s still and with every swing it wails out some more ‘If’s & still more ‘Why’s…”

[There’re thousands of Robin and Jennifer among us… some get attached to pubs… some are liberal enough to give life a second chance… few become too apathetic to live… though their paths differ they share something in common- an irrevocable pain of ever piercing Ifs and Whys… till their very last breath!]


-littleWriter

Friday, July 2, 2010

May be Some other Day


“Are you still the one…” the cell phone tune broke the silence under the cafe umbrella where two human beings had been self adjusting with their vapour vanished coffee mugs since last half an hour in exclusive silent musing mood. It felt damn scratchy to digest the tune, so Siddhart accepted the call in a hurry.
“Sid what’s the time now” the most familiar disgusted voice came from the other side.
After a momentary pause, “Oho, sorry baby, I couldn’t even give you a call… you know till now I haven’t yet taken my afternoon tea…” somehow he enacted his management curfew.
She softened in a millisecond. With greater care and concern she asked, “Honey is everything ok?”
He suddenly altered his plan. In a firm mutineer’s tone Siddhart spoke, “No more I’ll tolerate these shits. This’ my last presentation out here and then I’ll throw the other file to that fatso’s face along with Siddhart Mehra’s resignation. What does this bloody hippopotamus think of himself…” and then paused for the effect.
The first canon ball had hit its target. She got intensely worried, “Sid what’s this baby… please calm down… tell me the matter… tell me what’s that bully has done to my tweetu…”
“Just leave it. This time I’m determined, I know what I’ll do.” He didn’t like leaving his handicraft without an ultimate final touch.
She almost cried out, “Please tell me the thing… honey can’t you tell me?”
Suddenly realising the place awkwardness of his ongoing private call, he signalled her “Excuse me” and moved towards the washroom to give a last push to the trigger, “Anita why baby why? Why does it happen with me every time? I can’t take this anymore… I have been thinking from the lunch hour when you gave the last call, which shirt to put on… whether that new belt will suit the white trouser… that cherry shoe will look better at the bottom or the white leather one… and finished all pending jobs by three o’ clock. When I was about to leave at four, the sick bastard came into my cabin and tossed two shoes to polish… I don’t think I can finish them up before late evening. No baby, I can’t bear up with this slavery anymore. Anyhow I’ll attend your friend’s anniversary party today; Anita you just get ready while I gift him the final hook” he finished with a deep breath.
“No Sid, you won’t do anything like that. Cool down my excited young man. Just finish your priorities like a good boy. Somehow I’ll manage the party thing” she tried to normalise the heat of the moment.
“No I can’t let you go alone sweetu, I’m coming…”, Sid still unconfident of his drama.
“What no? Don’t worry dear I won’t go alone, I can join Sakshi. You promise me you’ll throw away your anger and complete your task. Promise me baby” Anita was desperate.
“See every time you convince me like anything coz I can’t ever tell you ‘No’. Ok if you insist… Love you honey” he thought it enough baked.
“Love you too… and listen, no need to wish them on phone. Just come back when you’re done. I’ll try to return before you” she added.
“But won’t it be good if I atleast…” Sid asked once again.
“No, because I’ll tell them that you’re in Kuala Lumpur to hunt some eyed clients” Anita gave a naughty smile and continued, “and on your way back home, don’t forget to bring that… and not that banana one please… I feel like vomiting, you know baby right?”
Planting a digital kiss, Sid ended the conversation. Huh what a relief…
He reoriented his back brushed hair with a sprinkle of water from the washbasin. Pleased with his mirror image Sid came back to the open air table where a fair lady of his age was playing chess on her mobile.
“Sorry Richa…” he said with a gentle smile and occupied his chair.
“What happened Siddhart?” she spoke first time in that post dusk coffee session.
“Nothing can happen when Sid becomes Siddhart” he tried to plait a voice of complain.
“Your old trick never fails right?” she looked up at Sid stretching the corners of her hazel eyes treasured by eye liner and gave a detective smile.
“What could I do Richa… somebody has always topped my priority list” he tried hard to solidify his statement with innocent most gaze and extended his crisscrossed forearms beyond the midline fence.
“Shut up Sid” she coined.
Yes great, “the old trick really never fails” he whispered in his mind. He had been waiting for this sweetest rebuke from a long, long time…

A purple glow was fondling with her hanging locks and highlighting the mole on the corner of her right cheek. Sid tried to remember how many times he had sensed that mole with his lips. The glow showed her double pierced ears, his most desired lollipop of once upon a time days. Richa was looking like a damsel in her azure silk salwar suit. His eyes were sipping the charm of her beauty like a young boy falling for a girl for the first time. Sid’s gaze slid down the oblique line sketched by her magical eye lines, fixed for a while on that heart-shaped nose, and then slipped down to the lake of those pink sensualities, farther down to the chin... the throat… deeper down the limit of the sapphire pendant he entered into the world of unfathomable passions… the victim of destiny’s whim, lying in the vast no man’s land separating their present worlds. One after another warm lost fragments Sid kept on rediscovering in his transposed mind- “Uff leave me baby, it’s tickling”…
“So what about that challenge Sid?” Richa nailed down Sid’s full blown balloon.
“Which challenge dear?” he sounded unprepared.
“That five years… no marriage… Oh Saturn! You’ve totally dumped that off your memory?” she gave a cute mischievous smirk.
“Oh devil! You still remember…” the small bygone challenge turned up in Sid’s mind. In one of her birthday, when they were standing at a point of ambiguity about the future of their relationship he himself had thrown her the challenge, “Ok you think I’ll get married before you? Well now I’m telling you, you’ll get married before me. Not only this, even after five years of your happy marriage I’ll remain a bachelor. This is a challenge!” She had smelled the hollowness in it, so she said “No honey it won’t be like that… I’m sure” to which Sid toughened the statement for her, “Fine now tell me what will you give me if I win this bet?” Off course “Anything…” she had replied. “Then you’ve to spend one night with me leaving your hubby and kids aside. Are you ready?” that was the maximum a confused young man’s heart could seek for. Yet she had no problem. Yes, she was that damn sure… after all she knew him, she knew him much more than he knew himself.
Shyness enveloped Sid’s face as he told, “Those crazy days… common I was such a kid… congrats you’ve won the bet Richa”
“Really? What can you give me Sid?” her voice became firmer.
“Anything for you…” he replied desperately.
“Do you have anything at all which you can sacrifice to keep your words?” her chin got more prominent.
Sid didn’t anticipate such a grey monophony. Before he could search for a proper reply, ring tone broke the still air under the umbrella for the second time. It was Richa’s mobile this time.
She spoke in a language sounded Greek to him, and ended her conversation in very short. Seeing Sid totally confused, she showed the way out of the maze, “It was my hubby’s call. You couldn’t even decipher the ‘love you’ part right? Actually he was brought up in Russia. He never wanted, but somehow I developed interest and mastered that tongue from him. But yet to catch the accent properly…”
“Good. What about a beer in the name of your new Russian conquest?” Sid tried to take the control of the muddled state that somehow got cleared with her phone call.
“Thanks Sid… but not today… he is calling… sorry I’ve to leave now” Richa wiped the corner of her lips with a tissue and stood up with a courtesy smile that was no longer sheltered the evening heat.
Sid was dumbfounded by the unexpected effect of a simple phone call. He felt a deep cramp in his stomach but somehow came out of the cafe escorting her to the taxi. Before the taxi left, she told, “You know something Sid, you’re still a kid… take care”
He tried to return back her the same courtesy but his tongue got dried and nothing came out of his mouth, not even a reloaded expression. Vacantly he kept looking on her vehicle’s zooming out red tail lamps as long as he could see…

He didn’t feel like taking a taxi there itself, so kept walking along the footpath for quite a sometime. He remembered something Anita had asked in the phone and entered a medicine shop with indecisive steps. He didn’t know what to say until the shop boy enquired, “Bhaisaab apko kya chahiye?”
When you’re partially wrecked you look for better things to glue your cracks but when you’re completely broken you don’t feel like pasting the bits any more, you just feel like digging a hole and burying them. Same happened with Sid, losing his strawberry appetite, “I need a strip of diazepam” that’s all he told.
“Prescription dijiye…” the counter man demanded from the other side.
“Fuck off” he spoke in his mind and stepped out of the shop with stamping gaits.
With every step his guilt feeling was taking colossal shape. He couldn’t push on. He needed something to revive him from the burden of prickling consciousness. Sid entered a pub and ordered, “Without soda…”
He felt lighter seeing three four empty glasses on his table, picked up his briefcase and came out of the smoky hell. When you drink you miss your girlfriend like anything and a new spouse is no exception from this dictum. Drunken Sid started feeling possessive with the thoughts of his Anita like never before. He wanted to give her a call; unfortunately the battery had run out of charge. He chuckled with mild bleakness…
He stepped back to the medicine shop but oops, it got closed by then. In his watch he saw the time ‘10:30’… quite late… Anita would be waiting for him! He got into an auto with tired feet.

Siddhart rolled out of the three-wheeler like a kicked out burglar. In a vacillating mind full of disillusionment, penitence and love, he plucked a half bloomed rose from the garden of his apartment. He opened the door with duplicate key. Dim lamp of the dining room displayed the covered dishes over the dining table with his plate kept upside down. He understood that Anita was asleep, why won’t she? It had been 11:30 already… he went to the bathroom, changed his attire and again came back to the food. He wasn’t hungry anymore, so put the bowls inside the refrigerator and went into the bedroom. He didn’t light the lamp as Anita was deep in her dreams. But he could see her childlike face in the red glow of a tiny LED of the hanging voltage stabiliser. Siddhart came close to her face and touched her cheeks with the dew wet rose in lightest possible way. Then he went to her toes and lodged his regretful lips over them until he converted his kiss to a hybrid smooch. “I’m sorry honey” he recited in his mind hundred times before he could get up from her leg side. In her sleep she had disoriented her dress code. Her loyal husband didn’t even miss that… he pulled her frock little down her thigh… He felt the intense urge of knitting the art of love with his love but his sensibility of letting his queen rest somehow watered the flame. He lowered the room temperature, covered her with a cotton sheet and felt fast asleep embracing her breast with one arm… Whole bedroom got transformed into a still frame, other than the blinking time piece and the breezing machine above…

A throb beneath the pillow broke Anita’s sleep at the middle of the night. She took out her mobile and stopped the vibration, “Oh is this the time to… whatever, hold on” she scolded the mysterious caller in a concealed voice. Anita shifted Sid’s hand from her body to a side pillow very cautiously and then left the frozen room in silent footsteps.


-littleWriter

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Because He hated One


Crazy, flamboyant, different… no, none of these words portray Nishan as precisely as the naive word ‘SYMMETRICAL’. I don’t really know what symmetry means to you folks who’re from science milieu, but for an ill-scientific soul like me whose mathematics had ended with tenth non mentionable board exam it means balanced or to be more realistic symmetry is everything which is natural or somehow related to the goodness of nature, like flower, river, tides, seasonal changes etc. Oops! My bright and breezy curse for the intellectuals who have stood on their toes by now to interrupt me for sniffing the symmetry in seasonal variations… fools it’s not nature, it’s you who’re responsible for molesting these natural symmetries. And yea, my middle finger for those brains once again who’re whispering in their mind “empty vessel sounds much”… huh it’s thorny to hide this complex I had developed since my college days… now coming back to track rather snail track once again, bad part was Nishan was a boy born, brought up and baptised in science, simple reason being his dad’s stinking service as a mining engineer in a nearby coal mine…

I had joined a new school (worthy to mention it was my first entry to the world of co educational dream) after concluding the chapter of primary schooling. It was first time I was suffocating inside the vain prestige of a serpentine necktie, because my previous school lacked such deceptive sophistication. I was not even used to with etiquettes like “May I come in madam?”, “May I go to toilet?”, “Sir naughty X is disturbing me”! What best I could do was to stay numb before the teachers as much as possible. It was first day, first period and I was semi hiding at the back most rows with some impish brats (whose reputations I was not familiar with at that moment). I was struggling hard to get enough space to place my ass on the bench as their wicked group was constantly pushing me side down. You can’t imagine how lowly it feels when you’re ragged by your going to be fellow mates… The whole class stood up with the entry of a middle aged pokerfaced lady. She was Mrs Roy, our class teacher for that session. First thing she did, I still remember after so many decades, is allotting sitting arrangements to us. It began with a relief but ended with a brisk moment of anxiety. I was made to sit between a boy and a girl… what a disaster! That was the first time I met Nishan, my first bench mate of secondary school, my first friend in the new school and my closest pal till intermediate college level until he went abroad for graduation. At first sight he looked so eerie to me; he had two pockets on his shirt (I didn’t have any pocket shielding my chest at that time)… he seemed more creepy after our mind-numbing class teacher left the class. He stood up and told the girl at my right, “Annu you come to the middle”.
I was astounded by his bloody bossy attitude; he spoke to the girl as if there was Mr None in the middle! Huh! My occurrence and my sanction were of no value then? The Barbie haired cutie gave him a damn friendly wink and stood up with her bag and bottle, staring at me with glowing face as if I had promised to swap my place the day back! What a new comer could do, other than abiding by their silent order like robot… but I tell you, I was boiling from inside until “thank you” came from the pretty Barbie like a soothing ice cube… common I was a boy after all. From a fifth standard boy’s point of view, I saw so many crooked intentions that day in Nishan’s master plan of picking the girl and a pocketful of rowdiness in possessing two pockets at two sides of his hanging necktie. Oh my God, sitting by the side of such a beauty, that idiot started poking his both the nostrils in chorus engaging both his hands! “Great, you’re boosting up my prospect”, I spoke in my mind unconsciously gripping the knot of my tie. My satisfactory sigh did hardly bother his poking hobby and he kept on digging the hole of his misfortune till the commencement of next period. I indulged myself in my other bench mate’s fantasy completely ignorant of the fact that it was the official beginning of my getting accustomed with Nishan’s exclusivity of being symmetrical…

As the calendar caught up its speed, I discovered so many novelties in Nishan. His practice of keeping two hankies on two sides of his pant, sharpening the wood pencil from both the ends, equally gesturing both the hands while reciting a poem, munching alu parathas using both the hands and even playing cricket equally incompetent with both his hands. Don’t know why the fool had never practised writing with his left hand as well… when he had to shake hand with somebody he had a very warm gesture of grabbing the right hand of the other person, sandwiching between the palms of his two hands. Everybody used to call him by Iyer-babu, getting irritated with his nodding head on both the sides to signal ‘yes’. Don’t know if it’s so distinctive of south Indian mannerism. I must confess it looked so hunky when Nishan dribbled the ball with both his hands in every basketball tournament, yea that was his favourite game as far our schooldays memoirs permit… Once he had met with a small bicycle accident just when our yearly exam was knocking at our doors. Nishan got his left hand fractured, that was what I came to know from a common friend who lived near his neighbourhood. When I went to visit him next morning, I was literally shocked by seeing him on his dad’s easy chair with both the hands plastered. “Nishu I heard of your left hand getting injured…” I couldn’t help screaming at his surprisingly double misfortune.
His dad shaving at one corner of the room broke open his frustration before I could finish my sentence, “No no… I’m fed up with his madness. Have you ever seen any other crap getting bandaged on both the hands even when luckily one is injured?”
Before I could understand my role out there in the middle of a pissed off dad and a lunatic son, uncle further continued, “Yesterday your friend made such a drama in my friend’s clinic and washed out my prestige like anything. Yes like anything… now those bloody people will get free passport of spreading the rumour that Mr Ahuja’s son has gone mad! Can you believe it? This greatest ass Nishan Ahuja thought it most prudent to put a condition before my friend that if his left forearm has to be plastered then the same treatment has to be given to his right arm! Just think of the level of irrationality!”
I was in a real dilemma whether to nod at Mr Ahuja’s grumble and provoke him to sustain his high blood pressure or to pacify him like son’s dutiful friend. So I chose the third option- silence was gold… Disgusted at my indifference poor uncle finished his shaving in hurry and left the room. I knew asking him the noble reason of putting on double plaster would beget nothing but more disappointment for me which I’d experienced quite a number of times in prior occasions. What had followed next was no less surprise for any of us when Nishan appeared for the first paper with a hired writer along with him. Yea it was a special arrangement procured by his dad by lying principal that both of his son’s hands were fractured! Actually, although uncle had that rough outer shell of a typical authoritarian Indian father but his soft corner for his only son extended way beyond this which had further got deep rooted probably after his wife’s death…
Unlike me Nishan was quite sensitive to the essence of teen age romance, may be partly because of his liberal background at home and his full schooling in co educational English medium schools right from nursery level in contrast to my primary schooling in a hardcore over disciplined Hindu boys school, for which in later days also I could never bridge that gender gap from the core of my boyhood mind… He once fell for a pretty Brahmin girl who belonged to a very conservative family. I had warned Nishan earlier of the feasible dangers but as always he “couldn’t hold his heart back once given to somebody”, this is what the idiot used to cry every time before me to melt me emotionally and get the best help out of me. Yes, the result I had foreseen came out to be true. One day just after Nishan had given her a well versed love letter (I think not less than 5-6 pages!) her dad came to school, called for Nishan and gave him a tight slap before his pretty daughter. I was too scared to go to the battlefield to support my friend, so covertly kept witnessing his ultimate insult. I was expecting him to fall on that bull’s feet to make a narrow escape from further worse possibilities. After receiving that first insult over his crimson converted cheek, I could only see Nishan pointing onto his other cheek and I knew by that time what he meant and what next to happen… after repeated refusal the girl’s dad had no other choice than launching another slap with a lower zeal, just to end the episode…
Although it was Nishan himself responsible for fancying the second slap, the whole incidence had broken his heart badly (Don’t get carried away by crocodile’s tears)… he stopped falling for girls for quite a sometime and started smoking, especially in evening gossip hours at our usual meeting paradise, our old river bank. Nothing unusual it’s to smoke in your mid teen but lighting two cigarettes concurrently and even absorbing the bad smoke from both the sticks together at the same time hardly anybody of you’ll support. The picture didn’t change much until Nishan finally got committed to a Christian girl, Sylvia. It was the beginning of our intermediate college life after our tenth board exam results were out. Nishan had passed with rainbow hues, especially in science and maths, whereas, I had shitted badly particularly in those subjects that left me no option other than taking admission directly to arts stream. We got admitted once again under the same roof but our cells had changed. That was the first time I went to our meeting venue all alone with a cigarette, a hired lighter and a boxful of anonymous unlfilment. I had smoked in that evening for the first time with the lips of a suckling infant and tears of a tormented mother. Probably that was the first day, yes that was the first evening I was fully all alone with unbound emotions to shed, not even an insect to witness my overflowing impulses in the dense black darkness…
Nishan was newly settling down with Sylvia, who had taken admission to the commerce wing of the same institute. When a boy falls seriously for an opposite sex for the first time, he gains a lot of things- like sense of responsibility, maturity, power of adjustment etc., but perhaps the only thing he loses is his time for old friends… no off course it’s not his fault, probably it’s a simple adaptive mechanism to meet the growing demands of the time for his love life… Was Nishu in love then?... Something I realised for sure, he had found out the symmetry he had been chasing from his childhood days…

It was in the middle of class twelve that I could persuade my father to get me a second hand scooter. In the present set-up it might sound a bit funny to you but in those times an intermediate college lad speeding on a scooter was not a very common sight. By that time I had initiated filling up my purse all by myself with some private tuitions, so I had strong logic to support my two wheeler purchase. In one winter evening me and Nishu went to river bank after a long gap of Saturday-evening-whisky-session. Post dusk chilly breeze had always been the same effective healer to our tired liquor wet warm wits. Under the golden liquid’s magical spell we laid down on the damp grass, spoke of our obsolete professors, political instabilities, neighbourhood beauties, family woes, dad Vs son grievances, recent scandals, international porn actresses, last lottery disaster… the last topic I coined, “Nishu, your relationship has progressed…”
We both were happy, exhausted and rolling like two pigs out of gutter until it was quite late when we got back our consciousness partially and felt the urge of hurrying back home in the normal most shape. We sprang up and rode the scooter like most dutiful sons. We were in real hurry as the clock showed 10:30 PM! In that era we didn’t have that much relaxation of stress free night salsa… I was accelerating as much as I could do where as my pillion rider, unable to come out of his hang over, was continuously bumping his head over my backbone. The road was dark and desolated. Suddenly I slipped over a pebbled road and we fell down like crumbled bullock cart. Luckily it was a turning, so our speed was low, I didn’t even drop down on the stony road, but Nishan couldn’t escape getting few scratches on his limbs. A greater relief was seeing the scooter almost undamaged, other than one of its looking glasses getting thrashed… When I could focus on Nishan again, he was almost erect on his feet and grinning like a victorious soldier. I patted his back as a sign of ‘everything is under control’ and was about to start my vehicle. All of a sudden, he picked up a larger stone from the street and hit on the other mirror of my scooter which was intact even after the crash! The mirror crumbled down and the alcoholic bastard lost his balance, dropping down the road he gave a smile of contentment. I was terribly shocked, irritated and annoyed seeing his loathsome action. I directly got down and shook him by his collar and roared, “Hey I’ve been tolerating this fucking bloody whims since years, what do you think yourself you crazy bastard?”
“Relax Mihir… I balanced your scooter…now it’s safe”, he replied in a cold voice.
“You insane bastard you think it’s a joking hour? I shit at your so called balance… you’re the most fucking unbalanced psycho I’ve ever been with… no more of this…”
Before I could close my mouth, he liberated his collar from my fist and pushed me back with firmer grip, “I’m the most balanced rascal in this asymmetric world. Do you get it buddy?” his voice totally changed, eyes sparkling like owl’s eyes…
I was motionless by his frozen voice. Getting the burning charcoal in my voice extinguished I stammered somehow, “How can you say everything around you lacks balance?”
“Look everything nature has made are in pairs… they function in pairs… yes they look good in pairs as well. See the river you left just now, has two banks… idiot, don’t you see the trees?... after a certain height it branches on both sides… ye that’s how it maintains balance…”
Nishan took up a piece of brick from one side of the road and went to the middle of it like a gust of wind, sat down and scratched that over the road to draw the digit one, and then two, while I stood still to witness that street-show of unbound madness in dim light coming from a streetlight some thirty metres away…
He started again, “Just look at this Mihir, ‘Two’ has such a stable ass, yes it’s damn balanced thing in this fucking earth… but see the base of ‘One’ itself is so unbalanced, how can it be of any good to anybody… can’t even stand by its own”, he started laughing like one of those feng shui puppets.
By then I had realised that the fire set by me was no more in my control. I was slowly getting involved in that lunacy… I participated, “Nishu chill down man, how did you get allergic to this poor ‘One’?”…
His mad man’s loud smile got condensed in a fraction of second into a crumbled tissue paper like expression. “I lost my mom and my doll like sister for this bastard”, he cried like a whining baby and sat down on the roadside with two palms veiling his wet cheeks…
Thunderstruck scooter owner had the only option of sitting down beside his broken friend, to keep an arm around his drooped shoulder and help him to vomit out all the poisons he had been petting in his stomach for last twelve years… I won’t lie, that day I felt elevated than never before for being the successful navigator of the corner of my friend’s mind about which I was fully unaware of… not just me, his father was equally unlucky to get the insight of his son’s greatest torment…
“I was a kindergarten kid then… it was summer vacation that we all four were travelling back from Chandigarh. Our train was about to reach our hometown station. It was crowdie. Dad told my mom to advance towards the gate with my one year sister in her lap so that he could manage our luggage. He was opening the chain locks of individual bags and suitcases one by one when mom had reached the door side. I went and stood behind her to enjoy the moving trees and coal smelling air. She was holding the support beside the door with one hand and treasuring her daughter with the other. I was keen on peeping through the open door but every time she was pushing me back with a mild motherly scold. I was lost in some thought till I discovered that a hawker was gripping me from my shoulder and mom falling down the moving train with a shrill cry for help… Dad rushed to the door, somebody had pulled the chain to stop… but by then everything was over… the whole fucking drama was over… I lost my mom forever Mihir… I lost my sleeping queen… I lost my world… I lost the best thing of this life Mihir…” Nishan’s voice clogged in saddest melodies.
It was difficult to keep myself untouched by the tragedy… hot tear drops streamed down my beards… I felt Nishu closer than ever…
The Phoenix rose from the ashes again, “Today you know Mihir, her last cry for survival, the moment of her fall with the baby in her arm, their red recovered bodies, nothing torture me more than the fact that she was standing by the door with just one hand’s support… that fucking ‘One’ killed her… this scoundrel snatched my mom... I won’t ever forgive this ‘One’…”
That whole night I kept tossing on my bed, reflecting of the whole incidence. Little before the dawn I fell asleep getting heavy with the satisfaction of opening a decade old mystery and partly by the depth of the catastrophe linking my friend.
In a few months we finished our intermediate education. I took interest in English language and moved onto Calcutta, where as Nishu made his visa to study medicine in England. In the beginning we used to break our pocket money for international postage but dusty time gradually rusted our string and the frequency of letter lessened… we lost connection in five six years, by the time I took the job of a teacher and Nishan became Dr Nishan and moved to Florida for post graduation.

Yesterday evening after I returned from my college, I was watching news headlines of ongoing political flip-flops, when my twelve years old nephew came to me with two registers and pens. He looked excited about something and sat down on the divan beside my cushion and started writing with both the hands with a hurry to attract my attention from the scrolling LCD. Reading his intention I switched off the TV and ruffled his wood pecker like hair with a swift soft palm, “Oh, now Mr Tintin will scribble his report with both his hands…?” I showed well woven curiosity to my little boy.
“Yeppy Chachu! Now I can write… no not just writing, I can do every… everything with both the hands at the same time…” Rohan finished in a single breath with rounded eyes.
“What?” I developed a sudden wrinkle over my forehead.
“Yes Chachu, now the secret of side dominance in human mind has been decoded. From now onwards a person can use both his hands and legs for individual purposes at the same time! Amazing na?” He finished his informative style with an optimistic shrug.
A lost civilisation seemed to have been excavated beyond my oblivious freedom. I desperately asked Rohan, “Who told you all these beta?”
“Just now I read in a website. At first I was googling for the list of last year’s Nobel laureates and there in one corner of the website I found the nominees for the current year, there I came across this incredible news. You know Chachu it was a single biomedical engineer’s research and the man who holds the entire credit for this………………” Rohan’s inquisitive narrations faded as my single side dominated old mind dived deep into the ocean of reminiscence… I kept on swimming amidst those bygone oysters and coral reefs in paramount solace, supremacy and satisfaction…

- littleWriter

Monday, May 31, 2010

Happy Birthday Ma


Finally the glow rose up with insomniac wings-
The toxic blue cocooned by their golden fringe,
A stand still lake and some soggy tranquil
All fairy tellers of a vindictive moment;
Not a soul felt those gallons she had bled,
Celebration was on for the Caesarean outcome
Nobody remembered one day she too was born.
But she was smiling… yes she had no complaint!
Sorry I don’t have the time machine
So my blatant belated wishes for you,
Happy Birthday… happy birthday dear smiling girl…

The seed she kept away from the blazing sun
Watered, sowed and nourished till it learnt the art,
Whining blended with the fragrance of wet nappies
Sure all were vital other than her need to snooze;
With every new calendar new priorities replaced her
Reasons were enough to forget the day she was born
Like urge for out of budget video game, daisy first date
Then precious liquor parties and then… it never ended
And it never ends… Don’t know if she still smiles…
Sorry my greatest forgiver, my purest wishes here for you
Happy Birthday… happy birthday... dear smile today…


-Anunoy

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

His Last Lament


(A so called petty commoner regrets having crossed his late middle age, and three decades of vain effort of disbelieving God! He can't bear any longer the flashbacks of his demonic triumphs and as the echo of his sin keeps hammering his conscience, he feels it has been time for him to end his abhorrent chapter…)

Oh all red, red and red
Please let me die under a white grave…

I was in my days in those days:
A revolutionary bastard
With ample lifeblood
To spill, spoil and sip,
Mad and desperate
To discover his dream
In each rays of your sunshine
In every twist of your breeze-

A thousand misjudgements those followed:
I had found my idol!
Thus you moulded me
In your own image,
Cleaning my glasses
With your magical wash,
To enlighten me with those
History and civics I knew not-

Mist anchoring my fragile specs is no apology:
I slaughtered a promising countryman!
Scalded the book of his ethics,
Wrongly manipulated a soul-
Dipping those fingers in blood
Had tried to wash every last sin
Ah the vampire you gave birth to
Today can’t live with his gory myths-

Oh mayhem and mayhem all around
Please let me die under the deepest grave…


-littleWriter

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Shit over My Morning quilt


This is not among those usual attempts of updating my blog
But a serious endeavor to show them I’m courteous too-

Just that I was getting frozen in overindulgent heat
My grey matter grinder almost ceased in absolute zero
Thoughts drilling down to dwell with the flock of seals
I had lost the hope of ever catching the shrinking glacier…

You bumped thankfully upon my coffin in solace
As I sensed some shit over my morning quilt
And utterly stupid to say I really loved it…


-Anunoy

Thanks to two of my Lucky Posts:
1)My Reminiscence in a Midnight Platform
2)The Unavoidable

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Priority


For some it’s a loaf of fungi stuck bread,
For some it’s a scratch on some BMW,
And for some simply values do fare….

It’s all about how bare your stomach is,
It’s all about how much bulk it can hold,
And for some simply breeds do the talk…

Directive principles have been stealing the show since 1949
After all everything is not by… for… and of them…
Most of the things to cover, few things to overexpose…
Own the land and sore will be on their back-
Sipping the cocktail of fundamental rights
Feel proud to immortalize the trend
Set since Vedic matinee!


-littleWriter

Friday, February 26, 2010

Stethoscope


Spinning head and graying scalp-
Tablets unproductive to revamp libido-
Adamant sweat consumes the drying air,
It’s time to break the medical indemnity…

A desperate go to cork the hole-
White coat auscultation runs out of clue
Is it multifactorial then?
Possibilities bubble up behind witty eyeballs…

Diaphragm unable to trap the feeble rhythm-
Chestpiece baffled by innumerable sobs-
What the stethoscope fails the listener perceives
“His medication is banned in formula one age…!”


-littleWriter

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Ode to an Attachment


Wet in the crimson golden farewell rays
I witnessed the loveliest twilight,
Boogied with a swinging chime-
Then the night followed…

So many
Volcanoes erupted against anticipation,
Oceans sipped blood on moon’s seduction,
Castles emulsified by quaky annihilation,
All the creations suffered immature extinction-
Alas my sunset dreams and swiveling wind chime…

Now I’m deaf, I’m blind-
Forgotten to cry, can’t remember how to rhyme;
Dig the dark shadow when I’m awake but
Till now in my sleep I long to perceive that chime…


-littleWriter

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Hello Haiti

Million gloomy faces
Billion sobbing eyes
The world upside down
Wish all were lies…

God’s evil fantasy
Distorted bricks and blue
Chapters out of cover
Fool has lost his glue…

Neither an ocean of cries will cure…
Just like drinking after losing your first love-
Nor Midas’ fingers can lure…
Just like getting your son’s insurance money-
Virginity once lost is lost for sure…

Still don’t lose hope-
Moment this dark cloud dissolves every sunshine will be yours…



- littleWriter

Friday, January 15, 2010

The Ongoing

The vanishing camphor
And the fine last stroke,
It’s all life honey and we got to go…

Hundred smiles so delicately tuned
Myriad minds out of phase,
It’s all life baby and we got to go…

Preface soiled when born
Contents sensibly torn out,
It’s all life dear, the journey ought to continue…


- littleWriter