Vague and random

The one who stays within the limits assigned to him is a man,
The one who roams beyond these limits is a saint.

To reject both limits and their absence;
That's a thought with immeasurable depths.

There are those amongst us who exist and those who live.

The subtleties of life had taken shape and were beginning to dawn upon the crusted soul. Like the dawning light, a new life was marking its way into the world. The beaded pinks and the lightening blues had defined the oncoming future. She sat up, in the bed, staring at the painting on the front wall. She, who knew the most, was quiet today, and for a good reason. One doesn’t talk about storms, only the strong bear them. And the weak dissolve in their fury. “History is an insatiable giant”. (David Davidar) We only remember those who win, and the rest like us, disappear in the sands of time.

Paradox

She is a strange woman. Perplexing really... The artist, the poet, the story weaver, the activist and the professional. Somehow, she manages to charm people with her toothy grin and somehow she manages to keep her sanity in this insane world. She is one of the few women I know, who thinks from only her heart, the brain refuses to interfere.

One day, she was sitting next to the Sukhna Lake, sketching an old banyan. It was nearly sunset. Winter was setting in so her hands were shaky, yet the charcoal strokes were flawless. The leaves seemed to curve mysteriously. And the bark looked like an old wilted man. How she sees a face in everything is beyond anyone else’s comprehension. Her mother told her once “you will never be able to make money out of your art because you love it so much that you won’t sell it”. That is the reason she advocates for a living instead.

Imagination

But before I could say anything to him, he disappeared into thin air. Gone, woof! Just like that, in a flash of a second. I have an extremely vivid imagination, silly me. No man can be so perfect. No one is that perfect.

So the spices still haunt me but this doubt which was building within me is beginning to disappear.

Dispel with the notions that may haunt you, ignore the little voice in the heart, because it’s the head which wins always.

I was writing something yesterday, unable to finish it, I have decided to let it decay and die a natural death. So long, later…

Jeeves

A man and a woman are never the same and as Jeeves once rightly put it to Wooster, "The female of the species is more deadly than the male, sir.”

Vanilla

I got a frantic call in the morning. As always it was her, worried about my safety, her anxiety stemming from the news reports. She is incorrigible, yet adorable. How do I tell her that this happens in our city everyday?!

Immersed in work, I see nothing else, I feel nothing else. I have sheaves of paper strewn all around and suddenly I smell vanilla… it seems to bring back the memories of that day in Notting Hill. Face down, I remain focused. That smell is still troubling me and growing strong each passing moment. I have a meeting in about 5 minutes and I haven’t sorted out the probable answers to the probable queries. The client seems to have arrived; I straighten up, pick up my cards and folder and walk in. He is sitting right in front me, the man from Portobello, the same man from Hyde Park, the man who had vanished for a week and allowed me to exist in peace.

One wonders why the universe is constantly conspiring and where does it want to lead you to.

Trick or Treat?

I observed him while he was lost in the nuances of my charcoal strokes. He was wearing a white shirt and denims and as the setting sun lay its rays on him, I thought I noticed a halo. I have got got got to stop believing in things to which we don’t have a reasonable answer. Or maybe that’s what they mean by thinking out of the box. He handed over my creation and gave me that fuzzy smile again.

He had walked away that day, the voice still ringing in my ears. I didn’t do anything to stop him… I have much of an ego myself. If he cared he would have stayed and talked to me, at least asked my name. I tried to think as little of it as possible and involved myself in the household chores. After many days I cleared the clutter in the house. The downside of living alone is that beyond a point you stop caring. Still, a dream of him came to me at night. Or morning? I couldn’t place it. The warm trickle of water in the shower, tingled my senses and for a second I froze; maybe he’s not real! Maybe, just maybe he’s an apparition. I have got to get going and get myself busy with work before the man I barely knew took up my entire existence.

Take a cue

The spices had worked their charm over and over again. I found myself drawn to the place and the face of the man that I’d seen there, starting haunting me. I didn’t see him again for weeks altogether. I was sitting in Hyde Park, sketching the old couples walking by, hand in hand, very much in love after all the years of being together. Maybe that is what they call growing old together. I was a little envious, a little happy and a little worried. Couldn’t I just hold the hands of the clock and make them move forward and take me to my old age and see if I do finally find my life-long companion?

He crept up and sat next to me, imperceptible… like a shadow. He was watching me sketch when I felt that warm gaze again and looked sharply at the intruder, if that is what you can call him. He smiled… a slightly curved and infectious smile that made me smile instantly, despite my anger at having been watched in silence. His first words to me were “can I see what you have drawn?” The voice boomeranged through the park and came back to hit me, or so I felt. It was a crisp baritone, the tone which made me squirm inside. I handed over the sketch and he looked at it intently and the time stopped... we got stuck in a time warp. God! I have got to stop imagining things. I was falling in love and I didn’t even know the man. I hadn’t known him, or spoken to him, or felt him… Nothing. Sometimes, it’s so easy to let yourself go and give in to your instinct.