Bangla Sahib and the urge to leave

The little girl was dressed in red overalls and a white tee. She couldn’t have been over 3 years of age. Her mother tried to keep her steady, but she bowed down three times in succession, to allow her forehead to gently touch the marble step which lay before the holy book. The golden bandana on her head, rode up, revealing several brown curly strands of hair. I watched her, perplexed and fixed, admiring the sweet soul of a child and her simplicity. Zing’s eyes were still closed in prayer and concentration, prayers which were being recited in a language that she didn’t understand, but brought to both of us, the calm and the peace that we needed. Before going to pray, I had just rushed out of my office, all my books, my snaps, my files tucked under my arm, my laptop packed, determined not to return. I don’t remember when was the last time I did something this impulsive. This time the impulse was strong and honest. The wish never to return was more resolute than ever. One can work for human rights all they want, but there is no compromising one’s honour, integrity and self-respect. I want to be like that little girl, keep my faith and bow, but carefully, and avoid hitting the marble too hard. How possible is that?

Heartless Dilli

Zing and I were out midnight cruising and came across this huge road block, cars lined up bumper to bumper at Lajpat before the Defence Colony flyover. Two massive Metro construction trucks had slowed down the traffic. Suddenly the sound of an emergency siren boomeranged through the stretch and an AIIMS ambulance came buzzing by. We pulled over to the left to allow the metro truck to park on the left, so that traffic stuck behind it could be eased out. Others just kept at their positions without budging for the man in need of emergency medical care. The Camry in front of the ambulance did not give space for 10 whole exhilarating minutes. Those 10 minutes could have been a life saver, someone may have lost one of his family last night, those 10 minutes could have eased someone’s physical agony. It is at times like this, that one feels helpless, disheartened and still amazed at the lack of humanity in those who walk among us. Delhi doesn’t fail to surprise one; where indolence and apathy are concerned, Delhi-ites win hands down.

Big Fish

Its one of my favourite movies- it has everything... magic, love, mystery, loss and happiness... I had found my “Big Fish” and it did not even need a wedding ring as bait (reference to the movie “big fish”). It just took my heart as bait and clung on to it for a long time, without caring for it.

She mended the broken fences with fresh white paint and nails, but there is only so much that cosmetic corrections can do. The fences are important; they decide for us who to keep out and who to let in. They act like a moat around our castle, the ditsy fall into the water, unable to climb up to the land and the strong come through, riding the water. The broken fences and the dry moats symbolise a guard down, a wish for death and the inability to recover. The big fish left an impact like none others, the guard down had begin inflicting slow mind numbing poison into her soul. The impact, that would last forever.

Empty pipe

Standing on the edge of the cliff, she smoked the ginger pipe and blew clouds at the dark sky. The wind blew her hair back and the moon stared at her tear ridden face. She stood awhile, counting stars, blowing more smoke at the vacuum, at the vacuum in her heart and the vacuum in the dark. She wondered what the next step would feel like, a cold sharp fall or a warm trickling relief from the pains of the world. Tough call? She stepped away from the edge, the pipe burning its last. Either she can refill it or throw it away forever.

Too little love and too much pain

She walked down the stone laid path
Battered and shattered from the wrath
Leaving and forgetting the painful wall
Where once stood the heartland mall
Insane and inane and loved and hated
She walked on understated and unabated
She went up and down the grimy way
Too much to hear and little to say
Same old story over and over again
Too little love and too much pain...

Chemistree

For her, physics and chemistry were as different as chalk and cheese. Physics was always less intriguing and easier to comprehend that the stupid chemistry. But when she grew up, chemistry mattered more than the physics of it, always. The feelings and emotions and the reactions that we can’t categorise, understand and control. So when she was faced with dilemma, she always opted for something complicated and irrepressible; Chemistry. The ultimate ZJNGGG, the bells in the head, the violins in the background, the string quartet, the red roses, and the flowing gondolas lit with lanterns, all the things wonderful, which are so tough to find, tougher to maintain and the toughest to keep forever. The heart only gets what it wants, when it stops desiring it... And that is the biggest paradox of life.

If wishes were wings...

There I was, out of Delhi again, lifting the colossal writing block from my mind. The lights passed me by at an alarming pace and I held on to my dear little electronic diary, typing out gibberish yet again. It took 24 hours and a series of pathetic jokes to mend the broken glass, the glass that could be patched up and hand blown into consistency once again. The train was taking me back to the rajdhani, the city I had accepted as home, the way a nomad looks lovingly at his current settlement, aware that the bliss is short lived. The fog and the dark faded the beautiful greens outside and I got goosebumps, I remembered the long winding bus journeys to grandma’s farms. The paddy soaked till knee, the peacocks performing their monsoon mating dance, the rains splashing the arid land, the farmers in frenzy, toiling away, the beautiful red verandah of her house and the place I took my first steps in, spoke my first words in. The steps and words witnessed only by the two people who aren’t alive to tale my childhood tales anymore. The memories only cherished by those who are better off in another world. The stories of ghosts told in the light of an ancient lantern, the stories of how I could stand on my grandfather’s hand in a perfect balance. I miss them, both, terribly. I have also been wishing for something for myself for a while. The universe is supposed to conspire to bring to you what your heart truly desires, so where is the thing I want the most? That Coelho is a liar for sure.

Road Block...

There is a very thin line between passion and stupidity. She blocked the world out, people spoke all around her, in loud voices, but all she heard was the blare of guitar and drums in her ears. To block the world out, sometimes, is the easiest and the most convenient thing to do. There were gaps in her conversation; her mind was where her body wasn’t. The chinks in the armour show only when you go to war. The wounds were easy to make, the chinks were clear and obvious, she was at the enemy’s mercy. The enemy had been closing on her for a while and all her strength could not save her from the impending eventuality. She lifted her slight head to look at what lay ahead. A couple of vintage postcards which defined who she was, and photographs of those she loved deeply. They smiled silently back and gave her a quiet strength. She will mend the chinks, bandage the wounds and smile... Smile through your misery as the only thing which is constant, is pain...

Ah another one

So the new year has come and I am still wallowing in the last one. Wondering what was right, what was wrong, made some pretty good decisions, some rather nasty ones, like the rest of you... So maybe we are all industrial clones with problems, happiness and trouble, maybe we are a part of a manic inter-galactic game where we are mere pawns in the hands of others. Or a reality show for those whom belongs extreme boredom- where our daily lives become a-la- "The Truman Show". Well, chin up and smile at the new year and lets all keep our fingers crossed!

"I'm looking for love," gushes Carrie, "real love, ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love. And I don't think that love is here in this expensive suite in this lovely hotel in Paris."

Carrie (Bradshaw- Sex and the City) found this love at 38! Wow, that’s a long long bloody wait. I love the line though.