A good book is a warm blanket that keeps you company on cold nights. A corner of solitude where you can cry in peace, and laugh with joy. It is a friend that says a lot without speaking at all. A good book is a philosophizing drunkard that dishes out life lessons, page after page. It is a graveyard where all human emotions come to rest. And that takes a part of you when it gets over. Because a good book, is love unrequited.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Crowded Metro. A girl sits cozily turning a page of Sheldon's Angel of the Dark. The woman beside, puts her mobile inside the purse. Hoping she would get up soon, several weary legs near her seat perk up in position. Non chalantly, she takes biscuits out from a lunchbox and begins chewing.
A girl wearing a bright yellow woollen top stands casually by one of the poles, speaking on her phone, 'No, but you have to see what kind of dress I wear to office'. A few feet ahead, another young woman wearing a navy blue sweater lined with feathers, observes her intently.The girl standing next to me is whatsapping some Abhinav Sir. Me?
I'm just trying to read her message.
Tuesday, December 02, 2014
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Friday, November 14, 2014
Wednesday, November 05, 2014
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
As evening arrived, a glow spread over her face. Bright ornaments decked her from head to feet like the jewellery of a new bride. Tonight was her time to shine and no one could take that away from her.
The lights turned on; the house smiled. Tonight was Diwali.
Even though they had just met, it felt like they had known each other for ages. Friendship was inevitable.
A preference for dark humour.
The same sensibility.
Even the same name.
But neither guessed they had also fallen for the same man.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
The dead of the night.
Your story makes me wonder
The Universe is mysterious
Sometimes, it reflects life
But most times, a lesson.
Strange are the ways of men
Stranger still, those of women.
What does that make us, I wonder.
Poets, anti-socials, loners
Or the rejects of society?
They say, love is a young man's game
A wrong bet, and you lose heart
Learn the rules, don't be a fool.
You see, love is not for amateurs.
So while you and I scribble
Pages and pages of morbid prose
Pretty lovers with prettier frames
Live fairytales of their own.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Draped in a wave of clouds,
The moon lets out a lazy yawn.
A naughty wind brushes past
Pulling off its cover, oh so lightly
Illuminating half a mile of the sky.
The moon is called off from sleep
A rude awakening
Big eyes, full of reproach
It scolds the wind, pulls the blanket closer.
And the endless sea goes dark.
Dark clouds with stoic silver linings
Like the depth of a bottomless ocean,
The synchrony of a fish's scales,
A unique geometric pattern
Shield the Universe.
A solitary star winks away
In the midst of this celibacy.
A lighthouse full of hope,
It is the sole flame,
In the sleeping world.
Like my love for you.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
I love to sleep.
It keeps the demons away.
As long as I'm safely tucked in
They won't get their way.
I love to sleep.
For dreams give me wings
Even in a nightmare,
I always find my way.
I love to sleep.
It's the best thing to do.
Better than the crying, the anger
The pain of seeing you.
I love to sleep.
It's the only thing keeping me sane
The wounds you inflict by day.
The day I stop loving sleep
Is the day I stop loving life.
Monday, September 08, 2014
Pausing mid-air for a moment, the feeling of love languidly flew away from her, when she jumped to catch it. As she sighed against the closed window sill, it blew farther and farther away, into the snowy recesses of the night. In search of a new destination, a new heart.
Monday, July 28, 2014
It all starts with a conversation. A casual 'What's up' followed by a friendly, 'Where's your lunch?'. With a concerned 'Are you okay?' when things go tough. Before you know it, you are talking about life, love and all things heavy. Yes, conversations are the starters, but the best of them happen when no words are involved. When the actions are so vocal, that words become silent. Such conversations are like codes, to be deciphered only by those for whom they are intended.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Friday, July 11, 2014
10 minutes later, her prize lay quivering on the floor. She smiled. Her first dead cockroach.
Saturday, July 05, 2014
Do you have a crazy obsessed stalker who cannot take 'No' for an answer, gets all touchy-feely when you handle them firmly and does not want to let go of you, even at odd hours?
You do, if you are in Creative.
They are called 'Servicing'.
Friday, July 04, 2014
Thursday, June 26, 2014
I like the sound of crickets chirping at night. Reminding me constantly I'm not alone. But then they stop. Abruptly. And just as I begin to adjust to the sound of silence, they begin chirping again.
What are they, men?
Saturday, June 21, 2014
My friend passed away. We were together for 7 years.
We first met in 2008, at a retail store. It was a bright sunny day. I remember him peeping at me as I smiled, and he blushed right back. That blush stayed with him for the remainder of our time together.
He was my best friend. Knew all my secrets, my dreams. From my daily to-do lists to bank details to the most random of poems, I trusted him with my heart's content.
But for the last 2 years, he was ill. I took him to the best specialists in the city, they even patched him up, but he fell sick again. People began advising me to look for a new friend, but you don't just discard friends, do you?
Still, he held on. He even came with me to the new city. And for the past 11 months, was instrumental in making my life in this alien place a little livable, a little more familiar.
But tragedy struck last week when he drowned. My fault. I should have never taken him close to water. And now, I'll never see him again. Or the data I stored in him.
Adieu, my Nokia 5130 Xpressmusic. No one will ever take your place. Rest in peace, wherever you are.
Friday, June 06, 2014
Thursday, June 05, 2014
Tuesday, June 03, 2014
Monday, June 02, 2014
Sometimes I just like to walk. Far away from everything I know.
I will get lost in the landscape. Tune the music a bit, so it plays quietly at the back of my mind.
Sit somewhere. Watch life pass me by. Think nothing.
Until some stray thought finds its way into my conscious. There, I'll let it rest awhile. Unhurried, untempered, undisturbed. While nature and I watch others run, to make up their lost time.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
'Not for long', Buddy replied slowly. His voice was low, his breathing heavy.
'You gotta listen to me man, make a run for it'. Joe kicked Buddy with his short fat legs.
Buddy winced under the pain. 'Don't be stupid. I can't even see. I only hear the rhythm of the death machine, coming closer and closer'.
His voice was resigned. He had accepted his faith. Joe was annoyed.
'Don't chicken out, man. All you need to do is to hop over and cross the road. And you'll be free'.
As his buddy let out a sigh, Joe realised it was a gasp. The indifferent machine had routinely sliced through Buddy's heart and trimmed him into neatly-cut nuggets.
Just like that, his life was over.
It was Joe's turn now.
Therapist: Well, how does that make you feel?
She: I don't...know. It makes me feel happy, alive, on top of the world. All sadness vanishes... It makes me feel..high.
Therapist: That's a good thing, isn't it?
She: Initially it feels good, but then I'm consumed with guilt. It's wrong, just wrong and I can't stop it. Help me Doctor, please!
She: I'm addicted! To KFC.
Heartbroken yet free, the pair of old leather shoes decided to embark on a new journey of self discovery, to see the world alone and for the first time, without a master.
"What did I do?" I asked, surprised.
"You said, 'oh what a cute pig', when I fell into the mud".
Snorting on my laughter, I offered helpfully, "Umm.. that was a compliment.."
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be mean. It's just, I don't have a filter."
"You are injurious to health."
A starry town comes to life
Hopes and dreams
Lend their wings
As this town softly glows.
As I watch this sleepy town come to life
14000 feet below.
'I had to take off', he mumbled.
'How..how could you not feel what I feel? Last night when we were one, when you saw through my dreams and insecurities, when you made me feel loved, did you not feel any of that?'
'Sara', he stopped her. 'Last night was 2 years ago'.
Like the high school bell
Ring in my head.
One after the other and another
The cacophony continues.
The Universe expands
A man shouts, a child cries.
Somewhere, my sleep dies.
A mother begins singing
The child joins in.
Interspersed with utensil-smashing
The only way to get some peace,
Is to go deaf.
Like a lone wolf
About to pounce
On indiscretions of the past.
The clock ticks,
As the prey runs
Desperate to hide
In a maze of uncertain shadows.
Fallible and naive
It senses danger.
But how can it hide?
When the real enemy lurks within.
Scared and lonely
It counts its last moments.
As the predator inside it
Patiently waits to make a strike.
It's during dark days as these
That my predator comes to life.
Desperate, she grabbed the first bottle she could find and sprayed on him with full force. The intruder fell on his back, legs up, trying hard to get up.
But Susan did not stop. She kept on spraying till the bottle was nearly empty. Finally she sat down on the bed with a thud. Beside her feet, lay the body of the curious roach.
Friday, April 04, 2014
Friday, March 21, 2014
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Then, three men sprang up from the corner of my set, and jumped up to pee by the side of a house. So much so for a romantic evening.
"Umm...", he began to speak but only a squeak came out.
The camel looked right through him, making his heart squirrel.
If only she knew he wanted to share his nuts with her.
Saturday, March 15, 2014
'Oh boy', the brain observed, worried.
'Geez, I hate these butterflies', the stomach said giddily as the heart hoarsely sang, 'It's a love story, baby just 'yes'!'.
'Grow up', her brain said, in an authoritative Alan Rickman tone.
'Like, really. I can't have butterflies no more', her stomach groaned.
'Grammar', the brain corrected sternly.
But the heart had already broken into an impromptu ballet, 'I love you and that's all I really know...'
'Fine, but don't come crying to me again', the brain said, annoyed. 'I can't pick up your pieces everytime. Why can't you be smart in love, for once?'
'What's the use of all the smartness in the world if you can't be stupid in love?' The heart danced.
'You stupid, stupid heart', the stomach was sick to the core. 'You have any idea, how many butterflies have flown inside me till now? I refuse to participate in your games. Mutton, chicken, fish, I can digest. A bunch of flying colourful butterflies, straight out of a Disney film- no man! I refuse.'
'And you are still injured from last time', Rickmany brain observed wisely. 'I advice you to take it slowly'.
But the heart was already doing sprints in rainbow-land.
'How can someone so logical in life be so stupid in love', the brain sighed.
'I agree man, the heart's lost it again', the stomach said, lighting a cigarette.
'I'm not your man and we are not friends. I am the most intelligent organ in the human body and you just clean the gutter', the brain replied coldly as it blew off the cigarette. 'And that stuff is not good for health'.
'Chill man. Who put a stick up your ass?', the stomach curtly questioned.
'How dare you...', the brain fired up.
'Guys, guys, relax. I am fine. It won't be like last time. I promise', sang the heart in a high-pitched octave.
'Well, at least, it's not a Justin Bieber song..', whispered the stomach.
'Oh really, so this guy has already said he loves you', the brain said sarcastically.
'Not exactly', the heart quietly replied.
'So you have said you love him?' The brain interrogated.
'So what exactly did you tell him?'
'I liked his Facebook status!', leapt the heart in joy.
'I want some antacid. I am not feeling very well. All those butterflies...', the stomach said weakly.
The brain ignored. 'So let me figure this out, you expect him...'
The heart cut him short. 'I don't expect anything from him, okay? Stop being such a stuck-up'.
The stomach giggled amidst glares from the brain.
'Let me tell you right now, the next time you come to me, injured and crying, I will tell you,'I told you so'', it declared tersely.
'What's new? I can't stop falling in love because of the fear of getting hurt', said the angry heart.
'No, but you can at least try to be intelligent about it'.
'I'm not a brain', laughed the heart. The heart's laughter always calmed the cynical brain. Taught it to have faith. Even though, in the end, the heart was always injured. Somewhere deep inside, the brain believed that one day the heart would find happiness.
'You talk like a 16-year old school girl', the brain shook its head, exasperated.
'And you behave like a 60-year old Grandpa', the heart laughed heartily.
'Well, someone has to be the grown up...'
'Guys, guys, I hate to interrupt this reunion, but could someone please help me with some antacid', begged the stomach.
'Hand, mouth...', ordered the brain.
While they got busy, the brain said thoughtfully,' I don't think this is going to end any differently'.
'I know', said the heart. 'But we do not give up trying, do we?'
'I hope you find what you are looking for', sighed the brain.
The heart smiled. 'What we are looking for'.
A Certificate of Innovation in playing pranks.
An A+ in mending shoes.
He was even nominated in the 'Best Dressed' category. Twice.
He knew that soon, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow would be his.
But in post-recession Europe, times were tough even for Leprechauns.
Shattered dreams and endless bills forced him to become a cobbler.
But even now, he gets up every morning to brush his dense red beard and dust his ragged green coat. On St. Patrick's Day however, he gets up an hour earlier, puts on his best green graduation coat, and runs about playing practical jokes on unsuspecting drunkards. This is the only day he can be his true self. The only day, that makes the remaining 364 days bearable.
Friday, March 14, 2014
"I'm sorry, I have no choice". The murderer's voice was impassive as he grasped the weapon.
"There's always a choice", he cried.
The murderer went quiet.
"You can give me a happy life, a happy family, everything I have dreamed of...", the prisoner begged helplessly.
He paused, thinking for a moment. His readers wouldn't like that.
Then, with a swift stroke of his pen, he pushed his character off the edge.
He sighed. Time to begin the next chapter.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Their first date. She blushed.
Settling down, he asked, 'So, what would you like to order? I hear the pork belly is awesome'.
She flinched a little.
'Just a..a salad please.'
'As you wish', he smiled as he motioned for the waiter.
'You know.. Your hair looks lovely, I bet you would look gorgeous with pigtails'. Women liked his candour. Or so he thought.
But she went pale.
'Ex..excuse me...', she rushed up from her chair and dashed towards the ladies' room, leaving him wondering if he had been too forward.
Inside the spotless white washroom, she stared at the mirror. Did he know? How could he know? No it was impossible. She had taken every precaution.
Instinctively, her hands began tracing the outline of her satin silk gown. The smooth neckline, the flawless waist, the perfect hips. Her hands rested.
Inside, lurked the faintest trace of a bushy pig tail. Of course, the dress hid it well. But she could never be completely sure.
She stared at the mirror, ashamed, sweating like a pig.
Out in the restaurant, he waited. Finally convinced that his forwardness had put her off, he left.
Inside, the ladies' washroom grunted in agony.
Monday, March 10, 2014
A deafening roar blocks my ears.
I can't sit, can't hear myself think, let alone play Candy Crush. I start pacing round the dark room, then the building, hoping something, anything will stop the monotonous rumbling. But the noise gets louder every instant. Until suddenly, the ventilator starts bursting again and the TV resumes blaring. Thank Heavens, the noise in my ears has died.
2 minutes later, it's dark again, and the noise is back.
I sit on my bed, eyes closed, trying to shut the noise out with all might.
Dammit, who knew silence could be so loud?
You snigger and sneer
As wise men make a fool of themselves
With the most banal of jokes
In your august presence.
All so your face lights up
With the enlivening smile
That strikes their erratic hearts.
It is true what they say,
Beauty has long played folly with wisdom.
But only the wisdom of men, they forgot to mention.
For the hearts of men, even the wise ones
Are governed by the beats of an organ far down
That not cares for intelligence or dumb sarcasm.
It's time. The monkeys have arrived.
'Just passing through', I smiled. As you were too, through my life. 'Wow...you look..different. Let's catch up sometime', it softly suggested, voice filled with surprise and candour. 'Sure, why not', I smiled and moved on.
The aloof, unforgiving past had forgotten it could never catch up to the present.
P.S: Status inspired after I caught myself humming a Singh-song unawares. :-/
The MeetingAs I trudged along the tormented path overwhelmed with briefs, a stoic smiling face caught my gaze.
'If this bothers you sweetheart, just imagine being burdened by idiots all day', said the pet camel at the Bikanervala restaurant, in a curious Robert De Niro voice.
'Why yes, Mr. Camel, I don't know how you do it. Why not just kick them?' I looked at those wide-set pair of eyes, serene, always smiling. He was chewing the end of a Cuban cigarette.
'Gotta pay the bills sweetheart, everyone's gotta pay the bills', he said, his voice hoarse, his chewing incessant.
Right then, a potbellied Sardarji with two gleeful children stopped in front of him. 'Well, that's me', Mr. Camel wrapped up the conversation, as he threw the end of his cigarette in the cold February air, wiped his mouth with polished hooves and gave a million dollar smile, that dazzled with a set of perfect white teeth.
'You'd look better with a hat, Mr. De Niro', I thought as I walked back home, contemplating the burdens of mankind.
The ObservationThere is an open parking lot below my office. On lazy afternoons, Mr. Camel lies there, by the shade of a few inconspicuous trees. Chewing and gazing at the direction of the pet horse nearby. Always smiling. I have often wondered whether he is enlightened or just psychotic. May be there isn't much of a difference between the two.
Today as a couple got on him, and he lazily strolled across the parking lot of indifferent cars, a driver began playing 'Tamanchey pe Disco'. Suddenly, Mr. Camel neighed. And as the lone horse in the distance looked up in confusion, he jumped up with two hooves in the air, shaking his hump to the beat of the song.
The couple sat petrified while the mahout ran screaming.
But neither the obligation of the job, nor the yelling of his boss could stop Mr. Camel anymore.
He was finally free.
Or was he?
It is going to rain again.
'So, you got something for me yet, lady?' The poor rodent squeaked at me.
Looking up from the Book of Idioms, I replied quietly, 'Rug rat, rat race...rats abandoning a sinking ship....nah..nothing, sorry'.
'Your fault. Why is it that 'rats running in a stomach' sounds perfectly fine in the vernaculars but so odd in English?'
'Why indeed?' I thought to myself.
'And you...you agreed to write it in English..why couldn't you put up the status in some vernacular language, where it is perfectly fine to have innocent rats run up and down the length of your stomach?'
'Umm... My readers are from an extensive language base...' I said importantly.
'Why should us rats suffer for the limitations of English'? He squealed.
'You are right....' I was hungry and Mr. Rat was tired of running in my stomach. We shared nibbles of my last cream biscuits and quietly wondered on the dilemma of transcreating idioms in a foreign language.