Diwali House

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.

Conversation Starters

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.

Long Drive

Drops of poetry trickle down my brief
My mind goes on a long drive

As the sweet sweet rain drenches my soul.

Size L

Size L then- Large
Size L now- Loose

April Fool's Day

'But it's spring!' The sweaty family panted. 
Haha Happy April 1st, beamed Nature.

Stars Below

Twinkling stars
Travelling stars
Static stars
Halogen stars
A starry town comes to life 
At night.
Hopes and dreams
Lend their wings
As this town softly glows.
As I watch this sleepy town come to life
14000 feet below.

Views from a Plane

                                               

Blessed amidst the clouds

Of cotton candy.

The world beyond me

A meandering trajectory of choices.

There is no confusion up here, no choice.
Just an endless kingdom.
Never-ending, distant, stoic
Peaceful.
Makes me wonder
How does it feel to die in heaven?

Tahir Shah in Haryana!

I saw Eye To Eye - Tahir Shah in the market today. With lush locks falling down his face, he sprang up and down and spoke in a distinct Haryanvi accent. Gazing admiringly, I wondered how it would be if he were to sing Eye to Eye North Indian isshtyle.

Balanced Diet

"I need to have a balanced diet", I thought, morosely munching on Hyderabadi Biriyani last night. "Something healthy, that helps to lose weight, be fit...", I pondered today, dreamily eating the Chicken Rice Bowl I so dearly love. "May be tomorrow", I wondered as I walked alone with my Hot Chocolate towards the office.

Monkeying Around

Emergency has been declared in my PG. The doors and windows have been tightly shut; the valuables safely tucked away. Solemn Nepali faces stand huddled together outside, determined to protect the building and its inhabitants. As the impending doom draws near, everyone waits with bated breath.

It's time. The monkeys have arrived.

The Sing-Song Virus

There's a dangerous virus doing the rounds of wintry North India. Deadlier than the Dengue, more contagious than the cold, it will strike you when you least expect it. It spreads by air and prolonged contact with those infected. Till now, prevention is the only cure. But patients show no outward symptoms, thus making it difficult to quarantine them. Except one thing. If you find a loved one humming a Honey Singh number, beware. Maintain a minimum of 5 feet distance, use ear plugs and contact the nearest government asylum. Or you could be next.

P.S: Status inspired after I caught myself humming a Singh-song unawares. :-/

The Camel that spoke like Robert De Niro

The Meeting 

As 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 Observation

There 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?

Tough Life

Life must be tough for pigs. Imagine wetting your nose every time you try to drink water.

The Chirp

I tried to call out to her but with the straw sticking out of my mouth, only a muffled sound came out. Where was she? I saw an eagle flying in the distance. Wings outstretched, it spiralled round and round, reminding me of the poem by Mr. Yeats. 'Darling, can you hear me?' I finally chirped aloud, causing to drop the straw. Oh boy, the nest will just have to wait, I mused as I flew to a nearby pole.

Running Rat

Eventually, the rat got tired of running. Panting, he sat down and began wiping his face with a moist cloth.

'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.

He

He's the pensiveness of a thousand roses
The beckoning of a constellation, far far away
He's the carefree laughter of a stream,
The sad painting that looked away.
He's a beautiful poem, an enigma, an epiphany.

On Occasion

As I stand lazily soaking in the winter sun, I see a monkey in the distant roof, doing the same. A closer inspection reveals a Ma monkey followed by one-two baby monkeys, with another monkey chilling in someone's balcony. 'Hee...bador bador', I gleefully observe. The Ma monkey then climbs down the grill, just like Spiderman. The young ones follow suit to join their Chacha (I'm guessing) in the neighbouring balcony.

Still giggling, I come down the stairs to find a wolf strolling about, in the guise of a dog. It seems to have enough fur to shield the neighbourhood for the winter. I share biscuits with the dumb blackie but those 5 biscuits vanish before hitting the floor. Finding I have no more biscuits to offer, it now decides to settle for the next best thing.

It begins to wag its bushy tail, I pat it a little. Two pats, and the wolf seeks to climb till my shoulder, like a chipku guy. 'Durey thako, durey thako', I order the wolf which probably weighs more than me. It calms down but still keeps on looking through the iron grills long after I have closed the gate.

I go back to shoot the monkeys on the roof but they have long since vanished. So I shoot the next best thing: Myself.

Gurgaon is a chiriyakhana. I like it.

5:30 am

5:30 am- That unearthly hour that marks the short interval between the dying echoes of night and the first whispers of dawn.

5:30 am- That whimsical muse who whistles away at the last few hours of a person's sleep; him desperate to finish the dream before reality faces him, once again.

On such a 5:30 am today morning, I decided to go for a walk.

Yes, me. The nightcrawler, the sun-hater.

I can't remember waking up so early except while catching trains.

And that one time, I climbed a mountain (or was it a hill?) in Rajasthan. I was very small, so even a hill seemed Mt. Everest to me. And how proud I was when I climbed it before the elders, right at the speck of dawn. I got a pack of Uncle Chips as reward. Something about the chips tasted even finer, I tell you. 

And now this. 

Another of my attempts at something new and different in the last 4 months.

Being healthy? Nah. The early bird? You're preaching to the owl.

And as the last shadows of night kissed the earth goodbye, we began walking. Talking, laughing, discussing everything and more, this bunch of crazies walked playfully. Shivering in the cold, I followed them first. Then, irritated at the slow walking, I began pacing fast. And faster. The way I usually walk. Like I was in a walk-a-thon. Walking under the sky, amidst the shrubbery, looking at the 18 to 40-year olds who had also gathered. To play, to walk. Who wakes up so early?

The early bird. The milkman. The driver. The working man and woman. The sun, for God's sake.

Certainly not me.

I liked walking with you today, Dawn. I hope to do more. But I am bad with promises. And as long as nothing's defined, it's still full of potential, innit? Pregnant with hope. So let's just keep it that way.

May be we will meet again. May be not.

Conversations

Fingers on his chin and head slightly bent, he looks at her silently from behind those big round glasses.

She stands, scared. A huge pile of papers in her hand and the expectation of having to perform weighs her down.

"Next idea", he silently murmurs.

"Umm...umm, so this is about a woman who brushes her hair with cactus..."

"What's the brand?" He inquires.

"Uhh..softener..hair softener", she mumbles.

"Oh..done", he says quietly.

"Already?" Her disappointment thinly veils the nervousness she feels around him.

"Hmm...yeah", he goes back to watching Breaking Bad on his computer screen.

She comes back to her desk, banging her head against the imaginary wall, for a millionth time.

"Be smart, be confident, be brave", she encourages herself.

"You know, it's been a while. Doesn't make sense for you to stammer so much in front of him. So, he's your boss. So, he's cute. So, he's witty. So he's intelligent. So what? You are not dumb. You are clever and funny and talented."

"And he's so remarkably down-to-earth. I didn't expect a celebrity to be like this".

"You're starstruck".

"Dearness, I'm crushing on him at the rate of 2 icebergs per second. Just last day, he was running down the conference hall like a child while explaining an idea. And yesterday, he was cycling. In the office. He's always teasing me. And, he talks ..I mean, really talks to me. You know I'm shy and I don't talk much with people. But he comes everyday just to talk to me. I mean, who does that?"

"All it takes to impress you is for someone to be nice to you".

"Dunno. But he's not just nice or talented. He's a good human being..."

"Or so it seems."

"I wish...I wish..", she began dreamily.

"Careful what you wish", the stern voice warned.

"Why can't I get guys like that?"

"Coz you become dumb when it comes to guys you like. You are smart and sweet and funny. But when it comes to guys you like, you act like a total retard."

"And now it's affecting my work. I mean, how on earth am I supposed to think of ideas when he just stands there being so cute, so friendly, with such an adorable smile and accommodating personality?"

"He's flirtatious. And you, are an idiot. You never learn, do you?"

"Apparently I don't", she mused grimly.

"Is this the first time a guy has been so charming to make you fall hard, and land with a thud on the floor?"

"No", she said quietly. Underneath though, she was thinking of his suede shoes and lime coloured watch. The fancy hat. The twinkle in those eyes hidden behind big glasses. That indomitable spirit. That sly smile. That seriousness with which he listened to every idea she had, no matter how flawed, how trivial. The poems she had written on him. The way he flirted with her, but still treated her considerately like she was his sister. How much he loved his daughter. His beautiful wife. And how, he was still so warm with her. And everyone around him. How he helped everyone. Even those who could do nothing for him in return. How straightforward he was. Blunt but never rude. How he found beauty in the tiniest of things. How he was frank with her. Fancy saying that her writing was like a 13-year old. How it had angered her. How she was so terribly terribly intimidated by him. Because of his down-to-earth behaviour. Would she be able to live up to his expectations? Did she deserve so much kindness? As she thought this, her eyes became watery.

"But you know", she continued, fighting the knot in her voice, "he's different from others. He genuinely helps people."

"So? Your job is to work so you can better yourself. Then find a new job. Don't you think I know why you did not leave even though you had other offers?", the stern voice thundered.

"Weh....Well, I thought I could learn from him", she stammered again.

"Sure you thought that, but you also liked spending time with him", stated the stern voice matter-of-factly.

"Yes, well who doesn't?" She smiled. His thoughts made her feel shy. 

"You are fooling no one except yourself. This is your life, YOURS.Whether you want to run it or ruin it, is up to you. Remember, a lot is riding on this."

The stern voice subsided inside her, telling her what she always knew. Just a young girl with big dreams, trying to make it in a big city. Did such feelings even have a place here? 

Charm

It should be a crime to be so genial
And touch mountains high
It should be a crime to be so gentle
To shine as the bright blue sky.

You are a ray of warm sunshine
Gloomy days shy away from you
Burning so brightly,
You enchant all around you.

You smile and the world goes round
Your talk makes the rain sounds sweet
Your voice is like a string of pearls
Playfully creating their own harmony.

Now look what your charm did
Playfully nibbling away my thoughts
Been thinking of you all this while
And wrote a silly poem.

Don't lose your optimism ever
Don't ever lose your shine
You see, your light inspires millions
And you, my friend are pretty fine.