Little Robin

Little Robin was busy. The innocent concentration, with which she was busy, seemed somewhat nice. She was busy watching the ants cross the road.

As the ants reached a tree, they started climbing the it. Robin’s attention went to the java plums (jaamuns). She started to watch java plums roll down from the tree onto the sidewalk. Waited for the next one and let the other one roll down and then next one and then next… Then suddenly she started looking at the way a leaf casts its shadow on the tree trunk.

While all the kids played around Robin quietly watched, not giving any attention to the interruptions which mostly were in the form of some extra-squeaky children playing in the nearby park.

Suddenly her mother came calling and was mad at her for not coming back home on time “Robin you got down from your school bus at 2. What have you been doing?”
Robin looked at her mother with her small black eyes. “Why is everything so specific? So different?”

And her mother said “Because God has made it that way,”

But what did not strike me at that time was that I would behave the same way in case of people. It did not strike me that we can never replace anyone because everyone is made up of such specific details. There are little details. So specific. Even indescribable. They are minuter than a person’s smile or eyes.

Robin still hasn’t grown up in that sense. May be she should not. Or should it be otherwise?

The Unicorn

I try to assemble the sound of a gurgling brook and the blueness of the skies, and still yearn for a unicorn. Something that is cool, white and serenely exquisite. Something that glistens and glitters in the forests like an alien.

Eventually I dance naked in the rain with my hands aloft, like a whirling dervish, feel the fat drops sting my skin and horrify the ones in Guccis and Pradas with this blatant and unashamed nudity. I let them put on their Raybans and allow them to try and block me, as they raise their Burberry umbrellas against the purging downpour- drenching my soul, nourishing my mind, cleansing my spirit and leaving it enshrined.

And in this marauding ecstasy I see the unicorn. I see it, till it dies in front of my eyes and the world becomes real and elusive. Its now that I long to jump into my attic of thoughts. I wait for the night so that I can discover castles right under the beds of fantasy, yet again.

The Mêlée

The longer I strive to take care of myself these days, the more I realise the significance of attitude or approach in life. Somehow, as I have begun to realise, that it is important than reality. The extraordinary thing is we have an alternative everyday regarding the attitude we will clinch for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. The only thing we can do is play on the one little filament that we have, and that is our attitude.
Watching someone leave from my life, (well you never entered it, I just made you a part of my world without realising anything), it does not make me cynical or harsh about certain emotions that I think will take a lot of time to get back to me again. Its just that unearthing them all over again is not the task that is on my priority list now.
Also firsts are always special in life. Apart from that the mollycoddled child that I have been, I am not used to any sort of soreness mentally.
I dislike certain things now. A little too much. I dislike myself for sitting at the same coffee shop and staring at the empty couch in front of me. I dislike my travel because the mind is in a wanderer’s stage then. I dislike being alone.
But there are solutions for everything. I am reading more then ever. I am watching more movies then ever. Listening to music more then ever. Writing more then ever. Shopping more then ever. Watching ‘Friends’ and the daily news a little too much, so that I am busy. Busy with life and its chores. One good thing is that all of it is also giving me the opportunity to become more passionate about certain other things. My family, friends and of course my reading sessions. I am just loving them.
I am converted over the fact that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. So back on the real track might take some time but I am just close.
Also I don’t want to push anything aside. Playing squash is indeed a tough task. I want to move on with some really special and wonderful emotions buried somewhere that deserve nothing more then a lot of deference and respect. I was honest and so were you. Therefore I want to ask for nothing. I just want to look at the stars again, smell the rain again, feel the wind, play with children and fight for my dreams. The fight has already begun and this time with my own self…..

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The title of the post means a fight or battle

The Long Drawn Out Wait......

O Lord!
In your world, In my world, In our world
Why are hatred and war in attendance?
Your heart is so expansive
Yet why are ours so constricted?

At every step, why is there a boundary?
All this earth that is yours
Sun is what it revolves around
Why is it so shady still?
On this world’s veil,
why do I see blood’s colour everyday?

Echoing are the shouts of many
That pour like hot iron in the ears
Who wants to listen to the talks of love and tolerance?
Shattering are all the dreams
Who is going to gather all these scattered pieces?
Heart's doors are locked
Why are these locks so rusty?

My answer?
I am still waiting……

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A dedication to Mumbai. The mayhem in Mumbai has rocked the entire world.

The Uncertainity

There is a blur. A haze, that blurs the line between good and evil. So much so that I forget the difference between paranoid and patriot.
I try to run closer to truth. It is like a breathless chase. All of it churns my gut, hurling me against the wall.
A glimpse of it suddenly now and I want to run away. Run away from it all like mad. Madness surpassing any other emotion and live in a virtual dream world yet again. Totally on one side of the blur. But the blur coaxes through its own hoops and wants me to see through. And temptation. Well there is too much of it.
I try and look through, yet again. And the world stops ticking for a moment. Or does it really stop? It doesnt. Its just what I feel.
I hate this feeling. This feeling of uncertainity where I can see things somewhat clearly but accepting it untill things really happen is what I dont want to do.
All I do is request this somebody inside me to please grant me some sleep.

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We women have this bad habit of clinging on to our thoughts believing all that we want to. I hate myself for harming my own self with this. But reality might hurt more and it will. This certainity is killing too.

While my guitar gently weeps..

While half the world falls in love and half wakes up to get going for work, my heart wanders in search of free days and free nights and indulges in wishful thinking again, as usual....And all I manage is coax it, but the thoughts emerge like a volcano, all over again.

A scorching night and some cold air and I long to hold that hand. And I don’t even know if that hand wants to hold mine.

On a cold wintery evening, on a little hilltop, I want to listen to the silence. I want my eyes to well up looking at you. But I don’t even know if you want to look back.

I don’t know where is this world? I am not even sure if it will ever exist.
And while my guitar gently weeps, I want to lie in possible ambiguity, in the scorching night and the cold wintery night and go across the universe holding that hand, without that hand even knowing about it.

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The title has been taken from one of the very beautiful tracks by Beatles

Go Kiss the World

It is raining cats and dogs at an hour when I should not be out. Or may be I should be. Who cares? Do I? Anybody else does? I am running as fast as possible in small but still big pools of water, looking for shelter which is to be found nowhere.

I am all drenched up till the skin and may be far inside too, water dripping constantly from my nose, running like a penguin amid a small heard of people and going where all of them are. But a strong urge to not go with all of them and I suddenly take a back turn. Suddenly? No I thought about it for around ten seconds!

I try looking for a shelter on my own in a different direction on a way that looks bizarre, deserted and totally out of place. Well totally out of being a rebel without a cause. But still there is no regret, no guilt mounting up as it used to.

I find a place to stand for a while, one or two people passing by occasionally, somebody even making a pass. I give a bad stare and he shoves of for a while.
I pick up all my bags and finally rush into this Madame shop I had been looking for. The shutter would have gone down in another 5 minutes. Well made it just on time!!!!
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Is shopping a woman’s prerogative? Well not all the time. But its therapy for sure. Try it to believe it!! The title of the post has been taken from Subroto Bagchi’s new book