On Ruhi

These days she spends most of her time in her room.
I have hardly ever seen her downstairs.
God knows what she does in there?
For heaven's sake, is life all about writing those bloody things which no one reads?
Life is about behaving like a normal girl..helping me in the kitchen..
Life is about combing you hair, working hard, clearing competetive exams...earning money..and coming out of that rat hole she lives in!

These days she doesn't even return the calls of her friends..
When asked she says,
'Oh! I don't get to know when time slips out of my hands...
it's not my fault, but u know, I can somehow
never manage to do anything but laze around..'

You either find that soundbox in her room bursting and tearing my ear drums
But at times the music is so soft that I would have to toil that treck up the stairs to her room to find out if she is alive not in a coma.

To my 'Come down and Have lunch babay!'
There would be no respone...
I would scream'Ruhi? Ruhii?'
She would whisper 'Send it up here please'

And when I push her door open, I find her staring out of the balcony.God knows what she finds there.
I remember having argued with her father that we would never need that balcony, there is nothing worth seeing to that side of the house. There is some kind of a jungle, in summer the earth is all cracked up, in monsoon the creepers from it climb upto her room and no matter what she wouldn't let me do anything to them, not even when i threaten her that snakes would find their way up.
And now,that it is winter, the jungle is her laboratory, where she cooks up the fantasies she lives on.
When i take her breakfast up at eight, she makes me feel as if her vision can tear through that impenetrable fog.
Ruhi, can see things she wants to, she has always done that.

And again you would hear me shouting 'Ruhi, babay, Daddy is here..come down and let's have dinner..?'
Sometimes she would honor the ground floor with a visit, most of the times she would not care...

Upstairs, she would be pushed to one side of her bed like an ailing asthma patient, she would be scribbling things in her diary, staring into the dark sky.
Count stars, does she? I never asked..i never could ask.

I don't know where she will end up,i dread the consequences of her life..

May be in the way she lives, she finds the answers to her questions.
The answers that i never could find out in my own long life...

the other side of being me

i pray so that i can live sans fear
i write a lot, but have never written about my faith. i am a theist. i can't prove to you the existence of God, but my feet would shake if i stop believing.

i, apparently, am pretty confident.
But i have too many fears lurking within.
Honestly, so many that i go weary.
Fear of an accident that would stop life from taking its happy course, fear of my loved ones being torn away from me, fear of being hapless, fear of death..
i find it impossible to contain my fears within the walls of my heart.
And i can't admit my fears to the people around me.
Many can't spare their time and others will take me for a lunatic(which i actually am)
So i open up to someone who is always eager to listen to me..God
When i talk to God ( not always it is a one-sided conversation you see, haven't i talked about my sixth-sense earlier?) i feel as if all my fears have vanished for sometime at least.

i pray so that i can live sans fear.
Because i know that living when a fear is killing me from within is not worth it, is it?

i pray because i love you God, deeply, truly, madly.

And though i can't prove that God exists, i can't care any less about it.

May my faith in Him only grow stronger...

almost honest

Why do i get a feeling that everyone is oggling at me?
It's a syndrome that i am a victim of ...i have always wanted to camouflage in the crowd...
There is this fear that i associate with being singled out, being visible...
I dread at the possibilities of emerging from the walls where i live.

At a certain place, everything is going about almost fine and then enter I, centre stage...
I am no ethereal beauty that could floor any man...human, but i am very strange.
I got eyes that are bigger than they should be...and my hair produces oil all by itself, no matter how rough a shampoo i use.
And fate always has it that i turn up wearing THE wrong dress...something that no one else is wearing at the place i am in...

People's stares make my mind cough up words like 'eh? what's wrong with me?'

Fortunately if i let five minutes of time pass...i can again get back to being myself. People stop noticing me... and i begin noticing them...

I LOVE observing things around myself...i would love to wait for a friend at CCD or any public place for that matter...sitting alone on a table gives me the liscence to observe, mull, and then finally choose words that would fit in to describe what i think about those people...Forget it...i confess...i flat stare at people!

Hmmm...I am single though, i like watching couples...! i have had a few posts about my adventures of gazing at drowned-in-the-nectar-of-love twosomes...i try to figure out the chemistry that binds them together. Love is an all time beautiful thing to me. And the naive victims of my gaze are so much busy in fathoming each other...that they don't get the slightest idea that their emotion is literally quenching my aesthetic hunger..whateverthatmeans!

And about the quotes on T-shirts of guys...Oh! they are the things i am the second most obsessed with...( my first obsession is me!) I go nuts about reading those quotes and later laughing to myself...i do what not , i die to look at the T-shirt till i am able to read it completely...and comprehend it and laugh at it. And the poor guy thinks it was him i was staring it...:)

Well here is another confession...i also spare my stares for those marvellous masterpieces i have blogged about earlier. I indulge myself...never deny myself anything that 'I' ask for...I passionately admire anything i love... But at the end of the day...I am the apple of my I.

mez havin a writer's block!

We want to have no memories
Of days when we
Stood in the rain
Under sky high trees
And even then
Almost half bathed ourselves