Strangers in the Night

It was some crazy special evening. At 5 she decided she should celebrate like normal people do. For a change she wouldn't wallow in sorrow any longer, for a few hours. She called up S. S and she were the best of friends. Though she did never believe in friendship, but she fathomed that if she ever began believing in frienship, it could be only for S.

She was kept waiting and waiting beside the highway, waiting to be picked up. At one point of time she wondered if she had been ditched, like always. She thought she would rather get back to wallowing in sorrow, just when S arrived. Later sipping cold and hot coffees alternately, besides other varieties, they watched headlights on the highways merge on the glass walls of the coffee shop. Watching people, chattering away, so lost, yet so much there. Some happy, some absolutely elated, some mischievous, most of them pretending. Travelling to and away from the coffee cup inside her mind, she rested there, calmly. Waited.

S got talking. S talked about her boy-friend. Though she and S were pretty close, they never expected anything of each other. That probably was what made them stick to each other. But she listened on. They shifted to another table on the verandah, in the lawn. Waiters smiled. New faces arrived. S, whose chair was towards the edge had a feeling that she could just fall off. She laughed at the idea of S tipping off her chair.

Later she got talking too. Then she paused. The pause lenghtened. And then became a lingering silence. She wondered if she would rather listen. She wondered if there would ever be another person, who would be solely hers. Who would listen to her, speak. Who would just watch her sleep. Sarcasm became a person inside her and began giggling and she discarded those thoughts..

While walking back home, she wanted to pick up a rose for herself. She asked the guy selling flowers to do away with the thorns. He didn't and said, 'Only when these thorns get into his fingers and make him bleed, and cause him enough pain, he would think of you and love you more.' She ran away from that place before Sarcasm could gather itself and giggle again.

Later that night, she met a stranger though. The stranger became that him for her. He made her laugh and laugh and laugh. And Oh my god, She found out that she had forgotten the sound of her laughter. That night her cheeks ached smiling all the time. She laughed till tears formed in her eyes. And he went on and on and on. She wanted to store some of those smiles for the next day. She wanted every night to be that way. Every day spent waiting for the Stranger she met that night.

Things went on this way for some days. The moment they began talking she forgot who she was. Only thing that was so conspicuosly present was not them but their ripples of joy.

With time, but, their meetings dwindled. Her waits lengthened. She travelled closer to becoming her previous self. She was aware of what was impending. But she waited for him, nevertheless. That wait lenghtened into an unanswered lull. She moved back into her shell. He didn't come back.

The rose withered. And they became strangers again.

Nemesis

Nemesis.

What could be in common between January 2006 and Jannary 2010? Quite a lot I can sense. What followed in the months of February and March led to the worst thing that couldever have happened. The signs are similar this time of the year. Fouryears and my life hasn't taken leap. Yet.

I despise deja vu. It makes life predictable, of all things.

Beyond the fear of failure, is failure. The only favor that Failure does is, it takes away that fear. It makes you way more, way more bold. It doesn't make you callous, but brave, nevertheless.

It does. It does. It does.

Beyond Nemesis, is a tiny hope. A hope that tells me that life still hides within itself the slightest chance. That chance of springing back to life. Again.

B-reft.

I have never been taken care of. Never been told what to do. More importantly what not to do. Never been told that I am a child. Never treated like one. I have learnt things the hard way. My way. Falling. Getting up. Dragging my feet and walking again. All my life I have lived alone. Trembling with fear on dark unending nights I have evaluated the options at hand. I have taken my own decisions. Commited my own mistakes. Suffered my own regrets. Cried alone. I have been expected to behave like an adult. I missed growing up. I believe I was born this way. I have made myself into all that I am. And I have so got into this habit of being by myself, that now anything else looks like an impossibility. A possibility I have been bereft of. I do all my stuff thisway. I shop alone. I scream for cabs alone. I walk alone. I live alone. And now I wonder why. Now I cry why not?

I have never been taken care of. Never been told what to do. More importantly what not to do. Never been told that I am a child. Never treated like one. I have learnt things the hard way. My way. Falling..Getting up.. Dragging my feet and..

Fluctuating Loyalties

I was looking at a someone's picture and smiling like you often do. And then a second later I looked my phone and it occured to me that I was waiting for another someone's call. For the next few moments, in the dark template of my blog, I gaped at myself, wide mouthed. Something was seriously wrong. I was infatuated to two people at the same time. Unconsciously moving away from the first someone, and conscioulsy closer to the second someone. Does this read adulterous already?

Something similar had happened with me a few years ago. You know you are only perfectly normal if you have scores of crushes. So I happened to meet two of my previous flames at the same time and at the same place. Then followed my platinum opportunity to see them sit side by side. I took the liberties to juxtapose them. I tried to figure our similarities between them to spot my favorite traits and differences to judge if my taste had matured with time. I also compared my madness about the two of them in the two different periods of my life. That afternoon I sat down there infront of them both and quietly carried out this experiment in the world's oblivion. From then on I started having a perspective of my own. And I concluded that I am never to be taken seriously. Till date, I stick, humbly to that conclusion.

But now, I am almost two-timing. Sacrilegious. I understand this doesn't cause any harm of any sort to any of the three of us. But nevertheless. I am stuck in between the two of them. I am in between of nowhere. I wish this transition paces up a little. I hate being stuck, anyway.

asphyxia

my phone beeped. battery fully charged, please remove charger.

i had expected a message. i have been wanting a message for long. any message. just any

when i woke up, three hours ago, i was lapped up in sweat. everymorning i try this simple activity of trying to convince myself that i am just fine. may be i just dreamt bad. of something very horrible. but i can't remember any dream. but my subconscious is too nervous to face the day even if i feign a dutch courage. i keep telling myself that i am just fine.

it is the best way, the way it is now. there are certain things i can't afford and hence shouldn't think about them much. i want to be told so..again and again

i hate cold, fog, green. i hate hills. i despise pine trees. i love the dust and warmth of the plains. i want the noise of the traffic back in my life. that was some noise after ll, more soothing than this deathly silence that prevails and threatens to engulf.

how easy is it going to be, to cease to exist. is it going to be better than the life that would have continued beyond that voluntary choking myself to death?

Arunima

she took the 12:15 local to her mother's place. no screaming for cabs, no hurry for life. she walked down, her baby clinging to her fast asleep even in that peak traffic rush. her bag stuffed with baby food, diapers..another zip had a purse with certain change, a comb incase it got windy and a cell phone that kept her searching everytime it rang. but she never panicked while looking for it. even if it stopped ringing and she couldn't find it even then, she never..

an hour later when she knocked her mother's door, she opened it, messed up in a crumpled nightie. looks they shared were obvious, no greetings exchanged. the traffic noise lost its impact inside the house. shiny marble tiles, cold and black, on which the baby would crawl and play, once up..

the day glided at its own merry pace and paused whenever it felt like. the dal in the pressure cooker whistled once and again. it woke her up from lazy day dreams she had staring out of the window on the ninth floor at the unruly cabbies underneath. at distant smoke. watching life happen, this way, from a height was all she wanted to do. indifferent, uninvolved and away..

watching the baby sleep quietly was quite another thing. playing with his nose and tickling his lips.. waking him up and biting her lips once he began crying..was yet another thing..

later post three, she would knead dough and flatten balls of it..watch her mother blow them up on a tawa she wondered had always been that black..they would watch soaps in which she would keep confusing between characters and guessing the story ahead..not looking for much spice and leaving life as it was..

sipping cups of sugary tea, sitting on the swing in the portico, watching afternoon become evening..watering her mother's potted plants...playing with mud and clay..

she would take the 6:30 local and be home by the time he came home.

later she would pinch herself to believe if life could be that impeccably normal..

Arunima..

M

some faces are merging into others..the mind is loosing track of time..looking for the past in the present..it is very difficult to draw that thin line between what is and what is no more

travelling unbelievable distances in fractions of seconds..i enter hidden chambers of darkness..and see unexpected flashes of light again

i suffere from a pathetic fear of failure..this fear makes me drag my body with my soul..which would have departed long ago..but for this fear

what is sad is my inability to accept the passing of time..the inevitable forward movement of things..when all i want to do is..hold on to moments for now..and relive the ones that are past

and it is this inability that is killing me now..

..time is like sand that i hold in my fist..the tighter i hold on to it..the faster it slips out from between my fingers..

and i can't bear to see time die this way..my time..

Walks To Remember-6

Our cab hadn't moved an inch in the last twenty minutes, that traffic could put a snail to shame. We

decided walk down the distance.

'You don't have dust allergy, do you?', he asked. I wondered if this one was better than his previous conversation starter which was something like gazing at a bsnl 3g billboard and saying, 'doesn't she look like a

snake?'

'You do?', he quipped again.

'What? Dust allergy? no. why should i?'

'I thought you had the same zero-tolerane policy for

everything in life'

I was trying to figure out what had caused that kind of a jam. Turned out that some stupid festival the city hosted was having its closing ceremony. And all highways were choked. He poked in again as we slipped in between cars that had hopelessly turned off their engines. 'Hey Look!' ,he said pointing at the sky that was lit up with breathtaking fireworks..thanks to the same cause that was making us so walk the talk.

'I wonder if we could afford such a waste'

'You think it's your money they are burning rightaway, don't you?

I looked up at him and said, 'Did you know that fifty percent of this state is struggling bpl?'

'How do you make it a point to be sad about everything dude?

'Don't call me dude'

The impasse got moresevere. I am talking about the one on the road. The one in between us somehow never surprises me. We probably are tryin to understand each other's silences. And most of our tete-a-tetes remore like a war of words. Any one would prefer silence.

'Why don't you wear heels?'

'What?', i feigned a surprise.

'Why don't you wear heels?'

'Why should I?'

'We will look better that way, I guess'

'Why do 'we' need to look better? Can't you just let it be the way it is?'

'See nine inches is not a difference, it's almost a gulf,

don't you think?

I gave him one hell ofa sarcastic stare.

'Oh, the point is everytime we talk I don't want you to crane your neck with an eighty-five degree angle of inclination. See you already have spondylitis'

I tried to hold my laughter tight between my cheeks. I wondered why tall guys were ominous and always brought me bad luck.

Eventually my cheeks gave up though..

There is something here that I think you can spare one read for..


WTR-5

other trivia.

for a change i will not write about love.

right now i am too nervous to face my own life. i see a fear of rejection everywhere. it's like i cannot accept myself when i am rejected by the system or any particular person. i judge myself, every moment of my life. if i stop doing that i get guilt pangs. my system has been assembled to believe that following free will is equivalent to sinning.

today my inbox is spammed by the google groups of the colleges i went to. colleges in which i wrote exams in which my answers were independent and irrespective of the questions. i still slogged the night before and somehow cried just to get through. i lost my ambition in this rat race. the rat race that is inevitable and ubiquitous in my life. my six years of college. that breathlessly gasping and running to classes on shampooed wednesdays and sleepy saturdays. those nights of sleeping like a drunkard. and stealing time to write this blog. i just wanted to get through whatever everyone wanted to get through. i never asked myself what i wanted. never had the chance or the time to.

am i a victim of the system? i confess everytime a someone blames the system i break irrevocably into mute peals of stomach splitting laughter. the system is rather my victim. people ask me for advice. oh dear god, i just keep repeating the above mentioned activity .

i am been so pathetically victimised that today i am an advocate of this system. i have begun to believe in degrees. i have begun to believe that studying in branded colleges matters. i have abandoned ideas of following passion as a comical midsummer night's dream. it doesn't work out that way.

i have a passion for writing. i love writing. but i don't know if i would be able to make a living out of it. will writing sustain my interest if i take it seriously. don't i love writing just because no one forces me write? i am lazy by default and if you don't kick me i wont work. and i wont even write, probably. i will just laze around.

so i need a system like ours that makes me work, and scares the hell out of me. i am conditioned to live with fear. it's difficult to imagine a life without it.

for the last month or so,this is what mylifehas been revolving around.

and given a chance i would maintain a status quo

koel

the first time i met koel she was a bird who sang sitting on a random branch of an unknown tree near my window in the early mornings of late February. she made me realise how tied up i was by the unwanted things in my life then. i wanted to be left in the wild like her and be onmy own. break the shackles or things that seemed so..like shackles

the second time i met koel she had become a girl that wrote everything in plump letters in hard bound note books with coarse dirty white sheets of paper. sometimes i took time off some time and stared at the ink sink into the paper. those letters were going to stay forever. i am the one who is effervescent. koel had thin eyes above plump cheeks. she had anwers to any question asked and neatly performed zoology experiments sitting beside me in a laboratory that smelled ancient. that koel must have become a doctor now.

the third koel i met was a river. i never went to her though. i always heard she was a quiet river that flowed lining in the borders of the hilly town i lived in for years. i wanted to go to her bed once or twice to see the sunrise or sunset. but many warned me that there lived dangerously uncouth fishermen or muggers. so i did never visited koel. nevertheless she came to me in my thoughts and dreams..i imagined stretches of lonely sand on dusty evenings. there must have been wild winds, and trees whose silhouttes made it impossible for me to recognise them. i saw stray dogs and a sad sunset. a reddish-blackish-reddish sky. i was happy i never madeit to koel, that i thought would have stopped me from dreaming so ..

tAggeD?

mydark resolutions for TWENTY-TEN:-

Drugs->

the past doesn matter. the future shudn matter..

so if D***s liberate me @ present from the pain of the past an' the fear of the future....then yea, sumtym sumwhr ..

Sexual Fantasy->

N/A

Wanna kill someone->

Oh I wud luvta kill lotcha ppl but can't name dem here coz they proly read me :P

but on a serious note yaah der are ppl i wish had neva existed on d surface of th planet. that wud've made ma life a lil easier.

Wanna make a voodo of someone and hurt him->

him? Can't it b a her ;)

for once i wish i cud shut ppl who talk too much crap..!

@ aman..thnx 4 d tag :)

so this is whatt it luks like, even if it looks incurably stupid :D & forgive my inability to provide morbid details due to the lack of any experience in any of the above fields.. lol

StalkedFinally

somewhere in time the forces inside me stopped fighting. they totally left me at some random zero-energy level. then on i stopped trying in life. i stopped trying because i didn't want anything out of life. i avoided unnecessary acquaintance. but those things could never get on my nerves, even then. their presence was as good as their absence. i was anyway lost somewhere within myself. i haven't essentially talked in years, or so i feel. depression has made way for staunch indifference. i quit wearing earrings. lost my ability to believe. to hope. i have been painfully at peace. i never color my nails. red, never. i keep wondering that this must be life's way of making the wise out of the foolish. the seasoned out of the adolescent. i like not to talk much. listening is involuntary and never happens.

but now an x has come out of th blue. x's absence is more conspicuous than x's presence. x has taken me back a few years or has made me as vulnerable as then. with x, i laugh a lot. i want to undo the above-mentioned process of seasoning. i'm afraid i'm beginning to believe, again.

x hasn't seen my face yet. and i'm wondering beneath my silver veil.

PS: this picture is unrelated to thispost.

yet, this is where it has to be.