Bewitched!

they had a big fight in the morning. no, it was nothing pent up for days. they lived their life in real time, as in you know, neither would or could hide anything from the other. there was no scope for hiding even a single emotion. the moment they were in love with each other, both of them knew it just like that, there was no need of a proposal or a confession. and that was the way it was with them. so today morning when they knew they hated each other, they sometimes do that, both of them knew it and she threw the vase on the wall, not at him, it was a gift from him, a very special one, all the gifts are special, aren't they? she went breathless with tears and just when the moment came when she wanted him to take her in his arms and console her like a baby, he walked out. yeah, he walked out of the house, their house, and she heard the door bang and the noise of it defeaned her for a second, it so shocked her that she stopped crying for a second. the wailing had reduced to crying when he left the room and it became like weeping when she heard the door bang, and a minute or two later it stopped. like immediately, the way the anger had errupted a few minutes ago, like that. now she knew there was noone in that house who would listen to her, she sat totally quietened. a mild wind flew in through the window, parting the curtains that they had bought last September, and the windchime in the living room, made a soft sound, like trying to tell her that though he was gone, there was something still there in the house, something alive and something that could still hear her. then she began missing him terribly, that it made her feel sick. her chest made heaving sounds in gasps and then she looked out of the bedroom window, if she could catch a glimpse of him leave, but she had already missed him, by a whisker, or by a minute or two.

she sat there and wondered if he would ever be able to fathom the depth of the bond that held them together, in the most compulsive of manners it tied their souls together, in a way that no reason could justify. as their attraction didn't have a reason, and they never tried to look for it. like either always wanted to possess the other, and be possessed in return. it was more furious than friendly. it scared her sometimes, the aching need, their total non-existence outside the couple they made, it was beyond the modern convention of marriage, or
rather beneath it, but they didn't seem to care.

the whole day she sat there and wondered that and missed him, by the window, watching the traffic glide by, morning become afternoon, inconsequential people on the street, but all that numbed her senses was that the one consequential person in her life was away, and angry, somewhere she didn't know where, she didn't know who he was with, was he still angry as much, did he get himself something to eat all day? did he, think about her the way she did?

then it got night, the sun sank, and the day was gone as the sum of long periods of waiting, intervals between which didn't seem to exist. he hadn't come back yet. that fear crippled her sanity, she began imagining sounds, his footsteps, trying to convince herself that none of this was happening for real, just a bad dream which she will wake up from, only to find him by her side, to be reassured to sleep, kissed to sleep, like ever. But no, she couldn't hear any such sounds, no matter how hard she tried..

later in the night when it rained hard, and thundered, he walked back in, measuring his every step, neatly, like he didn't want to wake her up if she was asleep. she ran into his arms, like they had been apart a hundred years, and filled his face with her kisses, wet his cheeks with her tears, though she knew he so hated tears, she couldn't hold herslef anymore, and cried, he lifted her from the floor as they hugged, like they always did, and they smiled. it was their time to smile, and both of them jus knew..

end of a dream

i wasn't sad a bit. the whole of today i thought only about you. just you. a mere half of me was where i was. the rest was with you. the entire day, now feels like a dream. a dream that was probably very real, or it at least could have been..

you entered my life as a shadow, remember? but then i wanted to feel you in flesh.. and today may be i did just that or may be i only became a trifle more insane..

my dream stretched into the future. a future that was quite an extension of the present that could have been. but yet we missed it by a whisker.

with my eyes open wide and awake, i saw us. i saw a love between us, that shone. like real people in love, doing  innumerable magical things to each other. i walked through our apartment, it sounds ridiculous, i am honestly not that crazy. but sometimes i go actively insane. today was one such..i had a waft of brewing coffee tempting my nostrils, on a tired evening. then i saw the balcony, the zooming traffic from the seventh floor, the long chain of lights. A lost us, in each other..probably

i saw  chord that held us, like nothing needed to be said. we were to be together, till you and i were meant to be. i saw the kitchen, i was so lost in the dream that i couldn't hear people speak.the only thing that reached my ears was your voice. the line separating that dream and this reality, hazed out. it became so blurred, that i couldn't figure out which was which. i blacked out. totally..

in the evening when i sort of woke up, i remembered the things you told me yesterday. and i figured out that today was a dream, the whole of it. the whole of it..was untrue, as true as the void between me and you. there isn't a thing between us, is there? there is no us, at all..

so it couldn't have been anything but a dream. it's hard to sink in, but sink in it will. i am trying..yes i am..

Oops~!

one girl i almost grew up with, one of my best friends on this planet is getting married. is getting married. oh dear god. i wanna fly to delhi and give her a hug and do all the girly things in this world. none of that is possible i know. but this thing is making me infinitely happy somehow. probably because she is tying the knot with the person she always loved. and can it get bigger than that?

exactly four years ago, i told a guy that i loved him so much. he told me he doesn't love me. it took me like a year and half to get over that and move on. and move on, i did. i got practical about life and stuff. so like a few days ago, i told another guy that i love him so much. he told me he can't love me back. so to fasten that process of getting over (no chocolate is not helping, i tried) i thought i should go get drunk tonite. but fuck i have a cramp and can't walk!

Phulan

I visited Calcutta once in the late 90's, with my neighbours. they stayed in a rickety damp building, Phulan stayed neaby. The name, without prejudice,creates a beautiful image. It must have been sometime in late March, the year I don't remember. I had never seen roads as sluggish, smoke as tarred; and an omnipresent nausea at the back of my head, that mingling of my conscious with noises and more noises.

But Phulan stayed in a 2 bedroom shack below the building. There was a courtyard, around which there many similar rooms. When I crossed them, I wondered if they housed dying men inside. May be they did. We never found out, we headed straight for Phulan's house. We, as in Anu and I. Anu was my neighbour's daughter. Now she is married and lives in Delhi. Every morning she wakes up and makes breakfast for her in-laws, I have heard. When we were children, she had such fair skin and silk like hair that her mother braided beautifully, I gazed at it and wondered which strand went into which.

The three of us sat on the single bed in her living room while her mother cooked in the other room. I wouldn't take my feet up on the bed, until asked to. In a stranger's house, how could I do that? And a simple gesture of putting my feet up on the bed, marked a very important transition in the relationship, somehow it did.

And then Phulan was getting married, in a month or two, or in six months or a year, I don't know when. But that dictated her moods every now and then. I remember the ring that shone in her finger, that was the proof, no matter what, marriage was on the cards. When she took out his picture from underneath the pillow, to show us, I did not know what to say. I glanced at Anu from the corner of my eye. Neither of us laughed. And then the three of us burst out into gurgles of unstoppable laughter that her mother had to scream from the kitcchen to make us stop, for god's sake. Phulan, despite her petite features, appeared older than us, by how many years, I don't know. And we called her didi though. But I still have fragments of those memories, her slim wrists, dangling earnings bought for five rupees at the street corner, oiled hair, the smell of it, the run in the afternoon for papdi chaat.. and other things

I wish I had a picture of hers with me, that revealed half a nose, one eye, strands of hair on her cheek, that would make you imagine what she looked like for real. But I don't. I don't even remember what she looked like. Nothing, none of it. But these days I am touring my past, fighting against my age to regain bits and pieces of memory, that could give me just an excuse to get over my present.

An excuse is all I need. And I named it Phulan for today.

Catharsis

Does catharsis connote the fulfillment of desire? Or is one desire invariably followed by another? Or does catharsis merely fill the gap between th two?

I don't know. I might never know..

Mortality blinds me such, it is difficult to see beyond desire. I want to take it all in at the same go. Who has seen a tomorrow? Never let a desire die hungry, feed it, feed it your blood, but feed it..

But the moment the desire is done with, a lifelesness creeps in. Haven't you noticed? It's like, lying on your back and staring at the roof, puffing a smoke, and thinking, rather evaluating if all that you did, was actually worth it. Is that catharis? Isn't it I mean?

Does the only way of sure riddance of a craving desire, run right through it? May be it does. That's why we are born humans, born mortals. We need to live it, all in one go.

Are you still reading this? You are?

In the morning, when I stood before the mirror to gather if the night had made me any more beautiful, and he held me from behind, resting his head on my shoulder, our eyes that had avoided each other all night, met in the mirror, and we smiled at each other, for that one moment, i desired that all this was indeed for love, and not for the culmination of desire, followed by a bout of compulsive amnesia.

Was that catharsis?

And are you still reading this? You are?

Me Mumbai

I don't know if me writing this would matter. most probably it wouldn't. I mean what could a maniac who has been wasting herself away all day long locked up in a dilapidated corner of some forgotten building, say that could matter? Nothing of what I have ever said makes any sense to the sensible.

Life is a complicated bunch of emotion. And to add to that nothing stays, yeah. All the words that escape my mind to show up here, are here because my mind could house them no longer. My conscious would burst open if I retain those myriad rebellious rants inside it. So here is where I dispose them off. And once done with, they never come back to me ever again. Here they lay, the rebellious thoughts, one beside the other, their entire household, generation after generation, abandoned by me, their mother.

In retrospect, it is difficult for me to recognize these very thoughts, that were bits and pieces of my soul thrown apart. It is ironical that though things change this way, my words are almost like a constant chain that started some years ago and hasn't ended ever since. I have shocked people, by the monotony of my content. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to care any less about that. Thankfully.

Writing was a matter of survival for me sometime back. Yeah survival. I had to write to continue to exist, to continue to fight against the forces that fought against me. It provided one vent, to dispose almost anything that ever dared to bother me.

I write not because it's my passion, but because it is my sole respite. 

And the title of this post would never make sense without this picture

From this city of infinite freedom, I am not taking back much. Except that it is adding a little to the only asset that I ever possessed, my experience! 

..still

Yeah, so I am learning German..!

But everything else is just the same, I still waste my time online
I call up my best friend when I have nothing else to do
And realize that talking to her is the best thing I have done in weeks
I still love chicken a lot
I keep changing my pictures on fb
And I am always sceptical about talking to new people/strangers
And I still laugh aloud, or don't laugh at all
Even now, I freak out totally while waiting for replies of sms's/ mails
I am always in the process of becoming more pathetic in writing formal letters
And I get so lost in thoughts that I can't hear voices, I am like always shaken out of sleep!
OR may be, just may be, that I am semi/quarter/just a trifle deaf?
May be I need a doc?
Or a cure for lonliness..
I still go for solitary long walks
I always want a change, I am god like at adapting to them
But there are always some things I can never ever get better at, like talking to a certain kind of women..
I still call me mom four times a day, I wake up to her sweet voice every morn..
And I try to avoid fake people, and it has sure been years I have been trying to do that
I am still shit scared of something I can write nothing on my blog about
Hmm..I still sleep like I am dead, like totally dead..uggh!

I still do a lot of things I did, though I can never become the person I was then..

Purple

Purple sat on the stairs and stared at the little bit of the sky, that showed itself from between the branches of the gulmohar, one afternoon. She pulled the hem of her skirt to cover her knees and sat pretty apparently unperturbed. Only her mind was traversing forth in time and again  back into the present. Purple wanted to be freed, like she yearned for the freedom of a firefly that drones around in a dark vast night. She used to stare down the edge of a mountain and imagine what a free fall would feel like. She wondered what would it be like to walk by the sea, the foam receding from her feet, all alone in mighty midnights. Purple passed away all her time wondering if such dreams would ever make a transit into reality.

Years later, Purple had become a bright young woman. Apparently, she had. Now she had all the freedom she ever had ever wanted. She walked by the sea, alone. Splashed colors on the whitewashed walls that had so caged her earlier. She had the privilege to choose her own companion, and dump them at her liberty. She spent herself living her life her own way, on her own terms. Without the slightest compromise. And so it went on for sometime.

But after a few years, Purple developed a suicidal tendency. She wanted to be possessed by someone. She wanted to be caged again. She was so overfed with freedom that she wanted someone to come into her life and draw the lines she would never cross. Purple wished she could go back to that afternoon, and look up through the gulmohar branches, at the sky and wonder how much of life was yet to be felt. She wanted to feel like a virgin again.

Only, she couldn't/

rain wish

let my wish not die this time around

i want to hold your hands and
move about in the monsoon
don't let my wish die this time around


i want to step my feet
into the puddles and kick the water out
and sing a little song, once in your ear
once aloud


i want to keep losing my umbrellas..
and buy new ones
of colors..magenta, purple, all the hues of love
may be a red one too


see the waves dying into foam
lashing the rock by the sea
strings of rain, incessant
furious like our love


drenched hearts and held hands
hmm..
not a shelter around
just us..alone together

Oeuvre

two bodies lip~locked in an eternal conversation, wish to delay the arrival of morning


because staring into the dark of the night, they can't meet each other's eyes. all they can feel is flesh. the light through the pale orange curtains, will spill their secrets and make them ashamed. in the morning, they would find in each other's eyes, the reflection of their curtailed souls. now they yearn for a prolonged darkness, a refuge for their troubled desires, ravenous desires. and as long as the night lasts, they hug each other like for dear life, and shut eyes, and make love..


two bodies lip~locked in an eternal conversation, wish to delay the arrival of morning..

It's amazing, the way life handles itself. It's totally crazy, the way things work out. Because between moments of roaring passion,we don't pause to think, we never realize how gargantuan it is. The volume of change, that each passing hour gets into my life, the way the magic of every single day that turns me inside out, makes me gasp for breath. The people I meet, the people I break up with, the people I meet to break up with. Everything has like a hidden mission I suppose, the way they work out like a chain reaction. The moments I try to brush the rust off and remember, the moments I deliberately try to get over and forget, the moments I choose to live because I know I have it in me to forget them, make my life what it is. You wouldn't understand this. You're not me. Life has to go on until it has not to. There is no big deal in that. The big deal is that, my dear, I stand here, to one end of the rope, trying to stretch out my arms and take in as much of these experiences as possible. The big deal is that, I am totally absolutely alone and yet I am living, and living as much. And the big deal is that, despite me, I am still writing this.

love & lots of kisses..

~Me..

You know I am obsessed about you. I love the way I impose yourself on me, like you're the last soul alive in this world and I need to hang on to you to survive, like you are the other name of life. I am absolutely obsessed about my obsession for you. I like the way reason loses its very significance when it stands on my way to you. I totally adore this madness that I thrive in, lately. I love the hurt. I love the pain that you cause me, like you possess me. I love the fact that you will never love me back, and I will die at your feet begging for your love in return for mine, but I wouldn't get any of it, but at least I will have one reason to die for. Yeah. You satiate me when you make me cry. At least you give me a vent for the stifled feelings inside me. You give me a reason to scream, every time you make me feel I am not the one and that I can never be the one. And this my love, is why I love you.

i will not get sleep tonite. the reason is you. 

you should meet him, his work might interest you. 
work?
yeah, the guy has scifi credentials
oh then i should
and you need to know people in a strange city
don't you know my flair at meeting strangers
but don't flirt with him much
what?
he's married by the way!
and i am happy and single
that means a lot of hope for me
shut up
don't i look serious enough?




numerous exchange of mails between scifi credentials and me
an evening together
long talks about what he works on
he seems nice to me
i ask lots of questions ..laughs..hmm
interesting! too good to be flirted with and dumped..shuh he is married!


and my last question..so how's your wife?
"wife?"


neck deep in embarrassment, i had asked about his wife who probably hadn't begun to exist! shuh! me and strangers.. the one who is responsible for this shouldn't see the light of tomorrow..!  

muse

Should every relationship have a name? Ours doesn't have one and this scares me a lot after you leave me alone for the night. I try not to make a noise and wake you up. I like you more this way. Peacefully asleep..oblivious of the tides inside me. I slide out quietly, lest I irk you.. I don't want you to realize the sudden absence of my touch. I sit an inch away from you and wonder what would you be dreaming about. It's difficult to resist touching you again..running my fingers over your face, trying to assure myself that you are for real and not a figment of my imagination. I also wonder if you would look for me in the morning when I am gone..will you run your hands over the creases on the sheet, trying to remember my caress?

I try to think of a name..for this thing between us..every relationship has a name, shouldn't ours also have one?