Men in my Life -II

Unaware of the storm inside me when you saw me for the first time waiting for you over there I wanted to know what your honest reactions were. That I could never know. I had quite told myself that whatever would follow later that evening I would see it through as the real me, and not some fake woman trying to please the stranger in you. But I defied myself in the very first moment. I smiled at you. The way I had decided I would have been rather staring at you curiosly, asking weird questions about the person you are. But I smiled.

Before it all began, one thing irked me somewhat. I wondered how people remembered their ownselves after their better halves entered their lives. Years of solitude had mended me into someone whose emotions were pred-decided, opinions fixed. I had irreversibly fallen in love with myself. This self-love was the buffer around me, my shock-absorber of sorts.No matter what, I was to stand by me, like an insane hypocrite. It was understood that the man in my life would be just secondary.

Later I met you. I had been looking for a reason to love, more than I was looking for love. But then I met you. Thin strands of attraction dragged my eyes to you, and made them stay there. Thin from my side, thinner from yours.

and this made me insecure. Insecure that I wouldn't love myself as much anymore. What if I end up losing you. I would have lost myself already. and there was not a trace of selfish guilt in all that I thought. It appeared obvious. It does with time. Time spent alone, inside the four walls of my mind.

In the days that followed when we got involved, i forgot to think that this way to love wasn't politically correct. the way to love was to start from acquaintance, and then via frienship trickle into love. drop by drop.

But we were meeting intending to fall in love. we might have been trying as well. now in the light of reason, that appears ridiculous to me. had it been some other female in my place, i would be clutching my stomach and laughing. but way back then, i was like living in a dream. all else but you, looked like a facade. i wasn't sure of you, but i wanted to believe you for real. believe that we could happen.

Believe that love wasn't a myth afterall. and that i could fall for it.

PS: But love isn't a myth. I actually saw a guy in this..!

She.

the first time i saw her, she was literally dragging her feet on the road, heading home. must have had a real tough day. in the light of the dusk i couldn't see the expression on her face, but she must have been talking to herself. i tried to fast forward to when she would barge into her room and throw herself on the bed.

the second time i saw her was in the restaurant. she was with someone and i was with many people. they had preferred one corner table. and in the dimlit darkness i could gather, she wasn't beautiful. the waiter came out with two veg sandwiches. one was for me. the other for her. they were awful, the sandwiches that is. they were cold and tasteless and cold and tasteless. but thanks to them, we ended up with our first common disgust.

third time, saturday evening, in the temple. in the bright light i saw a serene face. lips din't move. so silent prayers. then i heard her sob, i heard her cry. i saw her break down. i waited there and saw her hold herself and walk past me.

the fourth time it was in a bookstore. her hair had settled into lose curls. strands of it kept falling on her face and she never gave up on tucking them behind her ears. no earings though. she held half a dozen books in her hands, like she was taking them home for dinner. ah, greed for the written word. for a brief insignificant moment my eyes met hers. for the one first time. she held my eyes in hers for one brief instant, and then let go.

our fifth was in a fish market. she was in faded jeans, torn jeans. my mind moved about with her like the usual. she looked totally out of place. someone was doing the fishing for her. she was meant to do the better of the jobs. observing. people watching. i caught her taking pictures. of everything in and around, of the absolute squalor. she has an eye for everything.

the last time, she was standing in the rain. in purpose. her gurgling laugh filled the air. rippled all the way to where i was standing, nearly in love. the rain was filling into her hair, strand by strand. the rain was filling into the plate of pani-puri she was having in the rain. pani-puri in the rain. she did sorts of things to her hair and laughed yet again. and again. while i stood there, nearly in love.

Does Dearth lead to Death?

And c’mon what is it? What is this temptation about? To be in love? To be loved in return? Or just the desire to be together?

Is it not about these moments? And just these moments that I spent blushing under your stare or feeling the warmth in your hands…?

Nothing lasts forever and so does love. It doesn’t last beyond moments.

Men in my Life- I

I had five minutes to catch my train. I had a heavy suit case
in one hand hand, my hand bag in another. Plus a parcel of
my wud-be-dinner. I was climbing the stairs on this
foot-over bridge to the other platform. My luggage was
almost kiling me. And that showed on my face.

There was a gentleman accompanying me. He was a tall, fair
and gentle man. Worthy and nice. He was supposed to see me
off in my coach and rush to his. In a span of fast reducing
seconds now.

He saw me struggling with my bags and all. Five steps ahead
of me, he waited.

"Need help?"
"No, I am fine."

We drag two more steps.

"Gimme something"
"Ah? No no..it's okay"

I caught up with him. And when I was right beside him, he
took the packet of chowmein from my hands.
I was so much in splits laughing and laughing and laughing.
But all inside my mind. I had one suit case..a bag to add to that,
on my frail shoulders. But the packet of chowmein was all he
could do to lessen my burden.

And I am still in splits laughing. Wondering about the insignificance
of the moment we shared. The stupidity of it. Of me coming back
and telling about it to my friends. And finally writing it down. Here.

Seasoned Estranged Lover

Congratulations! I have become the seasoned estranged lover. That is precisley why I deleted my last post. Because I no longer am that irrational a soul searcher. Certain things inside my mind have been fixed. Scanned and fixed. 

No crush lasts beyond two days. That is if I let it happen in 
the first place. I have become a staunch non-believer of love. 
I don't understand the concept of it so I doubt the existence 
of it.

Some people tell me that I am desperately in search of 
company. Some people tell me that I am so perennially sad. 
Some people tell me that even company won't buy me joy 
because sad is the way I want to be. 

But there is something I have been doing to myself with time. 
 I have been killing my passion, muscle by muscle. It's been a 
very gradual and effective process. Due to which I now feel 
that I have lost my capacity to love. To love madly. With my 
previous rage...

Whenever I fall in love, I look for a reason. I try to take 
myself away from the intoxication of love and look for the 
reason. But alas, love doesn't have a reason behind it, I guess. 
So before my two days, I fall out of love. 

Hardly anything can intoxicate me. Everything has mellowed 
down. I have answers to the many questions I used to be 
speechless about. 
The Reds have diluted into magentas and browns, blacks andgreys...

~I remember the contours of your face. I remember your hair, hah! The way you used to speak with a pause. The pause that made my heart miss a beat. The pause that made me gasp for breath inside me, and look calm on the outside. And I remember a lot many things. I am fighting my memory for you these days~

~I woke up thrice the same night to complete this post and now it's done. Finally-Salvation!~

Rapunzel & the Guy

I don't agree with the way love happens. Someone important to me, happens to have told me that love starts from the spark of attraction. And I don't want to agree to this. 
My friend Rapunzel helped me out with this. No, she is not an imagination. She is for real. We have been best of friends since we have known each other. And if love has a reason, then friendship should also have one. I am totally in love with my Rapunzel-the 'free spirit'.  

Then came one day, Rapunzel and the Guy became aquaintance. Then they became friends. Then good friends. And now best friends. I hadn't had the slightest idea. As is the case usually, she lived in denial. 

Denial? You know when you are precariously hanging from the thin line between being friends and being in love. Between wanting each other and needing each other. You are confused. And you want time to convince yourself..she said the rose was yellow & not red anyway. 

But I had so given up. I knew that they were spending the rest of their lives with each other. The way I saw him hold her, the way he made her happy, the way a peace prevailed when they were together...

And one fine day, Rapunzel blushed. Turned pink. And told me that they did bow down to the force that love is. Finally! 

A chat on the phone that went night long, followed by a walk to the hill, sunrise, and then the confession of love. Of needing each other. The promise of being there for each other. 

They weren't attracted to each other in the first sight. They spent four long years being just a step away from love. And it happened just a day before they were to graduate...the best way it could ever happen. And I totally agree with this. 

PS: When did wildflower become an optimist? 

I have met you Before

Long long ago. Before we met. Before I fell in love. We had met before, before we met to fall in love. Too many befores. Now the story. 

It was a late summer morning. I was was wondering if I should be off to a gathering of some knowns and some unknowns. I was somewhat younger and going alone to one such place, was a perceived as a risk. A risk because, what if only the unknowns turned up and the knowns didn't. What if I was trapped in a lonely chamber with people I cudn't talk to? 

But nevertheless, like always in life, I took the risk. I wanted to remember some forgotten faces. 

We sat there, under the shade of old neem trees. The hot air, waited. Dry leaves, hung in the air. Time was moving slow. The knowns and the unknowns hung around. Talked stuff. 

And amongst those scores of unknowns, one was Him. I didn't notice him. He hadn't noticed me either. We belonged to some 'unnoticeable'-subspecies of humans. But as I faintly remember, there he was. Somewhere amidst that crowd. A voice lost in the noise. We stood beside each other for sometime. We talked to the same person, without talking to each other. I faintly remember. 

We parted that late summer morning, without knowing that we had met. To meet again. To fall for what seemed inevitable then. And to benumb each other with the opulence of it. But then to break apart, forever. Like.... oh I can't find an example.

And irony is, all the time we were together, I never found the time to tell Him, that -I have met you Before-

the lights are off, there is music, soft& smooth. and there persists the smell of a dry rose in the air. 

Made for Each-Other

After work I was rushing through the busy bylanes of the home-bound city. I had to meet someone. This someone and I had been meeting for a couple months then, and I was in a hurry because I didn't want him to leave and hence stand me up.

If a man and woman meeting this way is called a date, then so be it, call this a date. A Dutch date, if you know what that means.

We had consciously changed the venue from Cafe Coffee Day to this one. To something more open air. Because we wanted it to be more akin to the worlds we lived in, more noisy, more unkempt, more real.

This one was inside some sort of a park. Near the parking lot of the park. We took the table at the corner. That felt like the end of the world because beyond that the bush began that separated the coffee shop from the park. Evenings were a busy time for this place but, you know big cities, no one is concerened what you are upto is such a relief.

Bill boards flashed on my face. Traffic got more messy. But hail the metro! I reached before it got to totally dark. In the dim-lit darkness, I figured out his outline fiddling with his phone. A smile took over all the previous expressions on my face.

Had I been in his place, waiting, I would have stared out into the open. I don't know what this difference between us meant. Nevertheless I came to meet him as it was routine on friday evenings.

I reached the table and dragged my chair out. He kept looking into the phone except for a momentary glance at me. I leaned back on my chair and tossed my hair back. Breathed in deep, relaxed.

I wanted to sit like that for sometime and then get up and leave. My mouth was too tired to talk, eyes too tired to see.

Waiter came in, I ordered my coffee. And sat there trying to get over the day. He kept doing things that would be classified as the antithesis of paying attention. Weren't we just table-mates?

I felt an urge to go home, for my couch. I grabbed my purse, paid and stood up. Almost simultaneously he stood up and said " I will walk you home"
"Walk me home?"
"Hmm yah?"
"You mean till the cab? "
"Why is that a problem?"
"Not at all"

I give up when we start conversing in questions. I almost immediately agree.

~made for each other~

mygodofsmallthings ;)

coming back home every summer had become a default part of the yearly cycle. though she always wanted it to be everything else but it, nevertheless it was. 

with the onset of scorching heat, she would find herself dragging the wheels of her suitcase on the dusty lane that lead home. some trees would have gained delicate new coppery leaves, and some would still be losing them; distant birds would be chattering sweet-shrill calls and she would inevitably find herself sitting on the veranda of the house whose walls had stood mute for a hundred odd years. just sitting there and waiting for it to get evening. and when it gets evening, she would wait for it to get morning. life in summer particularly felt like long waiting sequences interspersed with spells of sullen indifference. 

and so like every year, she was clinking her cup on the saucer and telling herself, this is it. the sugar left an uneasy aftertaste. the one you try to scrape off your tongue by running your teeth on it. 

for a certain while she wondered why nothing grew on the hill facing the house, and then took to her feet. 

the earth had craked up like drought. the surviving creepers waited for the gardener's afternoon water-dash. the mild breeze filling her nostrils was dry enough to suck all the water off her lungs. 

she walked barefeet, all around, in the channels that were dug out to water the plants, in the steps that housed marigold in winter, on the concrete around the banyan trunk, on the sand that has been brought to get the first storey done but had been forgotten eversince.

she walked until the dust getting into the cracks in her feet hurt and until she wet them in the water of the gardener's green hosepipe. she made mud out of it and soaked her feet in it and waited for it to dry. 

later when the power went off, a darkness consumed the house. she sat by the window and stared out. and silence and darkness became the best of friends. 

wildflower ;)

Realization

Last night when I was chewing a chiken leg that tasted like chocolate, I saw a man sitting on the table to my left. I could see his right eye, half of his nose, a little bit of a stubble. The sleeve of his shirt, he's folded a little, left unfolded a little. Frankly, honestly, truly, I found him appealing to the hormones. Any woman would. 

His baritone voice caught me when I caught him almost scolding the waiter. Not that I encourage such rashness. But when it's somewhat crude, the attitude, one gets inclined, doesn't she? When one is bored of the sugar-sweet variety i.e..

So all this kept happening and I was chewing the legs of chocolate. Red brown, tomato brown, chocolate brown. Dreams of capturing and imprisioning Adonis and taking him home to show your friends, the catch!

On his table, whisky on the rocks. The faint golden intoxicating color of alcohol. Things he says once, he's done with. Twenty six-seven? Couldn't be less than that.

He talks business, he talks money. I talk, I giggle with my friend. Once I laugh loud enough to make him turn and look at us. Then I see his left eye and his full face. In my mind, I say, not bad. Good infact!

Then we pay up, get up & leave. I think for the man for five minutes and then my mind moves back to three days ago. To one realization, one truth, that must stand by me, for a lifetime. 

What lay under a face is something I care to know nothing about. I do this being very aware that what lies under the face matters the most. Face is a facade. And I made a casual promise to me, not to get carried away by it. 

What appeals to my mind, will always overrule all that appeals to the eye, to the hormones, i.e. And so be it! 
   

askmewhyidontblogthesedays

& those were the days

-:lonely shadows-:

waynad princess...'

when god made her he added the chin as an ~afterthought~

...love & etc

smile
blush
romance

smile 
blush
and yet again..

wisp of scent
soft music 

and all senses awake

oh! i am so in love with the idea of it

I often wonder which would one be given a chance, the 
art or the artist? But since I have hardly had the 
'chance' , this question is out of question. 

Nevertheless, the artist reflects in the art. The 
protagonist of the story has shades of the author. 

I am told, that no matter how hard we try, what we 
ultimately make is us. 

When I write I get emotional with my characters. The 
central character is almost always me. This I perceive 
as unhealthy. It's one lacuna. 

I wonder how people get dispassionate when they 
write. They write like they are one neutral third 
person watching things happen, from a safe distance. 
They don't involve themselves in the story much. And 
this I find a very likable trait. 

So when I get dispassionate enough, I am gonna write,
again.

Meanwhile I am taking pictures/..

Meanwhile...

WARNING-LONG POST AHEAD! 

I am up after an eight hour sleep. It's a sunny sunday 
morning. Sleep refuses to leave me alone. But anyway
I am perched on my bed and wrting this. 

The day before yesterday, late in the evening, I was 
supposed to walk back alone to my room. If 9 :30 is 
late in the evening, that is. When out the road I saw a 
mini storm. If this is the end of autumn, all the dead 
leaves from all the trees were out on a 
merry-go-round. I didn't know what to do. And then 
the lights went off and my heart stopped beating...but this, I guess is another story!  

Off late I haven't been writing much. And that is not 
that good a sign as writing is a natural vent for my 
emotions. And yeah, I am not writing because I don't 
have anything to write about. There is a dearth of 
matter in my head. It's on mode_snooze! 

But again, I have been reading. I am reading now to 
catch up on the reading I missed because I started 
writing. 

And I am going out on walks, real long walks. Twice 
round, thrice round the campus...all my evenings are 
spent walking. Also on a fruit diet, to de-tox the mind!
Meanwhile I have been listening to one song a million
times over/

And I have been breaking-off with friends. But have I 
been making friends also? I wonder if I believe in the 
concept of friendship. Love, on the other hand, is 
totally out of question. Long time since I last fell in and 
out of it. 

I have become a cynic. I was cynic-in-the-making for quite 
some time. But it is now that I am at peace with it. 

And my blog has frozen into somthing! But I am not 
dead yet. I am just taking my time. My sweet-bitter 
time. There is hardly anything that dictates me, these 
days... 

Excerpt

I turned and now looked at him in the eye. Since we 
had been lying there, doing nothing that foggy 
afternoon, such thoughts had been doing rounds in my 
mind. And I didn't quite know if I did it with any prior 
thinking, but I said, I love you. And again for a 
moment we were staring at each other before he 
planted a kiss and left for the terrace. 

I followed him after sometime. And as I sat there 
beside him, I did know that he didn't love me. And 
how I wished I had not known so distinctly, so truly 
that he never loved me. 

Looking down from the thirteenth floor, we saw the 
whole world was getting back home. Don't know about 
him but at least I did. I didn't know what he was 
thinking. If he was thinking about me, it hardly did 
matter, because my feelings about things and people 
happen to be fixed, numbly. 

It was getting dark and in a few minutes, you won't 
see faces on the streets at all. The mist hid everything. 
So I thought I would rather be leaving. Didn't wait for 
his goodbye. Just gathered myself and left. 

~the happily ever after thingy is the most cliche'd ever~

After-thought

-When I turn twenty-six I will invest in books. I am sure by then my fingers will have become tired changing hundred and fifty five TV channels that show nothing. My mind would have got tired of having written the same thing over and over again, about sorrow & pain. My eyes would have got tired of looking for companionship. So I would invest the rest of my life in books. -

moonrise...

thru'...windows

the 3rd color of life

holding on to strings

ah yet again, the gr8 indian wedding

of designs that standstill

half-love

sigh time passes so fast
i wish i met you before
wish i could've loved you more
one more winter of hands held

you owe me umpteen dances in the rain
and i owe you a thousand splendid smiles

but tis now we depart
half said words
having half loved each other
tis a lon' life you know
and life will outlive our memories

memories of the dew-kissed yellow chrysanthemum
memories of lon' summer afternoons
of cracks in the walls
memories of a dead youth
& even so much more
won't last me a year long
life, tis too long

memories will give way to pain
to a subtle ache that'l persist
in shy corners of my heart
once we depart, my sweetheart!

~now u, forgive my crazy poetry~

aaAArrGGhhhh..!!!

XYZ:So tell us one weakness that you've known?
Ms D.:
Weakness?? Arrgghh!! I've so many...too many...i am a bundle of weaknesses/
*I've no sense of logic about anything..
*I'm umpty-dumpty emotional-To the xtent of being weak, vulnerable, i can break down just any moment~~
*I PANIC--i go nutzzz weneva nythin serious pops up
*I'm laZY(How lazy???)Aww..u've no idea..poor yuuu
*My energy levels r pathetically low! i get tired after moving, say, a matchstick!
*I've AN EXTERNAL LOCUS OF CONTROL/..Do yu knw itz a crimEE to hv 1?
*I'm simply frustrated-no explanations..i jus AM
*I m nt a good talker...i mumble such things tht screw everythin up :(
*I aint diplomatic/shrewd
*I've an inferiority complex, & think it's justified I have one
*I'm an INSTICT driven individual. So most of the times don't know where I am headed. I don't plan my future, simply bcoz planning is ouch-so-tiring
*I'm not a good leader, I'm not a good follower either. damn! what-am-i?
*I brood all the time-yeah-like for the past 2 decades i've been doin jus dat
*I can't hide, if yu understand wht i mean
* & finally, the icing on the cake
I AM THE ETERNAL PESSIMIST!!!