An early start, a kiss to part,
A happy stroll, an ironical call,
A flashback of the past,
A message again to start.
A mind in dilemma,
Consciousness in coma,
The guilty pang,
And the mind went blank.
A sad message,
A thousand guesses,
Life goes on,
With tensions on and gone...
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Whew!
From the eyes of a pessimist:
"Life is bright, but don't know why?
It's shadow seems to follow...
The sun shines down, but ends it by,
A darkness filled with sorrow."
"Life is bright, but don't know why?
It's shadow seems to follow...
The sun shines down, but ends it by,
A darkness filled with sorrow."
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Intrepidity of a Child!
It was a Saturday. The loud clatter of a hundred young girls next to the visiting room apparently made it clear that it was the "Visiting Day". "Seven Seas" boarding school girls were allowed to meet their visitors every Saturday evening for two hours. This was the time when almost every child stared anxiously at the driveway, waiting to see their visitors arriving.
As the yellow board taxi stopped on the driveway, a tall man walked out hurriedly. Instantly boomed the voice of the seven year old, who rushed inside to inform her little friend. "Nehaaaa, your papa's come to meet you, he's standing near the visiting room, I saw him, promise..."
"Wow, so lucky", screamed another excited voice.
"Neha g-o-o-o", chorused a few more in the same tone.
I silently sat at the entrance desk and observed the shaky one jumping out of the old window to cross-check. It was evident that her heart was pounding. She saw her father and screamed with joy, before rushing towards me.
"Miss, can I pl-ease me-et my father", she stammered as her flushed face radiated eternal bliss. I wanted to bend down and kiss those blushed cheeks, but being a teacher, I held myself back. Teachers were not allowed to pay personal attention or pamper any little one. Her sparking eyes glittered brightly as I answered politely, "Yes, you may dear. But don't forget to ask your father to sign the register before leaving".
She looked down impatiently while I spoke, then ran hurriedly, while her mini skirt swung sideways, showing her skinny legs.
A weary looking man stood at the entrance of the visiting room, looking fondly at the little girls' playing hip hop and ring-a-ring-a-roses. As he saw Neha, he slowly spread his arms and smiled. "Slowly darling, you might fall".
"Papaaaa!!!" she shouted, in pure exaltation. "When did you come? Did you eat something? How is Neil? Has he grown taller? You know all my friends' are jealous today" she continuously chattered as her father led her in.
I looked down and checked the register. Six months, three weeks. That was the last time he had visited his daughter. We teachers were aware of their tragedy. Neha's mother had passed away in an accident,leaving behind two young children and a lonely husband. But every time I looked at the man, I was surprised. His optimism and inner strength showed on his face...and Neha inherited it. While they toiled in their hardships, it was never evident on their faces.
The night she was back from the funeral, her eyes were swollen and face fallen. But she avoided people who showed sympathy. While the other children played and talked in their recreation classes, she sat and wrote letters to her brother. Neil was only 4 years old and could not read them well, yet she asked him to study and be good. She was a responsible sister in her own little ways.
The clock struck six. I was busy writing the names of guardians in the attendance register, when the warning bell rang aloud. It was time for the visitors to leave. I hated this part of the day.
One-by-one the guardians brought their children to my desk and signed while the little darlings cried, screamed and frantically fought to go back home. As every parent left with silent signs, I gave my best reassuring smile every Saturday evening.
This weekend the last visitor was Neha's guardian. When they walked up to my desk, I felt her pain. She held her father's hand tightly while tears rolled down vigorously, wetting her white shirt. As he bent down to sign the Attendance sheet, her hand clung on to his pants. I was overwhelmed with emotions. She did not fight, scream or abuse anyone, but her tears said it all.
"I am proud of my daughter, Mrs. Smith. She is a very good girl and does not cry" Mr. Dutt spurted out. I nodded and put up my best smile.
"Neha dear, your father would be coming soon again right."She smiled and nodded. I was amazed at the strength of this girl fighting her agony. She hugged her father and left in silence.
"Thank you Mrs. Smith. Please do take care of her", her father trailed off as I noticed his eyes moisten. But he left with a positive note.
That night while I turned off the lights of the dormitory, I noticed a colorful paper carefully placed beside Neha's pillow. An urge compelled me to open it.
It was an apple drawn untidily with letters at the end "didi I good...neil". He had learnt to write too.
I left the room in utter silence.
As the yellow board taxi stopped on the driveway, a tall man walked out hurriedly. Instantly boomed the voice of the seven year old, who rushed inside to inform her little friend. "Nehaaaa, your papa's come to meet you, he's standing near the visiting room, I saw him, promise..."
"Wow, so lucky", screamed another excited voice.
"Neha g-o-o-o", chorused a few more in the same tone.
I silently sat at the entrance desk and observed the shaky one jumping out of the old window to cross-check. It was evident that her heart was pounding. She saw her father and screamed with joy, before rushing towards me.
"Miss, can I pl-ease me-et my father", she stammered as her flushed face radiated eternal bliss. I wanted to bend down and kiss those blushed cheeks, but being a teacher, I held myself back. Teachers were not allowed to pay personal attention or pamper any little one. Her sparking eyes glittered brightly as I answered politely, "Yes, you may dear. But don't forget to ask your father to sign the register before leaving".
She looked down impatiently while I spoke, then ran hurriedly, while her mini skirt swung sideways, showing her skinny legs.
A weary looking man stood at the entrance of the visiting room, looking fondly at the little girls' playing hip hop and ring-a-ring-a-roses. As he saw Neha, he slowly spread his arms and smiled. "Slowly darling, you might fall".
"Papaaaa!!!" she shouted, in pure exaltation. "When did you come? Did you eat something? How is Neil? Has he grown taller? You know all my friends' are jealous today" she continuously chattered as her father led her in.
I looked down and checked the register. Six months, three weeks. That was the last time he had visited his daughter. We teachers were aware of their tragedy. Neha's mother had passed away in an accident,leaving behind two young children and a lonely husband. But every time I looked at the man, I was surprised. His optimism and inner strength showed on his face...and Neha inherited it. While they toiled in their hardships, it was never evident on their faces.
The night she was back from the funeral, her eyes were swollen and face fallen. But she avoided people who showed sympathy. While the other children played and talked in their recreation classes, she sat and wrote letters to her brother. Neil was only 4 years old and could not read them well, yet she asked him to study and be good. She was a responsible sister in her own little ways.
The clock struck six. I was busy writing the names of guardians in the attendance register, when the warning bell rang aloud. It was time for the visitors to leave. I hated this part of the day.
One-by-one the guardians brought their children to my desk and signed while the little darlings cried, screamed and frantically fought to go back home. As every parent left with silent signs, I gave my best reassuring smile every Saturday evening.
This weekend the last visitor was Neha's guardian. When they walked up to my desk, I felt her pain. She held her father's hand tightly while tears rolled down vigorously, wetting her white shirt. As he bent down to sign the Attendance sheet, her hand clung on to his pants. I was overwhelmed with emotions. She did not fight, scream or abuse anyone, but her tears said it all.
"I am proud of my daughter, Mrs. Smith. She is a very good girl and does not cry" Mr. Dutt spurted out. I nodded and put up my best smile.
"Neha dear, your father would be coming soon again right."She smiled and nodded. I was amazed at the strength of this girl fighting her agony. She hugged her father and left in silence.
"Thank you Mrs. Smith. Please do take care of her", her father trailed off as I noticed his eyes moisten. But he left with a positive note.
That night while I turned off the lights of the dormitory, I noticed a colorful paper carefully placed beside Neha's pillow. An urge compelled me to open it.
It was an apple drawn untidily with letters at the end "didi I good...neil". He had learnt to write too.
I left the room in utter silence.
Friday, October 3, 2008
The Last Wish!
I looked up at him for the last time.
The words "last time" seemed to hit me deep inside. I failed to figure out if it was my heart, my soul, or probably both, pricking helplessly. A lump was stuck at my throat while his small, deep set eyes looked at me intensely, painfully yet strongly. I was always amazed in the past at his undue silent pride, like a wild tiger, waiting for his opposition to make the first move, and then slowly retaliating. This time, I waited for him to prowl on me first.
"Why do you want to leave me?” he finally managed to say, still looking deeply.
A pang of guilt left me speechless. I bent down while my eyes caught hold of his hands...those strong hands which held mine over a million times, while crossing roads, on cold evenings, those early mornings, clumsily feeding me, caressing my cheeks, gently holding me in his arms...I closed my eyes, unable to hold back the warm drops which swelled up, and finally breaking the barrel, flowed out. Yet, the gushed out flow could not budge the pain from my heart it safely clung onto.
I fumbled for the right words to say, before my blank mind surrendered to three words, and I blurted out “It won’t work”.
“Why, it did until now, didn’t it?” His repeated “why’s and “how’s” were another subject of laughter in our past.
“I don’t know Joe.” My victim suffered another blow.
“U don’t know?”
“Why on earth are you torturing me like this? It just won’t work. I just can’t fight against anyone, anymore.” I fought back my tears again.
“Don’t you want to spend your life with me?” He said it straight and I knew he meant every word of it. My icy heart melted at his words.
“I can’t...”
At my childish, meaningless statement, he shot back with a question in his eye before sighing and shifting his gaze toward the ceiling.
Whenever he stared at the ceiling, it meant either he’s lost in thought or in deep torment, I guess it was both today...Damn, why did I know so much about him?
It took him more than two minutes to decide on his last stroke before the final verdict was ready.
“Okay Mel, do what seems right to you, just stay safe and take care of yourself.”
The last sentence seemed very shaky, yet compassionate...another prick inside.
I stood up...The prick inside now seemed to spread throughout my body like slow poison, while my veins screamed inside with exasperation. Like a jilted nut bolt, rusted at all ends, I headed for the front door, and without looking at him, walked out hurriedly. It was over.
An unexpected excursion trip had acquainted Joe and me eight years back. Well, Joe was his nickname and I loved him as much as his name. He called me Mel. Along with springtime blooming flowers around, our relationship blossomed. The sway of wind was romantic then, spreading love around. While my hyper-excited nature added a lighter note to our relationship, his slow, well-paced moves taught me practical ways of life. The friendly sophomore kinship slowly flourished into a deep-rooted companionship. We walked the steps of togetherness slowly unwinding each other’s secrets, laughing uncontrollably, dreaming endlessly and loving each other unconditionally. The differences of our family background set a shudder initially, the fact that I was from a highly educated, elite Brahmin class and he being a scheduled tribe of his community. But we buried our differences and succeeded in believing that it mattered nothing to us.
After my graduation, due to financial crisis I could not study further. Joe initially helped me with the pocket money he received from home. In course of time, with the help and support of Joe, I took up a job of a junior editor in a small publishing firm. My stars shone down and within six months I was appreciated widely for my good work. Soon, I started climbing the steps of success, while Joe struggled with his academics, before finally settling down with a small, decent job.
I kept walking up the path of greed, satisfying my hunger for power, authority and money. Proposals came flowing in, guys flocking in due to my status and money. My parents were well aware of my relationship. However as I soared higher, they kept telling me to find a better guy, to live a luxurious life, and marry someone of equal stature and caste. Their daily dose slowly started diverting my mind until thoughts of Joe were completely blocked. I failed to understand that materialistic pleasure was momentary and my success was a result of his silent faith in me. Roots of pride and ego began to spread around me until I broke off our deep-rooted relationship.
But instead of flying like a bird, I started feeling suffocated inside, resulting in my own downfall. I became a loner, despite having people around me. I realized that new people could not help me forget his absence. I was talking, laughing, eating, doing everything I previously did...yet everything in it was fake.
Joe never called me, met me or mailed me after our last meeting. It had been over a year now. But my guilty consciousness kept piercing me until I decided to meet him one day and ask forgiveness. Reluctantly, I walked up to his small apartment. Outside the apartment, there were little flower pots, with different colored flowers, blooming brightly. It reminded me of the spring when we had met. His memory was still fresh in my mind. The apartment was glowing due to the fresh paint over it. I hesitated, before gently knocking on the door. I had expected my ol’ Joe to open the door, beaming silently at my presence.
I was startled when an attractive, young lady opened it. A playful, innocent face, yet dignified with that pinch of vermillion on her forehead. My mouth went dry and parched, a pang of jealously filling inside. I wanted to scream but I softly asked “Is Joe there?”
“He is off to work; umm...maybe I can call him though. Please come in.” Her fresh smile made me feel like a faded picture.
“No, that’s uh...Alright. I’ll come in some other time.”
“Oh, Joe would really mind if you go without a cup of tea, please do come in.” Joe’s old habit of serving guests refreshments had still not changed. And even better as he has taught his wife. I fumed internally.
“Well, I am kind of late...so some other time, thank you.”
I turned my back hurriedly to hide my large ocean of tears, and bumped into a hard soul quick enough to knock him down.
“Ouuuucccchhhhh”, he screamed while I myself was blinded for a few seconds. I finally managed to look down at the man whom I had bumped so hard, similar to atoms scattering after hitting themselves. It was Joe. I froze. I had not come to spoil his life, to disrupt his well being, his family, his bright and happy future.
He just stared at me the same way he always did. His features were still the same, his intense eyes examining my face.
“I...uh...well, was just crossing...well, how...and”, firstly, I was awestruck.
Secondly, the words formed a circle and precipitated before forming words.
“You have lost a lot of weight!” he had always been like that. Uncomplicated and straight, very concerned about my health. I hated to think of a married man like that now.
“Ya, no, a little maybe” Still dazed.
At this he grinned. “You haven’t changed, still confused and childish as always.”
“But I am happy that you have. You seem to have a wonderful family, a happily married life” I hated those darn tears filling my eyes again.
“My what????” There was a quizzical look on his face, before that grin broadened.
At this, he just walked up and caught me by my hips, slowing embracing me into his arms. I was motionless, not knowing what to do. My ego, my pride, my selfishness had drew us apart, yet I still longed for him. I wanted him to hold me in his arms forever.
“How could I marry without my bride? That’s my sister-in-law for a honeymoon trip with my brother” He HAD told me long ago that he would wait for me till death. I had every reason to believe him.
I just closed my eyes, in fear he might vanish and I would be left alone with my misery. But he just held me, with those magical strong arms, gently stroking my cheeks with his. Only then I knew life remains in happiness with a true companion, the rest can be earned in course of time.
For all those people who think money, power, authority and caste can buy happiness, think twice. Life does not give a second chance to everyone to find their lost ones again.
The words "last time" seemed to hit me deep inside. I failed to figure out if it was my heart, my soul, or probably both, pricking helplessly. A lump was stuck at my throat while his small, deep set eyes looked at me intensely, painfully yet strongly. I was always amazed in the past at his undue silent pride, like a wild tiger, waiting for his opposition to make the first move, and then slowly retaliating. This time, I waited for him to prowl on me first.
"Why do you want to leave me?” he finally managed to say, still looking deeply.
A pang of guilt left me speechless. I bent down while my eyes caught hold of his hands...those strong hands which held mine over a million times, while crossing roads, on cold evenings, those early mornings, clumsily feeding me, caressing my cheeks, gently holding me in his arms...I closed my eyes, unable to hold back the warm drops which swelled up, and finally breaking the barrel, flowed out. Yet, the gushed out flow could not budge the pain from my heart it safely clung onto.
I fumbled for the right words to say, before my blank mind surrendered to three words, and I blurted out “It won’t work”.
“Why, it did until now, didn’t it?” His repeated “why’s and “how’s” were another subject of laughter in our past.
“I don’t know Joe.” My victim suffered another blow.
“U don’t know?”
“Why on earth are you torturing me like this? It just won’t work. I just can’t fight against anyone, anymore.” I fought back my tears again.
“Don’t you want to spend your life with me?” He said it straight and I knew he meant every word of it. My icy heart melted at his words.
“I can’t...”
At my childish, meaningless statement, he shot back with a question in his eye before sighing and shifting his gaze toward the ceiling.
Whenever he stared at the ceiling, it meant either he’s lost in thought or in deep torment, I guess it was both today...Damn, why did I know so much about him?
It took him more than two minutes to decide on his last stroke before the final verdict was ready.
“Okay Mel, do what seems right to you, just stay safe and take care of yourself.”
The last sentence seemed very shaky, yet compassionate...another prick inside.
I stood up...The prick inside now seemed to spread throughout my body like slow poison, while my veins screamed inside with exasperation. Like a jilted nut bolt, rusted at all ends, I headed for the front door, and without looking at him, walked out hurriedly. It was over.
An unexpected excursion trip had acquainted Joe and me eight years back. Well, Joe was his nickname and I loved him as much as his name. He called me Mel. Along with springtime blooming flowers around, our relationship blossomed. The sway of wind was romantic then, spreading love around. While my hyper-excited nature added a lighter note to our relationship, his slow, well-paced moves taught me practical ways of life. The friendly sophomore kinship slowly flourished into a deep-rooted companionship. We walked the steps of togetherness slowly unwinding each other’s secrets, laughing uncontrollably, dreaming endlessly and loving each other unconditionally. The differences of our family background set a shudder initially, the fact that I was from a highly educated, elite Brahmin class and he being a scheduled tribe of his community. But we buried our differences and succeeded in believing that it mattered nothing to us.
After my graduation, due to financial crisis I could not study further. Joe initially helped me with the pocket money he received from home. In course of time, with the help and support of Joe, I took up a job of a junior editor in a small publishing firm. My stars shone down and within six months I was appreciated widely for my good work. Soon, I started climbing the steps of success, while Joe struggled with his academics, before finally settling down with a small, decent job.
I kept walking up the path of greed, satisfying my hunger for power, authority and money. Proposals came flowing in, guys flocking in due to my status and money. My parents were well aware of my relationship. However as I soared higher, they kept telling me to find a better guy, to live a luxurious life, and marry someone of equal stature and caste. Their daily dose slowly started diverting my mind until thoughts of Joe were completely blocked. I failed to understand that materialistic pleasure was momentary and my success was a result of his silent faith in me. Roots of pride and ego began to spread around me until I broke off our deep-rooted relationship.
But instead of flying like a bird, I started feeling suffocated inside, resulting in my own downfall. I became a loner, despite having people around me. I realized that new people could not help me forget his absence. I was talking, laughing, eating, doing everything I previously did...yet everything in it was fake.
Joe never called me, met me or mailed me after our last meeting. It had been over a year now. But my guilty consciousness kept piercing me until I decided to meet him one day and ask forgiveness. Reluctantly, I walked up to his small apartment. Outside the apartment, there were little flower pots, with different colored flowers, blooming brightly. It reminded me of the spring when we had met. His memory was still fresh in my mind. The apartment was glowing due to the fresh paint over it. I hesitated, before gently knocking on the door. I had expected my ol’ Joe to open the door, beaming silently at my presence.
I was startled when an attractive, young lady opened it. A playful, innocent face, yet dignified with that pinch of vermillion on her forehead. My mouth went dry and parched, a pang of jealously filling inside. I wanted to scream but I softly asked “Is Joe there?”
“He is off to work; umm...maybe I can call him though. Please come in.” Her fresh smile made me feel like a faded picture.
“No, that’s uh...Alright. I’ll come in some other time.”
“Oh, Joe would really mind if you go without a cup of tea, please do come in.” Joe’s old habit of serving guests refreshments had still not changed. And even better as he has taught his wife. I fumed internally.
“Well, I am kind of late...so some other time, thank you.”
I turned my back hurriedly to hide my large ocean of tears, and bumped into a hard soul quick enough to knock him down.
“Ouuuucccchhhhh”, he screamed while I myself was blinded for a few seconds. I finally managed to look down at the man whom I had bumped so hard, similar to atoms scattering after hitting themselves. It was Joe. I froze. I had not come to spoil his life, to disrupt his well being, his family, his bright and happy future.
He just stared at me the same way he always did. His features were still the same, his intense eyes examining my face.
“I...uh...well, was just crossing...well, how...and”, firstly, I was awestruck.
Secondly, the words formed a circle and precipitated before forming words.
“You have lost a lot of weight!” he had always been like that. Uncomplicated and straight, very concerned about my health. I hated to think of a married man like that now.
“Ya, no, a little maybe” Still dazed.
At this he grinned. “You haven’t changed, still confused and childish as always.”
“But I am happy that you have. You seem to have a wonderful family, a happily married life” I hated those darn tears filling my eyes again.
“My what????” There was a quizzical look on his face, before that grin broadened.
At this, he just walked up and caught me by my hips, slowing embracing me into his arms. I was motionless, not knowing what to do. My ego, my pride, my selfishness had drew us apart, yet I still longed for him. I wanted him to hold me in his arms forever.
“How could I marry without my bride? That’s my sister-in-law for a honeymoon trip with my brother” He HAD told me long ago that he would wait for me till death. I had every reason to believe him.
I just closed my eyes, in fear he might vanish and I would be left alone with my misery. But he just held me, with those magical strong arms, gently stroking my cheeks with his. Only then I knew life remains in happiness with a true companion, the rest can be earned in course of time.
For all those people who think money, power, authority and caste can buy happiness, think twice. Life does not give a second chance to everyone to find their lost ones again.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Nostalgia Rewakens
While I slowly moved down the sands of time,
Weariness and monotony clinging on as crime.
Flashed back thoughts of my small boarding school,
A cloudburst of memories as I wept by the pool.
The Monday morning bell ringing loud and clear,
As the warden appeared each day in fresh attire,
“Wake up you hooligans” shouting our miss dear,
Startling the little ones as they woke up in fear.
The daily routine and the occasional fights,
Sleeping during studytime and wide awake at nights.
Making new penpals and writing in secret diaries,
Giggling in classes and asking silly queries.
Dressing up for concerts and passing weird comments,
Grand birthday celebrations and many wonderful moments.
Watching horror movies and praying at nights,
Or going early to bed after turning on all lights.
Adolescence quickly passed by with sheer jubilation,
Merry making, laughing and in pure exaltation.
Then came life's burdens crushing down with thunders,
Shaking all my dreams and plunging into blunders.
Since then forlorn, I am praying with tired eyes,
Searching frantically in between silent cries.
The last night of peace in our dilapidated mansion,
Laughing and dancing to see our "Miss" in tension...
Weariness and monotony clinging on as crime.
Flashed back thoughts of my small boarding school,
A cloudburst of memories as I wept by the pool.
The Monday morning bell ringing loud and clear,
As the warden appeared each day in fresh attire,
“Wake up you hooligans” shouting our miss dear,
Startling the little ones as they woke up in fear.
The daily routine and the occasional fights,
Sleeping during studytime and wide awake at nights.
Making new penpals and writing in secret diaries,
Giggling in classes and asking silly queries.
Dressing up for concerts and passing weird comments,
Grand birthday celebrations and many wonderful moments.
Watching horror movies and praying at nights,
Or going early to bed after turning on all lights.
Adolescence quickly passed by with sheer jubilation,
Merry making, laughing and in pure exaltation.
Then came life's burdens crushing down with thunders,
Shaking all my dreams and plunging into blunders.
Since then forlorn, I am praying with tired eyes,
Searching frantically in between silent cries.
The last night of peace in our dilapidated mansion,
Laughing and dancing to see our "Miss" in tension...
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Durga Puja
The crowded streets and the blatant talk,
The beat of drums with the dancing folk.
The goddess went back with pomp and show,
While the little ones cried "Maa, please don't go".
The beat of drums with the dancing folk.
The goddess went back with pomp and show,
While the little ones cried "Maa, please don't go".
Friday, October 5, 2007
Affliction
That fresh morning, crisp and dry,
the soft breeze gently flowing by,
Stood by him,unable to cry,
but mortal agony deepening high.
Together, we had vowed forever to tow,
Our field of flourishing love with care.
Until one day when his mask flew off,
Exposing the unfaithful cheat right there.
I dazed as he smoothly denied,
No regret, guilt or shame followed by,
Malice filling within me, nothing benign,
and tiny droplets suppressing a sigh.
His denial accompanied a series of lies,
Until the thread of love tore apart,
And amongst our story of broken ties,
Lay the wonderful memories unable to depart.
the soft breeze gently flowing by,
Stood by him,unable to cry,
but mortal agony deepening high.
Together, we had vowed forever to tow,
Our field of flourishing love with care.
Until one day when his mask flew off,
Exposing the unfaithful cheat right there.
I dazed as he smoothly denied,
No regret, guilt or shame followed by,
Malice filling within me, nothing benign,
and tiny droplets suppressing a sigh.
His denial accompanied a series of lies,
Until the thread of love tore apart,
And amongst our story of broken ties,
Lay the wonderful memories unable to depart.
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