Life is good…

Some external factors really affect me…the weather and nature being number one…no matter how I may be feeling…take me for a drive in the rain…a walk under the trees in autumn…hand me a cup of tea and sit me under a tree filled with flowers…take me walking on the beach and let me pick shells…give me a sunny window on a winter morning…ask me to count the stars in a midnight sky… and watch it have its affect…every second I spend outdoors, I start going a little crazy...its a mood lifter…and it completely changes my outlook on all the negatives…I come alive…feel my insides sway and do a little swoop…
Today is one of those days…I’m feeling high…high on the raindrops…got all drenched during my morning walk…and the rest of the morning was focused on getting out of the house fast before the weather changed…sang like crazy as I got ready for work…long slow walk to the gate…admired the trees and how new new they looked…flowers came down with the rain…beautiful…even the song in the auto was a silly hindi movie rain song…the people in train didn’t bother me…the weather just makes me forget everything not so great in my life…I hop and skip my way through dirty puddles and grumpy people…it makes me immune to the world…just me and the rain…each with its own agenda…it comes down on me and I simply let it do its work…
As a result got to office covered in the weather…totally not required but oh so gooood…had a huge umbrella but decided to give it a break…made a cup of cappuccino…put on some happy music…
The rain…the weather in general makes me do stupid stuff…I make crazy decisions…do stuff that the logical me would never do... but I am more me than at any other point…kinda exactly how I am when I’m in love…my true self…uninhibited and genuine…
Hot hot coffee feels warm and nice going down…coating my insides with a caramel brown bitter sweet song…

Life is good…

Words Only...

As she wrote in her book of poems, she remembered him…how do you write about someone with whom you have made very few memories…no walks on the beach…no rendezvous’ …she can barely recollect how his voice sounds…has a dim image of him in her mind…no photographs… and certainly no photographs of them together…no stories…no memories that she can depend on…

they never exchanged anything but words….written words that’s all she knows of him…as she stares at the sheets and sheets of words…written not even for her…just given to her…in the lines of words, she looks for his outline…in the words she finds his eyes looking back at her…she hears his laughter and feels his pain…and yet she knows so little of him…he who is now an everyday part of her life…just words between them…more his than her’s…she listens and takes them in and has no words to match his…inadequate…just a silent reader…his words take her far away and sometimes too close to herself…
words that reflect care and concern…words that reveal so much…words that he can lead in a dance to anywhere…capturing her pain even more acutely than she can reveal to him…the words make her smile bounce around like a bubble…delicate, fragile and buoyant…

words that connect them together…
how do you reach someone when you don’t have the words and words are all you really have…

The Words came down upon her Drop by Drop…

She hadn’t thought about it much… but the rain brought it back…drop by drop…the words came down…slowly at first and then in a rush…she felt them seep into her heart and head…she fought it so hard…ran to the further most corner of the house…covered her head with the blanket…but alas, the drops had synchronized their fall to the beat of her heart…no escaping it now…she gave in…gave into the words…the gestures…that each drop splash evoked…
Opened her door and sat down…all her feelings came tumbling out…came from all the little corners in which they had been hiding…drenched in her thoughts… her hair all wet, dripped down her face and arms…she felt a chill…she shone from what the words had done to her…she shone cos it had brought out all the strength within her…gleaming like the leaves on the trees and quivering with the breeze…for letting go of so much for nothing… she was left with nothing but the raindrops…the words…that meant nothing to either of them…they’d come with the thunder and lightening and poured into her life…unstoppable…and then gone away without even facing her…she’d woken up to feel the cool earth beneath her feet…the only sign of what she’d lived through…and in a few hours that too would dry and she’d forget…
Sitting up…drenched…the kajal making little paths down her cheeks…cheeks burning with determination in the face of the rain coming down hard…eyes unblinking even to the frightening rumble…she was glad she’d closed her life and self…beautifully…slowly…
Till the drops fell again…mercilessly…

Turquoise Earrings…

Just walked out of a quaint little antique store…I’m not sure how I feel….i was the only person there but it felt so crowded that I could not breathe…I don’t walk into antique shops…I never thought about it till now…it was a pair of earrings in the window that caught my eye…out of all the stuff cluttering the window, these earrings made me stop…what was it about them?...
I had to take a closer look…so I walked in tentatively…overwhelmed by the clutter…how strange it felt…filled in shelves were bits of people’s lives…a lost silver tea spoon…an engraved cigarette holder…a child’s red bus…a pendant with a faded photograph…a postcard…a door knob…
All forgotten…all on display…on sale for a price…history on sale…a life…a moment…on display…I could feel the sadness…the futility…the anguish that each of the pieces must feel…and it unnerved me…
I got the earrings taken out from the window…feeling a bit guilty for disturbing their peace…like I was pulling them out of the grave…I looked at them…exquisite…oval shaped with a turquoise stone…out of the stone were little swirls that looked like branches…delicate silver filigree…I’d never seen such intricate work…i was not sure if it was alright for me to touch them…I slowly touched them with my fingers…and at that instant thought about who they belonged to and whether it was possible that I knew her…in another life…another time…
Does a bit of our aura remain back with the little pieces of our life?…strong memories…would it be alright if I bought the pair…would I be able to get myself to wear them…no…I could not…
I’ve decided I don’t like antiques…they don’t belong in the present…in the possession of strangers…
So maybe I’m a bit superstitious in that sense…I believe we can pass on vibes through objects…it makes sense to me…
I felt sad for her…those earrings must have been precious…priceless even…from someone she loved…worn sparingly…kept lovingly…something she’d told him she would never part with…a symbol of their togetherness…
Little did she know that one day, they’ll be in a store with a price tag…in the hands of strangers…

Drifting Leaves...

Some of the leaves of my tree murals...without the tree, they look like drifting leaves : )

Evening at the Gallery…

They sat quietly together…lost in their mugs of coffee...she leaned forward, captivated by the twirls and swirls the spoon could create in the otherwise calm surface of the coffee…one stir and it completely changed the way the coffee looked…comfortably curled up on the wooden chair, she looked around at the gallery and its little café…she looked around and wondered why she loved it so much…
it wasn’t the food or the coffee…it wasn’t the old waiter who knew her since she was so little, that coffee was not permitted to her…it was just the excitement in the air…she loved being around little known artists and their art…she felt the power of the unknown…the not knowing where tomorrow would take them…and yet being in the present, eagerly awaiting what would become of them…
he loved the place as well…for a much simpler reason…because she loved it…and he loved to see her in love with it…it made him happy…
she looked at him…aware of how long they had sat there in silence…there was never this urgency to fill the space between them with words…it was not relevant anymore…it was the gestures that counted…she gathered the tuberoses in her arms…smiling into his eyes, she greedily gulped down the fragrance…she felt herself sway a little…she pulled one out and stuck it into her hair…he laughed…and reached for his camera…oh please don’t, she said with her eyes…he shook his head and laughed more…
she pulled him off his feet…they walked around…stopping to admire the details…stopping to find the feeling behind those eyes…the paintings were portraits by an artist from the south…the dark skin, shining eyes, black hair and white saris held their attention…
I wish I could paint like that, he said…but you do it just as well with your camera, she said…its not the same, he said…it’s the same, but more startling cos you can see them through your eyes and make them look different even when they look the same, she said…
It was at that instant, that he pulled out his camera and saw her in way that she would not be able to believe…a profile…a white flower gleaming through her open hair…her white kurta in contrast to her dark skin…she looked like the sister of the girl in the painting who she was lost looking at… and then he took another…this time, she turned to him…not angry…just shy and unable to look into the camera…it was time she left…
They passed the entire gallery on their way out and as she looked at them one more time, she felt she knew how they felt…lovingly created…up on exhibit for the world to see…they saw them but didn’t see them…open to interpretations…future unknown…and yet someone would look at one of the girls in the portrait and understand her colours, her lines, her darks and lights…that someone was what each of the paintings waited for…

Probably a Girl waiting by her Window…

She looked out of her window…saw people pass by…she made up stories about each of them…the little boy skipping about was probably happy cos he’d managed to convince his mother he was not feeling well enough to go for tennis class…the upset looking dhobhi had probably just discovered that one of the clothes in his pile were missing…the old man out for a walk was probably wondering when his kids would call…the dog lying there lazily was probably hoping the cute cat would pass by…the smiling young girl had probably just met the boy she’s going to fall in love with…the cat sneaking in the side, was probably hoping the dog would leave her alone…she had a story for all of them…
She watched the people pass by intently…and some of them turned back to look at her…
She wondered…she wondered if they looked at her and tried to give her a background…what did they think when they saw her…girl who lives by her self…paints…stands by her door a lot…watches the rain fall and even goes for a walk in it...sits by her window with her mug of tea…waiting…probably waiting by the window for nothing in particular…but waiting…

Can’t be anything but a Magical Connection…

Was in a cab, heading home when I got a call from SS who was in town for a few hours…smiling, I took his call and as I said hi and looked out of the cab window, I saw ‘amba bhavan’…the south Indian joint that we used to love to meet at for breaker…wow! Always taken aback about how these random things happen…

It happens a lot with ma…she has an uncanny knack for calling me just as I’m thinking of her…which I know some would not find alarming cos I think of her a lot and she calls very often… but really when i’m wondering whether I should buy the pretty skirt and kinda unsure…she’ll call and of course she’d say…’buy it!!!’…

It happens with M…even though we don’t speak and message each other as often as before… he has a sense about when I need to speak to him and just calls to check on me…

It happens with Yuv…I see a photograph that reminds me of him and I’m thinking, I wish he’d call...but he never does…and then on the day that I’m most distressed or miserable, he calls out of the blue…and of course sets things right in my head…

It happens with As…he writes poems that I cannot even begin to describe…he sends them often…almost every other day…and sometimes I read them and am taken aback at how his poems mirror my feelings…and I can almost know how he’s feeling…as though he wrote my thoughts down in the most beautiful manner…

It happens with S…we share a common love for art…especially child art…some kids even think we’re sisters…and we in some ways are…she again has a knack for reaching out to me at the right times…hey S, remember the umbrella??

Its really all about the connection you share with a few select people…or maybe I’m making too much of it…or maybe I like to make too much of these things…what the hell…I shall do exactly that…

I enjoy random little happenings…that may have a perfectly logical explanation but I turn away from that and look at their weird side…look at the randomness as a connection…
Sometimes its best not to analyse everything that happens…best not to have specific boxes that you can fit them into…best to let the magic remain as it is…magical…

I have always had this deep feeling that I am my connections to people…to things…to events…they determine who I am, rather than me determining who or what they are…

Back to Bombay… Left Delhi…Back to Me... Left Me...

- Got back a day ago…
- Got back in body…
- Got back to my lovely little apartment…
- Got back to my little corner in the office that’s more than just a little corner…
- Got back to all my close friends…
- Got back the rain (Atr called to tell me that it rained hard the day I got back after ten days!)
- Got back to my tree…
- Got back to my writing and sketching…
- Got back to my music…
- Got back to calling ma 3 to 4 times a day… : ) distance and phone bills never deterred us…!
- Got back my guitar… I remember a bit but will have to find a teacher…
- Got back on an airplane…and did pretty well… (funny little story…little boy at boarding gate…horrified…looks at the little bus and then at his dad and goes…But you said we were going by plane!!!!) petrified but made it…the beautiful clouds kept me pretty busy…
- Got back into action mode after an extremely relaxed ten days…
- Got back to unsettling people and the memories they evoke…
- Got back to being by myself…
- Got back to feeling in control and independent…
- Got back a grip on myself…
- Got back to me…

So strange na…so many positive ‘got backs’ and still they can’t equal being at home…they still can’t make me feel better about leaving… cos I left much more than I’ve gotten back to…

- Left a day ago…
- Left my soul, heart and mind…
- Left ma and pa…
- Left the little auggie doggie (I hope someday we’ll be able to have a fluent conversation with our pets and tell them that our going away does not mean we don’t love them…it does not mean that we won’t come back…that we’re just a phone call away if they need to be reassured…or rather if we need to be reassured about them! Miss him sweet smile and loving eyes…oh my heart hurts..)
- Left back my granny…with whom I now share a special bond…
- Left back those protective arms and many kisses…
- Left back ma’s cooking and caring…
- Left back ma’s courtyard…my safe haven…
- Left my home…
- Left the only place where I’m loved for all that I am and am not…
- Left the many exciting job offers that pa made to me…
- Left only to come back someday…
- Left back me…

Ma’s Courtyard…

Ma’s courtyard…spent a lot of time here…on the green and blue cushioned bed…lost in another world…tried a little game…

courtyard…green…
green…heaven…
heaven…bed…
bed…awake…
awake…dreams…
dreams…wish…
wish…stars…
stars…far…
far…birds…
birds…love…
love…smile…
smile…eyes…
eyes…closed…
closed…book…
book…veil…
veil…hair…
hair…wild…
wild…gypsy…
gypsy…drifting…
drifting…leaf : )
leaf…me…
me…lost…
lost…found…
found…courtyard…

Little Nothings…

They both collected little moments…in their own little ways…

he took pictures…he rarely showed her the ones he took of her…she thought that they must be terrible…but when she saw a few, she was left astounded…she was not that pretty…its probably the light…he looked away and matter of factly said - its probably the love…

she collected menus of places they had dined at…ticket stubs… a tribal dupatta…a weird shaped twig…a dried leaf in beautiful hues…a pretty coloured stone…she was a collector of nonsensical stuff and he encouraged her by adding to her already ridiculous collection…she saved up little nothings from everywhere…shells from far away beaches…lava rocks from hawaii…a piece of a bee hive from goa…a strand of coloured wool from her grandma’s sewing box…a pink button…broken bangles…one silver looped earring…a postcard from france…a black n white feather…a puppet from andhra…dried bark from a tree in pune…some she’d handpicked…others had been picked just for her…

they both couldn’t show them to each other…they both understood why…
priceless little bits of life…priceless little bits of time spent with special people…

Some little moments can’t be explained…you can’t put them in a museum…under glass…what would the label say…’a feather picked up on a lazy afternoon spent in the park…a leaf that he saw drifting down and put in her palm…a bluey greyish pinky strand of wool that had made her think of him on a winter evening…her first paintbrush that she wouldn’t give away even for a million bucks…a few lines of a song that she’d sung for him that if he heard now, he would surely shed a tear over…’

Those little nothings can’t be displayed…can’t be explained…only be felt and enjoyed by someone who was a part of them…someone who saw them as more than little nothings…more than photographs…more than pieces of dried bark…more than a few random shells picked off a beach…
More than just that moment…more about you and me…

Right now…

So I got asked out for a movie…oh I’m just trying to make it sound exciting…but alas it cannot be looked at for anything else than it is…I did get asked out for a movie… by my granny…that part I like but its not as simple…I got asked out by her entire group of friends…oh my god…to spend an afternoon with dadi multiplied by 10!!! Oh how did I get myself into this situation…

Well, that’s what I went in thinking…but at the end of it, I was so glad…
Dadi and I share a strange relationship…I know we love each other but just can’t express it enough…I always felt dadi is very judgmental of me…and when I was little I really tried to please her but found it was wasted…she never noticed how much I needed her approval…and hence I’ve kept a certain distance to avoid being hurt…and that’s big for me cos if I care, I can’t stay away too long…its very rare that I’m so so hurt that I avoid the person…but that’s the way it is with her and i…
So when she asked me out for the movie, I was thrilled…I even dressed decently and in a manner befitting her grandchild…through the movie, she held my hand and even stroked my cheek a couple of times and looked after me like i was a 5 year old...it felt nice to be grandmothered...it had been so long…
i got back home and gave her a big hug…and told her I loved her…

and I got frightened…she’s so fragile…I realise that now…she not as young as she used to be and all these memories came flooding back…I’ve learnt so much from her…all the sewing…knitting…crochet…batik…and a lot of what I’m good at, I get from her…our shared fear of hospitals and blood and our low threshold of pain!…we share that…I’m so much like her…and I fear I’m not spending enough time…and not telling her how I feel…I still have almost a week left in delhi…I am gonna find a way for us to do more…even if it means just sitting together doing our own thing…but together…

I never ever wanna look back and regret not telling people I love them…its such a simple thing to do right now…but even tomoro may be too late…and then even that simple thing becomes impossible…
We let so many things get in the way…we find so many reasons to avoid how good it feels to say you love someone…it in no way takes away from us…it’s just saying how you feel…and sometimes its better not to think…just go with the moment…go with the flow…
cos right now is all we can be sure off…right now is right now…

Memories…

You never know what will trigger off a memory…its always random…its always sudden…its always overwhelming…it always says longer…

I happened to stumble upto a picture taken at film school by him…it was a picture of me…by him…I’m not sure he intended it but he was in the picture as well…I could see him with his camera through the reflection of a window in the background…I was all curled up…with my feet up outside the internet café where we used to do our film assignments for hours…our bags next to us…just a hint of his bike in the frame…I was smiling…and he had to be smiling too cos why else would I smile…smiling cos he took so many pictures of me and I was such an unworthy candidate for a picture…smiling cos he made me look so good in them…its like he saw me in a different way…its like he brought out the good stuff…this is a happy memory that makes me sad cos I wish it had never ended but still happy cos at least I had it!

Memories are powerful too…you can reel under their impact for hours…you can live in their glow for days…you can cry for them for nights…
Ever felt a scent make your mind drift away to a person…it usually hits me like a slap…shakes me up…
Ever felt the lyrics of a song stir you up and take you to another time…another place…
Ever walked into a little restaurant and gone instinctively to a corner that you sat at with your friends…
Ever felt that a song belonged to the person who introduced it to you…
Ever read a story or a poem and remembered someone who you would have loved to read it to…
Ever walked down a street and stopped cos all of a sudden you remembered something you said or did a few years ago at that very spot…
Ever sat in a train or bus and avoided a particular seat cos you’re scared it will haunt you with the memories it may evoke…
Ever avoided a particular flavour of ice cream cos he loved it so much…and it would be like betrayal to indulge in it without him…
Ever smiled cos you know exactly how she’d react if she was in your position…
Ever smelled a flower and remembered how he used to get them for you…
Ever pulled a shirt out from the depths of your cupboard…put it on…took it off…and shoved it back into the other end…just cos it was too painful to see yourself in it without him…
Ever stumbled upon some little belonging of his…like a sock…one lonely sock…and knew how it felt…

Ever felt these memories are so precious that they ought to be locked up in a safe somewhere… lest you lost them…misplaced them…God forbid forgot them…

As simple as the wagging of a tail…

Why can’t we be a little more like doggies…I look at my little auggie and the way he looks at me with so much love…the way when I call out to him, he wags his tail and shows how happy that makes him feel…if I get to close to mom and he feels left out, he comes charging and wants to be a part of all the hugging and kissing…if he sees as much as a pigeon too close to home, he drives it away and that’s the lunatic level of protection he offers his loved ones…so really my question is simple…
…why can’t we show people that we love them without thinking so much about it?
…why can’t we simply wag our tail at the sound of someone’s voice?
…if we want to be loved, why can’t we just go and look at someone with moist eyes till they love us back?
…why can’t we reach out our hand when we need help?
…why can’t we tell people when we feel left out and want to be part of the action?
…why can’t we protect people selflessly…forever?
…why can’t we forgive people we love and move on…forget what they did to us?

Really, so much I gotta learn from this little cute fellow…need to love the way he can…yup…crazy way of showing it he has…but gosh he can make you feel like you’re the most lovable person in the world…I catch him looking at me from the corner of eye and I feel like nothing or no one in the world can do me harm…
Its not that difficult to make someone feel loved…its as simple as the wagging of a tail…

Unpacking…

As I tried to find something in my giant blue bag, it felt so odd…how we pack our lives for a few days…its like you left the majority of it back in the cupboard and packed just enough for 10 days…and how do you decide what to pack?…what do you leave behind…and yet you find a compromise…take few…leave few…
Wish I could have packed my emotions the same way…leave back the ones not appropriate and carry only what I need for a vacation…but they all find a way into my bag and as I take out clothes for the day, they spill out and I’m a mess again…they’re in the folds of my kurtas…peeping out of my jeans pocket…they’ve hidden themselves in the guise of bangles…they mix into my hair as I comb them…they spray on with my perfume…I’m covered in them…I would have happily left them hanging to dry back home…or locked in my drawer…or with my other silver earrings in a little box…they were not on my list…and yet I let them in…

As i unpack….i unravel…and I try not to think of them…so I push them all back in…refuse to let them into the guest cupboard, fearful they’ll reveal themselves…I zip up the blue bag…and drag it a distance and shove it behind the curtain…maybe if it doesn’t stare at me, I’ll pretend that it and its contents don’t exist…

Bombay to Delhi…

3 June…8.10pm…Go Air…Seat 9A

the take off...
in the window seat in the middle of the aircraft on the right side…I’m a pattern kinda person…I try to find something familiar even in the most alien atmosphere…I’m trying not to think of the claustrophobia…but since I’m writing about it, its obviously not working…I dislike night flights cos they make me feel like I’m in a little flimsy box that’s been thrown in the air with tiny holes to peer out of but nothing to see…ok…not a good idea writing like this…thinking bright meadows on the drive to nainital…thinking windows down in the car…thinking cool air…thinking favourite songs…thinking family…thinking home…thinking its getting dark…thinking too many people…thinking small space…thinking back to meadows…thinking this is not working…thinking maybe music will help…thinking I saw nice man smile from across…thinking don’t smile back…thinking what pretty blue lights on the runway…thinking I want to break this window…thinking handwriting looks terrible…thinking pop mentos into mouth,,, thinking oh please let take off be smooth…thinking I’m an idiot…thinking I don’t want to be here…thinking its unusually dark…thinking silly girl, dark is dark…thinking close eyes…thinking way too dark that way…thinking maybe should stop thinking…
thinking I will be fine…thinking man talking about oxygen masks and evacuations should be strangled…thinking relax…thinking why do I have to hear the worse that can happen in two languages…thinking how calm little boy on the other window looks…thinking I can be like him…thinking smiley man still smiling…thinking we’re moving a bit too fast…thinking let pilot do his job…thinking I’m gonna be a wreck by the end of the two hours… thinking I need a hand to clutch…thinking I want to rip off the crepe bandage on my wrist as it feels too tight…thinking focus on pretty blue lights…thinking look out not in…thinking runway too bumpy…thinking would they mind if I screamed…thinking put mentos in mouth…thinking too quiet…thinking hills…thinking way too quiet in here…thinking aircraft making too much noise…thinking stop that line of thought…thinking hope no pieces are loose…thinking shut up crazy woman…thinking phew taken off…thinking please turn on the lights now…thinking large part of ordeal over…thinking 1.48 hours left…thinking should now be switched off….

I hour after take off later…
Little boy from the other window looking at me…probably saw me nervous…I look back…he holds up his orange mentos…I smile…I hold up my mint mentos…I offer him mine silently…he shakes head…I make sad face…orange smiles…I make more sad face mouthing ‘please’…orange shakes head and looks at busy-reading-crappy-magazine mom…’don’t take sweets from strangers’ is a no fun rule…mom sticks face out of book…orange and I quickly look away and go back to respective lonely pass times…

1 hour 20 mins after take off…
Delhi people look so dilli…. Not sure if its their features, the way they talk, their attire, mannerisms…one or a combination but I can spot them from miles…maybe cos I’m one of them…do they know I’m one of them…am I like them…I don’t go to great lengths to hide it but I am usually taken aback and upset when a ‘ha ji’ pops out of my mouth instead of a ‘ya sure’…I’m just half delhi and half little place called Bareilly…but I’m all bombay…

I hour 30 mins after take off…
Oh no smiley man leans forward…asks if he can read my book since I’m writing…really its got over 350 pages, how far will you reach in 25 mins…and damn carry your own book for heaven’s sake…but I hand it too him…save myself the ordeal of talking to him…obviously not interested in the book in the least…I notice orange is keeping an eye on me… I smile to let him know I’m fine…it’s a nice feeling when you know someone’s watching out for you…

1 hour 49 mins after take off…
landings are a bit easier…I try to fool myself…anyway, now atleast I’m a bit closer to land…what I dislike about night flights is that I look out and I don’t know where I am!….i always think if something went wrong, how will I know where I am…!
Captain announces that we’re ready to land…I shut eyes for a second…open them…orange looks concerned…I give him a fake smile…he pops in mentos…I can guess he wants me to do the same…I have just two left…will I survive a landing with just two mentos…has that ever been done??…oh no…why did I not plan for back up….and it starts all over again…
Thinking why do the lights have to be switched off…really, someone explain it!…thinking keep writing…thinking how come orange is not the least bothered…another mentos…thinking suck slower idiot, only one left and we have not even begun decent yet…thinking remember to take book back from smiley…thinking forget book and focus on how petrified you are…thinking I’m hopeless…thinking ears blocked…thinking or did the world go completely silent…thinking where are the crying babies when you need them…thinking if God meant us to fly, we’d have wings,,, thinking rajdhani or any other train next time…thinking are you mad…thinking an entire night with people lying in layers one on top of the other in tiny pigeon hole spaces…thinking terrible line of thought…thinking I’m a looney…thinking mentos over…thinking I think we’ve landed…thinking next ordeal in ten days time…

As i key this in...almost 24 hours later...i'm amazed at how crazy i am!!

Inbetweener...

As I sat waiting at the airport for my boarding call, I looked at the seats…6x26x2…312 seats in total…mostly vacant…but gosh how much action they must see…how many people must have sat where I was sitting…excited jumpy people like me who were counting the seconds…sad people who were reading going away…new journeys…going home…leaving home…on vacation…on work…to see loved ones…to get away from loved ones…
The seats must feel all their vibes and I’m sure they know the minute someone sits, which category they fall into…it must be tough to be a seat in airport…unlike the life of a lavish and cozy sofa in someone’s study or a chair at work with fixed sitters…it must be tough to have only acquaintances and so many, changing by the moment…do they ever wish they were a sofa, personally decorated and relaxed on for hours or a bright red swivel chair in front of a computer at work, interacting with a small group of well known and loved people…or were they happy with the thrill of meeting exciting new people who they spent short spurts of time with…no attachments…no strings…forgotten and forgetting…
We are different types of chairs, aren’t we…
I used to be a good sofa…turned airport seat…wanting to turn back into a sofa…but sadly I’m neither a good sofa nor a good airport seat…not sure whether there are other options available to me…maybe a seat by the window on a bus on the hills…a 7-8 hour kinda seat…not to short not too long…enjoying the journey without getting too used to anyone in particular….
I guess I’m an inbetweener…

Street Lamp…

I saw a lonely street lamp…surrounded by tiny little night insects…I felt glad that the lamp had them for company…and I felt sad too cos the lamp had no idea that it was being used…
It was dark…its light was so bright and the little insects looked so happy…so flirty…the lamp looked happy too and shined brighter but knew not how short lived this pleasure was…as the day draws closer, the light from the lamp will dim and be insignificant…the little street lamp will stand by itself…alone and unnoticed till its night again and the insects return by default to the only light that they know…selfish insects…foolish lamp…

The street lamp stands tall even if it stands alone…the insects come and go…the lamp continues to simply be, not letting the insects bother it any longer…

Of streams...

i write this as i sit in our little south indian breakfast joint in matunga...i'm early as usual...i sit at our table...in the position that i always do...he'll walk in...we'll order exactly what we always do...coffee at the end...tumble it perfectly, just the way we had been taught...he'll disapprove when i try to pay...i'll let him this time...
i once fooled myself into believing what someone once told me...that each of us is a stream...that there are times when streams run close to each other...but when their time together draws to an end, they go their own ways...i believed that then...i believed in destiny then...
not anymore...destiny and streamy stories are what we make up to fool ourselves...delude ourselves...to make sense of things out of our control...everything we're doing is a result of decisions we make...mostly conscious thought out decisions...
well, i do believe that our time with people is limited...carefully measured...and should be used well...i no longer believe that we have no control over it...we do...we choose not to...and thats not destiny...
they leave one by one...they always do...and i miss them...and then i learn to ignore that...how come i never seem to leave...ok...maybe i do leave sometimes...but not half as many times as i am left...

So SS, i shall miss thee my sweet friend...for all that you gave to me and all that you let me give you...and i know you haven't left yet...but sitting across the table...as i tried to focus on my idli, i missed you as i looked at you and thought of how much more i shall miss you once you're gone...
no stream you are...but keep on flowing...till we decide to meet again...

thank you my dear poem writer....that last email made my day...
you know exactly how to make me smile...
: )

Ever held a Mirror...

Ever held a mirror and stared at the stranger you see…happens all the time…I pass a mirror in a hotel lobby or glance up and see myself in an auto’s side mirror…and I’m usually taken aback…that’s not me…no…not me…I look different…I don’t look that serious…I’ve always got a smile on…my eyes have a sparkle…who’s this person looking back at me with equal surprise…not me…
Its so strange how differently the mind looks at me as compared to the eyes…the eyes that look at life through soft blurred lenses, look at me so harshly…so correctly…making no concessions…
And the mind, that dismisses eye’s of happy view of life with a slap of reality, looks at me so kindly…builds me up to look like someone in a painting…overlooking my flaws…focusing on my beauty…
If my eyes are my outward view…and my mind is the eyes to my inside…what do I look like…from who’s perspective must I see me…

Going Home 2...

Detailed list ready…big bag emptied and in the corner of my room…first round of clothes and toiletries in…list being checked and rechecked…ticked and crossed…air tickets in my hand bag all the time…
For me the excitement of a trip home…or anywhere else that’s speical, begins 10 to 15 days before the date of departure…the joy of going away lies in the little details…I am in the details…in the little things that I can put down in my list…

That’s why sudden, on the spur of the moment trips are fun but lack the planning stage…
and I’m a planning person…
a list person…
a packing-bags-a-month-in-advance person…
an opening-bag-and-looking-at-ticket-again-and-again person…
a counting-the-days-left-to-go kinda person…
a calling-home-and-saying-‘I’m coming home’ kinda person…
a calling-home-and-fixing-menu-for-my-entire-trip kinda person…
a buying-presents-for-everyone-including-little-auggie-doggie kinda person…
a wonder-what-I’ll-be-doing this-time-next-week-at-home kinda person…
a jumpy-happy person…
a looking-high-on-something-illegal kinda person…
a counting-the-seconds kinda person…
a seeing-brother-at-airport-and hugging-for- 5-minutes-till-he’s-embarassed kinda person…
a waving-wildly-at-seeing-family kinda person…

ok…seeing this list, I can safely add….
Need-to-go-home-more-often kinda person…
an-embarassing kinda person I am!!

But simply-a-happy-to-be-going-home kinda person I am…
: )