My Paper Plane.

"Take flight with the passing sun
soar into anothers hand.
Perhaps someone will jump for it
and hold my paper airplane...."

I’ll conceal a note on your magnolia body today,
just so someone may utter it tomorrow.
I’ll fold you 4 times today,
just so someone may unfold you tomorrow.
I’ll deliver u across the golden horizon today,
just so someone will watch u land tomorrow…

How hard shall I launch you?
How high will you fly?
Will u fly back with the same pace tomorrow,
As u will do in this windy today?
Will you crash into the little insects in the air?
Or will you rocket neatly through the vapours?

Till yesterday, I contemplated,
obstinate she was,
selfish, liar, cheater, deceiver.
But yesterdays have evanescenced,
and yesterdays have dissolved.
The new dawn has bloomed,
etiolating the yesterdays in me.

So today, for a better one,
I’ll tear a page and scribble…
Scribble a note for her to know,
everything she is not-
Selfish, liar, cheater, deceiver
I shall write the message on your wings
and I shall let you fly,
for everyone to see,
to tell her..

Land just so the love message is seen first
and my name, later
Don’t fall on her shoulder when she’s asleep
or right in front on the ground when she’s strolling!
Fall on the right edge of her steel colour table when she’s reading..
the note she once scribbled on the wings of a plane with much hesitation,
but never had the ability to project it to me..

Fly high and fly quick..
Land before she tears off her plane and walks out the door.
Don’t fall, don’t crash,
Soar, glide, escalate…

Soar! Soar!
For I will not be there tomorrow,
to watch you land.
To see someone else read you.
I will be leaving tonight, to faraway land,
to eradicate further yesterdays in me.
To sit by the sea shore
and make many more paper planes on the sand..
All blank, empty, meaningless..
and throw them across the horizon,
and see them fall on the silent waters…
But wherever I may go,
however high I may fly,
my memories, will always be engraved in you..

One day shall I return,
with many a stories to tell,
of days to describe.
I will pray that you return,
before me.
With a new note for me.
That she would not unfold you,
only to crush you and bin you..

Hear me, as I shall hear you..
about how u landed in her,
literally, metaphorically,
and she unfolded you with a bewildered frown,
and ended in my name with a mysterious smile..
That she turned you around,
to the blank side in you,
and scribbled a note, a secret one, an enigmatic one.
And how she folded you back with a cryptic grin,
and discharge you back,
to me….

Go now and fly high.
Spread my note to her,
engraved within your magnolia wings.
Forget not, to return back,
soaring high…

Anesthesia.

“Why do you look at me, like that?”
“Because you are so beautiful”

The way you looked at me through the windscreen of my car,
while I was waiting for you with a song in my heart!
Your vision an X ray machine, the windscreen, the film…
And why did you give the lopsided smile of yours?
your demented, asymmetrical smile..
It turned me frenzy, unsound, wacky!
Could you just not look at me and turn?
Turn to a direction where you would not see me,
but only feel my presence?
And when you opened the door and sat next to me,
my heart skipped beats. Beats after beats…
I weren’t living, only breathing!
You were such an anaesthesia..

Why did you not tell me where to go?
Did you too lose yourself in me?
In the entire psychotic town, was I the only one u saw?
Like the aromas, lights, metals were little boats,
that sails towards the isles that wait for me
“Don’t look at me that way.
I am in love with you, don’t you see?”
I was shivering, quivering, you noticed, didn’t you?
You would not just shift your persistent gaze.
And you would not just let me drive!
You were the sun, which would not seize to look upon the earth,
setting it ablaze, melting glaciers!
You would continue to hypnotize, mesmerize
like you were a crystal moon, I was a mere red autumn branch.
You were such an entrapment.
Such a heated anaesthesia…

You asked me so many a questions,
which I certainly could not interpret.
‘Cause your breath had taken me out of my mind,
and your gaze pushed me to coma!
But my imprudent answers perhaps never made you wise,
else, your eyes would never gaze in my eyes.
The way you held my palm,
eventually then, my fingers,
it was like nothing I had felt in ages!
It were like ice on fire!
Like stones melting!
Did you feel my pulse rate soar when u held me by the wrist?
And you rubbed you thumb on my little finger,
It felt like you were smoothening it.
I know, you were turning me torpid,
Like you were administering in me, anaesthesia!

But why did you leave?
I saw you go with innocent hope filled eyes,
but you looked back at me like I was a screaming stranger.
Did you look deep into them? Did you see they never lied?
I nearly died, when you opened the car’s door and walked away.
My cheeks had grown pale, colder my kiss!
Because I knew, it would be long enough by the time you return,
if ever you do…
I believe, I can bring you back in this car again,
one day.
For I can’t get over your heated anaesthesia!

Owner of My Expressions.

"He is my music,
my words, his ballerina…"

In the deep dark September,as the half moon sky,
traversed its course from east to west,
I sat in a cluster of some school time mates, some playmates,
separated by ordinance, united after a long time.
Joy knew no bounds, like waves of a cyclonic sea.
Happiness lingered in the air,
like drops of water vapor after a light rain shower..
Most were high on youth, tequila and life.
Some bitten by destiny, some pierced by the forgotten.
Some gnawed by life, some nibbled by prospects…

Abruptly, a man raised his goblet of intoxicant in the air,
as high as he could, as tipsy as he was,
and exclaimed to me,
‘You write beautiful, keep writing!’
I gave out a sigh, I gasped my breath
and next I blurted,
‘O my beloved! Keep happening to me!

A near side I took, just as to pun a quiet laughter.
This young son thinks himself to be a ‘know-it-all’
believes himself to be intellects own call.
What an illusion he is in, he understands my writings,
When he can’t understand my love!
can he?
He will never be able to fathom what I scribble.
Who can?

To me he gave a quizzical look!
Like a wasp on a flower, deprived of nectar,
like a garden without seasons!
Then I thought, to him I will explain,
prove some wrong, his abundant disdain.
To him,Said I…

“Like a whale, my lover devours my expressions,
setting-upsetting their coherence
and makes them dance to his cadence,
He is my music,
my words, his ballerina…

Like words out his Bacardi dripping lips,
like letters out of my quills nib…
When he tells me of the places
where haters die in love.
That there is a world of peace and doves.
Where every warrior triumphs.
Where the sun shines for its beloved, not burn,
and every forlorn has his deserving turn.
Tells me he, that abandons are provided a lap,
and in deepest sorrows a woman claps.
Because he feels, I write…
Because if I write, his pain subsides.

In his deep-set black eyes,
I dip for ink!
Deep into them I go, for the ink shall last long
long enough to scribble a love song!
A song that shall never cease to end..
He paints my dreams,ideas
with the blue of his eyes
or the venom
running through the soft blue veins
beneath his glassy white skin.
Lovers may last a lifetime,
our love will last forever!

And ah! Then suddenly, on paper I drop the words
like broken eyelashes on his cheek.
And as he leans on me to look me in the eye,
and makes a careless wish on the lash on my insist
A gentle blow I give on his cheeks,
to let the eyelash flow off..
to the wild blue yonder.
Like I am blow drying ink on my parchment,
The wild blue chelpark..

Sometimes, I so drop words so carelessly
like shiny green marbles out of his daughters hand,
while he plays the game of brain vita with her!


Even today, on the hook of the opposite door,
his white striped shirt hangs!
I don’t know where, he has gone somewhere.
I am still finding every place for the eyes that care.
I look at the shirt, striking a conversation with it!
I gape at it and write..
Write about how you walked out the door, shirtless,
on that no moon night, when
the earth was angry, trampled to dust.

I remember, I retorted so a many times!
O lover! Why now does your shirt not respond?
Why is it as quiet as a pair of your shoe?
But you chattered a lot!!
The smell of his cigarette still persists in it.
Perhaps it is the same with which,
he burnt his index finger
The fragrance of his love persists.
Perhaps it’s the same that makes me burn for him now..

I gaze,gaze, I write…
The words ooze out of this nib in continuance..
Like these tears flowing down till my lips,
On the parchment..
Words blot! Like I am wet-kissing his burnt finger
Can the shirt not for once, reply?
I wipe my teary eyes, the kohl smudges,
like words smearing on the parchment,
as I swab the tears that wetted it!

He hovers like a constant refrain
at the back of my mind,
like some catchy tune
that would not let me alone
and go on playing inside my head,
Ha! I wonder where in me solely is the irk to express?
It’s all because he identifies me as his only empress!
I write of love and pain.
And often more than not,
he interrupts the light of the table lamp,
with his lanky frame…

For some reason now, I can’t look him in the eye.
I try writing impersonal poems on love,
where he does not grin like that,
his mad-lopsided smile.
And I ain’t the girl full of quirks
Yes, I promise,
I will give us a happy ending.
Because, after twenty crescent moons have gone,
he will come back from the faraway land,
to push his face, close to mine,
when nothing else distances it,
and suffocate me in his perfume,
which he once called ‘masculine’ and me ‘obnoxious’.
He will find me writing,
Of the halo around his head
and the eloquence in his gestures.
But my quill will fall off my hand,
And the parchment will flow…
As into him I’ll merge seamlessly
He in me, formlessly...”

And then,
After I ranted about love and him,
and everything that falls between the two.
The man who admired my writings,
He said,
“If love be the reason you write,
Never cease,
Never stop....”

And if love be a kingdom, he the emperor..

Of a Yellow Old Photograph.

“Photographed in black and white, capturing the color of the soul!”

Of the color of the dusky sky it was,
torrid, tempestuous, threatening to pour,
the old black and white photograph.
Look! What the trials of time have done to it,
turning it eventually a yellowish-maize,
bleaching out gradually as in a slow bath of acid.
she wondered..
It were like a secret of a secret.
The more it told, the lesser she knew…


Some thirty years ago,
she remembers the ritual she underwent
to save her physical artistry, to salvage her winsomeness,
to be shot by the box camera,
so that today, her youthful beauty be written about!
Perhaps she was in the know,
there were a certain somethings in her that would never be noticed,
had it not been for a photograph.
Because it captured nothing else will.
A precious documentation of her youthful moment,
Standing still…

Fished out of an old-school type album,
the one’s with black pages, cosmic white butter papers.
Through one side of the photo paper, she smiles..
Not the vampire smile they show on tee vee,
not the jubilant smile her daughter gives!
Angelic, divine and harmless it is..

What an ethereal beauty she was once,
delicate, elegant, pastel and flimsy..
So slim, she could hide behind her brother’s cigar,
narrow at the waist, like an hourglass!
Like a bottle of coca-cola, well framed she was!
Picture-perfect…


Out of her closet of saris, she had chosen printed chiffon!
It spoke of flowers, gardens and realms.
As beautiful as her, only adding to her aura,
a touch of culture, an element of jade…
Wrapped in totality in the nine yard clothe,
her head just emerged out of the drape,
like goddess of spring she looked, of nature’s newest darling!
She let her hair flow, down up till her shoulders
straight, thin black locks, giving a feel of savannas in a winter evening!
No dash of kajal black,
or streaks of mascara in the lash!
As clear as the glacier white,
the eyes that talk of a regal might.

To a nearby studio she had gone,
and in front of a celebrated backdrop she postured!
She straightened her spine, shoulders upright,
sat cross-legged with her chin held high!
Curved her lips in a gentle smile,
cautious enough to not let them depart,
she had looked like piece of art!
And waited,
In breathlessness,
In choke,
In anxiety,
to not let her composure be disfigured,
to let her best be captured
waited for the box-camera to go, ‘click’…

After thirty years or more,
the beauty of the snap has not gone sore.
the same pose, the same smile,
the stiffness in her spine she erected for a while.
The expression of the impression has remained,
because the very beautiful was in her..

In the gilded silver frame she has preserved,
like silver lining to a grey-black cloud.
Holding the frame by her right hand,
she lifts it up and stares!
Like a man clutching his beloved by the waist,
irresistible to break free…
stares at an instant of her life staring back at her,
ceaselessly, incessantly, perpectually,
reciting to her the stories of the moment..

She remembers the ritual she underwent,
to take that single shot!
Like today, ‘click’ ‘view’ and ‘delete’ would really be so boring.
There was no Kodak, she could not look silly,
show herself to the camera,just for merriment,
laugh all day until she runs out of film.
The only photograph of its kind,
no duplicates, no negatives, no shots taken blind.
In her what she constructed all the years,
It did disclose all…

She wonders how far she has come of age,
voyaging through the journey of life..
when all she feels is choke and nostalgia at this stage.
of memories, saris and shots..
From a pink mistress to a wrinkled empress!
The smile in the snap happened in a flash,
but, its memory has lasted a lifetime.

She smiled through the tears,
hypnotized by her physical prowess.
As words had lost their power
and memorial images were inadequate,
she focused on the photograph…
and stood in silence,
asking to herself, ‘can you see anything?’
There was but just one answer:
‘Yes! Wonderful things!’

Because its retro, original and insane,
its worth all the tears.
That it can never be shot again,
is what makes it so sweet…

My Daughter in Love.

“Love is beautiful, until it happens to your only daughter.”

Rachel: How big is the universe?
Jude: Infinite.
Rachel: How do you know?
Jude: I know because all the data indicates it's infinite.
Rachel : But it hasn't been proven yet.
Jude: No.
Rachel: You haven't seen it.
Jude: No.
Rachel: How do you know for sure?
Jude: I don't, I just believe it.
Rachel: It's the same with love I guess

{Beautiful mind}

I changed her into a woman and now that she has become one, I wish, she becomes the little baby doll again.
I had heard about girls and boys fall in love with each other. The boy buys flowers, the girl buys chocolates, he looks her in the eye, she looks down towards the floor, he takes a step forward, she takes a step back, he dreams of being her warrior, she dreams of being his princess and on… But it’s only now I realize what it is like when my own daughter is in love with a suitable young man and will very soon be marrying him. I present to you the ‘suitable young man’ {of course} Jude Adams…

When Rachael was young, her hand used to fit so neatly in mine. She used to recite poetry to me and if ever there was a man she went out for an ice cream with, it was me. From lifting her up in the air to waltzing around in the house I was the only man in her life she was in love with.

And then she grew up and she ever since she spent more than 20 minutes on the telephone, I was in jitters. Then one day came when she wanted to get her ears pierced. The next thing I knew, she was in mascara and high heels wanting me to leave her two blocks before the movie theater. From that moment on, I had been in a state of consistent panic. I was scared of her bumping into the wrong guys. The kind of guys who are absolutely sweet on the face but they want only one thing. I had known what that ‘one thing’ is because when we were their age, we had wanted the same things.

And then, one day came the thrust when Jude came to pick her for the coronation ball. It never felt this way before cause the only man I remember who had ever driven Rachel in his car was ‘me’ and Christ me not! There were no coronation balls yet!
I could only advise her to wear a sweater over her spaghetti, it was cold outside.

Me: Rachael , it's a little nippy out, you might want to put on a sweater.
Rachel: Dad, it's okay, I'm kind a warm.
Me: Still, there's a chill in the air.
Rachel: Dad, I'm fine.
Jude: Rachael, it is kind a cold out.
Rachel: It is?
Jude: Yeah.
Rachel: All right, thanks, I'll get my jacket.

I realized, it was time I took a backseat. I was a shoe whose size did not fit her anymore. I watched Jude clutch Rachael by the waist and opened the car’s door for her as she slipped in daintily in her high heels. I missed dropping her this time. I was reminded of the last time when we two were going for a movie and she had leaned against me to buckle her ballerina flats. Today she wore a six inch and walked gracefully. I stared back, wondering about the day when Jude will drive her out from me, forever.

You fathers out there will understand. You have a little girl, an adorable little girl. She loves you in ways you could never have imagined and who looks up to you for everything. You are her oracle, you are her hero. You are her reason why, you are her only man from who she will cry. And then one day comes when she gets her first permanent wave and goes to her first real party. From that day on, you know you are sidelined, but you do not know how to handle it.

Eventually you quit about her meeting the ‘wrong guy’ and you fear her meeting the ‘right guy’ you know, the moment she does that, you will lose her. And even before you will ever know it, you will be sitting in a big empty house wondering whatever happened in your life.

I thought marrying was a simple affair. The boy and the girl meet. They look in the eye and say, “yeah! I do” the man buys a ring, the girl buys a dress and there is a nice huge ceremony and they finally kiss! But I realized, it’s a wedding. Marriage is an entirely different proposition.

It just happened to me. Not with me but my daughter- Rachael Morgan Adams. That is her married name- 'Adams' which she has proudly taken from Jude Adams, her groom. In her ceremony, it will be asked, ‘who presents this woman?’ This woman? For me, she is just a kid leaving me. People do say she has converted herself into a woman but I've never seen her do that!! Till yet, she defied me on issues, broke the rules she made for herself, threw tantrums when things did not go her way and whispered secrets on the phone.

At this moment, I realize, I will never come home again to see her at the top of the stairs, smiling and saying, ‘hi! Pops’ I will never see her again at the dinner table in her night suit and socks. There will be no seeking permissions to go for a movie or an eat out. Her constant buzzing on the cell phone will stop all of a sudden. There will be no danny/joe/bryan calling up to say, ‘can I please talk to Rachael?’ there will be no Rachel to serve me cold water from the fridge or share a candy floss with me. No chocolate puddings will be made, no chocolate feelings be felt…

From now on my daughter is Jude’s! She will be recognized as his wife first and then my daughter, second! I will be discarded like an old shoe rag! I will only stand back and watch my daughter spin in someone else’s little finger, happily, madly in love.

At the end of the day, relationships I realized are a funny thing. They drift away from you when you don’t really expect it. Its like, one day you realize, well, that keeping up of the relationship is slightly different than you had expected. That ‘ever after’ never really happens. I know it doesn’t feel perfect but its life! And life is really messy sometimes. It is full of unexpected twists and turns. Just when you think you have gotten the lay of the land, the land underneath you shifts.

I wish there was a rulebook for intimacy. A kind of guide which could tell you that you have crossed the line and it would be really nice if one could see it coming. If one could see that beyond a point holding on would be a damage case. There is something said about a glass half full. About knowing when to say ‘when’. I think it’s more of a floating line, a barometer of need, of desire. It’s entirely up to the individual and it depends what’s being poured. And there are times when there is no such thing as enough. All we want is more, the glass is ‘bottomless’...

But for my daughter, it’s her wedding, a church wedding. Well, it’s all what every girl dreams of. The wedding dress, the orange blossoms, the music. It’s something to remember for the rest of her life. And something for me to remember too...

So as they, ‘if you can’t break the ice, drown in it.’ I have already. It’s painful, but I can just ride it out and hope that it goes away on its own. Most of the time, I could manage pain but this one has hit me where I least expected it. It hit me way deeper than the skin and doesn’t let up. I will only have to live through because I can never outrun it and my distance from her will only make more.

But again, the dinning table front chair where I always sat may be empty in her house too. May be she stops to eat candy floss anymore. May be she will not talk on the cell all that much. May be she wont drive out as often as she did. May be, she will take out the bottle from the fridge only to hold it for a second and put it back again. And may be, whenever she has to dial Jude’s number, she will mistakenly dial mine first…..

May be,
Just may be…

Lost! Not Forgotten.

“Cry not when the sun goes down for you will not be able to see the stars past those tears..”

By the breathless and placid lake I sat,
with a book in my hand, thoughts in my head.
The sky was blue and the surrounding fields were green.
And as the wind blew from the waters to the land,
rippling the quiet fluid, fluttering the pages of my book, blowing my hair across my face,
It broke the eerie silence of the thin air into juvenile fragments
and just as it stopped,
from somewhere between the yellow pages of mills and boons,
flew a note…


It dodged me a few meters, the folded 4x4 inch memo...
And before it could sail across the lake, carried away by the mighty zephyrs,
I grabbed it, I crushed it,
I clutched it before I could lose it...
And as I fell on my knees to open the crushed message,
my heart stopped dead, my veins felt lifeless!
For beneath the wrinkles, in neat blue ink,
was the page header, ‘goodbye my lover’

My heart sank the same way,
as it did the very first day, when I read this note...
I still can’t believe, this was your antidote
to all the times we had, sad good and bad...
Tell me, you never meant it when you wrote,
‘I never really loved you!’ At the end of that note.
beause even today,
there is a tremble in your voice, throbs in your vein,
do you not count your moments in my name?
I can feel you miss the way I breathe,
that you hate that you were the bond, which one day was going to burst.
Every time you called me, just only to ask me, ‘baby! Won’t you come back to me?’
Was it for this you wrote that note to me?
Where there is love, there is happiness! Says who??
Cause even if you love me, its not happiness you will see,
but this is how we were meant to be…

Perhaps you never saw,
that all the times that we were through,
I never wanted to disappoint you; I could never let you down.
Every moment, I breathed you, every night I dreamt.
I had taken all the risks; I had taken all the shots,
I literally gave up everything I had got.
For you, I had never ceased to try
A 100 seas I had cried.

But ever since you walked away, I see,
you have been turning back to me from that day!
I know you can’t do without me, I know how much you burn!
But after all that you did to me, baby it’s your turn.
Did you not see, I was never the one to stay?
I will never make the mistake to ever come in your way.
A million words will never bring me back,
You know its enough you have tried!
Neither would a million tears, its enough I have cried.
I will not keep this broken heart from ever mending
and miss out on infinite love that’s never ending
Don’t try to make it all good,
I know I am not misunderstood.
Holding on me wont you strong,
Letting me go definitely would..

So sitting amidst the windy strokes,
I stared at that note...
And with each passing moment,
my grip on the paper loosened.
And yet again, the wind came along,
in the quest to blow away the goodbye song.
But this time round, I chose not to follow.
I watched it hover into the quiet waters
being chased to nothingness...
Within a minute or two,
the note, deep into oblivion it flew
And as It got buried into the perpetual,
Along with it, whatever little we had became exhaustible…
I sat there and cried, cried,
Not because I miss you or I want you,
But I realized, I will be alright without you..

I will never be yours…

As I watch her grow.

“She’s not a girl; do not tell her what to believe,
She’s just trying to find the woman in her.”

She opened the door and flung out the six yard grey-black chiffon garment out on the bed.
“So? What do you think?”

Her eighteen year daughter was talking on the phone, standing by the window, not knowing what lay behind her.

“Rochelle?”

Rochelle, her daughter turned back and her eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Wow! It’s terribly gorgeous. From where did you get this crazy print?”

“I got this pattern colored from the dyer down the road. However, this is not the exact grey I had wanted!”

“Oh! C’mon mamma! The grey merges beautifully with the black below it you still think it could have gotten better? For me, it’s amazing!”

“Hmm?? Is that?”

“That is!”

>>

“I started to love the concept of a sari being the symbol of the Indian women’s attire. So of late, anything to do with the garment used to get me started. The moment I lay my eyes on my mother’s sari, I fell in love with it. It was one of the most beautiful pieces of six yard cloth that my mum got home. No doubt, it was a perfect wardrobe must have and it could accentuate a lady’s gracefulness till no limit. It was chiffon with a crazy layered pattern in grey and black. The boundary had black embellishments and the whole look was extremely contemporary. In short- I loved it.”

>>
“My daughters expressions changed from a frown to a huge smile shot straight from ear to ear as she saw the sari. She was eighteen, fresh out of high school, totally in love with anything offbeat and kinky. Like every teenage girl, looking beautiful yet far-out was one of her primary mottos in life.
I knew exactly what pleased her in the drape- the zigzag grey to black pattern print. It looked different from the stereotypical flowery prints or plain geometric designs of blocks and stripes. She at times used to daunt me on wearing a predictable or a usual print in a sari. My daughter-grown enough to understand the meaning of ‘personal style’ loved to keep her looks more than just the obvious and in every way, the psychedelic look of the sari was fulfilling it. She had known what exactly would make heads turn in public.”

>>

“I opened the sari to its full length, nine yards. It reminded me of the first time I did a stark blue one for my high school farewell. More than jeans and skirts now, I started to love saris, though I could not wear them, of course. I was just eighteen and with such beautiful attire that I was eligible to wear, yet could not, I felt criminal. Besides, I saw that an enigmatic Indian woman wrapped in a beautiful sari were every man’s dream! It was not just a garment, it was an ornament. The beauty in a sari mostly lay in its drape and perhaps it is in the blood of every Indian lady to carry off one with aplomb. From being a corporate or a business woman to a fashionista, it was a garment that complimented one and all. Its a piece of cloth that has been giving respect and protecting the honor of our women since 2800 BC and still continues to do the same. Even I had wanted to do it. I asked my mum.”

>>
“I saw, my daughter was totally excited at the whole idea of that sari happening to her. When she asked me if she could wear it, I saw, that was not even a question. It sounded like she was telling me that irrespective of what followed, that garment was hers and she could not lose a minute to drape it.

She wanted to be more than just a college going girl experimenting with flashy colors and unusual fabrics. She wanted to feel like a freaking headstrong lady. She wanted to see herself in the mirror as a girl who kept her indianess high, her mind in place, yet stay stylish enough and look in vogue. Ever since she enwrapped one for the first time to her high school farewell, {made herself look very topical, I must add} she had become confident in carrying off one. {Or at least, gave the illusion.}You know how these females are, who are changing from being a girl to a woman! If they are fascinated by something, they pretend, it comes naturally to them. Oh she was a treat to watch.”

>>

“I clothed myself in that six yard cloth, wore black stilettos, black wonder bra and silver earrings. Yeah, by now, I had found various ways to display a sari, ‘discovered’ to be precise. It came by experimenting, imagining! No magazines and no fashion shows helped me. Wearing that sari made me look tall, feminine, congenial and extremely pleasing. With no exceptions whatsoever, every time I did a sari, I always thought of myself as an Indian goddess come on earth. This time, I wore it in a usual Indian style and modeled myself in front of the mirror. I first let it cover myself-head to toe kept it pleated and pinned up. The next moment, I undid a couple of pins, shifted the pallu to expose my torso and lo! I was a diva. I twisted, turned and waltzed around holding the pleats and pallu. My mum stood behind the mirror, laughing…”

>>
“Her ecstasy knew no limits. She had beautifully tied the garment across her waist, low risen I must add and she looked charismatic. I stood back, watching her change different styles. From looking modest and coy to changing it into a form that could give a western outfit a complex, she switched styles. And as expected, she did it effortlessly, seamlessly. She was walking in front of the mirror like she was satya Paul’s favorite model. Exuding the sultry, sweltry and sharp expression on her face, she gave the bring-it-on look.

She had always wanted to outdo others. Perhaps that was the reason, she learnt to do a sari earlier than most girls and she knew styles more than a lot of older women, may be me too. I remember, she was twelve-ish when she wore my sari for the first time in front of the mirror. We all could not help trip with laughter and amusement. Today, I saw she felt like a woman, not a girl anymore. She was not a stranger to her own frame, She knew which parts of her body to enhance, how low the sari must be, the way a blouse to be worn, how a pallu should be wrapped and to be a girl who hides all yet reveals all.”

>>

“Ever since I understood what a sari was, I was twelve if I remember correctly; I used to try wearing it in front of the mirror, on top on my skirt and the pink Barbie top nonetheless! It suddenly dawned on me; I had grown big enough to be able to carry off a sari so easily. It came so naturally to me that I did not need my mum’s help to tie it across my waist. I looked at my wardrobe and gave a painful sigh for not owning one. Course I could not, but given a choice, I would have loved to go out in a sari the upcoming valentine than a black cocktail dress. Saris will remain incomparable, now and forever…

>>
“I finally realized, my daughter had grown big. She was big enough to wear a sari herself. From jeans and skirts and boys, in no time she would shift to saris and men. I felt a sense of nostalgia about all the years of her growing up. she no more wanted my little finger to walk in one or my helping hands to get her pleats right. There was a time when she was fourteen, for even a pair of jeans, she used to turn around and ask me if it was skinny enough, if the rise was low enough, if the fitting was right. For a blank top, she used to ask me the bra she should wear, if she looked slim enough, if the color she chose was right, if she could expose her naval, if she could wear a spaghetti. Till yesterday, I checked on her thrice with every garment of hers. Today, she was just about trying a sari and she did not need me to advice her on her drape, her pallu, her pleats. She knew her mind to decide what was right.

I was a little hesitant to the change though. But I sincerely chose to look back and watch her. Smile with every change that she brought about in the way she wore the sari and think, a black hand clutch with the sari will make it perfect for an evening wear. I understood her need for freedom. Her need for a friend who could tell her that she looked fabulous…”

“How do u like me in this sari?” she asked

“Oh you look so pretty, darling! We will buy a good one for your college fresher”

“Yay! Thanks a lot. I want to stand out that day.”

“Yes! We shall look into it later. Come, let’s eat lunch now. I have made your favorite paneer today!”

>>

“I undid my sari and quickly changed into my usual trousers and top. I suddenly felt like all the other girls who struggled with equations in school and mommy’s tantrums at home. From a lady, I changed back to a girl facing nothingness trying to look for purpose.”

>>
“My daughter was not a girl, not yet a woman. All she needed was time, a moment that was hers while she stayed in between. She’s not a girl but if you looked into her eyes, you will know, she will always find her way. Yet again, she is not a woman enough to wear a sari except in the mirror…”

So as the mother and the daughter left for lunch, the sari lay casually on the bed. It surely highlighted and enhanced the mother-daughter relationship and the realization of a various things unsaid. A nine yard of unstitched material it might be, but look! What it did the women?!

I can just say one thing- bingo!!

In his name.

“love gains an eventual life, bearing each leaf on a barren branch, till one day it’s a tree.”

Part-1

In his name, against the mirror as she stands
and looks quizzically into her crystal black iris.
in them she finds some her own, some strangers.
She’s looking for shapes, may be a face.
She shuts her eyes and stands…
stands for the one who has poured himself into an endless wineglass,
for her to drink.
She’s drinking down her image,
feeling the romantic high gush through her veins,
diluting their color from green to red…
like a fish out of water, her pulse points thump,
wanting to break free, like a Jeanie in a bottle, a bird in a cage.
Her rosy lips eventually depart each other,
into a silent smile, a pink blush…

In the back of her eyes lie 100 mysteries untold
and under those long eyelashes, a million dreams they behold.
Made from the soot of the candle she burnt last night,
waiting for his homecoming..
On her right palm sits the little dibiya of kajal,
like a crown on a princess’s head.
She puts her left ring finger in the paste of kajal,
a mixture of black soot, olive oil and endless love,
looking for its meaning, waiting to be adorned.
Towards the mirror she bends, dilating her pupils
and outlines her eyes with the eternal black..
Beautifully, neatly, impeccably..
Like a silver lining in a cloud, wanting to rain yet looked over by the sun.
Seems like she is giving a boundary to save all his hopes and dreams and fantasies.
The first move, the first touch, the first kiss, the first rose, the first…..
In her kajal clad eyes they gain immortality.
She blinks her eyes twice, one more time.
Soot burns in the eye, like the fire that produces it.
Drop after drop after drop…
tears falls, darkness fall…
She shuts her eyes and the whole world stops dead,
she opens them and all is reborn.
So she is……

Part-2
In his name, in tears as she stands,
she remembers the first time she cried for him.
Her love, wine and song all rhymed.
That night, when he laid his eyes on her for the first time,
there was no fantasy, pretence and lies.
On that full moon-drunk night,
she saw in him a man of the rivers
and he looked at her plain and nice.
As unconsciously she searched for the moon in his deep set blue eyes,
he drowned her completely behind his ink blue eyes.


As love and silence lingered in the air,
between the two of them, words lost their way in hidden mazes.
When all he could do is press his lips against hers
and take her to everlasting eternity.
Her love hung motionless in the eerie silence of the night,
only looking for answers.
Her love was alive-
as a sudden gush in the neck, a lump in the throat,

an unspoken emptiness in the heart.
Her senses questioningly stared at the moon,
who herself doesn’t know for whom she shines.
And as her tongue touched hers,
her skin rippled through his fingers,
like a stone thrown in a quiet pond,
this gives for once a sudden splash
and chooses to shiver out of numbness..
Traveling through her candid frame, he could feel the waves trip.
Her eyes were closed, mouth rosy and ajar.
She was pushed to madness, craziness and insanity.


Like games of hide and seek on a long Sunday afternoon,
he stretched his hands to touch hers.
There was mastery in his fingers and triumph.
Her heart was so eager to love, so young, so juvenile, so prone to life.
She was a bud which just broke its dormancy to bloom.
Into him she merged seamlessly,
like two colors on an artist’s palette flowing into one another,
like mercury amalgamated, like chelpark blue on a blot paper.
He unbuttoned her coat of darkness
and exposed her invisibility.


She remembers it were not tears but pearls of overwhelm gliding down her cheek. some interrupted unknowingly by the lips, some grazing her neckline.
He licked her salty tears off her lips.
To him she tasted of myths and long rainy afternoons by the seas.
Tasting tears and breathing scents,
he held her in a futile grip.
Like sand slipping out of his enclosed fist.
Drop after drop after drop..
tears fell, darkness followed….

Part-3
Tonight after 20 crescent moons have passed and numerous Saturdays gone,
in his name she dresses herself.
As polka dotted blues drape her body.
she wears a faint smile and a natural pink blush.
She tilts her face, a little to the right and hooks on her long blue earrings.
Tonight, she looks as bubbly as the froth made in his goblet of golden champagne.
Behind that gentle smile is a tempt and hope for a guiltless, mirthful Paris night,
when he will breathe into her one more time.
And she will suffocate in his scent, yet another time.
Tonight, he will fill up her senses as she’ll lose her defenses,
through the color of his hair.
Leaves of time have flown, so has she.
She is a bird out of her cage,
an ink that blots without a paper,
blood that clots without an injury,
a Jeanie rubbed the right way…

पीड़ा.

"सच हम नही,
सच तुम नही,
सच है महज संघर्ष ही।
संघर्ष से हट कर जिए तो क्या जिए या हम की तुम।
जो नत हुआ वो मृत हुआ जो वृंत से झड़ कर कुसुम॥"


यू ही सिमट के रह जाने की पीड़ा तो पूछो बूंदों से,

बिन सीमा के बह जाने की पीड़ा तो पूछो सागर से।
कुछ घंटो तक ही जल पाने की पीड़ा तो पूछो दीपक से,
कभी न बुझना, जल-जलते जाना, यह पीड़ा तो पूछो सूरज से।

बिन चमक के रह जाने की पीड़ा तो पूछो पत्थर से,

चमक के कारण कट-कट जाने की पीड़ा तो पूछो हीरे से।
हवा के झोके के साथ, न जाने कहाँ ही बह जाने की पीड़ा तो पूछो सूखे पत्तो से,
बस एक जगह ही बस जाने की पीड़ा तो पूछो उस पत्ते के पौधे से।

कितने ही भवरों को मधु लुटा देने की पीड़ा तो पूछो कुसुमों से,
"कहीं तो होगा मतवाला!", इस इंतज़ार की पीड़ा तो पूछो मधुशाला से।
जो मोहब्बत के नाम पे मिट गया, जिसका लैला से रिश्ता टूट गया,
मोहब्बत में बिक जाने की पीड़ा तो पूछो उस प्रेमी से।
न प्यार हो जिसको कभी मिला, न प्यार हो जिसने कभी किया,
नफरत की पीड़ा तो पूछो उस माही से।।


हर कोई पीड़ा में जूझ गया, पीड़ा में वह बिन बोल गया।
भूमंडल के इस खेल में, जो न जीता वो हार गया।
जीत उसी की जिसने पीड़ा में सुख को ढूँढ लिया,
मौत के मुँह में भी जाकर, मुस्कुराना जिसने सीख लिया।
पीड़ा से जो जितनी तेज़ है भागा, कठिन रहा उसका उतना ही रास्ता।
 पलट के पीड़ा को चूम ले, हर एक गम में भी तू झूम ले।

जो साथ फूलों के चला, जो ढाल पाते ही ढले,
वो जिंदगी क्या जिंदगी जो सिर्फ़ पानी सी बही।
ह्रदय में अपने सच खोजना सीख ले,
अपने नयन के आसुओं को स्वयं पोछना सीख ले॥

Stirless Transfixion.

"Wistful for one golden chance. Can live forever in this trance..."

Trance:

When my senses have all gone numb.
Trance:
When every then and alternate, I feel succumbed.
Trance:
Oh! so often I feel that way.
Trance:
Not very often do I want to get away.

Trance:

My heart goes hush, oh! this burden of delight.

Trance:

My body mute, aureate with light.
Trance:
I feel like breaking free.
Trance:
I just wish to feel the eternal glee.
Trance:
So often behind that feeling I want to hide.
Trance:
It challenges my pain a mighty fight.

Trance:
When everything else seems to fade.

Trance:

How often do you wish to hold and gaze?

Trance:
A drop of oil on water provides.
Trance:
When the darkness of the night subsides.
Trance:
When two colors on a palette merges.
Trance:
When the redness in the horizon emerges.
Trance:
Lies behind the old black and white snaps.
Trance:
At the sight of a baby on a mother lap.

Trance:
Listening to the sound of a minute hand tick.
Trance:
When two luscious lips kiss.
Trance:
When I look deep into the blue eyes.
Trance:
In the smooth scales of a snake it lies.

Trance:
In the golden of a distilled whisky.
Trance:
In the naked portrait of a lady.
Trance:
When a burning candle flame flicks.
Trance:
Viewing a butterfly land on a twig.
Trance:
Looking at the blurring rising smoke.

Trance:
A drop of sweat on the tip of my nose.
Trance:
In the sound of a baby’s laughter.
Trance:
The shimmer of a pearl, ever after.
Trance:
In the redness of a flowing blood.
Trance:
Coupled caterpillars making love in the mud.

Trance:
In the dew drop on a clover leaf.
Trance:
At the somber sound of a baby’s sleep.

Trance:
At the crackle of an electric guitar.
Trance:
In the sound of a melody out of a sitar.
Trance:
Behind the smell of soil after rain.
Trance:
At the sight of a spreading blood stain।

Trance:
Looking for you in the countless stars.
Trance:
Waiting for you in an endless war.

Trance:
Oh! Bind me in your everlasting fixation.
Trance:
You are my forever transfixion..

Celestial Love.

"If you ask me, I know not.If not asked, I know…
Its ‘love’, don’t you know? "

"Dark as soot, as enigmatic as the fire that produces it,
So is the deepness of the night tonight.
Losing myself to the crickety tunes,
In the breeze, the smell of cinnamon.
Dancing with the wind, the burning fireflies,
Keeping themselves lighted and warm.
Infinite stars dotting the vast above,
Redefine to me, our juncture of love.
With him on the velvety green,
Under this moonless sky, I lie,
Looking at the stars, searching for answers,
Solving the puzzles they behold, the tales they tell.
Of victories to the warriors, of birth to the dead,
Of a new world to a traveler, of the infinite to the limited.
I rest on his chest, listening to his beating heart, gazing at the twinkling stars.
The resonance created by the duo, drive me into mindless romance.

Sparkle as the stars may, like pieces of shattered diamonds spread across forever,
Are they giving me a message? To you a challenge?
Shhh……
Stare, stare at them in silence.
Do not let your green iris move, may the game of love be fair.
I gape at them, with their brilliance I sink into trance.
Then you, into your eyes, that shimmer, roll and dance.
Twinkling stars and dancing eyes, every then and alternate,
Trip me to heaven and the eternal bliss they create.
Tell the stars above, you are the winner.
Such are the golden tawny flecks in your eyes,
In front of which even a diamond’s sparkle subsides…

Show me the constellations, show me my zodiac,
Show me the heavenly bodies, waltzing in celebration.
See me not, in expectation of a reply, for you will not get any.
I am dumbstruck, I am dazed, mesmerized.
He points me towards the interminable; I lose myself in the middle,
I see his arms move across the dark sky, his fingers pointing towards nothingness….
Running through his fair forearms, I see green vessels, may be veins...
Tell me, if its blood that flows in them, its mine.
That if he cuts it, I will bleed.

And staring at the sky above, beyond the stars,
He tells me,
“The world of the stars is the world of the mystic,
Where the Romeo’s gain immortality,
And Juliet’s die unloved…
Where triumph is not deceived by disaster,
And love and war are equally justified.”

My eyes shift again,
Back where all my dreams are really born- his eyes, the shade of green.
Do not look at me, not once at all now...
So I may rise through your body, like a creeper,
My calves stretch,
The fingers curl to make a tiny fist off your shirt...
I strive, so that my kiss lands on your neck, just at least
Without you noticing, without you knowing...
While you look on the other side, the great beyond.

I break you free of your celestial concentration...
Will you not turn to me? No, do not do that...
In my eyes, you will see tears…
‘One day you shall leave’ I am bound by this fear.
Tonight, do not tell me to hold them back,
They flows not opinions, just emotions out of facts.
Do you not see they are more than just pearls?
Come; kiss every drop that flows by.
Do not ask me questions, one day you will know why.
Every unclaimed drop that falls off my cheek
Is as pricy as every beat that skips in me.

I am reminded of that once,
I wanted to crack what love is, and to claim your kiss, everywhere I ran.
For the first ever time, you told me,
‘When love was love, the ones who trode in-fools.
It’s a leap one has to be sinful enough to jump.’
I had tried to understand it ever since.
And until tonight it remains to me a formless enigma
I can only feel it with my heart and soul, never really understand.
Does it make mind free to be blown by the wind?
To be lost by the torrents? To be gulped by the seas?
Does it hold a vision worth waiting a 100 years?

In this black against the starry night,
When silence and you trap me in their might
I have a desire to seek, a desire to wait…
For the celestial apparition to appear and answer me all.
For the gods to come out and accept my call.
For the endless dark to absorb my being,
For the colorless hue to save this redeem.

The meaning of love may be hidden in the horizons far above.
In the twinkling stars, the dark summer June, the invisible moon...
Cruising through the sky,
Highing every high…
No matter what, for me, its existence is meant...
To end every beginning, to begin at every end.
This love may be hopeless, aimless and meaningless.
But believe me when I say,
“It’s ceaseless.”
Sometimes, there is just one thing left to say,
My love, if you are reading this, you will know….

Forever Burn.

"You are a flame.

Burn for me..."

Oh fire, you burn...
Why do you?

‘Give me fire and I shall give you light.’ Was this not your pledge?
When did I set you ablaze that you kiss me phosphorescence?
Do you not see in me greed and sin? I am unholy, unworthy.
Oh fire, is this radiance for me? Oh why?
You ask no questions; take no opinions, just burn.
Spreading in all directions…
Your lightness is brighter than what I deserve,
Though your brightness is lighter than what you did serve.
I am a treacherous Delilah,
but for your innocent unprejudiceness, I see no reason why?
Christ the light that gives me hopes within.
To lift from the heart, the burden of my sin.

Oh candle, you melt.
Why do you?

You lose yourself, giving me life.
Does it not hurt to have wax flow down your body, inch by inch?
Are you a Romeo to cry warm tears down your cheek for a Juliet?
Oh candle, vaporize, sublimize...
Burn until this warmth reaches the skies.
Cry for me, till you die for me.
Wane out till there is no wax to see.

You tremble, flicker, and shiver.
Why do you?

I breathe into you, you tremble.
I walk past swift, you jitter.
A gentle clap into your aura, you palpitate.
A mild blow to soothe you, you shiver.
Do you fear I will ever walk away?
Do you fear I am not the one to stay?

Burn in hell flame, where do I go without your brightness?
Burn unto me flame, we breathe the same air.
Burn for me flame, may your might dispel the darkness of my night.
Don’t you see the radiance in my eyes when I see you close?
In your amber glow I stare, searching for my shapes,
May be a face..
Burn for me, so I shall make lanterns out of you.
Put one in each corner of my dark little hut.

Oh fire, die out.

Will you not ever?

Turn to black, deeper than the night,
May be when you asphyxiate, you’ll suffocate for my breath,
To Incense you, aggravate you.
To enrage you, with a life that’s new.
Through your smoke you will see.
I was never the spark, I was never the bark.
I was never the kerosene, never the gasoline.
You were destined to burn for me.
Showing me the way to thee.
So it is, flame, now.
You have kindled a fire within my redeemed heart.
A blinding light that shall never depart.

For me will you never burn,
Yet for me, you will forever burn..

Orkut-mania.

It has almost been two weeks since I have had access to my orkut profile. It was not that I did not have the time and means to but funnily enough, I do not think I missed it much {except for the first 3 days when I called in ‘sick’} Yes, for a person who was once-upon-a-time in a habit of accessing the website more than 5 times a day, going two weeks at a stretch without it is funny enough. But let me get this to you- I felt unbounded peace as this was the correct thing to do and that my life was definitely better without those pokes and crappy scraps. No kidding..

In the two weeks I discovered, if I was not updated about my friends new album which had her pictures of her slumber party or the status message that she updated saying, ‘I am going to flunk in my physics exam tomorrow’, bingo! I was not going bankrupted. And that was surely not the reason why satyam crashed. And eh, I wonder why she did a slumber if she had an upcoming exam.

As I was supposed to be committed with the likes of Newton’s law and Daltons theory, my extra-marital affair with orkut started some years ago. Feb-06
to be precise. My story had started the same way, when I clinged on to moments of boredom after the examinations and was invited over by a friend. What I did not see was that there was no going back. Before I saw it, I was already in the after. It was a true mate in more ways than one. I used it to the fullest and like any fling of course; it was unstoppable, untraceable and just as viral in nature. It truly broke barriers and raised excitement levels.
Primarily, it returned to me, a lot of my old long lost pals. Friends I had lost touch for some 12-13 years and some I did not touch at all. Yeah, I am pretty touchy. ;) Besides that, it gave me the ease of sneaking into the darkest of the secrets, nearly free of cost. I could:-


1) Take a sneak peak into my friend’s boyfriend life. Ok, that’s because I am single...

2) Spy on all my ex crushes who I must confess had grown up to become super hot ties while some did not even deserve a virtual poke.

3) See how my little cousin, whom we all thought to be an overgrown baby, had started to use mother and sister friendly words with ultra finesse.

4) See who all of my friends were ‘committed’ and I was not aware of.

5) update myself with the latest gossip amongst friends and see who was bullshi*tin the other..

And many more…

On a more elaborate note, this was my receipe to feel good about myself

INGREDIENTS: laptop, internet, lots of free time, links to random profiles.

PROCEDURE: I start off by opening my Y! inbox only to know that even though I was single this valentine, I have received 26 valentine emails from my near and dear ones. Read: ICICI bank, brand factory, shoppers stop, jetlite, feedzbitz and so on…
Eventually, I develop an idea as to how my school time friends have become of themselves. I know I am always on an ‘emotional high’, but WTF, I go ahead…

1ST PROFILE: a school time, real time, all time nerd.

After reading the not-so-cute profile for five minutes, I think, ‘he was a bit boring’ when I knew him but now he has excelled successfully in getting a PHD. a john Abraham snap to tell me how he looks, eh !with the somewhat little expectations from the album, I find it full of quotations. I see testimonials from all his little sisters who believes , ‘bhaiyya is a superman!’ I wonder a little, but after 10 seconds, a second thought crosses my mind, ‘is thinking worth?’

Reflex: click the top right ‘x’ button on the window.

2ND PROFILE: classroom fashionista + mens most wanted.

I find pictures and pictures everywhere. The profile has to be pink as expected with attitude quotations here and there. The album contains 180 snaps of hers in different poses and places. Her eyes look like a kajal factory and the clothes like they have bitten by her kitchen pests. i need to close the album before my eyes loses sight looking at the stark orange and pink she wore everywhere. Anyway. Quick thoughts come to mind that tell me, she should be gone with a stud in two weeks.

Reflex: I be gentle enough to say hello and congratulate her on her new makeover.

3RD PROFILE: examination partner+ sort of crush

Surprise! Surprise! I see the photo on the profile which gives me enough of a ‘feel good factor’ about myself. Reason: he has grown so much fat! And then I end up thinking, ‘chick, is this what you were missing all this while?’ This one was all intellectual and writer sort of a guy, so I naturally expect some high fundoo things up his profile. But someone tell him, there is a difference between boring and intellect.

Reflex : open the album and laugh about his FATness.
But seriously, if this was a competition to make me feel good about myself, this one will hand down.

My heart experiences a mixed feeling. Of not wasting anymore than 1 minute on the boring one, being a gentle lady and not considering the fat one. But the end result will definitely be pleasing, the ‘feel good factor. :P

Everyone has his/her dark secrets or desires, is not it? It helped me work with all and more. It qualified to be my anywhere social messenger and partner in crime rolled into one jointly working with me in discovering some once-upon-a-time strangers in my life today.

But slowly it dawned on me that it had potential hazards that I could not neglect and if I did, I would end screwing up my life super fast Be it the equation with my chemistry book for I neglected Dalton who is actually responsible to put me into a medical school, my mum as she knows what a waste of time it is, My dad for I am the potential source of increasing bills and not to forget, my brother. Yes! We keep fighting for the using the net more times than never...


Take this- I had this big womanizer friend of mine who always turned up at my place to access orkut. And every time he chatted up a babe, after 15-20 minutes of honey sweet pleasantries, he was horrified to know that the ‘babe’ has seen the ‘committed’ status up on his profile and thought of him as dirty ‘rat’ when it came to ‘pecking’ order. I kid you not folks; it was very disappointing and damaging to his self esteem. And every time this silly had thought he could do away with his ‘committed’ status-“oh! It’s just an orkut status, does not mean anything, honey.” Well, let me tell you, it does not work that way at all. Here ‘virtual’ is too real for comfort...

I did not have a very cute feeling every time I read the testimonial my ex’s current had written for him. It had to be naturally pink and flowery or else why is he with her at all. And then there I was visiting the profile of a person I met some 8 years ago who once had a face that was ‘loved by all’ which had now turned into a face that ‘only a mother could love’. And yes, I have to mention he never mattered to me in my life then, does not matter now and will never in the coming 5 years at least. So the big Q yet remained, ‘what was I doing in his profile?’

There have been times when I had read a new book or bought a new gizmo and the next thing I knew, I was activating myself in its respective orkut community. You have to agree, this does happen to a lot of us. Why are we so insecure about our choices? If we like something, why do we have to go and see what others think about it? Then have a whole long discussion about why it is the coolest thing in town?

After being ‘active’ on orkut/hi5 {they are all the same} for quite a lot of time I had already started to wonder why people want to put an albatross around their online necks? I mean seriously, I felt weird if I did not check my friends updates 4-5 times a day or comment on their new status message. I must admit, I have some super dumb friends too who, even if they have their major the next day still manage to update their status message all through the day on orkut. It starts with,

‘Exams suck’
To
‘Physics exam tomorrow-Christ save me’
To
’15 chapters left, no time to study’
To finally,
‘I am going to flunk in my exam tomorrow.’

And sometimes, the next day, friends do ask, ‘you dead or what?’ I mean, buzz off, one does not get extra marks in the majors by saying, ‘I got a dressing down from my teacher for screwing up my copy’. But then again, one does not get extra marks either by updating orkut so much...

Consider this- if you happen to be a guy with a normal level of Mopes chatting with this old school girl and then on your home page flashes a friends request from one of the hottest looking girls you have ever set your eyes on. What would you ideally do? Hells yeah, press ‘accept’. C’mon, if you are straight and do not agree with me, then go, stand in a corner and think why you lied to me. All you men love hot girls, which does not? And yes, there is hardly anything these men deny. Isn’t it expected from them anyways? So back to the point, where all you were looking was for a happy ending, it happens quite the opposite. You end up losing all your contacts. So then what can you do? Just sit on your ass, stare at the screen and think how your horniness made you say hello to a virus.
A lot of people online are jobless, you have to agree. I can no more spend hours answering to,
‘Hey ‘sup??’
‘Nothing much, you tell’
‘How is your dog doing?’
‘It’s gone for a walk. How is the dog in you doing’?

And then, there is so much of doggie-ness in the air you tend to feel like one yourself. All I want to tell them is, ‘dude, I have had enough’. Top ten reasons why-

1. I do not want to know who is screwing whom.

2. I do not want to know what others think about the latest mobile I bought. I like it enough to spend a fortune and I do not need expert comments.

3. Incessant pokes and scraps and craps are driving me up the wall.

4. Asking the same question to everyone, ‘hey! Sup?’ and getting the same reply, ‘nothing much, you tell’ is an activity that is taking a toll on my sanity and patience.

5. I have enough of answering the questions about my status message and asking others about theirs. Who means them anyway...?

6. Knowing about how hot your boyfriend is how cute my class 1st crush has become is not helping me spice up my non-existent love life.

7. I do not want to do ‘fraanseep’ with anyone there. My social circle is anyway overflowing. The very fact that you are sending me a request proves, we are not like minded.

8. I do not want to get hate mails for admitting publicly that I do not think that linking park is the coolest band around and I do not watch ‘prison break’

9.I was disconcerted to be recognized by friends of friends of friends by my online profile.

10. Finally, I am continuously ignoring the cute guy in my coaching because I know he is committed and this is not giving me a very nice feeling.

So I have finally had enough of this virtual surveillance. I prefer anonymity when I go out for a walk or watch the neighborhood men folk. As far as meeting ‘like minded people’ are concerned, I have enough already and plenty more opportunities. Now I have the time to hit the gym, catch up with old pal’s real time and spend more time with the guy who always complained about the lack of it. Life is getting back on track. I am not up all night; as a result mom has stopped raising hell on me. I know this is just a passing phase and she will get back to normal pretty soon, but what the hell, make hay while the sun shines…

Pink Floyd had once sang, ‘there is no dark side to the moon. Matter of the fact, its all dark...: P one small tip can save a lot of ‘bluesy’ moments. I will tell all my friends to keep their orkut disabled unless they really need it cause this is an apple that can ‘bite’ you back. While appearing to be a harmless beverage, it can deliver the kick of a mule.
So till the time I do not resurrect myself online {I hope I do not} I guess I might try living in the real world. Hey the SMS says, ‘second life’ just got more exciting….

Damn you, technology….

These Ties That Bind.

"With every beat that passes in me, you become a dream that forever sets me free..."

You may never read this,

But in me, you will forever reside.
You know who you are.
Funny how it is that in my life, I was busy collecting little stones by the seashore, not realizing, they will all turn to diamonds when I am home.
You are my diamond....

All I had asked of you was ‘undying love’ and you gifted me an ‘everlasting debt’ .Thanks for providing me with a new beginning, a reason for living and adding to my life, a deeper meaning. I will never be able to forget you because you presented me something, paper can never wrap. No matter how far life takes us away, death will always bring you back to me.
Cheers to you. This one’s for you.

This is for:

*God: Thanks a lot for watching over. If I could ask you one question, it would be, ‘where are you?’
*Grandma: From the other side of the moon, I know you watch over me. I’m only sorry; I could never see you look into my eyes and talk.
*Pa: Thanks a lot for showing me, just how to walk without your hands...
*Ma: If it was not for you, I would have never known what care and affection is. Thanks for bringing me up this way.
*Tohan: You may not be the only brother I have, but you are the best brother in the world. Thanks a lot for saving my ass, every time.
*Megha: You are beyond all definitions of friendship that exists. Not everyone gets to be lucky enough to find that one hand they can hold.
Why did you go away from me so suddenly?? When u left your grip on me at the airport that day, I could feel the world falling apart, no jokes.

*Sufia: If u tell me, it’s not fire, its cold water, I would believe you. I love it when you give the world a challenge on your unconditional love for me.
*Armaan: That’s what you call ‘connection’. When you already know what I mean and want to say. I live by that text message. Thanks a lot.
*Deep: You continue to change me become a better person.
*Sudeshna: You have me into splits even when I think about you. You know the ‘uncensored’ me. But are they not our darkest of secrets that our fun swears by.
*Priya: Driving at 100 doing the road, making alternate music, dismantling gadgets, fixing up broken guitars, celebrating vendetta, pizza parties, photography and not feeling technologically challenged only on lunar eclipses. They will never regain the charm they had with you.
*Ankita: You had tears in your eyes when I left. I never understood why. Now I know...
*Varnica: Throw me high in the air and u would still find me laughing because I know you would catch me before I fall. Thanks for showing up, always...
*Richa: You are the best 'sister' in the world. If you are reading this, you know why...
*Nausher: Thanks a lot from saving me from being a typical person. Your x-ray vision penetrates into more than just the obvious.
*Saloni: When eve was taking the first bite of apple, god was chiseling you. You are the purest form of beauty, as much as inside as out.

*Shreya:Some girls are born with glitter in their veins. You are one of them.

*Abhinav: Tell me, there is something about my face that it looks gorgeous even in darkness and I sound like a dream. You have to come back because you have promises to fulfill. The night photography, a movie shoot, a personally sponsored treat at the warriors. Remember?
*KT: Thanks a lot for teaching me to ‘flush’ my mind when it becomes too much of a mess to solve.

*Anirudh: You are the best damn thing on G-talk.You remember even the slightest of the details i pour into you and that's beyond overwhelming. Keep me posted...
Shekhar: Even if i am crying to death, your jokes will bring me back to life.you are one of the most cheerful person I ve ever come across. The other day when i encountered a reindeer,you asked,'Have you ever made a snake drink milk'? whatever was that.I laughed till i tripped.You ache my spine,everytime...
*Addy: you understand me so much, its touching. not everyone knows the real me. I am sorry i could not show up all the while i was in Delhi. You remain special.

*Harry: Thanks a lot for always counting on me for secrets. You have always had an opinion on everything that went around me.
*Sagar: If it had not been for you, there would be a certain something about me, I would be a stranger to .I hope you still think of me as a crazy head egoist who writes offbeat e-mails. Thanks for being a well to my thoughts.

If you are reading this and you feel the vibes going through your spine, I want to thank you for always showing up. However, pardon me for I will never be able to repay your debt. I am only a poor little girl who once went to the sea shore in the quest to collect stones.

A diamond you are, so shall you be…