Christmas...as it was

"Baba...Baba..."


One deafening yell...then a crash...and I was on the floor,wrapped in a bundle...quilt,pillows, bedsheet n et al.


The whole house came running.
“What happened?” Baba asked, pulling me up through all that mess.
“He came. He actually came again this year. See I got my gifts. Cake, biscuit, a book and a letter.” I smiled.
Baba smiled too. So did Ma. We all smiled on the Christmas morning.


Christmas is there for that only, right? Its there to make you smile.

When you believe in the fairytale, you smile because your faith is true and when you don’t, then also you smile to the memories…and that faith stored up at some corner of your loyal heart which soon fills your entire mind and sets your imagination free…and ultimately brings a smile on your face.


Fortunately or unfortunately,I always used to get the same gifts from Santa every year…a cake, a packet of Britannia Good day, a book and a letter. The letter was the most fascinating part. Santa knew everything that I did year round and he wrote to me about that. He gave me innovative ideas about how to be all the more naughty…he asked me to be good…to love…believe and most of all he asked me to be happy. He also used to request a reply. I used to reply as well. And not knowing where to post it I ended up handing it over to Ma who always used to know where to find him.
Christmas was definitely a lot of fun...always.


It must have been class-III…the last time Santa ever wrote to me…and I never replied.



May be the child in me had started to doubt or the adult in me had started to grow up…what ever it might have been…I recognized Santa’s handwriting.

It was Baba. He had written the letter to me.
I was shocked, disappointed and hurt.

Hurt beyond imagination because not only was my Santa just fake but he also did not exist. He was simply not there. Not in my house…not in someone else’s house stuck up in a chimney…not in his factory at the North Pole. He just wasn’t there. Nowhere.The child in me lost its unadulterated faith and gained access to the world of doubts, disbelief and rationality.




It was hard to let Santa go... but as years passed…I realized that I don’t need to let go of him…rather I cant let go of him…because at some corner of my heart I’m still grateful to that bearded old man with his huge belly, red dress, reindeers, guffaws, elves and promises to return the next year, for making me imaginative and believing. For making me love, smile and happy. I am grateful to him because he actually taught me the lessons of life as I’d have preferred them. I love him because he kept his promise each year and came back to collect that piece of paper full of spelling mistakes and grammatically incorrect sentences or phrases..whatever you might call it...I love him because he never left me.

P.S:I never replied to him after that little discovery part…but however now…I really wish he would write to me one last time…I promise I'd reply.

Tell me...

Tell me…how do you do it?
How do you express agony in words?
How do you make one understand in words that your insides are on fire?
Your mind, your heart, your senses are blazing---tell me, how do you tell one that?
How do you tell someone that the reason you cannot utter a word is not because you don’t want to, but because there are these freaking words stuck in your throat, stumbling upon each other to come out?
How do you explain your irrational, unnecessary heartbreak?
How...exactly how do you convey your loneliness…
Your love…your anger… your laughter…your hatred…
The nausea you feel when you have to swallow those solid emotions not being able to bring them out in words…
The desire, the longing to scream, shout, groan, curse and then cry,
Just sit down and sob in a corner hugging your own self tightly… How do you do that? How do you express them in words?

She

She,
She is the reason of the sun's morning glow,
the falling of leaves during a cosy autumn.
She is the reason of laughter on a few faces,
so many hearts' ecstacy and delight.
She is the reason of the sweet smell of dew on grass,
the riot of colors everywhere.

She.
She is the reason to survive.

She,
She is the splash of thoughts dipped in ink, on bits of paper,
the overflow of love now and then.
She is the apprehensive confession of a lover,
the ache in his heart for a mere glimpse.
She is the innocence of a new born infant,
the still silence of the mountains.

She.
She is the horizon and beyond that.

She,
She maybe dust or rain,
love or hate.
Maybe freedom or captivity,
a dream or a nightmare.
Maybe hope, or the lessness of it.,
life, or perhaps even death.

she....


__________________________________________________
to my better-half!! :)

Damnnnn! It has got stuck in the jam...!!
But it will arrive...(hopefully).

I again...

I may be something that shouldn't be there

In the summer evening and winter book fair

The toothless grin on a toddler's face

A child who just won his first cycle race

The smile from a stranger while stuck in a jam

An odd little riddle that you don't understand

The old man's smile for whom you left the seat

The first splash of rain after the summer heat

The beggar's blessings for a loaf of bread

The circling leaves the trees just shed

The warmth in the hug that you just felt

The spring with colours when winter melts

Now tell me truly, am I that bad?

Even if I'm THIS and at times THAT.

I

I am the disappointment in your child's eyes,

the longing in her heart to be loved and to love.

I am the tear that rolled down the roadside beggar's eye,

the shiver that ran down his spine on a cold winter night.

I am the silence that follows after the quarrel,

the breach of trust that brought the marraige to its demise.

I am the demon dancing in your head waiting to mislead you,

the love that pretends to be there.

I am the sound of the crow cawing away, when you try to sleep

the groan of the dying lion.

I am this, I am that,

everything that is a tad bit sad.

I am the mark that scarred you for life,

the desire for anything that is wrong and bad.

:)

It is on its way.....
:)

Explanation

Man, had I thought of this?!?
No.
Not even in my wildest dream did I think that I will be giving out an explanation and that too on just a bloody vision I had. But now coming to think of it this is what I've been doing all my life.Giving out explanations about things I've done,haven't done or am about to do---everything.
Trying,in vain,all my life to explain small things such as---why I could never pass in geography...why I have to sleep alone at night...why I don't go to funerals...why I'm so indecisive and why...Why at all did I become myself?
Explaining,justifying,reasoning---rather trying to do all of these together and then getting fatigued and wondering---Why do I even try at all? But then I remember I do all this because someone had explained something called Optimism to me at the very start of life.



P.S:I missed the main reason I wrote all this stuff...visions are merely visions...better put as hallucinations.

Vision-I

The wind rush past her ears...
she stands there hugging herself...
the night covers the sky like black velvet...
a single shiver runs down her spinal cord...
somewhere an owl hoots...
a solitary star twinkling faintly...
a single drop of tear falls at her feet...
the wind blows through her hair...
she stands there hugging herself.

All I ask for.....

All I ask for,
Is a green meadow
With guinea pigs and ducklings,
And a few sheep ambling around here and there.
A nice little mansion
With a fountain in the courtyard
And a vegetable patch behind it.
Some beautiful gowns
With sashes around them
And a carraige pulled by unicorns
With my lover beside me.

Oh! Is that asking for too much....?

All I ask for,
Is pleasant weather all around the year
And a bout of rain now and then.
Wings to fly to the moon and back
Without much traffic on the way,
A bed with muslin sheets to lie down on
Whenever I please!
A cellphone with a lifetime validity
And unlimited charge and balance
And absolute freedom to do just as i wish.

Really! Is that asking for bit too much...?

All I ask for,
Is a single free icket to every concert in the town
And a visit to Someplace Else thrice a week,
And sing anywhere and everywhere.
Gift vouchers from 'Crosswords', for books to buy
And permission to sit there and read throughout the day.
One visit to shillong to watch the 'Scorpions' perform live
And coffee with Amy Lee from Evanescance at her place.

Tell me, Would you still say I am asking for a bit too much...?
:O

And They Say......

I see myself reaching for the highest branch
On that hundred year old tree,
And perching myself up there
To look at the world beneath
But they say, "Irrational are such dreams."

I see that wave hitting the huge rock
And falling back.
It keeps coming back, trying again
That perhaps someday it'll make it to the shore
But they say, "Hopeless are such hopes."

I see the nightingale sailing
Through the wide azure,
Singing a song that could
Bring the dead alive.
But they say, "Improper is such music."

I search for a life in his eyes
Even as I yearn for it to end.
Time files by, stealing with it
For what i crave.
But they say, "Worthless is such a life."
___________________________________________________
Consequences of a very depressing day.... :P

You and Me

As you appear in my lonely aftenoons.....I smile.
As you walk with me through the crowd.....I cry.
As you try to touch that kite soaring high.....I dream.
As you hide in some corner in the dark....I fear.
As you revolt against everything that exists.....I rejoice.
As you start the movement.....I flee.
As you calm down in a while.....I pacify.
As you rest beside me.....I love.
As I think....You appear.

Do you realize?

Its just another day...you wake up in the morning..not ready to leave the bed..you look outside the window..its raining.."Good,I can doze off for another five minutes"..you turn on your sides and go back to sleep... there's a smile on your face.

Some forty minutes later you jump up on your bed..."Damn, I'm so late!"...you raise a hue and cry making people all over the house run after you...giving you this...fetching you that...getting your bathwater ready...ironing your dress..polishing your shoes...and when again you are shovelling down a bit of a toast down your mouth,pacing up and down the dining space with the coffee mug in one hand and brandishing the fork like a sword in the other,you glance out of the window..its still raining...you smile again..while emptying the coffee mug.

You are out on the road..standing under the shed of a half-opened shop...waiting for that always-late-bus to come...gazing intently at this bird on the electric wire when you see these two girls,sharing one umbrella...giggling away like crazy...while their salwars get wet as they step into the puddle quite knowingly...suddenly the bus arrives...you board the bus and take a last look at the girls...and as the conductor shows you your seat...you smile.

The bus travels through the city...you look out of the window...rain drops dripping down the window pane...office goers with a black coloured bag under their arm and frown on their face...forbidding- looking aunties with their buns,sarees held up in one hand and an umbrella in the other...school- going kids splashing happily on the puddles in the footpath...a Boudi in the balcony,trying to save the already- wet clothes as the rain decides to descend one more time with new vigour...the taxis on the road getting drenched as if the Creator has created this yellow coloured creature for this only...the families on the footpath,with a blue-coloured tarpaulin for roof and no expression on their face...a little child standing at the zebra crossing,holding his Grandfather's hand...gaping at something, with his mouth wide open, on the road..a croaking frog may be...a few moving cars here and there..a boy and a girl under an umbrella reminding you of Raj Kapoor and Nargis...some trees with rain washed leaves and suddenly the conductor starts shouting...and you realize he is shouting at you to get down...

Do you realize.... that you've been smiling all this while?

Things meant to be broken...

"I don't like milk Dadu...I promise I'll have anything other than that."

"That wretched teacher,she deliberately failed me..but next time..You just see Baba.Promise!"

"Ma,please let me go.Its our match today...please! Please please please please PLEASE!I promise I'll be back by sunset."

"Come on Chhordabhai,let me have a look at your cell...I promise I'll be careful."

"Promise Gopal,I'll wash my hands before eating."

"I swear Memo,I practice maths everyday."

"Leave aside smoking like Tatun,Oindree..I won't even touch a cigarette.Promise!"

"Promise Tatun,I'll never tell Oindree that you smoke."

"Bubla...hang up now..I promise I'll call you back."

"I'll never get angry with you Puchi...Promise."

"You just get well soon Guruji..I swear I'll not give up dancing."

"Promise :)"

"I'm there..always...Promise."

Gratitude

Nobody ever realized your worth.Nobody ever realized how important you are,how your presence lights up our lives and gives us all the memories that we treasure through out.Your happy face,your broken sobs,your insane laughter and then your uncontrolled tears---all of this has so much significance in our daily chores,but still we ignore your evident contributions.We don't give you the deserved recognition.

And today, I apologise for that.I am sorry,really very sorry.

I want to thank you,my friend and pay back all your dues.

Thank you Bad Times! Thank you so much!

Thank you for being there all the time,in my winter afternoons and autumn nights,sometimes taking the backseat and sometimes coming out into the limelight,making me realize all the time that how badly I crave for a happy life,how badly I want to put everything right,not to wrong anyone or get wronged,to put a smile on my loved one's face,to be good,To Live and not just survive in whatever little time I get in your absence.Thank you Bad Times for making me who I am.

Neverland

Come away with me,
Away to a distant land,
Where the heavens are for the mortal
And the immortal are the deceased.


A land where the moon gleams just for you,
And smiles with you when you are at the top of the world.
Where the wind speaks to you in soft whispers,
And lets you know that you shall never be alone.
Where the fragrance of fresh dew on the grass
Reminds you of a certain someone,
And the caress of the morning breeze feels like his fingers.
A land, where logic is illogical, reasons unreasonable,
And imagination is such, that every man seems human.
Where music is not bound by words and a mere rhythm,
And imperfection is perfect to perfection.
Where love isn’t captivated by the laws of age and religion,
And hatred is an unknown word.


Come away with me,
Away to a distant land,
Where the heavens are for the mortal
And the immortal are the deceased.

Use,Misuse and Abuse

What if there are no words?

No words at all.

Even the words that I'm writing vanish and however hard I may try to write,nothing appears on the page. Few scratches here and there,few meaningless figures and ultimately nothing.Even the thoughts in your mind don't form words.They are just thoughts.Haphazard,random,dispersed pictures,sounds,grunts,moans but no words.You try crying out for help but no words come out.You yell,shout but no word...not a single syllable.

Scary, right?

So the moral of the story is--Words are very important.Words are too important for words.

But we Use,throw, fling them most carelessly and don't even bother to check what effect it ultimately had.

Actually,why should we?

They are easy available in different variations in every language.Abundant,redundant and finally Misused.Democracy gives us the freedom of thought,speech and perhaps may be Abuse of words.

That is why a teenager does not think before saying,"Mind your own business!",to an apprehensive parent,"You live on my money"---a husband to his homemaker-wife,"You are fired"---a Boss to his employee whose children are waiting at home,"Wish I never had you"---a mother to her son when his report card comes out and similarly "I love you"---a boy to a girl,he has seen for the first goddamn time.


Again may be I should be thankful that words are seriously this cheap,or else think,how would have I written all this?

To Life....

Yet another day dawns,

when I breathe.

Yet another morning to awake

and look ahead.

Yet another day to live

and celebrate.

Few more smiles to smile,

few more tears to shed.

Few more secrets to share,

and few more syllables to utter.

My life gifts me yet another day

to stare at the same moon,

to think about the same loved one,
to feel a mother's embrace,

to make love.

Another day to see the clouds drift pass,

to hear the pitter patter of rain on the window sill.

Life, to whom i have been

unjust, unfair.

Life, who I scarred and marred.

Life to whom I gave nothng,

to whom I returned nothing,

gave me yet another day

to feel bliss

to feel ecstacy

to imagine

to dream.

And again, another day dawns when i breathe....

Independence Day

I was in Class-IV.

Returning home from school after celebrating Independence Day with much Pomp and Grandeur, I was shouting a lot about the love I have for my country and Independence (etc.).

Baba was reading the newspaper in the drawing room, Ma was trying to concentrate on a recipe book she had taken out from Dinna's trunk and I was--- shouting!

Baba called me, took me on his lap and kept his left hand on my head. I stopped. The calmness in his touch always did that to me. I was pacified and rested on his chest.

"You know, Gurai," Baba spoke, while his hands caressed me, "we are not independent."

A stunned me sat straight. As the words sunk in, I turned to face him.
"How can that happen? That's not true. Big Aunty said,' We are free. We are independent.' She said..."
"You are independent only when you realize your responsibilities and are responsible for your actions. We Indians, neither realize our responsibilities nor do we acknowledge them."
"But Big Aunty..."
"Remember what I said." Baba smiled. His hands still caressing me.

I was in Class-VI.

Baba was admitted in a nursing home in Salt Lake. Both the transplanted kidneys had failed once again. He used to go mad with pain after dialysis. His hands and legs were tied so that he was not able to throw them.

Nobody was there in the room. Just me and Baba.

Baba's hands tied. I was standing at the window, looking at the setting sun over the Salt Lake Stadium. I turned around. A drop of tear was rolling down Baba's cheek. I went up to him and brushed it off.

Baba smiled.

"Gurai,will you do a job for me?" I was running my index finger on the veins coming out on Baba's hand. I nodded. "Take care of Ma, Gurai. Don't ever leave her alone."

I was in Class-VII. It was three months Baba had died. One night Ma suddenly started howling in her sleep. She was crying for Baba. She was shouting. Her whole body was shaking uncontrollably. I held her tightly to my heart, wrapping her around with my arms, continuously whispering in her ears, "Its okay Ma. Its okay. I'm here." Kissing her on the forehead, shouting in my mind for help, for Baba. Ma was calming down. I was holding her. She fell asleep. I was still holding her.

Baba had said, "You are independent only when you realize your responsibilities and be responsible of your actions." Just realizing is not enough, no Baba? Just being with her when she cries is not enough.... I fight with her Baba. I make her angry. I get angry with her. I spend a lot more time with my friends, books and other accessories than I do with her. But I'm with her Baba.

All the time---like the Jasmine you planted--wrapping, climbing and growing up along that Cherry tree.

Early thoughts of the day....

Everyday when I wake up in the morning,the first thing I do is---CURSE everyone around... Why the hell do we have to get up in the morning? Why can't we get up in the afternoon? Okay, may be not in the afternoon but at least not before 10 to 10:30...Please!

But no point telling all this because everyone...starting from my Ma,my tuition teacher,even our milkman (HariDa) have the time to lend me a ear only and only (one last time please!) and ONLY in my dreams..which I usually have just before Ma pulls me out of my bed. Okay, I get pulled down,shouted at and then dragged into the bathroom.(Sigh!)

Everyday (when I say everyday I mean EVERYDAY), since time immemorial, while brushing my teeth, this mesmerizingly STUPID thought comes to my mind---"How do the Tigers and the Lions manage without brushing their teeth? And if they can manage without that Close-Up, Binaca,Oral-B and stuff then WHY do we take so much pain?"

However,before you start judging my mental condition lets proceed further.

I remember not many years ago,but a long time back I used to walk around in our garden,early in the morning,with the toothbrush in my mouth (chewing its bristles so very badly that it had to be changed every 15 days),stepping on all the dewdrops that I could see on the diamond-studded grass,may be standing under a over-grown shrub for a while and then again moving away,attracted by a Red Ladybird beetle with black polka dots all over.


Ma used to shout at that time also. But I never got bored. I always enjoyed it. Even if it ultimately led to a resounding slap,a blood-curdling glare or just an exasparated sigh. Now I just get bored.

Things were New then. Most of it is New still now( How much have I seen or known?), but still the fact that I can Actualy KNOW,LEARN,JUDGE and DECIDE is not New anymore,which at times leads to--BOREDOM. (Sigh!)

I KNOW Ma will shout, I've LEARNT why she shouts, I've JUDGED her reasons for shouting and I've DECIDED that no matter what, I simply LOVE her shouting. Somethings should always remain unchanged. (Smile!)

But however, the Red Ladybird beetle with black polka dots all over does not attract me anymore. May be because I know WHY its there or may be just because I know it'll always be there.I don't go out to my garden anymore. It'll always be there as well. Nothing is new about it.Even the NEW rosebud isn't new enough.

But its not the rosebud's fault. Its my mindset. Our mindset.

We are now in the INFORMATION AGE, where you are supposed to be INFORMATIVE. You'll KNOW what you are supposed to KNOW...you need to KNOW and are asked to KNOW. You know anything more than that and people start calling you a failure.

Nobody 'knows' for the pleasure of knowing. Nobody 'knows' for the excitement of knowing.Everybody knows just for the HECK of knowing.

The new rosebud (without a new air about it) is not in my syllabus for the Half-Yearly Examination.So why should I know about it?Why should I know that the Red Ladybird beetle WITH BLACK POLKA DOTS ALL OVER ("Not again!") has a new neighbour,the Mustard-colour Moth?

Why should you know my Early Morning Thoughts?

But then again if all the Questions had Answers and No-one also had useful work like Everyone then things would have been Quite Different... rather Very Different.