blue

you touched me blue
.

you held my hand in your silken grasp
and you touched me blue.
look at my fingers.
blue still lingers there
a shimmering and fading trail of your warmth
they ebb and rise with each breath of mine

.

in this grey world
i follow your footsteps
tiny blotches of blue
in a barren landscape.
as my shadow falls there
flowers bloom -
blue flowers, blue flowers everywhere.

.

tiny birds
bring your news
in blue parchments.
i read your words in the evening sun.
slowly
a song arises from the blue flowers

.
slowly
stars rise up in the sky,
each straining to hear our song
.

slowly
the stars turn blue
.

and slowly
the night turns blue

flower girls, flower boys

It must have happened at all time of the year, but somehow now that I think of it, to me it seems like it always happened in winter. I remember the happy faces. My schoolmates' happy faces. Bobbing up and down with innocent excitement as they make their ways through the school  buses and corridors, holding flowers in their hands. The flower holders are the centre of attraction. We try to coax them into giving us the flower. They refuse. We coax more, we flatter more. And we speculate more - who is the lucky one? A teacher? A senior? A best friend?

Boys and girls of all classes would bring flowers from their gardens. A nursery kid holding a flower is such a pretty sight. Sometime it would be Rashmi Bhaiiya from Class 10 holding a flower. A big burly guy, a juniors' favourite. He would often give the flower to a kid in the school. Sanjukta would most often give the roses to a teacher. Sometime she would give it to Niyor or me. Vijay Lakshmi Madam has long hair, which she always fashions in the traditional South Indian way - two slim braids from either side tied up at the centre of her otherwise free flowing hair. Sanjukta would bring beautiful red roses and Vijay Lakshmi Madam would wear it in her hair the whole day long. So would Das Madam. Those days, Sanjukta would be beaming with pride. 

 Some days, a friend would relent to my coaxing. That day, I would be the prized owner of a beautiful flower. As the day comes to a close, I would take out my heaviest book and put the flower in between the pages. At home in Assam, I still have a dried up rose in between the pages of a novel. Earlier, it was in between the pages of a Maths book. Its dried up into a shrivelled brown now. It must have been a yellow or a white rose.  I wish I could remember who gave me that rose bud.

Sometimes flower reminds me of school mornings, of angelic kids in tidy school uniforms with a flower in hand, of prayer assemblies, of teachers and friends.

On retrospect, I know it is unwise to pluck flowers. They should be left alone to bloom in the garden. But those were such innocent days!

redlight

এজাক
ধুমুহাই যেতিয়া
বুকুখন খচমচাই, গচকি থৈ যায়
মই
নিস্থৰ হৈ চাওঁ নিজকে
আহল বহল আয়নাখনত,
দেখো - চাই থাকো
চকুলোবোৰ কেনেকে এলানি এলানি বৈ থাকে নোৰোৱাকৈ।

হাঁহি উঠে।

ৰাস্তাৰ ট্ৰাফিকো যদি এনেকৈ
যাব পাৰিলে হৈ নোৰোৱাকৈ।

চকুলোবোৰ বৈ থাকে, গৈ থাকে
ৰাস্তাৰ গাড়ি, ঘৰ
তোমাৰ মোৰ উৰণিয়া জীৱন
আৰু
আশা, হেপাঁহ
ৰৈ থাকে
চাৰিআলিৰ ৰেডলাইটত!

down the memory lane

at first glance, this road looks lonely, alone
if you look again, you can see
so many memories hanging by the leaves, the petals...
pick them up
and they will take you wherever you want to go
but once you set foot on this path, there's no turning back
you just go rolling down the memory lane

INTO THE OBLIVION

if i could jus glide away tonite
like the steam of a coffee.
black, sugarless and comforting

by the river

hello
said the evening sun
to him

he is sitting by the river
watching his reflection
pulsating in the waves
as they dance up in the flames of the setting sun.
narcissist by the fire river

the bird 
cooing from the coconut tree on the other bank
sings to him a thousand songs

he sits besides the songs
motionless
till the songs and he,
they become one...
an entwined tendril of beings
rising up the river
like an evening rainbow

violet
indigo
blue
green
orange
red
yellow


("it was all yellow")


one by one
the river picks up all colours
and goes away, to a far off bank

on this bank,
he sits
his reflection rising up in the flames of the rainbow river.
narcissist by the rainbow river

a tale of lost cities

a thousand tale
several thousand words,
and so many people!
you and me,
we are lost

the sky is vast
the sea, too deep
the earth, a labyrinth of right and wrong
and so many people!
you and me,
we are lost

lost in this labyrinth of time and space, right and wrong
sometime we try to find ourselves
sometime we find each other

sometime, those days,
the dawn is sweet,
the evening, sweeter

sometime, those days,
the sky, the earth, the sea
all crumble up like dried up fragrant flowers
and crawl into our veins and blood

a thousand tale
several thousand words

evening

evening comes and goes
what remain etched forever
are the whispers of the mad wind in my ear

icicles

not anymore

the birds sing

they watch, muted

as spring remains frozen, icicles clinging the leaf tips,

icicles of spring

cold, hard, unmelting, rock solid

a lump of water, forgotten, dried

like tears, forgotten

like someone had been sad long time back

but forgot to cry

like someone had that lump in the throat

a lump, swallowed and not mentioned

and inside, it lumped into ice, into icicles

cold, hard, unmelting, rock solid

not anymore

the birds sing

they keep watching, in mute!

fairytale

my world is a beautiful place

people stab each other in this world too

but they do not follow it up with a fake friendship

enemies are enemies here

we hate our enemies fully, but we wish them well

we do not call them friends and burn down their houses in secret.

in our hatred here, there is a beauty, and no cunning

and you should see

how we love each other in my world

when i tell you i love you

you should know that i mean it

i will stop reading my favourite book

to listen to you

i know, you do it in other worlds too

but in my world, i do it

because i love doing it for you

because i love you

and not because i need to prove to you and ten more people

that i love you

in my world

a purple flower blooms every morning

and as the day turns to night

the flower blooms into full moon

and sings lullaby after lullaby

till all are sleeping

each night

little by little

how

we

drift into a beautiful dream

in my world

in the vast sky

but you know
how we wander

an astray ray
of sunlight
glimmers a bit more may be
as my shadow crosses its path
and in light, in delight
a part of me shimmers like moonlight

in one hand i have the sun, 
in another, the moon
and i wander in the vast endless sky
like a bird
on its way home
on a roundabout path,
on a journey that happens
when it is neither day nor night.
when it matters not
whether i am blindfolded
by the sun, or the moonlight

half a window

through my window
i can see
only half the moon

how i wish my window could have a little more sky!
my window, a little broader!

i smell it, the half moon
and wonder
how the other half smells.
does it smell as stiff?

as stiff the whisky in my hand now?

i live my life
within this half moon
and i wonder
how my smile would glimmer in the other half
would i drown in my tears in the other half

but in this life
through this window
i can see only half the moon

an it's a beautiful half moon!

bas yuhi nikal chale zingedi
bas yuhi nikal chale raat din

raat ko subah ka intezar
subah ko raat ka intezar
na unmeedo ki unmeed
ki kahi ek pal mile sukoon ka

darkness

stray
abandoned
thoughts
line up
like a trail of ants
and enter the mind, again and again

the doors are close
but they seep in through the bottom
like darkness, entering a closed room.
the old man tells me to turn on the light
but in my nightmare, i am blind
i wake up in darkness!

rumours

others are speaking
so silently
that everyone hears them.
rumours!

a silence
that waits, motionless, alert, ready to jump
to pounce, the moment you turn your back.
the silence of rumours

you look at their eyes
trying to hear
what they are not saying to you.
rumours
about you

you leave the room.
in the washroom
you laugh,
laugh hard
(everyone thinks you are crying!)

everyone knows the details
except you,
you laugh because the rumours are about you
and yet, you are the only one who do not know the details
you only know that the rumours are true!

D for?

The lady Deepika Padukone is trending after her famous interview with Barkha Dutt where she announced her victory over depression. I did an internet search and discovered so many successful people who have battled and won over depression ( I already knew about J. K.  Rowling & Lincoln). Also, I read up some very easily doable stuff which can help win over depression; they should help - but even if they do not; they are harmless.

1. enjoy the sun
2. eat banana ( yes :D )
3. exercise
4. meditate
5. consciously fight back the doom
6. sleep and eat healthy - may not be easy, but remember; you are your own master
7. sleep on clean, tidy bed ( stop being that lazy bum :D )
8. go to a doctor; you went for a doc when you had fever, this is no different
9. you do not like what he says, take a second opinion. Remember; you are your own master!
10. rise & shine :)  Get up from your bed, go for a walk in the park.

p.s. Some of these are equally good as weight loss tips too :)

36% people in India have depression and that's only a reported number. The fear is that the actual number is far higher. You may not have depression; your friend might have it. Help your friend - you do not laugh or ignore when your friend complains of a broken arm or a high temperature. Do not make light if your friend complains of depression - help him rise and shine!

ode to sputnik sweetheart

murakami words
they slip off
from the pages,
whisper by whisper

i tell them to be quiet
i am awake now
let them speak in my dream

reality is best encountered
when asleep

that day, my god was a cookie

Technology baffles me. And makes me laugh. And wonder.

This happened some time back. I was checking out this beautiful wall clock on that online shopping site. It was not one of those pricey items. But I was not sure if it was the right wall clock for me. I needed more time to decide. And there was no hurry.

As often happens ( plus, I am a forgetful girl), the clock was soon out of my mind. I was happily reading the online version of Times of India the next day, when suddenly I saw the same wall clock smiling at me from the corner of my online paper. I did not pay much heed; I had almost decided not to buy it.

Next day, I log on to facebook. This is something I do almost first thing in the morning. I am a facebook addict. I was checking out my friends status and photos and going through the usual rush of emotions that facebook  inspires in its users - how thin she looks in red, omg!, why does he have to be so whiny?, and awww, how cute is Mishu. You get the drift. I was busy merrily poking my flat nose in other's business. And then it happened again. Yes, the same wall clock was smiling at me again. Yes, it was right there on my, MY facebook wall; grinning at me like a little devil. I could almost see it waving at me with its invisible arms. Like it was saying, "Hey, take me home, I am yours." My friends say I am a bit obstinate sometime. I refused to give in to the alluring smile of the clock. With a firm click of the mouse, I logged out of facebook.

But other people and stuff can be as obstinate, as determined. I realized that when I was checking out this popular blog by a gossip queen. We girls need to know sometime what Shakti Kapoor had for breakfast yesterday, you see. Yes, you have guessed it right. The same wall clock was right there at the corner - waving at me again, with a grin as evil as possible.

Not that I am much of a god fearing or god abiding girl, but I have grown up on bollywood movies and I remember Shahrukh Khan telling me once that God has this habit of throwing hint at people at the right time ( Yes, Dil To Pagal Hai). And then I get it. God wants me to wake up to the chime of this wall clock every day. He wants me to time the boiling of my vegetables to the turn of this clock's hand. He wants me to start bellowing at my maid if this clock says its more than half past eight. 

But I do not like being told what to do. So, I do not buy this clock. And that day, I remember walking on my office floor with a strut; I have defied God after all. And still alive.

While strutting about, I start a chat with Madhu - the digital genius on the floor. We girls need to share all stories of victories ( and loss) with each other. And I tell her my episode of heroic victory against the Almighty.

I do not exactly remember her reaction, and it has nothing to do with my memory. I think she laughed. I hope she laughed politely and did not collapse down with rude laughter that does not do well to the other person's ego. But I remember what she told me. She told me about cookies. No, not the cookies her aunt used to bake. This is a new kind of cookie - a digital cookie. And online stores use them to track what we are checking out at their sites. Yes, and later they track us down and try luring us back! So much for my victory against the almighty. I was just pitched against a cookie and I had barely managed to not give in to it!

I told you. Technology baffles me. And makes me laugh. And wonder.

The staircase and the sea

We all have our favourite places to sit. A place where we want to run to when in the need of finding ourselves. May be actually its not our favourite sitting place; its a place we are most comfortable with when at the business of facing ourselves; our sorrows, our disappointments, our dilemmas. We face them there, sitting tucked up in ourselves and we return back victorious to face the world again. Like, these places are a source of energy; they feed us with hope and determination again. I know, many of you are already thinking of that staircase in the office! 

And the dreamy ones! You are already thinking of the sea. I am excited about moving to Mumbai for many things. That it happens to be a city with the sea is one of them. Life is busy, there will be work and tight schedules, plus the chores at home. May be I will be left with no time to go and sit by the sea. My friend Siddhangana tells me how rarely she went to Marine Drive when she was in Mumbai. Or was it Shivani who told me so? My memory fails  me as usual, but I remember the warning my friend gave me. But despite the warning, and the reality of a busy life - its a pleasure just to know that the sea is out there, waiting with open arms. That the day I need it, I only need to run to it. It's there.

So what does the sea do to me? Or a staircase to you? Why do you need to sit in that old chair in the balcony when lost in thoughts? Why she needs to hug that particular cushion when in tears? Why he makes his way to that recliner when upset?

I do not know. I think its like having a favourite aunt or uncle. Some people, and places too, just sing back to us. And as long as there are some songs around at the time of need, we will keep going back there. So hail the staircase, hail the sea!

being

it is like this.

i love you 

not just because 

it is easy to love you

or because

when i think of us

i am happy.

i love you

because 

loving you is being me
so i love you
so i be me

rendezvous in my hippocampus

those days
when the night never ends

those days, i think of you.

there are so many things you need to hear,
like...
how one evening i went out to the park to meet you
 - you were far away, in another city
but i still went to the park to meet you
and came back with so many of beautiful memories
that evening never ended

memories are but finite, imagination infinite

and now
in that space called the hippocampus of the brain
(where memories are formed, and stored)
we still meet and talk

sky

what
if i tell you
i am not a girl, but a bird
yellow beak
blue wings
and a heart as light as the wind

what if i fly away
what if i do not come back

and yet
when i fly away
call out my name
because
i am a bird 
with
blue wings
and i will always come back

what if i tell you
you are not a man, but a gush of wind
light wind
wind, blue as the sky
wind, deep as the sea
and my heart is made of you


i will always come back for you
because in you, my sky resides

about green and yellow

yellow leaves on ground,
and a blue sky above,
my far away heart is green


when the leaves fall
and the tree gets bare
the bird still remains, awaiting spring amongst a yellow autumn

as i gather the fallen leaves,
they seep into my soul
and i remain swimming in a sea of green and yellow

how 
yellow leaves fall and green leaves grow
they turn into each other - like magic, like shadow

when two friends from two different cities meet

when two friends from two different cities meet
in a new city
what do they talk about?
they do not ask how and what and why
they just talk about a fossil store in another city

what do they drink?
the same old brand of beer
the same way, one of them misplaces the box of cigarette, like always
they same way, they find it again, like always

when two friends from two different cities meet
in a new city

they just pass the time away

like, they have never been away

like, they will meet again tomorrow

tomorrow

each leaves for his own city

knowing, in another city they will meet again

to again misplace another box of cigarette!

smile

how
a thousand flower blooms
just 
because you smiled so today