Seasons I love

Here its the tingly chill in the air,

Orange pumpkins and the mellowing sun,

As the earth envelops itself in a blanket

Rich with colours of mauve, red and gold

And the rustle of the leaves and the crunch of the grass

Of which soon there will left but none.

There the earth is waking up

From its long winter slumber

Preening itself with flowers galore

And the dewy grass and the warm-scented mud

That eggs the heart and mind to soar

Autumn and spring, what beauty they hold

Enjoy every moment of these wondrous times

Let yourself get carried away

Taking in all that the eye can behold.

The Bond

The dew drops glistened under the caress
Of the early sun-beam, as it lit her eyes like that of a doe.
Awakening gently, unsheathing her finesse
Tenderly she stretched , as she turned aglow.

Still yearning for the dreams the night had bred
As the birds tweeted overhead,
And the sweet-smelling grass murmured beneath
There she was, sitting pretty in the bed.

Soaking in the warmth of the morning sun
Non-chalant at the growing buzz
She thought that she’d seen it all
(Or perhaps she had seen none?)

Beginning to get a little annoyed
At the musings of the others that came alive
As they waited with bated breath
For their winged companions to arrive.

Soon she was interrupted in her dream
Not unpleasantly, but by a gentle nudge
Of the hairy being waiting to kiss her freckled spots
As he jostled against the sun-beam.

He used his lively demeanor,
His soothing voice, even.
He used all his charm
On attempting to impress the pretty little one.

Was she swayed ? Certainly not.
But to her surprise, she didn’t mind
His company, his constant banter
She felt something change, as their thoughts entwined.

As the sun rose higher,
They chatted away.
He regaled her with tales of yonder
As she looked wide-eyed with wonder.

The sunbeam visited again
But a new beginning dawned
She was among her sisters this time, waiting
But she knew, (just as he?), that theirs was a different bond

They enjoyed whatever little time they had together
As their hidden fears they tried to allay
They both knew he would move away to new gardens
And she would have to fade away.

The day of parting came sooner, as it always does
His eyes were filled with things unspoken
As she put on a happy charade
Though deep inside she was too heart-broken.

We’ve gone crazy, we’ve laughed,
We’ve fought, we’ve cried,
The time we’ve spent together
Short as it may seem,
Will always be my sweetest dream.

Go now, don’t fret
Leave the unspoken things unsaid
Tis only a matter of time
Before you meet another flower.

But no matter where you go,
Or who you’ll be
You will never find
Another one like me.

Whisperings of the sea-breeze

The sandgrains slipping
From the grip of your palm,
The golden sun, ever so radiant,
Glowing with a majestic calm,
You see it melting into the horizon,
Confident, it will rise again
Bigger and dazzlingly beautiful
The very next dawn.

The strength and the roar,
With which the waves rush ashore,
To sweep away the sands
Beneath your feet.
They leave in their wake
A blank empty slate
The chance, once more,
To love more than to hate.
The opportunity to act,
More than to think,
The realisation that your world,
Might be gone in a blink.

And then comes the pleasant sound,
Of the soft fizz of the melting foam
As the waters recede,
As they return home.
Even if, only to return once more,
With the familiar force, the familiar roar.

Who knows where the day flows,
Who knows where life goes?
Not you, not me…only time.

Who knows how love grows,
Why the heart cries when love dies?
Not you, not me, ….ony time.

Just as the sun rises
After every sunset.
And the waters recede,
Leaving you cold and wet,
Life is to be lived
As best as one can.
And the only way worthwhile,
Is to live it with hope,
To live it with a smile.

I bet

I bet she’s a beauty
that he keeps talking about.
I bet she’s got everything
That I’ve to live life without.

I sure hope she keeps him happy,
Happier than he’d even be with me.
If not, that fool deserved what he got
For having said no to me.

But the fact remains, that all of this,
Still doesn’t change anything.
That fool’s still the reason for the teardrop stains,
On my violin.

And though I pretend that I’ve moved on,
That I’ve put behind the gloom and strife.
He’ll always be my special one,
The sweetest part as yet, of my life.

P.S.: Some of these lines might remind you of your favourite songs. I ask for your forgiveness-I simply couldn't resist putting those words out here! And for those of you who are sick and tired of hearing this love-sick rant, I promise, this is the last of the kind that you'll be hearing from my end for a long time to come.

The things one does for footwear

This was something that happened around May-June this year. I had to be hospitalized for a day or two, to get some routine intra-venous injections. As the hospital protocols required me to be accompanied by an “attendant”, my younger sister, Lini, agreed to accompany me.

As it was noon by the time I finally got admitted to St. Johns, Lini had to go home to get lunch for me. Tired already of lying in the hospital bed, twiddling my thumbs, I decided to escort her till the entrance.

We were climbing down the stairs from my room on the 3rd floor ( I hate waiting for the elevator), when the sole of Lini’s sandal on her left foot came out. Poor thing, she dragged her foot along and tried to walk in what was left of her sandals as best as she could. She practically took 15 mins to climb down the remaining 2 floors, lifting her left foot with the torn footwear hanging limply from it, in an elaborate manner, before placing it carefully onto the next step. As you may have experienced, walking in such a fashion is not only physically excrutiating, it looks ridiculous, inviting the disconcerting stares of passers-by.

As we proceeded laboriously (and with unusual patience in my case), with our descent, a nurse suggested that we could purchase footwear in the hospital. I was aware of items, such as soap, mosquitoe repellant, combs and other bric-a-brac of our humdrum lives, being sold in the hospital premises but footwear being part of this list was news to me.

On being told that it was sold somewhere near the Trauma Ward in the ground floor, I promptly started off in search of this place, with Lini limping behind me, struggling to keep up with my pace.

I wandered dreamily into the corridor to which the board proclaiming “Trauma Care” pointed, and was immediately dragged down to reality. The distressing sight of accident victims lying sprawled on the beds, with their limbs severed and heavily bandaged/ plastered took the wind out of me. The heavy sadness that hung in the air hit me like a bolt from the blue. I was least expecting scenes of handicapped patients with their morose relatives, trying to come to terms with a life that involved one or more, less limbs. The atmosphere was physically recoiling. I’m sure Lini was also shocked at the sight that greeted her.

I was directed to the fag-end of the ward on enquiring for footwear, by a lady in a white coat- perhaps a doctor or a senior resident. This reassured me that I was not in the wrong place but the ward seemed to end in a locked door. Just as I was feeling disheartened, a lady walked past me towards the door. I stopped her and asked her if they sold footwear there.

She looked at me from head to toe, a little strangely with a weird sort of expression, almost like she was sizing me up. She also had a good look at Lini who was still limping behind me.

Then she asked, “Who is the patient?”.

I was a little taken aback at this question and wondered what relevance it could hold to the sale of a pair of slippers. However, thinking that the hospital may have a policy of selling footwear only to patients, I said, “I am”. Lini and I have same-sized feet.

The lady again looked at me and Lini with a quizzical look. I should have realized what was going on atleast by then, but the dimwit that I had turned into that afternoon, I failed to understand the relevance of her question.

She nodded her head, as if asking me to wait there, and proceeded to unlock the door.

As I was standing a few feet away, and the door blocked my view, I couldn’t figure out what was behind the door. Just then a man carrying a toolbox, who looked like some sort of a workman, went into the room. The lady asked me to enter and the moment I did, another unexpected sight took my breath away.

The room was filled with prosthetic limbs- finished and unfinished (and let me tell you, it looks a little weird looking at rows of legs and arms, stacked one upon the other, especially if you walk into them for the first time in your life, like I had). The man had a measuring tape in his hand, ready to take the measurements for the kind of “footwear” I required. Needless to say, I was totally embarrassed and quickly explained to the kind lady that I was looking out for “normal” footwear and was mistakenly directed to that place.

After apologizing sheepishly, I turned back with a very wide stupid grin on my face, just in time to stop Lini from entering the room. When I told her it was “special” kind of footwear that was available there, both of us broke into laughter. We looked like a bunch of idiots and may have even appeared insensitive and uncouth to be giggling away in a ward filled with accident victims.

The moment I come out, trying hard to control my laughter, who should I run into but my doctor! He was obviously surprised to see me coming out of the Trauma Care ward, and confused as well to see me laughing my head off, like I had just attended a comedy show in there! I’m sure he was left as confused even after I explained to him, amidst wide grins and suppressed laughter, what I had just done in search of footwear.

So many words…..

So many words
quivering on the lips
So many things
Close to the heart, left unsaid
So many memories
framed in the galleries of the mind
So many moments that seem
to be frozen in the annals of time

Will those words ever be spoken
How can those times ever be forgotten

How is it that we grew so far apart
When did the silences creep in
Why in our moments together
Did we allow our egos to seep in
When did the special feeling
we nurtured for each other
Turn into pain and then into torture

I have tried a thousand times
To bridge the distances
To speak the words long awaited
To forget and to forgive
Nothing can change the way I feel for you
Why do you refuse to understand it.

The thoughts that chug along…..

Somewhere along the Karnataka-AP border
8th August, 2008

I’m writing this from the Kacheguda Express. Tomorrow morning, I will be in Hyderabad after a very long & tiring 18 months. Listening to my music and taking in as much of the sights as I can, I feel an inexplicable joy. Not just a calm, the relief that comes with a welcome break from the hectic Bangalore life or the happy thoughts of visiting the vibrant city of the Golconda. It’s a feeling that encompasses all that and much more- a feeling of pure, inexplicable joy. I do not know the reason for this immense joy. I’m just glad that a train journey still excites me, the same way it did, ages ago.

My sisters have been the freaky ones in the family who, till date, go gaga over the distant hooting of a train. But again, how many 21 yr olds still retain the passion for something they adored as 5 yr olds? I, on the other hand, still am a little awed at the sight of the huge, metallic engine, hissing menacingly as it approaches. It is the train journey that I am a sucker for.

Nothing but a train journey gives the opportunity to revisit the relationship one often forgets to nurture with the inner self. For me, this is a time for introspection- a mental stock-taking time. A time to be thankful for, for the big and the small ways in which life has changed since my last stop at Kacheguda.

The various personalities, each with its own eccentricities and mysteries that one gets to observe and meet during the trip are one of the delights that come with a train journey. Some fellow travelers prefer to keep to themselves, content with their books and music, and I probably belong to this set of people now, as I try to marshall my burgeoning thoughts onto paper. There are others- constant observers and always ready with a helping hand, but still a little too shy to venture beyond the smile that escapes them everytime you catch their eye. Then there are the gregarious, talkative types- thankfully milder versions of Geet in Jab We Met.

No matter what the category of people, there is the wonderful element of non-commitment ingrained in the relationships built during a train journey. The feeling that any interaction holds good only till the train comes to a stop. Destinations, work lives and even life histories are exchanged. Then sweet words are spoken, false promises of keeping in touch are made and people part. So very alike the bigger journey each one of us undertakes.

Not all go through life with the same excitement and joy they have when they start off. Somewhere along the line, they seem to forget that happiness is, but a state of mind. So many are too pre-occupied with the nitty- gritties of life; they forget to savour the experience of the journey itself. The shy ones want to get so much more out of life but are unable to cross the self-drawn boundaries of doubt, inhibition and ego. Then there are the over-enthusiastic ones, who, in their eagerness to get as much out of life as possible, often burn up their energy before the journey is half gone by. They forget that not all the best experiences of life need be the most exciting or adventurous and miss out on the smaller pleasures, which are often the best things in life.

These thoughts and many more, will continue to chug along as the fields, trees, hills and clouds disappear into the fast approaching dusk. Right now, I am determined to enjoy them before they get enveloped by the velvety darkness of the night.

P.S. Take a break. Take time to “…stand and stare….” . Go and get yourself a railway ticket to a place you’ve always wanted to escape to. And rediscover the delights of the train journey.