The train was empty. Thankfully, Dilshad Garden was the last station…
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Songs...
The train was empty. Thankfully, Dilshad Garden was the last station…
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Each Morning...
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Dilli-Willi
I love the wide, wide roads, the chat and paneer tikka, the green, lush parks with the Dhillon and Bindra aunties in chiffon salwars and Reebok shoes…the slim, slim maidens with baby clips and i-pods intact…markets full of lovely earrings, shoes, bags..(err…here I go! )...all very colorful indeed…to the extent of a slight overdose…
But the breeze here hardly picks up…like the mad gust in Calcutta…there are hardly any road-side golgappa shops…rickshaws aren’t that great either…and there are of course no Calcutta-mark Mishti Doi and Rassagolla available...These are testing times I say!
Chopra Aunty is great! I love her temper and her jhappis...The only problem is her Tommy (Tommy dear, I have been with many sweet pets…but you’re the rowdiest of all Tommies I have ever seen…)...her son comes a close second…read my blog you…(did anyone say moron?)…and see how I can’t stand you for some reason…
I have just about begun loving this independence…the impromptu cooking of French-fries at 2 a.m., the rounds of carom all night, the discussions, agony-aunt sessions, confessions till dawn, learning up the varieties of mangoes and buying them after haggling too!...not to forget Chopra Aunty’s recipes of Butter Chicken and Dahi Chicken, which, by-the-way, I don’t need being a veggie…
I am of course the same…though I did land up here thinking I was a naayika straight out of a Sarat Chandra novel…going to live stoically, quietly, in self-exile…but some things never change…so here I go…jabbering again…working, shopping…cooking….of course putting up with neighbors in florescent-orange night-gowns…and Chopra Aunty’s recipes and lo!...I hear our dear, ol’ Tommy barking again…
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Misgivings...
A blank question I often exchange
With my soul
That nearly chokes itself
At the sound of those tainted songs…
What else will matter
Here on…?
When it all blew away steadily
And the carcasses of memory
Now stand as dead paperweights?
How do others smile?
All the time?
Heal and hurt by turns
And still survive?
How does one empty
The obstinate mind?
How does one relieve
The burdened soul?
When Life questions you each day…
When barrenness greets each breath
Like never before.
They stand now….darkly…
Those happy, belated days
Like the blueprints of what crumbled
And died…
Were we always weak?
Or were they unreal days?
Let me pretend to live on…
Let me pull up the curtains
And bring in the light…
But I see the sorrows hanging
All over the walls…
They speak of the unalterable
Unchangeable defects in my Life…
Monday, June 15, 2009
Senti...Sigh...Sigh...
I have been like a pensive, wandering bird these days... simply breathing in the air, letting my wings spread...too numb to think of those I bade goodbye to...of things I had folded up and locked in my nest...
Your call made my day! Your voice took me back to my old skin...those days...the bustling city of colorful buses, the campus, the bridge, the green grass, the umbrellas, the corridors...I could smell the air of the canteen again...our trips and misadventures...tales of sorrows, jealousies, misunderstandings and heart-breaks...old love and old wounds :)
When will I be back? The only thing you wanted to know...so do I...
I feel the way you feel...I feel the pull of our happy bond...the days of vanilla skies and fresh dreams...the happy happy group of dreamy souls...the maddening urge to pour my heart to you all...and to listen to your little/not-so-little stories, tales, joys, anxities...
This is for you my bestest, caring friends...and my dear Alahomora...I see we are in the canteen again...or lets say...City Center? ;)
Do I need to say how I miss... all the time?
Love...
Friday, June 12, 2009
Ponder:
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Red and Yellow
The fountain we were watching...
Red and Yellow,
Red and Yellow....
Were they symbolic?
The Lights?
Did they show me your colour and mine?
Red and Yellow
Washed down the fountain,
Or was it up and away that things went?
Things that buried our yesterdays,
Tainted the tomorrows.
I sat alone by the fountain today...
Clean and healthy it stood
Dancing at me,
Mocking at me,
Laughing at me,
The white of its calmness in tact...
The water safe in its furrow.
I know, I know
We took with us the Red and the Yellow,
The today, the tomorrow,
Burnt, scathed, scarred
Aplenty,
I now hoard the orange sorrow.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Here...
That which was there yesterday has changed...
You can ask me, but can I tell...
May be its just the new,yellow air, or the unfamiliar smell of eucalyptus.
May be its my heart again, or the senses feeling a little perplexed.
The faces, the rooms, the lanes and the noise...
They add up to something I cannot call mine.
Only your words remain, your voice and your name
To take things along...things I need to call
My Life.