A Meeting.

There was more to the effervescent smile that afternoon, as they settled in their typically unsettled manner at the coffee table. She smiled more warmly than ever. He was amused like never before. That’s why he called her an interesting specimen.

She was nervous, darkly intelligent and mildly sullen. Yes, that was the flavor of her temper, well almost. Pauses and perfunctory questions took their usual place as the two wearied each other out. The coffee, the TV. set, the boisterous moms, the noisy children, something should have rescued them.

Was there anything else to put on the table? Who wanted? Who cared?

She fidgeted a little more than she had…six...right…six months back. The ears turned scarlet for sure and the poised smile stuck. Her hair of course had grown longer…So what? He knew better….

Probably, she was meeting his glances more frequently this time, making him expectant of some unexpected adventure, the thrill he sought everywhere. He was still to decide on what to wear…his familiar chuckle or the grin.

“Okay…I need to this time around….”
“Hmm…yeah...sure…what?” He waited intelligently.

Her cup was empty, her eyes full with their decided whiteness…big and unwavering. He knew she would not be inhibited for once. The small hands threw the dark hair back, making way for her words:

“I choose to breathe easy….”
“I choose to walk away…”

The skirt swept the chair like a dream. She was out of his sight…yes…forever.

I hope its a *NEW* year!

Meaninglessness...

Here is to writing...or to not writing...its stuck somewhere, the wheel, the mud won't let it go. There is a clear moment before us, when the truth is out! Of action, inaction, hopelessness and hoping anew...Who started it? And who will end?And who shall live out in the interim this drama of living?The question unrolls like a red carpet...red it is this time...the blood-soaked one!Hands raised, eyes wide, mouths agape...the act has taken place. Let each stand up now and answer to his ownself...does death carrying a meaning now or, will the living add a meaning to this grotesque place called our world...

Birthday

It begins with those heavy hugs at midnight

The pleasant good mornings'

Turning into an afternoon of good wishes and greetings

Followed by an evening of happy giggles, familiar cakes, dwarfish candles and claps

What remains though is a ponderous soul at night,

And the taste of the pungent cherry... gone stale...

Moment...

We are wasting the moment…
In decisions…indecisions?
In spotting the desire that quickly hides again
Under the tables and chairs…
The crackle of voices behind, the feeble music,
Waiting for us to talk…
And we wait…
To choose that easy moment
When our voices will shed their
Robes of silence for once.
The tinkle of glasses and coffee mugs,
Uncertain and infrequent as our glances;
Unsure, evanescent but warm
Filled with million questions…
Will it be laid out this time on the table?
The bundle of knotted confusions?
But we let it pass…
To be together in the moment…
Undisturbed, unheeded…
Our nervous, numbed, overwhelmed souls…
Bathed in unsettling happiness
The unchanging, unsure, eternal companions…

Little things that I could change:

Taste of an apple…


Deep Yellow!


Our librarian…


Dry leaves…


My pet name…


The road near my house…


My fingers…


Himesh…(little?)


The smell of eggs.


My bad poems…


Hair-dryers

Colour of mud…


Impulsiveness…


British Council’s unnerving security…


Height...mine again…


You!

Why hate…? I ask...
I mean, it does require some effort after all.
Because… it’s the next best option...

There are some things that occupy a silent, unacknowledged space in our mental landscapes...yet we take their sight, smell, feel and colour for granted ... there is an old Gulmohar tree near my apartment... Old beacuse I choose to make it old, so that I can travel with it back in time...as months roll down in the course of a year and foggy mornings stand with greetings at daybreak, I make a note of a certain whiff near the balcony. It will remain my companion each morn till spring decides to pack its bag...I love this damp, mild, elusive smell of the orange Gulmohar tree, as it reminds me of Diwali evenings, Birthday mornings and New Year dawns...My Old sweet, special Gulmohar ...that will remain in the landscapes of my happy times with its frail, unforgettable, dizzy fragrance...

Ganguly!

Me and Saurav...yes, yes, Ganguly...have always shared a love-hate relationship.Not that Ganguly knew about it!...I liked him sometimes and disliked him at other times...but obviously I followed his game!But damn!He is calling it a day!A golden handshake after all!...And the saddest part...there is pressure on the Wall now...my dear, sweet, sad Dravid!:)

Burp!

Some things please you...just by the look of it...like a well-spread meal...you might not eat a lot(I for one don't...i swear!)...but then it made me verrrry happy to see the lavish table...it just completed the picture of a happy, memorable day...and the scent of the satisfying meal hung on to the finger-tips and napkins for a long, long time...

Some people know no middles...mediums...middle-grounds...

Just up and down...

Highs and Lows...

Hyper-Highs and little-hyper lows...

Grow up...!

The tendency of time
To pass and not look back
Reminds me of you.
The atrocity of the sun
To warm and burn me too
Reminds me of you.
The audacity of the wind
To assume my wearied presence
Reminds me of you.
The ambiguity of the clouds
To wrap me in darkness
Reminds me of you.
The generosity of the rain
To drown me and still go on
Reminds me of you.
The tenacity of the rays
To somehow find me out
Reminds me of you…

It's the green grass singing...

It’s the green grass singing…
Calling out to you…
To come and dance a while,
As you look at the view…
Come and touch its green vein
As she waits for the happy-sad rain…
Make her wishes come true…
With promises dry and few.
It’s the green grass singing…
Calling out to you…
Come and be its friend
Help her beat the mad wind…
Fill her in your mind and air
Angry old winter will soon be there…
It’s the green grass singing…
Calling out to you…
You who never came…
After promising the light rain.
You who walked away proud
Taking sides with the moody cloud…
It’s the green grass singing…
Calling out to you…
Come and ruffle her hair
Don’t stand in and stare!
Come out of your cruel retreat
It wishes to be trampled by your dirty feet…

The countdown has begun…and there is this continuous whiff of bamboos in the air. One wakes up on sunny mornings to the sight of half-made pujo pandals, carrying promises of a new season of festivity. From here on, nothing can go wrong. Here comes the best time of the year, when all goes well! Yes it does! A weird, unknown chemistry has set in, signaling a collective wait for sessions of serious dressing up, pandal-hopping, addictive gossip, photo-sessions, vibes and vibes, interesting scenes and sights, this and that, and grandmas and grand-dads, and cabs and phuchkas and jewelry and restaurants, and class mates and boyfriends, and old love and new love, and Maddox square and Bag bazaar, and you name it! This mad, dizzy, sweeping, buzz that overwhelms all! I love the smell of roll and cutlet and biriyani and phuchka and all blended into one…and the meaningless giggles and deliberate strolls in company of known faces…so many moments of colorful existence and collective merriment…so many lanes of expectations and memories…to be lived and cherished year after year…Calcutta I will never leave you! :)

How many times do you generally repeat a mistake? On an average, I repeat mine at least seven times. Not a lot, considering one is tempted to improve things each moment…

More Trash...

HUMOR is just the balm to soothe all pain and dispel attention from the problem inside….LOVE is just the word to defeat boredom and usher curiosity for a while…FAITH is the perfect push you need for falling off the edge, in case you cannot decide…

No matter what Descartes said...This and that…god and human will…and human choice and goodness… I Don’t Trust Myself!

Meandering mind...

To find is to lose…
To lose is to retain…forever.
To dream is to miss out…
To miss out is not to have dreamt.
To ask is to never get…
To never get is for never having asked.
To wait is to wait eternally…
To move on is to never meet again.
To talk is to listen…
To never talk is to listen…all the time.
To want is to know…
To know what you never wanted to know.
To run is to hide…
To hide is only meeting the other self.
To be is to think…
To think how you cannot be yourself…

The bestest feeling in this world is to talk and talk and talk to someone you have loved for ages and met after a lifetime... :)

HAPPY...

I know not why, but I feel happy. Arre kyon yaar? Who knows?…for sure that is…May be its this or may be its that…may be its my salary approaching, or may be it’s the new season of the English Premier League…may be its being back with friends (the most probable one I guess…), or may be it’s the new bag! Who knows…for sure that is…but I want this feeling to last forever…so much like the stupid me! well, is anything meant to last forever?…may be yes !who knows...for sure that is! :)