The best snow angel, ever.

tring…tring…tring…tring…

Heyy! Wassup?

Yo! Wanted to say a final GoodBye. Just in case you know. *smile*

What’s wrong? Final already?

Well! I am breaking up with my ex today, all over again. Over dinner. So if something does happen to me and I don’t see the tomorrow to come, might as well let you know, you’ve been great.

Shut up! You are kidding, right? You din’t tell me he was homicidal.

I don’t know…Chalo, Gotta run. Bye.

She sat up, the prediction was spot on, again. It was going to be the first snow of the season. The incessant rain over the last month, hadn’t helped the mood either. But she had dreaded the snow for a good while now. No, she din’t hate the snow, it was quite the contrary in fact. It made her senses reel and feel fresh; alive. It was the perfect way to prettify the world, consummate and lasting. But all the snow around reminded her of the past; nostalgic and painful memories were rekindled. And thoughts are creatures that one has little control over. Yes! It was going to be a tough winter.

The chill sinfully kicked her out of her world of thoughts. She adjusted herself atop the little wall, tried better at staying warm and went back to her thoughts. The events of the evening had not turned out the exact way she had pictured it. But then, they weren’t what she would have called miserably bad either. They had sat in a little table, the mad rush of the restaurant beating around in all directions. As inappropriate as the location may be, she spilled her worst nightmares. They had grown apart over time anyway, things hadn’t been the same. The energy for those midnight phone calls and five hour long conversations had seeped out of their lives. The distance between them hadn’t been all that favorable either. Since their lives had picked different wave lengths to beat on, might as well let go of the little strings. She felt the words tumble out of her lips awkwardly; all the rehearsing lay wasted. She’d looked up, in anticipation. Of what? She wasn’t really sure.

Tucked in doors, she watched the first flakes of snow drift down, prop a leaf near by and wait for its companions. A few more followed and before she could tell, they were everywhere. The barren tree had new friends now, the prodigal leaves can wait till spring to return. Man made machines lay helpless, for once powerless, against nature’s ways. Ones smitten by the distinguished bug walked out, hand in hand, breathing winds of love from across the worlds. Children, with their unending chirpy ways and padded layers to the foot, welcomed the snow with tongues out in the snow and angels in the making. The sight of foot prints in the fresh snow is poetic in a strange sense; our fleeting five seconds of leaving a mark on this wide planet. Yielding to the wily temptation, she pulls over a jacket and jumps into those boots. She quietly walks to the front door and opens it; a strong gush catches her off guard and forces out a tear.

She nimbly wiped off the tear before the neighbors in the little shack caught up. She felt a wave of fatigue catch over, and swarm her from all directions. Numb to the last nerve. She’d expectantly looked up, armed and yet unprepared for the counter attack from the person across the table. There had been melancholy in his voice, anger in his tone, hatred in his breath. A melange of emotions were thrown at her and she seemed to have lost track of the best way to react in such an inopportune moment. She’d fought back, argued, pleaded and tried her best hand at logical reasonings. She’d let out a huge sigh and looked up at the skies; why hadn’t anybody invented a sober way to break up as yet. It was going to be a long night after all.

She looked up at the skies and watched tiny flakes fly toward her, gently flowing with the breeze and finally settling on the most wayward strand of her hair. It felt as new and fresh as her first snowfall ever. She had run out frantically, ignoring the pros in the yard. She’d convinced friends into building their first snowman ever. She remembered the taste of fresh snow on her tongue, the way it quickly melted and left behind a chill. She put her tongue out again; Yes, the same taste all over again.

A couple of hours and many more drinks later, he seemed to have resigned to what lay ahead. He slumped gingerly on his chair, as words slurred out of his mouth. He promised to talk hours long, about their love affair, to his wife that dint exist yet; swore that he’d name his first born girl after her. He claimed that he’d never stop loving her ever, would only retire to the life his parents dreamed for him. She sensed a fabricated effort in the entire conversation. Bade quick, subdued goodbyes; promised to keep in touch for ever and left speedily. Not once did she look back, not once did she regret what she’d just done.

She looked back and not once lamented about all the places she’d been to. Every by-lane, ally and highway had given her something new to learn from, something memorable to take back. She’d had her share of burns, hits and bruises, but she’d fought them back with a strong mind. She knew that she had the best bunch of rocks to support her, fasten her to the roots, whenever she’d slipped. She remembered people with worse states of mind than hers. She was very lucky indeed.

A smile began to surface, as the realization dawned. She’d cleared her vision, rid of any noise, comforted her wound, was ready to move on.

She thumped down on the snow and wielded her numb hands and legs in new found revelry. Her snow angel was going to be the best one of the season.


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The idealized past, A teaser

This is one of those posts lying in my iTouch Notes, as a draft, for a really long time now. I remember the day I started it and the snow storm that had hit us the previous night. It was the first time in months that our car had to be ploughed free of snow and it was the first time that there were only the two of us, instead of the usual crowd. Quite a workout, it had been, and sweating-it-out always gets me thinking.

If you have followed my posts at all, or have sat through any of my conversations (God bless you few), you would recall my reminisces from the past, those F1 races, and midnight walks. If both those statements are untrue, fret not, they are definitely going to be in one of the upcoming posts. Till then, sit tight, read on and remember, Michael Schumacher ruled F1, in the times mentioned in this post. Oh wait, he still rules, doesn’t he? Light at the end of the tunnel, here.

We had spent an complete hour sweating it out together. We had pushed each other into it and we were in it together after all. As we alternated between watching and shoving around, we realized how little we knew of each other, how little it really mattered and yet how we were forced into being the strangers we were then. Job done, sweat wiped out, we walked back to the house; car free from all the snow we had just shoveled out.

As we sat by the window, gazing into the ocean ahead, a steaming soup bowl to warm our frosted fingers, I remembered the times that had been. Earlier in the day I had bumped into something that made total sense now: The notion of a satisfactory future for a lot of us is, in fact, a return to the idealized past.

The ideal past where we spent the weekends lying on the house floor, God and H in stowe, fighting and fisting over the latest moto racing result, while the Goddess pitched in with the hot and spicy counterparts. That ideal time where we spent the nights racing each other in our walks around the airport. The past where we ran back into the hostel as the gates shut behind us, brimming at the turn of the evening, and the respite that those trips had from the hell within. The moments where, after having panted an hour or two uphill, we lay in the grass up there, letting the wind chill the sweat away and listening to verses from a saint who claimed that ‘nothing else matters’.

I still see images of a past where the house was a hullaboo, with tempers rising and egos getting flustered. The days when a lone tear was shed, to soothe a crying heart. The nights spent in dreamless sleep. The times when the volcanic outburst let all the entertainment to the hours going by.

Yes, the ideal past.

Homeward bound

I’m sitting in the railway station.
Got a ticket for my destination.
On a tour of one-night stands, my suitcase and guitar in hand.
And ev’ry stop is neatly planned, for a poet and a one-man band.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was, Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

No, there was no love; there was no silent waiting, there was no… But wait! I had it all wrong. What I was heading to was not ‘home’. It was not even in the vicinity of being close to home : ) That explained there being no love and no silent waiting. It was a room, me living in that room, a few rooms around this room, a person living in those rooms around this room, it was an arrangement. Far from home!

It’s surprising, that this is the first time in the last few months that I’ve really taken a moment to sit and analyse the situation. When exactly was it, that it had stopped being home? When ideas took different tracks? When priorities in each rooms’ life chnaged? When the split in thoughts meant a split in interests and the being? When each ego available was working on means of ruling over the other? Or somewhere between the realization that it was a mere arrangement and the comprehension that it would not last for long in the same frame of mind?

Either ways, things had taken a turn for the wrong side; each today made me pray harder, to never see such a day again. I had taken it on me to make amends, and a slow process that it turned out to be, was squeezing all the energy out of me. It is indeed tough, to stay strong and stay mean. No wonder we are the ‘social’ animal. We’d rather want ourselves to fit into the cliche, and have the world think good of us, than choose the untrodden path.

So, while I live each day, one step closer to a changed me, about to breath my own life, I turn the volume up to the highest, sing out at the loudest and cry out to heaven the hardest.

Tonight I’ll sing my songs again,
I’ll play the game and pretend.
But all my words come back to me, in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony, I need someone to comfort me.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was, Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

Silently for me.

Nothing else matters!!!

I would have safely assumed it to be mere coincidence that made my iPod played “Nothing Else Matters”, (If you need to me told sang that, then please go back to school), at those wierdest and saddest moments, times when I needed a hand around my shoulder, listening to my rants. But the strange timing with which the song plays, beating all algorithms that the makers built into song shuffling, makes me think if my iPod had a mind of its own after all.

It had been a dream job, one of those things that drove you onward in times of hell and the cliched rat race that gets you into the system. What if I had another bread earner in hand, a compromise my mind called it. I was too naive then to realize what was it in this one that attracted me, the money, the culture, the brand, beats me! But it had been the place to be and having crossed three rounds of hurdles and having almost been there, with one last round between me and the offer, it seemed too good to be true. The call had to come mid day, an hour’s break in the hostel to let the nerves cool down. We laughed around in light banter, prepared for questions that might arise. The hour turned into two and four, till I eventually heard about the contemporaries who had made it. Clearly I hadn’t. Compromise had to be digested in now, for there might not be another chance afterall. iPod in hand, I let the company lose and walked out to the divine abode. Play – “So close no matter how farrr..!!”

I had let another man break my heart, I had shed my first tears for someone other than my closeknit family. A strange sense of helplessness arose as it sunk in, that I was vulnerable to the world and its plays. As I stood waiting for my ride back home, it hit me hard that the race does not end when one sun sets in. It is run with every rising day, it is a challenge to run for, day in and night out. Play – “Couldn’t get much more from the heart..!!”

A couple of years down the line, I stood at a similar juncture, hurt and pain steaming out of my eyes. As the train pulled in to the station, it dawned on the lame soul that it had become too much of a regular now. The tears rolled down as I walked out of the house, the mind wondering how I could hate someone from the heart, love the same from the pit and never manage to ignore. As each stinging word, demeaning me of going away, pricked, the heart stood there listening, numb to these worldly means of torture. The train pulled off the station, Play – “Forever trusted who we are..!!”

I had woken up a little too early, hadn’t slept at all to be honest. The ghosts had stuck along when I hit the bed, they had followed me through LaLa land and knocked me up in time for the sunrise. And yes, It can never be more perfect than waking up early to a cloudy day. God’s way of beating into you the truth that no matter how hard you try to keep the sunshine riding and the song in the air, there will be days of utter despair. The dull, gloomy ones where there will be no light at the end of the tunnel, the silver lining would be yet another delusion and even the birds would take their day off. I look up at the end of the horizon, for any sight of the much needed welcome break. A deep sigh and Play – “And Nothing else matters!!”

Cliched… yet… Nostalgic….

It was a thought that struck at a weird moment..but i sat wondering…have i ever come across a synonym for ‘nostalgia’…? Was a tough squeeze…hit the aisles of google..to find out meanings like…’longing,yearning’..’homesickness’…? not quite an impact like ‘nostalgia’ itself….

Sure go back in time…a long time back..when wearing frilled and lacy frocks was okay…it was not an issue to get boys back home after school….when you dint think twice before stopping the local ice cream man for a native bite of ecstasy…It was a time when you needed just a tear to get your way…it was then when beating your sis up red and blue was totally ok…

I remember very little of times in the pink city…except that guy whom i made friends with, with no idea of the language he spoke…and of my dad comin back home all pink and wet one day, after a blast at holi…then there was that whole bunch of kites in the attic that got me interested for their mere colour and the vibrance that came along…vaguely remember one curfew that left us sittin at home with no school to worry about….

Then there was the move back home…a life amidst family….yeah we flew back i know…my first flight…but i remember none of that…
coz recently when i sat on that plane after nearly 18 long yrs…i felt like a kid on her first flight onboard…eagerly stared out of the window…and continued doin that till all the skyscrapers seemed miniscule…and eventually succumed to a blanket of white…then there was the pleasure of looking at the sun from the same level…it was a new sun..staring back at me…and that rush down your lungs when the plane travels the runway…woah..!!

Coming back to the stay at home…there was all that singing in that little school…arraying at the ground for prayer every morning…and remember that fish shop in the same road..from where we flooded the tank in our house with those lovely ones…Then i remember those drills in school that we prepared so rigorously for…to go off to the main branch..with starched white clothes..and crispy white shoes…to act smart with those kids…always won in that i know…

I remember hiding from that mad man who lived on the corner where the road turned…felt an urge to prove oneself courageous by looking into his house every time we passed that way..Then there was that outburst of excitement every time i heard the quiet thump of dads yezdi as it turned into the street…recollect playing the bully…forming the favorite groups every summer vacation…remember those weird in house plays that we put…with family playing audience and cheering for every crap we put up…oh..those summer vacations with cousins were fun…with all those back biting and ear pulling…miss them….

Till date i feel the move to hitech city was destined…to move away from all that politicing…but then it had its own memories too…the wait for holidays to welcome cousins home…and take them around the city…and then there is school…the place i learnt to live..remember runnin out at 5 when school closed…running out to waiting junk sellers….there was always that craving to buy everything out from the canteen…when all those rich kids dined there every other day…and for us it used to be a blessing to get enough money for that..morning assembly was a pain…roasting in the hot sun…with kids around fallin unconscious every other day and waiting to be able to do that ever….

Oh i remember that first cycle…it was a weird one running on four wheels…trying to hold me on….there was the embarrasing attempt to hide from classmates when i took that to school the first time..I used to chain it to the tree by the canteen i remember..Then was the move to a bigger one..Felt good with a nice big one..remember exploring a lot of the neighbourhood on it..with harini tugging at the back at times…Kept it till i left college..it took me up and down those dirty college streets…a winner it was….

I totally recollect that little house on the 2nd floor where we grew up…Still see it in my dreams…we eventually outgrew it…and shifted to that house in “layout”…Thats where we actually turned little adults…grew up to being children no longer…Dont remember doing any studying when there…coz i used to be tired for gods all day…going down two buses to that school on the other side of the town…gettin there was a different story all together…then there was that phase of being a misfit…and still finding some great friends…boy..!!

Yeah I remember a lot of that too..then i remember moving out…to college…to adolescence…to freedom….whatever….

hmmmm…Its always at a point where you have nothing else to do but write blogs that you seriously get thinking…and the past floods into you…and you manage to write crap…like how i have successfully managed to do right now…

If you’ve managed to read this far..then your as jobless as i am, i understand…Long live thee….

The me!

Times when my mind wanders off to neverland. Back to days eternal when the body strolled free. There were no deadlines to be met; no fellow students to beat in competition; no grades to make; no bills to pay. It was the easy path out of troubles. The experienced showed the way and i just walked. A hand held me tight on every path i tread. Every cry was soothed; every mistake was covered up; every dream was attained; Life was bliss alright.

Then times of condititional troubles began. There’d be those times when i would be left astray alone in the world, to defend for myself. Protect my favourite pink toffee from the enemies on my own. No more was my life at peace. Things had to be fought for.

Moved on to times, where there was an array of numbers to distinguish me from the rest of my kind. That girl who stayed 2 points ahead of me was always the loved one. I understood not this system of discrimination, for where we all not from the same roots? The tight comforting hold from the Gods loosened up. I had more trouble swimming those waters. But I learnt.

I won something I knew I dint deserve. A mortal had designed a means of determing my efficiency in sustenance and this so-called system of examination had passed me capable at it with flying colors(As the cliche goes!). They called me an Achiever, and pushed me one step higher.

At this stage, I knew I had done something a lot others of my very own kind hadnt. Had gotten into one of the best tutorings in the city; the few of my kind actually looked up to me. But the mind was lost. What was I doing here.? Was this where the mind wanted to be.? No. The answers were nowhere to be found. And I survived. A bug in a mass. Ran with the crowd, cawed when I heard my neighbour. And they called me an Achiever.

The next day I was into a place I would call my alma mater years down. A place I would go visiting with my offsprings and successors. They took me in coz I was supposed to be just the one for it. But what was I.? God You there..?

It was there that i tasted the sweet bliss in Freedom. I no longer needed the comforting hand to take me around. It hurt to depend. The world was hell and I wanted to survive on my own. Yes.! I needed no support. I could make my changes, call my shots, ride my own wave. I had tasted the life of free will.

Rock ruled. It brought out the liberal me. I could take anything you shouted at me with a composure you never knew of. Some called me a Rebel. Was I wrong to do things my way? Was I wrong to stand on my own and put my shoulder down when I felt the weight.? My head still nods a no. And thats what i did. Be myself.
At the end of this journey, when I look at myself today, I am tired. For I have lost a major part of me. The Free Me. The Real Me. The Me.!