Monday, March 31, 2008

All the difference

Thick velvet curtains barricaded even the shadow of a breeze from entering the room. Darkness was defied by the singular lamp, which cast oscillating shadows on the opposite wall of the rocking chair and its lone occupant.

He sat there, rocking to and fro, watching silence descend into the cracks of the worn out walls. The chair grated with a steady rhythm against the floor. The floor an unwilling participant of a sexual intercourse, groaning against the gyrating intrusion of the solid wood of the chair.

Yes, it was a disgusting thought which lingered in his filthy mind. But it smelled way cleaner than the other thoughts which otherwise occupied the gray crevices. He looked at the ageing walls and wondered how many stories would they tell, only if they could.

Was his ‘problem’ genetic? Had perhaps, some forlorn ancestor who felt as wretched as he did now, beaten a confession out of himself, with only the walls a testimony to the dirty dredges of his mind.

He was a good man. He kept telling himself that. He was good man, who sat in the middle of the night, in an isolated room, rocking in an ancient chair, with a revolver in his hand, loaded with just one bullet. He was a good man, who was driven to hard choices, thanks to the Hyde which controlled his mind. But beneath all that filth, he was a good man. Honest and loving.

Loving, the word ricocheted against the walls of his mind and heart and landed with a plush in a pool of red. The splash of crimson startled him and then he knew no more as he got enveloped in nothingness.

The shot though muffled, traveled upstairs to the ears of his half-asleep twelve year old daughter. She scampered out of bed and climbed down the stairs.

“Daddy?” she called out in apprehension as she followed the path she had seen him take a couple of hours ago. When she was treated with only silence, she slowed her pace, dragging one foot after the other. When she reached his door, she knocked on it.

“Daddy?” she called out again. She turned the handle on the door. Then she screamed. Screamed like she would never stop screaming. Sprawled on the floor was the lifeless body of her father. On the desk beside the lamp, lay on sheet of paper on which was scrawled with an unsteady hand, many times over a single line, “I don’t want to be a pedophile”

The chair continued its obtrusive rocking to and fro

Saturday, March 29, 2008

On Ghosts and Science

(Ghosts) contain no matter and have no energy and therefore according to the laws of science do not exist except in people's minds. Of course the laws of science contain no matter and have no energy either and therefore do not exist except in people's minds. That doesn't leave you with very much to believe in, but that's scientific too...

Silent Endings

He watched the city pass him in a hazy blur, as he drove along the main street. He had no clue where he was headed, nor did he want to know. He just wanted to drive because driving kept him sane.

He tried to focus on anything but her, but all he could see in his mind’s eye was her tear streaked face. He almost reached out to wipe the streaks of her reddened cheeks. But realized he was just caressing thin air. He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. How had he botched it up so bad?

He remembered her voice textured with velvety concern, soothing his tired senses as he crashed home after a day’s work. He loved watching her as she bustled from room to room chatting about nothing, yet making the house come alive. Once when they’d disagreed over something, which was actually his fault, she had gone out and purchased orange PJs on his credit card, knowing that he particularly disliked orange.

‘Its because I know you will never say sorry. So here’s your punishment!” she had flung at his questioning glance. She had paraded the entire weekend in those PJs and he had made up his mind on that precise Saturday that orange was actually very cute. The make-up session had taken them to the bedroom and ended up with breakfast in bed.

And then there was Radha. She was nothing like his wife. She boasted sculpted features and a translucent skin. Her almond eyes were fringed with thick dark lashes and her lips made the perfect pink bow. She was beautiful. And she was interested in him.

It was flattering. Here was woman the world would be willing to covet, seeking surrender in his arms. It was tempting desire itself. He had given in.

For a long time now, he had been thinking about breaking away from Radha. He did not love her, he not even lusted, it was just some twisted form of male ego that kept him going. Her tears could melt him, but they didn’t lash out like whips on his tender heart.

Like his wife’s. When she had found out, she had said not one word. But from the depth of the black of her eyes, rolled the torrents of betrayal, which her heart had found difficult to contain.

The blaring horn made him look around. He was parked, as usual, under the balcony of his home. Only it was no longer a home, because the homemaker had fled.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Yipee!!!

I just became a mama again.. My younger sister gave birth to a baby boy last night!!!

The world is beautiful or did someone put rosy contacts in my eyes???

Black for this evening

She stood at the window watching the city pulsate with activity and smiled at the irony that spread before her. It was like a glorious painting – dazzling lights across an ink black sky. Overwhelming, but lifeless. Busy minds calculating figures all the while, governed hearts which had placed emotions under lock and key and tucked them away in some such corner, that if they started to look they would never find.

She took a sip of her coffee and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Just how long had she been standing there? Her coffee had turned cold and the layer of cream which had settled on top scowled at her for disturbing its peace. She turned away from the window and made her way to the kitchen. She poured out the coffee in the sink and let the tap run on a very thin stream, so that she may rinse her mug. Her ears were trained to pick up the first strains of her ring tone. But her mobile stayed stubbornly silent.

She was exhausted from work and was glad to be home early. She thought she would put her feet up and just catch up with friends and simply do nothing. It would be her evening. With a beat in her voice she had called almost everybody she had known –

“Hiya!”
“Hey there! Have heard from you after such a long time! How have you been?”
“Good! Just been hard at work, you know…”
“Of course, I understand.”
“Listen, I was just wondering if we could catch up over dinner or coffee maybe?”
“I would love to! But you know how it is… the baby just wont stay without me. And Ashish will be absolutely livid if he finds both of us missing when he gets home… could we push it to the weekend or something?”

If it was not the baby, then the husband, but everybody had somebody they belonged to, somebody they felt responsible for… Someone to come home to. Nobody walked into a well-decorated flat to find themselves alone in a city which housed millions. Except her. The vibrant dynamic corporate at work, who led a disillusioned personal life. If she was not a part of a group she was nobody.

Alone, desolate with only the view from the window to keep her company.

She switched on the idiot box and flipped through the channels, knowing already that nothing would hold her interest. She finally settled on ‘Travel and Living’. Doing what she least wanted to do, she fetched her nail-polish remover. As she eyed her colourful collection of glitzy paints, she definitely decided it was to be black for her nails for this evening…

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Things I love doing...

Reading... endlessly.Right from the minute the golden dawn spreads across a gray sky, till the crimson dusk changes into a starry nite.. I would jsut want to read...

Or... play with my dog... cuddle up with her in front of the TV and watch a series of romantic comedies...

Or... go water rappling in the middle of nowhere. Feel the weight of the water as it lashes in all its frenzy against my body, welcome its embracing cool and keep steadily making my way downwards to where the water loses its rage.. get a couple of scratches which I shall then treat like war wounds..

Or... maybe just grab a cup of coffee and take a trip down memory lane, with my best friend...

Monday, March 17, 2008

Silence

Silence…

A feather touch
Mean so much
Says things as such
You will never be all alone

Silence…

A wisp of smile
Lasts a while
And so it tries
To burn in eternal light

Silence…
A lover’s kiss
On tender lips
A promise keeps
Which melts moments in eternity

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Homecoming...

It was almost surreal... It was as if nothing had changed, everything was the same.. As if I still belonged...

Coming back home was a great experience, and I was every bit as thrilled as I was when I came back home after my first term at NDA, my first stay away from home. There is something about the sligtly chilly air, the soothingly warm sunlight and the welcoming atmosphere of this place that I can never hope to find elsewhere..

And the fact that I was able to cap off a wonderful day with a long, unwinding conversation with Manish, a very good friend of mine, was just too good... We just talked.. about life, about girls, about dreams, about people, about the world, about his college and my unit... And sometimes, we kept silent... And let our thoughts talk...

If only time went by my watch... My dead watch...

Monday, March 3, 2008

In Retrospect!

When I am really stressed my mind wanders, of its own accord, down memory lane. The leaves fall gently upon memories long buried and rustle ever so gently, as I brush them aside to take a peek at something which makes me smile.

Like how I came to meet Tommy!

It was words, uttered by me appreciated by him, spoken by him and reflected upon by me, yes, it was words which bought us together. Words of an active mind, controlled by a passionate heart. Words which were a window to his soul. Words which told me more about him, than he would ever want me to know.

It was not so much of the past that we shared, it was always the present. It was always about how much laughter could a moment hold, it was always about bringing a smile. It was not so much about sharing grief, as much as it was about making newer and vibrant memories together. It was not so much about the voyage, it was more about sitting on the shore, with our feet buried in the sand, making the waves hum a jealous tune as our voices carried in their sound the peals of unadulterated joy.

I think its what makes the relation so special ... and sets it apart!