Taking my chances

Somewhere in between sunrises and sunsets,
The skies and the seas,
I am where I should be,
walking on a wooden bridge, tied loosely to a trunk.

My thoughts forge the planks that I step on,
My tears melt into the setting sun,
Creating a blurry vision,
And a hope that there is life beyond the haze

Somewhere, in between, I stop,
And look back at what could have been.
The boatman still rests by the cliff,
and croons excuses and broken promises

I chose to walk a wobbly bridge,
Featherbeds are not for me.
The fear of heights, the sound of your heartbeat,
They are all one and the same now

Somewhere, in a faraway place,
Where the trees made music for men,
I see a tiny hut with a broken window;
It sings my name and sighs aloud.

There I shall be, if I cross the bridge.
The rusty nail just cut my skin open,
But I will take my chances in the unknown,
Till the planks fall and the rope gives way.

Thy name is Destiny

She walks up the mountains to touch the moon
And paint a constellation with the blinking stars that rest on clouds
The wind caresses her hair gently
She sings a lullaby for the puerile

She dances on the tall waves that ride the stormy seas
And makes merry with the seahorse that kisses her feet
The rickety spirit bundles up under a faraway tree
She sings a swan song to ease his pain

For the rest of the night, she weaves a dream
And colours it with hues of myriad emotions
The city that sleeps now tosses and turns
She wraps the dream around the jaded mortals

At the break of the dawn, she flies high and takes the veil off sun
Then sinks to the bottom of the sea to write a new fable
The egoist rises and so does the naive
Destiny smiles and waits for the inevitable

That day...

It was one of those moments when you have so much to say but the words jumble up in your head. You fumble, eat your words, and fail to sequence your thoughts.

Nine years. A very long time indeed. It is not that she never imagined this moment. On occasions, she even rehearsed her lines in front of the large Venetian mirror in her bedroom. And now, when he was there right in front of him, she knew not what to say. It was nothing like what she had prepared for.

Memories flooded back, one after another. She lived those five years in less than five minutes. The wound is still fresh.

It took her a minute longer to compose herself. He sat there still, perplexed.
"Shall we start?" she asked. "aah... yes, sure," he stuttered.
"So, why should we hire you?" she said, adjusting her gold-rimmed spectacles on her pointed nose. A wry smile flickered across her face

Memories galore

Having met all the deadlines the night before, I knew I could have the morning to myself. After a cuppa and a brief chat with a friend over phone, I pulled a book out of the wooden shelf to read.

As I flipped through its pages, I came across this one picture tucked between pages 31 and 32. The picture, taken some two decades back, brought back a melange of memories --- some happy ones and some not-so-happy ones.

It was one such winter morning 20 years ago, when I, along with the other kids from the neighbourhood, waited on the deck of the launch to bid our fathers goodbye before walking down to the cabin below. It was a customary habit, you could say. However, it wasn't just another day to school. 

Our weekly tests had begun and each of us had notes and books in hand. As the helmsman steered the launch, we descended to the cabin below and took our seats. Although I could hear the navigator, Keshav da, shouting his lungs out, giving directions to the helmsman, he could do little to waver my concentration from the last chapter of the history book. It was only when my friend, Ritu, sitting next to me, started panicking, I took note of the situation. 

As I craned my neck out to see where we have reached, a cold breeze brushed past my face and a chill ran down my spine. We were in the midst of nowhere. A think blanket of fog had enveloped us and everything around looked fuzzy. The helmsman looked puzzled just as we did and with no rescue in sight, we huddled up in one corner of the cabin.

Mobile phones were unheard of in those days and we knew not how to get help. After much coaxing by some of my friends and Keshav da, the helmsman set sail again. The risks were not too many, just that a bigger vessel could have hit us at any point of time. After wandering around aimlessly for about half-an-hour, the launch came to a still with a sudden thud.

The moments of silence that followed were unnerving. It was only when Keshav da broke into peals of laughter, we rushed to the deck to find out the launch has traced its steps back to the starting point. We heaved a sigh of relief but the feeling did not last long as we were terribly late for school. Surprisingly, dad and uncles were still waiting at the jetty. The little ones among us were teary-eyed and the older ones looked anxious. Just to cheer them up, one of the uncles, a photographer by passion, brought out his analog camera and asked us to smile for him, as if we had achieved a feat.

Thankfully, our school made an exception and we were allowed 15 minutes grace to complete our paper.

That was just one day framed of the 14 winters of my life that I spent crossing the river, sometimes calm and at other times rough, to reach school.

To think of it, so much has changed since then. The uncle who made us smile that morning is no longer there, friends have gone places and I don't remember the last time I visited the jetty. But the memories have stayed with each one of us, I believe. That is what counts!

Losing a loved one

When I sat next to my four-year-old nephew to explain death, I knew not where to begin from. It took me some time to gather myself before I could get on with it. Nevertheless, it was important. None of us would get to see the grand old man again, including him, and for one last time I wanted him to touch dadu's feet or bid him goodbye, if I can put it that way.

But for obvious reasons, he looked at me with disbelief at first! Where is God's abode and how far is it from our place, he asked me. I wish I knew all that.

Distinct memories of the day will remain etched in the memory forever. "He has been suffering for long, good for him he won't have to put up with pain and discomfort any longer," Maa said even as tears rolled down her cheeks. My grandma spoke little. For years, I have seen the couple weathering odds even as they engaged in regular altercations. My uncles tried their best to hold themselves together but I could still see them wiping their glasses on several occasions.

Dadu was loved by one and all and at 93, he was probably the eldest one in the neighbourhood. Needless to say, people poured in as soon as the news spread.

I didn't know how to react at first. I was restless, trying to keep myself busy with little chores like fetching money from the bank for his last rites and buying medicines for my aggrieved-and-ailing family members. In between, however, I took time to sit by Dadu stroking his benumbed hands. I tried hard to control my emotions but the thought that he would no longer wake up from the slumber to ask about my next newspaper article was too hard to come to terms with. I too broke down.

As he set on his final journey, I held him tight one last time. Much was left unsaid. And even though I shrug off stories about life after death and spirits, for once I wished they were real. I wished he could be there by me in whatever form he chooses to.

Hopes refuse to die

It still affects me, mom. I lied. It still does. Because I still can't get used to it. Hopes, maa, they refuse to die. And even after so much, I still hope for a better tomorrow. I do not know, how much more I will have to put up with, but am trying, maa... trying to do away with the expectations that I have from life, trust me. Every single day, I make efforts to convince myself that it's all over, but hopes refuse to die

Why, maa? why does it have to be this way always? why can't things change for better? Know what, I am writing this after long. Not because, I don't have time, not because I am short of words, just that I am too tired of venting out my feelings here. I was waiting to post a happy incident or two but the wait has been too long. So, yeah! here I am with my endless rants!

Have I really done something to deserve this? Why can't I move on, like others do! You know, maa...even if happiness comes and knocks my door now, I might not recognize it or even if I do, I wonder if it would still hold any significance. Don't remember the last time I have had a goodnight's sleep.
Do u still pray, maa? I don't.

I have been walking through this dark tunnel braving the chills and the heat for too long now. I am tired, maa. I still don't see any light at the end of it. Forgive me, if i give up midway. I do not wish to disappoint you. but I know not, how far can I go. 

And with that another day ends. Right now it is 1.06 am in the morning, and I am still at office waiting for my cab to take me home. It was an usual day for me. Like any other day, I woke up late, had my breakfast after much coaxing by Maa and spent half the morning in idle pursuits, scolding myself for not churning out anything constructive, and at the same time making a promise of trying  something meaningful the very next day!!

Unlike most of you, my office hours start in the evening. No, I don't work for a BPO. I am a subeditor with the Times Of India. It was difficult dragging myself to the office today, like most other days. And once I was in, I was told about the pile of work that I will have to take care of! When in college, we were told that ours is a thankless job. We are the unsung heroes of the press! Well, now I know what it means!

 I dread seeing myself in the mirror at the end of the day. My hairstyle has gone awry and my eyes must have sunk in deep sockets. Anyway, what bothers me most at this hour is that I have wasted another day! There is nothing that I have done today that makes me feel good except drafting this blog post.

Realisations....

And then one fine day, I realised that I have grown up... Yes, I am a grown-up girl now, more mature, experienced, calmer than before. Looking back, I wonder how puerile I have been...

To start with, I don't shed tears watching emotional flicks anymore. I don't crib when I miss my favourite TV programme or skip a heart beat when my favourite actor appears on the screen... On a second thought, do I have a favourite TV programme anymore? Guess not!

Now that I think of it.... I don't even fiddle with my cellphone every five minutes, unlike what it used to be 2 years ago. I don't wait for the screen to blink with your name on it. I try and accept things the way they are...or so I think!

I can spend hours with myself! Me, myself and.... my books, laptop, albums and diary. I can go for a walk all by myself! Knowing me, it all seems so new, so different... It helps me connect with my inner self. Can't really deny that it makes me feel lonely at times..... but someone rightly told me once that if you befriend loneliness it wont scare you anymore.

Having said that, growing up has its flip sides too... You don't really fall asleep instantly as soon as u hit the bed unless u r dog-tired. I stay up for hours worrying about how to clear the mess that bothers me, sometimes even chokes me....I know I will get used to the feeling in sometime. Cant really skip office work just because I don't feel like. Digging into chocolates and ice-creams without putting on unwanted pounds seems to be a far-fetched dream now.

Given a time machine, I would not like to avail it any longer... I am not anxious anymore.. Not that I am completely at peace with my present but still trying to take life as it comes with its surprises and shocks. Don't really know if tomorrow will be a brighter day but can't really stop hoping for better....

One more step ahead...

I chose to walk down the middle path
Laced by green fields on both the sides
As I let down my hair
I felt alive again.

The fear has finally died down
There is nothing to lose anymore
I can breathe in absolute peace now
My heart feels light and young again

I may not know what lies ahead

But the worst is over, I think
The wound might never heal, its true
but it would serve a purpose for sure

This time I wont trip and fall
As I have just learned to fly
This time I would touch the clouds
And don't need you by my my side

In bits and parts....

And with that it all ended. Now that I look back, I realise how I have changed over the years. The last time I checked I was 22. Today, I am 26 and the receding waves have only shoved me back to where I had started from. Yes, the journey has been rough. And though I tried to hold on to you....the big surge took you away. Sometimes I wonder.... if my hold could have been tighter....or maybe yours...

And then we moved on... For days and nights I prayed silently, prayed in vain for you...for us. This time, however, it was no shocker. It was acknowledging the fact that I failed. And for everything you said, I had a deja vu. How years back I did the same to him notwithstanding the fact that what it must have done to him. But have I not been punished enough for it already? Or is it that am running after a mirage, a reality that never existed.

For every time I think about the good times together and the promises we made, my eyes turn moist. For days I have been wanting to put down my thoughts but feared that I may crumble again into bits and parts, and composing myself again and again is cumbersome. Every time I lose a part or two when I do that. And now am all broken and bruised.

For every movie we have seen together, for every dream of togetherness we have woven, for all those intimate moments when you kissed my forehead and promised a life together, for all those moments you have made me happy...I will always be thankful to you. And for all those broken promises and all those pain and sufferings....I don't blame you...

 Coz... I love you...

On one such evening....

It was an arduous day. I gave it my best shot and got what I deserved... or so I think. And just like the setting sun, it was time for me to retreat from the gory battleground, the stench of which clogged my lungs and made me feel nauseated.
For some unknown reasons, I took the longer way to home. The street lights that adorned the pathway looked brighter than usual, the sound of conch shell echoed in the air. The soft breeze brushed past my face. I felt good. I felt sorted.

On one such evening, I remember, I told you how I like taking a stroll by the moonlight hand-in-hand with you. Settling on the park bench by the road side.... on one such evening, I remember relishing candy floss with you.
I turned back to take a glimpse at the row of benches in the park. Some occupied... some empty.

That one particular bench looked shabby and lonely. The tiles have discoloured with time. The edges have worn out. I could almost sense that it was calling out my name. I hesitated but couldn’t resist walking towards it. It was like a reunion of two long lost friends. I wished I could hug my mate and stroke its back gently out of affection. Nonetheless, I sat on it resting my back against it.

Memories flashed by. On one such evening, when I scored low and dreaded going home, you soothed me with ice creams and consoling words. And of course, I do remember feeding you the leftovers from my tiffin box just because you gave away yours to some ill-fed urchin. The park bench has witnessed it all. We have all come a long way since then... I said to myself.

My phone beeped. It was time for me to leave. I dint want to part from my friend but the incessant beeps on my cell phone reminded me that it was time to move on....
As I crossed the busy lane, I turned back to take a look at the park bench one last time. A young couple has just settled on it. Time replaced you and me with them, I thought. Its time to move on, I reminded myself once again...