real and virtual

And far from all the fret and the fury, far from the noisy bargain of the real world, as I travel this road, every single time, I so long to belong here, once more, forever.

I know I am just a passerby, who has the right of a glance at this rural peace, but not the right to touch it, to feel it, and to relish it. They are scared, that I might devour it, so they conspire to keep me apart. And I could never make them understand that I stand here, with greedy eyes, only to admire, and not devour.

As I think of my now and my then, I so long to return to the then again. As I laze in my terrace roof, basking under the warmth of the late winter afternoon, I can’t see a human object around me; except for the rows of wet clothes, waiting patiently to be dried crispy by the power of the sun. And yet again, I realize that such a power holds this soil. The power to keep me back, but unfortunately it holds me no more. It has let me loose, for quite a while now. And I have since then, been like a creeper, living a parasitic existence. But somehow, I am reminded of this ancient myth, wherein the earth opened up and threw her out, only to take her back in due time. I relate so much to her. But I know, between the out and the in, between the rejecting and the absorbing, there are a series of tasks I am bound to perform. An episodic epic, my life is to compose.

As I lie down on the terrace, my laptop being my only connection to the outer world, I suddenly hear a ping. I chat away blissfully, forgetting the entire existence momentarily. I smile, I frown, I think, I laugh… but it is only momentary. And I love this, even if I know quite well, that this is only virtual, and far removed from the mundane reality of the everyday world you and I live in. I do not visualize you with a head, torso, and limbs. You are to me, like a square box, with random lines erupting like a volcano out of nowhere; and it is again momentarily, that I want to melt away in the heat, though my real existence is almost frozen. I regain my senses, to look around, and realize that the afternoon has said goodbye, and the sun has been down for quite long now. I gaze up to see a thousand twinkling lights above my head; I reach out my hands, but can’t touch them, can’t count them. It’s winter here, and I realize I must have more clothes on. My flimsy adornment can’t fight the chilly winter evening. Hence I bid goodbye to the momentary warmth of your volcanic existence, to cover my real self up and defend myself against the cold reality.

Moments...

Nor an escape from the past

Neither the promise of a future

It’s just for here, and just for now.

In the moments, at this  hour

Just like the handful of sand

That will escape the fists very soon…

Not in the tears, nor  in the smile

Just for those looks in the eyes for a while…

Not for the eyes that stare,

Nor for the eyes that speak…

But for those eyes that play hide n seek

Not in the music, nor in your words

But for those silences between the lips

I feel like being with you.

Give me those moments…

Those moments of peace,

Those moments of love

Those moments of life

And I promise to live an eternity in each.

Life Is Lived In Transformation

For after long... very long

I've realized the fault

I’ve realized the truth

The fault of killing my soul

The truth that I was not myself

The simple fact that I have changed...

For after long... very long

I've felt this urge again

I've felt the drive again

The urge to live my life again

The drive to laugh at every joke

The simple fact that the heart still beats...

For after long... very long

I'm scared to admit it

I'm scared to own it

Admit that too much has been wasted

Own that I can count the years

The simple fact that life won't be forever...

I lost so much in translation

I lost so much in transgression

I lost so much in the tears I cried

I lost so much in those fake smiles

How much more can I lose from me

Until I lose something called 'me'?

Do I have the strength in me

To make someone smile again?

Do I have the guts in me

To make someone live again?

Do I have any tears left over

To cry if someone hurts again?

Yet I will laugh, and I will cry

I dare to love, I dare defy

My hopes are high, I dream again

To swim the ocean, reach for the sky

I have emotions left for every occasion

I know, LIFE IS LIVED IN TRANSFORMATION.

SAFE...

The room was illumined, not with lights, but with the afterglow. The darkness was softened, by the presence of the two, who now lay beside each other. Her head rested on his chest, and he was playing with her soft curls.

HIM:  Hey?

HER:  Hmm…

HIM:  How do you feel?

HER: About?

HIM: Now.

HER: Right now?

HIM: Right now.

HER: Safe, very safe.

HIM: Safe!! Why?

Her face lit up with a mysterious smile…

HER: Because you have a  broad chest, fatso!!!

She started tickling him, and they got into a pillow fight…

Moments later, they were snuggled up against each other again. She loved to sleep, her head rested on his chest.

HER: Hey?

HIM: Umm?

HER : I feel safe, coz I can hear your heart still pounding. I feel safe coz I still feel your hushed breath brushing across my forehead. I feel safe because I can still sense the warmth of your skin, the blood racing through your vessels. I feel safe coz you still move, coz your arms still embrace me, and your limbs still entangle me.

I feel safe coz you will still frown when I wake you up tomorrow, I feel safe coz you’ll promise to come back from work early; and in the evening when I open the door so eagerly, you’ll be standing right there, with a smile across your face, saying, “Honey, I’m home.”

P.S. : Fiction yet again...

to live for you and die in your arms...

The ECG machine denoted that the heart was still functioning, the clinical evidence that I was still alive. No one would, I know, believe that one can fall in love at the death bed; but yes, I did. I fell in love with you, when there were no hopes of me surviving the fatal disease I carried within myself; right at the place inside me, right where life dwells.

You came everyday, thrice. You checked my pulse and made sure I was still inhaling and exhaling, to confirm that my heart was still functioning. Only I knew, I was breathing again. Only I felt, that my heart had started beating again. But even amidst all the care you took to see that my heart was behaving alright, even after all the medication, my heart malfunctioned thrice a day; every time you held my hand to check my pulse, you never knew, but my heart skipped a beat, and it still does.

After the fifth day in the ICU, you felt it was a miracle that I survived the third attack. You said I was brave enough to fight it. Everyone said it was God’s grace; but I knew it was the power of love. I remember the time when I was sinking, and that is when I saw you; and I knew my heart had some last emotions to feel before it stops throbbing.  I rose, from that deep delved pitch dark hole into which I had almost disappeared.

I was placed in a cabin, small but neat, with a window just beside my bed. They wanted to take me home, because all of them, including me knew that my lease wasn’t for too long. I was here among this world only for a very few days now. But I insisted on staying back; I said I feel safe here. They let me stay, considering it my last wish. I stayed back, because I didn’t want to survive, I wanted to live the last few days of my life; live for those moments, when my heart could skip a beat.

Every moment from then on, I have lived to wait for you, thrice a day. Only for those few glances of yours, I would spend the rest of my days in this small hospital cabin. I know, my heart is weak, and I do not have time and strength enough to offer it to you.  I know, and I never dream of spending my life with you. But I am holding on to life, with the only hope that I could die in your arms.

P.S.: This is just a piece of fiction. I am a healthy person with a healthy heart.

FRIENDSHIP

Friendship, just like love, is not gonna stay with us for a lifetime. This is a fact I had accepted, though with much reluctance. That morning, when I woke up and saw my luggage all packed, I felt a pang in my chest. I was finally leaving the country. I latched the main door and handed over the keys to my landlord and walked towards the gate.

As I opened the gate, I took one last glance at the house… or home? I thought, “Should I be crying?” But then again, I felt, “Why should I?” I mean, in movies and all, they do cry in such scenes, but that is because they are sad to leave something behind. I was taking all I have along with me, packed in the suitcases. For once, I felt so convenient about not having a family, coz that would have made my packing so much complicated. How on earth would I have managed to pack a pair of mom and dad and a bunch of siblings into the suitcases? It was perfect that I was alone.

Alone? Not really until before a few months back. Ashwin was there since I was sixteen. And Anjali… Anjali was there from even before. She helped me pack every single thing that belonged to me when I finally moved from Mamaji’s place into a home of my own. Though a rented one, but for the first time, I would cease to be an undue burden on grumpy relatives. And when I moved, I made it a point to bring back everything that belonged to me, I never liked the idea of moving ahead, leaving my things behind. After all, in every single thing I consider mine, there dwells a piece of me in them.

But those were past… Ashwin was gone now… for some better prospect. And Anjali… she too was gone. Who the hell ever said friendship was for a lifetime? All those moments of childhood and teenage to becoming adults… we had shared them together… and all were gone in the blink of an eyelid? All for that guy… what was his name? I just forgot, pardon me. Oh, wait… why am I even asking for a pardon? He was not worth her. I told her that, but she never believed me. She said I was speaking against her guy, coz I was frustrated about losing mine? Heck! I agree I was frustrated, but that wasn’t the reason for my being negative about her guy… 

Anyways, it was three months that I was all alone, in this whole world. And that was when I got this call from Muscat, asking me to join their company there. Good package and very less things left for me to pack for leaving this country, I readily agreed.

I took the cab to the airport, and there again, I looked behind. Damned! There was nothing left for me, no one waiting for me… I better moved ahead. Suddenly, my cellphone vibrates… I get a message from an unknown number saying… “ Check your mail once, before you leave.” Now who was this? Hey wait… I knew the number! So what if I had deleted it, Anjali’s number was there in my head. Dunno what caught my whims, I moved away from the check in queue, took out my laptop, and switched it on. 

I connected the internet through my cellphone, and in moments, I was into my gmail account. Among a hell lot of promotional mails, junk mails and spams, I could see Anjali’s one. I clicked it open, and there were a series of snaps in there.

God! When did she do all these? It was a collection of all the times we spent together. There was the one with us making the doll’s house… we were barely 10 years at that time; and there was the one with us preparing a batter, I suppose we were baking a cake for the first time. There were pictures of us in crew cuts, pig tails, pony tails… to long and beautiful hair… How could I forget we had grown up together, always?

I scrolled down the entire mail, reliving every memory of us together that the pictures managed to remind me of. At the end of the mail, there was a p.s., saying, “We were never ‘me’, we were always ‘us’, and we will always be ‘us’. My eyes drifted to the chat list, and I saw a shining green button beside her name. “Should I ping?”… I finally pinged.

Me: Hey, just checked your mail.

Anjali: Hmm… how was it?

Me: Good!

Anjali: Did you cry L???

Me: Noooo… why wud I????

Anjali: Oh! Btw, when is your flight?

Me: In about an hour…

Anjali: You must check in, then?

Me: Yup, I must.

Anjali: Did you manage with packing?

          I mean, I wasn’t even there to help you this time…

Me: Oh! I managed… I did.

Anjali: You packed everything?

Me: Yup… I never leave anything behind, you know that!

Anjali: You sure?

Me: What do you mean? Yes, I am.

Anjali: There’s something you’re leavin behind…

Anjali was video calling me…

I took it…

I could see her across the call window, she was crying.

Suddenly, I felt something itchy on my cheeks. I took my fingers there only to feel something moist.

Hell! When did I start crying?

“Anjali, I don’t think I can manage to pack you up in any of my suitcases.”

“In that case, what would you do?”

“Guess I would unpack my other suitcases. When I cannot pack something that’s mine along with me, I’d rather stay behind.”

“You wait there, I’m coming to pick you up…”

Hell! Friendships are meant for a lifetime… after all… we should be together till we click pictures of us with grey hairs and maybe even no hairs… J

 
 P.S - I am participating in 3G Life Blogger Contest(sponsored by  Tata Docomo) under the category My friends. My life. My phone.

lost and found

When I was four I enjoyed playing with him. He said I was his “bestest” friend. By the time I reached eleven, he grew boring. He would still like to play with cars. He could not gossip. He would still lisp whereas my speech had grown perfect by then. The only word I lisped was his name. But then I continued calling him Lessi only out of affection. I had a whole bunch of friends at school who were smart and stylish, but Leslie was still a child. Mom said Leslie would always be a child. He could not grow up, God won’t let him. But she reminded me that had nothing to do with us being friends. However, with time, I spent less and less time with Leslie, because he was not allowed to go beyond the community park; and I liked going out with friends.

The year I turned thirteen, I learnt, people like Leslie suffer from autism. My friends got me make up kits and deos and glitter nail polishes and lip glosses for my birthday; Leslie came with a box of lollypops. During my birthday party, some friends made fun of Leslie. They said he is grown up enough to be a man, and he still likes lollys! I chided my friends for laughing at him. I didn’t like others making fun of him, but at the same time I realized that I have to choose between Leslie and the other bunch of friends; because Leslie would always be a child. I chose the latter. I felt proud to grow up, and saw no reason why I should hang around with someone who would never grow up.

At sixteen, my best friend Priya stole my boyfriend. I came from school, crying my eyes out. Mom wasn’t back from office, and I did not have the spare key. So I went and sat in the park. Leslie was playing alone. I asked him if I could play with him. He said he would allow me to play only if I agreed to lose in the hot wheels car race. Also, he had two cars, and I would have to play with the bad looking one. I agreed. We played for like half an hour, and by the end of it, I was bored. I did not enjoy playing with him. While we were playing, Leslie mentioned, I was no longer his “bestest” friend. I felt guilty of having neglected him, when he had been my constant companion ever since I knew myself. But I realized Leslie and I had grown apart. He still enjoys things I had left far behind. Mom had come back, so I went home.

At eighteen, I left home for college. On my last day at home, Leslie visited us with his mom. He brought me a cute hand mirror as a good bye gift. He didn’t look happy. I thought maybe he is sad because I was leaving. Later, when his mom joined my mom in the kitchen and we were left alone, I asked if he was sad because I was leaving.

“I am not sad because you are leaving. You don’t car race with me anymore. I can play alone.”

“Then why are you so down Lessi?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring you that mirror. I wanted to get you lollypops. But mom said you would not like your lip gloss to be spoilt by licking lollypops. And in college people like to look beautiful. So we should get you something that can help you look good.”

Leslie said it very innocently, but somehow he made me realize I had grown up. He was still in his blissful childhood, and I was not. For the first time I felt jealous of him.

Next vacation when I visited home, I hardly saw him playing in the park with his cars. I went to his place and saw him sitting in front of his computer. His parents got him one for his 30^th birthday. He was playing Road Rash. Still not bored with racing, I thought.

I tried talking to him, but he hardly responded. Thereafter, I barely remember him being in my life.

Ten years from then, one night, I was in my New York apartment, trying to make Zoro sleep, when I got a call from the hospital. My husband had met with an accident. We rushed to the hospital. He fought with death for three long days, by the end of which he lost. I was all alone with a four year old kid, that too in a city which was not mine. Mom asked me to return home. 


It took me six months to complete all the official formalities, and when I flew back home, I saw the entire family waiting for me at the airport. Along with them, Leslie had also come. He looked old now, and dull, and lonely. He stood in the far corner while everyone else was busy greeting me.

That evening, while I was doing the unpacking, Leslie came over. I introduced him to Zoro, my son. Leslie asked Zoro if he liked cars. Zoro had a huge collection of them, all gifted to him by his father. He asked me to take out his toys. I took them all out, and gave them to him, except one, which I hid under the pillow. I thought Zoro should have at least one memoir of his father to look at later when he grew up. I left the two of them to play while I carried on with my unpacking. Suddenly my eyes fixed at Leslie. I saw something which was long lost, come back… that spark in Leslie’s eyes, when we as kids used to play together, reappeared. They were fighting over the better looking cars and arguing on who should win and who should lose.

By the end of four hours, when it was time for dinner, Zoro and Leslie were at harmony. They were taking turns to win and lose, to play with good cars and bad cars, lisping away merrily all about cars and races. Zoro wouldn’t leave Leslie, so he had dinner with us. In the next few days, both of them grew equally fond of each other. Leslie’s computer lay unused and he had excavated out all his old cars.

Leslie has some grey hairs now, but his heart is still green. I feel happy for Leslie. He lost his only friend when I grew up, but found another in my son. Last night, when I went to call Zoro back from the park for dinner, I saw the two of them looking up at the sky. Zoro said Leslie was helping him find his dad among the stars.

“And how would Leslie know which is your dad? There are so many stars up there.”

“Lessi would surely find out Mom, he said he would do it for me, even if it takes the whole night. Because he said I am his ‘bestest’ friend.” 

p.s. - this is a piece of fiction