Atop a hill

I climb
to the top of wonder hill,
an unfamiliar route -
perspiring skin and under-skin
conversing as-if with
breathless lungs
and
the squeaky stomach -
struggling
to keep it together.

Atop the hill,
tired,
i see the world
steady,
unchanged,
from left to right,
changing steadily
with my steady gaze,
that comes back a full circle.

Atop the hill,
I see,
a tired climber,
steady,
between,
pangs of breath,
that dissolve
watching the world go by
left to right
outside
and
top to down
inside.

Atop the hill
I watch,
un-watched.

Squabble

Why
do you?
I asked

How
do I know?
He said

You

Gentle breeze,
tender light,
anxious eyes
that team up with an honest smile
and that tiny little worldly piece
at the center of your palm;

I pick it up
and hold you back
in gratitude
as I would
on a rainy day,
when tempers flew
for a while.

I see what I am to you,
anyway,
simply,
from
what you are
to me
everyday...

I hope...

Its a common affirmation,
this one,
that I hope,
for something to culminate
from withered leaves in the backyard
and settled years of know-how,
a few memoirs in place somewhere
and some dreams that sit, cuddled in the realms of my timeline.

some words scattered around the physical world
breach barriers of distance, time and space
and reach my abode, thanks to technology.

and
i soak myself in these words,
i watch my expanding soul,
i listen to the tinkering sound of resonance,
as i see
those withered leaves in the backyard
and settled years of know-how
those memoirs in place somewhere
and those dreams that sit, cuddled in the realms of my timeline
gaining life
in that affirmation
called
hope.

PS - Abhi...mujh mey kahin...baaki thodi si hai zindagi...:)

Cleaning up!

"Pack your things, get them off my side," he said. "And yeah, please dispose off what's not needed...dont allow me the privilege of doing the honours."

She scoffed.

Discussions around sensitive topics, often have insensitive repercussions. Havent we seen that before? Talks on relativity...not sensitive. Talks on relative importance...sensitive. Talks on relative importance of someone else over you...uber-sensitive. Death of talk post that...insensitive! Most things fade away at the point of insensitivity.

"I need them all," she muttered. "I'll pack them though....by myself...its not like I've never done that before anyways!"

"Hmmm!" he pretended to think hard. "Sorry...cant remember when you ever did!" He began cleaning his shelf. Space....ah! thats one good word!

She ignored him. Paper bags. Five layers of books. How many more to fetch? Transporting them...uff! thats another task! She surely did not need the yellow paper back course material. She packed them in one bag. And then, there were the final level prep books; those wouldnt be of much use either. She put them aside separately in another bag. Several more bags were stacked together. She was still left with some...those that she had bought in her teens or when she was younger. She opened them one by one...smelled them...read those one-liners that several friends had written. Nostalgia! Smiles!

And he had seen her read them earlier...as a child. Girly books! Why cant women be real?

She looked around for another bag.

"Use this shelf," he looked around matter-of-factly. "Should I arrange all of them, here?"

She smiled to herself and then wiped it off consciously. She looked up, with forced sternness. "Hmmm...not like I've never managed in the past though....by myself." she said, handing him the paperbacks, one by one!

Focus!

"I'm okay with everything," he shook his head, "its quite natural to forget or misplace things. I understand. But jus that you could be a lil more careful...generally, you know." He drove watchfully.

"Hmmm," she said. She hated herself when she made a mistake. She hated herself more when she made a mistake and he didnt get angry. "I know!"

"But come on...don be over-critical," he said. "It takes time," he held her hand. "It took me time to remember to take the papers, to watch when I drive, to keep a tab on directions, to remember each cross-road to take like..."

"...like the one you just missed?" she smiled, twinkles in the eye overpowering dimples in the cheek. "Reverse maadi!"

Viewing points!

"'Rome wasn't built in one day' is a saying in English," she said loudly, pronouncing each word with emphatic nonchalance. "It means that it takes a lotttttt of patience, persistence, determination..." she paused for words, "...focus...conviction...to achieve something...you should give things, time".

"Mama, Rome is the capital of Italy na?" she quizzed. Images supercede imagination. Concepts, afterall, are products of logical imagination accepted by all. So it is thinking thats commonplace. But images are static descriptions that can be viewed differently. Sky, for example. You see it blue, light, tinted, pleasant, bright in the morning. I see it dark, black, but beautiful in its shining, starry, sparkling self. Sky, between night and day. Image, between you and me.

"Correct, darling," she answered, delighted. Memory during tender ages is a pleasant thing.

"So there are wooden tables there na Mama...by the streets...clean and sparkling...yellow flowers...fresh greens..." she quipped, eyes wide open. "And people dress up really nicely in Italy."

She was surprised. Perhaps, more curious than surprised. Television! Must Be! That's fine. "What else do they do?" she smiled, cleaning remains of food from her mouth.

"They talk fast fast Mama. Many many girls and boys. They don't stay apart like in school. They sit together like besttttt friends holding hands.  All happy happy." She sat straight. "When your happy and you know clap your hands...clap clap clap...I like going to Rome...its my favvvvvvourite place."

Hallucinations? Images supercede imagination?

"We're in India, kan, you havent gone to Rome, sweetheart..."

"We went there last Sunday, I played with the cheese plate..."

Huh?

"I dipped onions in red chutney...and you had wine..."

She picked her up and washed her tiny palms. "Little Italy" she smiled, as she carried her into the room.
"But those are biiiiiiiig girls and boys ok. They have finished school...and finished college...like Mama and Papa no...." she  began, as voices disappeared between time and space...and age!

PS - Main keh raha hoon kya, tu sun rahi hai kya, tu sun rahi hai kya, main keh raha hoon kya!

What will he think...

I thought,

as he saw me sitting there,
cushy as a princess,
pampered, treasured, adored,
with nothing more to ask for;

until I saw
that he couldnt think
when he saw, in sight, fixated,
just me and me alone!

PS - Ho na ho sab raazi...dil raazi, rab raazi! :)

Fine tuning!

"Doesnt work," she sighed, hassled. "The damn thing doesnt start!" Zara zara phoolon pe jhadne laga dil mera, it had last said, before going blank!

It was impossible that he drove and she didnt sing with the music player. She knew each song folder that had been loaded onto that thumb drive and she would make her choice basis the moods in the car. And there were the modified tunes. Tunes, that could be sung differently to sound differently. Tunes, that could sound different to suit thoughts that were different. Sounds of laughter, frustration, pain, fury...sometimes sounds of silence...smiling silence, blushing silence, angry silence, restless silence, teary silence.  But, there had to be some sound. So this, was an impossible situation. Well! Almost!

"Should I nudge the connecting wire," she asked. "It wouldnt just stop, without reason." If only she knew that reason. Ayyo, ayyo, ayyo. Sudden feeling of helplessness. Why couldnt the damn thing be set right. And why wasnt he answering. She looked at him with gloomy eyes.

He smiled before shifting gears, not looking at her.

"Main pareshan pareshan pareshan pareshan, aatishen wo kahaan, main pareshan pareshan pareshan pareshan ranjishen hai dhuaan....haaaaaaaaaan haaan haan..."...he began.

He knew every tune of the song. And all its lyrics too. She had played it way too many times! :)

Contradictions!

My mind is an amalgam of round dots sticking
constantly,
constantly
moving around each other in cluster-less identities.

They swarm together making a flower,
at times,
at times,
they disintegrate into long lines.

They grow into strong conches,
largely,
largely
also, they shrink into tiny triangles.

They form overwhelming shapes
defiantly,
defiantly,
they bounce off too as lonely stars.

They are standing, right now, in rows, separately to
question,
question
marks, like millions of sickles, deep as thought, waiting to cut or to sharpen…or both, in unknown order!

PS - I waited till I saw the sun...dont know why I didnt come!

Between the lines!

‘It’s just that things happen at the same time randomly,’ he said. 'I think you have a tendency to attach more meaning to things than there is. Shhhhh! Listen to the storm! It might carry “your” message?’ He ridiculed.

‘You don get it,' she said. ‘Look at anything around you. Say, this tea cup. Now tel me. Is there any reason why its here and not on say, that shelf? It’s part of a set of 6 cups, right? Why is THIS cup here?’ She shifted seats next to him and held him by the collar. ‘I know what you’ll say. “Randomness”.’ She let go as he blinked. ‘But every little object is then randomness. Why could it not be say, a ghost’s whims? Maybe this ghost is just picking its favourite cup and placing it here!’

‘Ah, now we have a new character!’ He exclaimed. ‘A ghost…well, perhaps, that’s wots gotten to u. A psychiatrist…is what u need, maybeeee!’

A gush of air entered the room. The storm had begun to tighten up. She picked up the broom to clean the place. Leaves were flowing in through the window. Dust too. Some random paper. Wait! Some random paper?

‘What is that!’ he looked. An empty piece of paper lay light on the floor. He picked it up and read aloud. ‘I am ink. This is me. You are the ink reader. This is you. Am I reading myself or are you reading me?’

‘Wow’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s some random response to randomness, alright...’ she prodded. ‘Hey, look,’ she screamed. Another piece of paper hung on the rope near the cupboard. He ran to grab it. ‘Read me aloud, for I think I need some rest.’

‘Are they interconnected?’ she asked. ‘And what’s that in your shirt pocket?' He opened another sheet of paper, shocked. ‘I’m ink on your paper. I’m reading you now. You say I’m scary. I say I’m just silent. Worry me not, Hurry me not. I know when to leave. :)’

He stared at her in utter disbelief. She turned away and laughed uncontrollably, albeit silently.

PS - Aashiko mey jiska title TITANIC! :D

Music & Lyrics!

"Five", she shrieked, her eyebrows swiftly raised as if to clear even traces of any obstructions the eyes might encounter in flashing their light bulb like presence.
"Just?" he smirked. "You jest?"
"No-o", she sang in some melody-tone. Her voice was his favourite music and its up-down intonations - not always in perfect sur but always appealing in its unique imperfect throw - were a manifestation of some clamber that perfectly planted strings in her, made. They were loose when she was lazy, tight when she was high-spirited, rugged when she expressed frustration and sharp enough to cut when she was angry.
"Five's a good number na...it gives you two, gives me two and gives us both the room to fight over the last one", she sang again, this time more convincingly than her usual times; victoriously, coz she managed to voice some logic despite possessing zilch reasoning capabilities.
He was stronger at thinking, or so he thought. "Well", he looked up at the empty ceiling conjuring up thoughts of how it might be if the roof was the floor and the floor was the roof. Would we be lying down next to a fan? Maybe yearning for the bed above? He abandoned the thought murkily. "Why not three?" he asked "That would give us one each and one for everything else!"
"Nah...too much time to spare", she sang again, all low notes this time around. "We've got what, another 30 years? Thats like 30/3...10 years per unit?...Too much micro-management ho jayega...Five, I like."
"Arre, count in my time too...I'll take away enough of it..." he ran his fingers over her thick, black hair "you've gotta factor me in no?...no choice" he smiled.
"Hmmm...okay...", she turned around and faced him, her palms, one over the other on his chest and her chin resting on the little hillock, the joints of her fingers made. " But still...I like five" she stopped reasoning. Why say why when you know and I know?
"Lets change the topic no...you've lost your wit abhi", he quipped lazily. "Chalo, actually lets take a nap."
Something agitated her. "Nahi, five kids...thats it", she sat up, looked around and got outa the bed. "I don like you", she resorted to her usual last resort.
"Hmmmmmmm!"
She walked around to the other side of the bed.
He strained his arm, caught her by her wrist - that tiny bone of a thing that she never managed to unlock from his clasp. She fought harder this time and reached the valleys of his armpit. "Ouch", he yelped and let go as she walked towards the door.
"Ayeeee", he found his tune this time and held on till she turned around. He persisted under the very same breath, in the same concoction of air that lingered around melodiously; he turned around to face her in his straight, sharp, unidirectional gaze and quaintly added the much-needed lyrics -
"Are you sure?" he winked impishly!

Retro...

I've grown up with retro Hindi tracks and as much as I enjoy English music today, the old melodies occupy a special place in some part of me.

The best thing about this music is its simplicity. From lyrics to tune to intonations, its all very pleasing, hassle free with zero complications; and so, it hits the gut directly without any brain filters!

Some of my favourite songs of all time include the following (specifically note the directness and simplicity of love/expression of love):

15. Bekarar karke hame yoon na jaayiye, aapko humari kasam laut aayiye...(pl don go...jus stay!)

14. Suhaani raat dhal chuki, na jaane tum kab aaoge...hawa bhi rukh badal chukiiiiiii, na jaane tum kab aaoge (doesnt it always seem like this? :P )

13. Dukhi mann mere, sunn mera kehna...jahaan nahi chaina, wahaan nahin rehna...(kinda difficult to implement though...)

12. Khoya khoya chaand, khula aasmaan...aankhon mey saari raat jayegi...tumko bhi kaise neend aayegi...( :) )

11. Saamne ye kaun aaya, dil mey hui hulchul, dekhke bas ek hi jhalak ho gaye hum paagal (havent come across a more honest depiction of a crush)

10. Aane wala pal, jaane wala hai, ho sake toh isme zindagi bitado, pal jo ye jaane wala hai (Love this movie as well; Golmaal....and its rich humour with zero slapstick and cheezy stuff...cant remember anything like this today)

9. Tum bin, jau kahaan, ke duniya mey aake, kuch na phir chaaha kabhi, tumko chaaha ke (How do I live without u? Simple, bare verse :))

8. Pal pal dil ke paas, tum rehti ho (I like the tune better than the lyrics...)

7. Roop tera mastana, pyaar mera deewana, bhool koi humse na ho jaaye (lol...candid confessions with some strong reasoning...esp when it continues with raat nasheeli mast sama hai, aaj nashe mey saara jahaan hai...)

6. Wo hai zara khafa khafa toh nain yoon churaye hai...(I love this one actually...the tune reminds me of Elvis' "Fever", but the fact that its a making-up-after-a-fight song kinda makes it super endearing)

5. Bade achche lagte hain, ye dharti, ye nadiyaan, ye raina...aur tum...(All's good when you're around...and in love...whatay simple thought)

4. Pyaar hua ikraar hua hai, pyaar se phir kyun darta hai dil....kehta hai dil rasta mushkil maloom nahi hai kahaan manzil...(it happens dono how dono where it would lead to...right?)

3. Tere mere sapne, ab ek rang hai...ho jahaan bhi le jaaye rahe, hum sangg hai (through thick and thin...especially through the thin...:) )

2. Pyaar maanga hai tumhi sey, na inkaar karo...paas baitho zara toh ikraar karo...(soooo simple "come, sit next to me"...awesome...:) )

1. Tum aa gaye ho, noor aa gaya hai...nahin toh charaagon se lau jaa rahi thi (my fav fav song...jeene ki tum se wajah mil gayi hai, badi bewajah zindagiiiii ja rahi thi...the reason for existance...)

Loved re-connecting with loads of these songs today...thank god for youtube :)

PS - Cant skip mentioning some other v v special songs...personal incidents associated here...:
a. Pukaarta chala hoon main (Can remember dad singing this when i was a kid :)...sang brilliantly :))
b. Hai apna dil, toh aawara, na jaane kis pe aayega (Very special song... the first song i sang on stage...second standard i think...a guy song by a girl...was funny :D )
c. Laaga chunri mey daag, chupaoon kaise (Granpa's favourite...ask me about this when you talk to me next :) )
d. Tujhse naaraz nahin zindagi hairan hoon main (Shekhar Kapur...Maasoom...think i cried when i heard this first...and yeah, with Masoom, I kinda found the special - Shekhar Kapur :P )
e. Rangeela Re, tere rang mey yoon ranga hai, mera mann (My dad's always hated this song i dono why and he hates MY singing this even more...so I like it...cheap thrills :D)

Miscible!

"What's a soliloquy?" she asked, her eyes wide open like the mouth of a goldfish, hungry and restless.

"Its a talk, baby!" he reclined on the red sofa, "one that goes on and on, without any room for conversation". He sipped his coffee, "Can you imagine? One person...one voice...one topic...on and on and on...a looooong story...some hurried characters, jumping in and out...huh?"

"I wanna be in one of those, Gooodooo," she quipped. "And I want you to be next to me, in each little story in that story; we'll have a little house by the river, a small garden around it where I'll grow my roses - white, yellow, pink...red...I'll look at their leaves and learn to love them...You keep the flowers and I'll keep the stalks...in any case, we're inseparable," she smiled!

"Inseparable?" he took his spectacles off. "One handsome boy will come riding on the horse, look you in your eye and hold you by your hand before mounting you on his new-age vehicle and taking you away".

His eyebrows twitched, "Will you give him your roses then? You should..." he said, "if you wont, then I sure will," he smiled, "coz he'll feel its fragrance right through his lungs, deep in his soul."

"So," he paused, "are we inseparable, my baby?" he leaned forward.

She thought for a second, "Daddy Goodooo" she screamed, "Whats my name?"

"Huh?" he shrugged.

"I am AG...you're the G in me," she nodded, "on a horse...or with him...or in my new garden...in this city...on the rooftop...in outerspace...I will always be a G no daddyyyy?..." she cleared her throat.

"Sooooooooo...its a never ending soliloquy..." she stood up, walked upto him and kissed him on his forehead, "we ARE inseparable...coz...i am you...understood?"

Battles in Wind...

He came in the sharp cold and brought with him speed that uprooted trees
making each particle of miscellaneous matter dance in a spiral of togetherness
as if
some rakshasa was bellowing in deep sleep
and exhaling all negativity from the pit of his large stomach.

He shook each little soul standing in the market today including
clouds
below heaven
which succumbed to the unremorseful screaming of breath's fury
before being sqeezed of their contents.

In the AC's soundless breathing,
I woke up with my eyes wide open
and felt like a rakshasi
next to a snoring invisible rakshasa...

Of Gurgaon....and Me!

I think I'm gonna be outa Gurgaon very soon. Some feeling to that effect. And while thats a relief in many respects, I'm a lil ticked off also... I think I'm gonna miss this place.

Oakwood and the green grass and walking barefoot on its moisture,
chirpy kids playing on a Sunday morning,
the cold cold shivers as you take the first step outa ur room,
those walks down the road to the market,
random pani puris, samosas that leave you with a bad tummy (but u have them again, all the same),
bisque - the coffee shop with awesome pastries, coffee, doughnuts, rolls and what have you,
numb noses in winter,
numb feet coz you don wanna wear any socks coz u'll hafta take them off anyway coz u hafta walk barefoot on grass's moisture,
autowalas that talk talk n talk,
autowalas that ignore when u talk talk n talk,
Sanjay bhaiya and his awesome food,
Miss K - incessant banter, endless cribbing, grief and tears, ayyos, scheming photography plans, shopping (:D) and dropping
Miss Y -scoffs, screams, loud killing laughter, trips, gyan on 'them' and 'how'...:)
Miss A - plotting, knotting, un-knotting, lunch and 'sight seeing' (;)), migranes and embarrassment...unadulterated gyaaaaaaaan :P...on how all you need is..............:D
Mister J - bam-bam-bush arguments, forced movies, the Abbey Road that was, music music and more music, fighting ageing (One Cooool Cattt :P), receding hairlines, challenging brain-lines, indecisive lifelines (this too shall pass :))...

As life unfolds, I kinda sit and wait. I watch each fold as it opens before it closes. And then I sneak in and unfold parts of it. Works sometimes; there're new, different folds. But most times, the thin, fine creases remain, making lines that curve in many ways...making you, somewhere, a little more than what you were, wrapped inside your crumpled, unfolded cloth sheath!

PS - Lets see what else this place has in store! :)....Happy Happy! :)

Did I know...

that in this world's infinite space
its always antonym-ical emotions that coexist -

when
crowds applaud
raise a toast
extend an arm
cheer you
beckon you -

when you know you're just one of them in that very same space
same
as you
without the attention around you.

I think I didnt.

In knowing that I didnt know,
I know I like my corner
where noone's looking!